Endest fell to his knees in Anomander’s path. ‘Lord! The world falls!’
‘Rise, priest,’ he replied. ‘The world does not fall. It but changes. I need you. [Come.]’
And so he walked past, and Endest found himself on his feet, as Lord Anoman shy;der’s will closed about his heart like an iron gauntlet, pulling him round and into the great warrior’s wake.
He wiped at his eyes. ‘Lord, where are we going?’
‘The Temple.’
‘We cannot! They have gone mad — the women! They are-’
‘I know what assails them, priest.’
‘The High Priestess-’
‘Is of no interest to me.’ Anomander paused, glanced back at him. ‘Tell me your name.’
‘Endest Silann, Third Level Acolyte. Lord, please-’
But the warrior continued on, silencing Endest with a gesture from one scaled, taloned hand. ‘The crime of this day, Endest Silann, rests with Mother Dark herself.’
And then, at that precise moment, the young acolyte understood what the Lord intended. And yes, Anomander would indeed need him. His very soul — Mother forgive me — to open the way, to lead the Lord on to the Unseen Road.
And he will stand before her, yes. Tall, unyielding, a son who is not afraid. Not of her. Not of his own anger. The storm, oh, the storm is just beginning.
Endest Silann sat alone in his room, the bare stone walls as solid and cold as those of a tomb. A small oil lamp sat on the lone table, testament to his failing eyes, to the stain of Light upon his soul, a stain so old now, so deeply embedded in the scar tissue of his heart, that it felt like tough leather within him.
Being old, it was his privilege to relive ancient memories, to resurrect in his flesh and his bones the recollection of youth — the time before the aches seeped into joints, before brittle truths weakened his frame to leave him bent and tottering.
‘Hold the way open, Endest Silann. She will rage against you. She will seek to drive me away, to close herself to me. Hold. Do not relent.’
‘But Lord, I have sworn my life to her.’
‘What value is that if she will not be held to account for her deeds?’
‘She is the creator of us all, Lord!’
‘Yes, and she will answer for it.’
Youth was a time for harsh judgement. Such fires ebbed with age. Certainty itself withered. Dreams of salvation died on the vine and who could challenge that blighted truth? They had walked through a citadel peopled by the dead, the broken open, the spilled out. Like the violent opening of bodies, the tensions, rivalries and feuds could no longer be contained. Chaos delivered in a raw and bloody birth, and now the child squatted amidst its mangled playthings, with eyes that burned.
The fool fell into line. The fool always did. The fool followed the first who called. The fool gave away — with cowardly relief — all rights to think, to choose, to find his own path. And so Endest Silann walked the crimson corridors, the stench-filled hallways, there but two strides behind Anomander.
‘Will you do as I ask, Endest Silann?’
‘Yes, Lord.’
‘Will you hold?’
‘I shall hold.’
‘Will you await me the day?’
‘Which day, Lord?’
‘The day at the very end, Endest Silann. Will you await me on that day?’
‘I said I would hold, Lord, and so I shall.’
‘Hold, old friend, until then. Until then. Until the moment when you must betray me. No — no protestations, Endest. You will know the time, you will know it and know it well.’
It was what kept him alive, he suspected. This fraught waiting, so long all was encrusted, stiff and made almost shapeless by the accretion of centuries.
‘Tell me, Endest, what stirs in the Great Barrow?’
‘Lord?’
‘Is it Itkovian? Do we witness in truth the birth of a new god?’
‘I do not know, Lord. I am closed to such things.’ As I have been since that day in the Temple.
‘Ah, yes, I have forgotten. I apologize, old friend. Mayhap I will speak to Spinnock, then. Certain quiet enquiries, perhaps.’
‘He will serve you as always, Lord.’
‘Yes, one of my burdens.’
‘Lord, you bear them well.’
‘Endest, you lie poorly.’
‘Yes, Lord.’
‘Spinnock it shall be, then. When you leave, please send for him — not with haste, when he has the time.’
‘Lord, expect him at once.’
And so Anomander sighed, because no other response was possible, was it? And I, too, am your burden, Lord. But we best not speak of that.
See me, Lord, see how I still wait.
Incandescent light was spilling from the half-open doors of the temple, rolling in waves out over the concourse like the wash of a flood, sufficient in strength to shift corpses about, milky eyes staring as the heads pitched and lolled.
As they set out across the expanse, that light flowed up round their shins, startlingly cold. Endest Silann recognized the nearest dead Andii. Priests who had lingered too long, caught in the conflagration that Endest had felt but not seen as he rushed though the Citadel’s corridors. Among them, followers from various factions. Silchas Ruin’s. Andarist’s, and Anomander’s own, Drethdenan’s, Hish Tulla’s, Vanut Degalla’s oh, there had been waves of fighting on this concourse, these sanctified flagstones,
In birth there shall be blood. In death there shall be light. Yes, this was the day for both birth and death, for both blood and light.
They drew closer to the doors of the temple, slowed to observe the waves of light tumbling down the broad steps. Their hue had deepened, as if smeared with old blood, but the power was waning. Yet Endest Silann sensed a presence within, something contained, someone waiting.
For us.
The High Priestess? No. Of her, the acolyte sensed nothing.
Anomander took his first step on to the stone stairs.
And was held there, as her voice filled them.
No. Be warned, Anomander, dear son, from Andii blood is born a new world. Understand me. You and your kin are no longer alone, no longer free to play your vicious games. There are now. . others.
Anomander spoke. ‘Mother, did you imagine I would be surprised? Horrified? It could never be enough, to be naught but a mother, to create with hands closed upon no one. To yield so much of yourself, only to find us your only reward — us slayers, us betrayers.’
There is new blood within you.
‘Yes.’
My son, what have you done?
‘Like you, Mother, I have chosen to embrace change. Yes, there are others now. I sense them. There will be wars between us, and so I shall unite the Andii. Resistance is ending. Andarist, Drethdenan, Vanut Degalla. Silchas is fleeing, and so too Hish Tulla and Manalle. Civil strife is now over, Mother.’
You have killed Tiam. My son, do you realize what you have begun? Silchas flees, yes, and where do you think he goes? And the newborn, the others, what scent will draw them now, what taste of chaotic power? Anomander, in murder you seek peace, and now the blood flows and there shall be no peace, not ever again.