If Rojak had wanted to say any more, it was lost. His body could sustain the effort no longer. He appeared to fold inward on himself, sinking further down into his seat.
Venn bent further down, careful not to touch Rojak's skin as he looked the minstrel in the eye, checking that a spark of life still remained before relaxing. He stepped back and gave a short bow, say¬ing, 'As you command, Herald.' He was about to turn away, then he hesitated and bent down to Rojak so he could look the dying minstrel in the eye. 'Your prophecy, the one you put into the dreams of that stable-boy in Embere; it speaks of a woman emerging from the remains of Scree.'
'Treasure and loss in the darkness, from holy hands to a lady of ashes. It is the heart of the "Twilight Reign" prophecy.'
'If you cannot hold them here, how will it come about? They will take the Skull and break the chain of prophecy – if the prophecy is broken, how will Azaer ever walk the Land and become the Saviour?'
'Have faith,' Rojak said, gritting his teeth against the pain. 'They will take no more than I let them take; our lord's reign is coming. Ilumene knows what is to be done; trust him. Now go.'
This time, Venn didn't linger.
The minstrel listened hard for the sound of Venn picking his way out through the broken debris and into the darkness, but the effort defeated him. What sounds he could detect were muted and confus¬ing, as though the bridge between his ears and mind had been washed away. The angry crackle of flames and the uneasy shuffle of the Hounds behind him were all he could make out above the indistinct murmur surrounding him. He could feel the pitiful, maddened figures that could no longer be called human lingering in groups, though a great rolling tide of them had gone north, driven by the firestorms that were even now encircling this place. Those who remained stared with bewildered resentment past the corpses of a hundred of their own at the indistinct form of a God they couldn't manage to hurt.
'What are your orders, minstrel?' To Rojak's weary ears Mistress sounded petulant, and he knew she was trying to conceal her fear. He allowed himself a moment of contempt for mercenaries: when there were glory and riches to be had, they were full of vigour, but put them in a hole and the complaints never ceased. A tiny smile crept onto his lips; soon they wouldn't be able to complain. Soon it wouldn't matter if they did, because there would be no one left to bear.
'Wait,' Rojak whispered, 'wail until they are closer. They must first kill the abbot, and then when his blood is shed, you will fall on them.'
'They've split up,' warned Flitter from her post. 'One group is circling around behind us.'
'Slow them down then,' Rojak sighed, his eyelids sliding shut for a low heartbeats. The lure of whatever lay beyond the sleep of utter ex¬haustion was almost too great to resist; only the touch of his master's ancient breath gently skimming the grazes on his earlobe kept him awake. Azaer was still with him, ever-patient and unrelenting.
He could not rest yet, not quite. There was still his duty to do and he would see it through with his very last breath. It would kill him, hut what was life when compared with changing the face of the Land itself? The price would be paid with a smile on his face, Rojak was certain of that. 'Take two of the Jesters' acolytes and lead the king's men a merry dance.'
'We don't have the numbers to stop them,' said one of the Jesters from somewhere behind him. Rojak summoned the image of the tall grey-skinned man who spoke for all of his brothers, his lips hidden behind the white leather mask that concealed everything beneath the eyes.
'You don't have to.' Rojak could hardly hear the sound of his own voice now; he was not sure if it was a weakness of tongue or ear, or both. 'Draw them in; stall them for as long as you can. It is nearly time.'
Head down and riding low in the saddle, Isak watched the cobbles Hash past as Toramin's hooves crashed down beneath him. The huge horse charged at breakneck speed, the emerald dragons on its flanks slashing and snapping at the air as he began to outstrip his men. The street was a straight run to the south side of Six Temples, where the ground was more open. It was the quickest way for them to get to the Autumn's Arch.
On the right were orderly lines of torches burning around pickets still under construction, and a tall banner above them all bearing the white sword of the Devoted. There were a lot of soldiers formed up into ranks, more than he could count in the few moments he had. They watched him keenly, but he heard no zip of loosed arrows.
Up ahead he saw sudden movement in the darkness that abruptly resolved into Jeil and Tiniq on horseback, riding hard towards him, keeping clear of the rough curve of shrines ringing Six Temples. Both rangers were waving frantically.
Isak swore and wrenched on the reins to pull Toramin up, turning him towards the temples. The way was blocked on the other side; either the Farlan tried to circle around, or they stopped here to fight. Neither option sounded good. He knew many streets were blocked by collapsing buildings, but the closer he got to the Devoted soldiers, the more of them he saw.
Lahk had told him General Gort was leading them, the same man who had so reverently handed Isak his two Crystal Skulls and pledged his allegiance. They were safe enough; any sane man had to be a wel¬come ally in Scree, and hopefully there were more around, enough to ward off even a swollen mob of lunatics.
Toramin resisted as Isak tried to slow him down. They were pounding towards the rubble-lined channels created by the Devoted. Looking back, he saw the others were close behind, spurred on by the sound of pursuit that had been outstripped, but not lost. From behind the Devoted pickets Isak saw units of spearmen spurred into action and realised they weren't sure whether to attack him or not.
Something Carel had told him once suddenly came to Isak: Soldiers are there to obey orders. Half the time they don't know who they're obey¬ing, so when any rich bastard on a horse shouts, you jump to it. In battle you'll find yourself too scared to argue.
'They're coming,' Isak bellowed, standing up in his stirrups, holding Eolis up high for the men to see, 'get to your positions!'
His words had the desired effect. Those who understood Farlan quickly relayed the words to their fellows and the lines became a riot
of sergeants and corporals, all bellowing at once as the work parties ran for their weapons.
Isak lowered his sword and slowed to a canter as he reached the furthest picket. The soldiers watched him suspiciously, but none attacked. He looked around quickly; there were groups of soldiers scattered around the Temple Plaza. They must have decided it was too large to fully defend, so they were choosing their ground instead. There was no guiding intelligence behind the mobs, so when the attack came, it would be in the places of the Devoted's choosing.
'Where's your commander?' Isak snapped at the first Farlan-looking soldier he saw. The man's eyes widened and he turned and shouted lor his lieutenant, who was already hurrying up.
'General Gort is over there, Lord Isak.' The lieutenant pointed towards the Temple of Nartis, where the Devoted's slender banner hung from a long lance. At its base was a group of men all looking towards them. 'He's with his command staff, my Lord.'
Isak started off towards the general as Suzerain Saroc forced his way to Isak's side.
'My Lord, is this quite safe?' Saroc asked quietly.
'I've met Gort before; we can trust him,' Isak said, not looking at the suzerain but past him to where Count Vesna was. 'Vesna, get the men ready to fight.'
'Your Grace,' Saroc insisted, 'we might still be able to punch through to the north and work our way round.'
'Would you bet your life on it?' Isak shook his head. 'I wouldn't. Given the choice between an uncertain run through city streets and a defended position, I've got to take this one. Look at them-' He waved his arm towards the squads of infantry standing ready at the outer ring of shrines and the lancers waiting patiently in the centre of the Temple Plaza. 'There's the best part of a legion here, plus us. And when the mobs went after us, they probably gave Tori his best chance of breaking out with whatever troops he has left.'