The Dusk Watchman: Book Five of The Twilight Reign (47 page)

‘It is agreed, but mark this,’ Zhia reported back, ‘before six months are out, the Lord of the Silent Castle will return to the west. If you betray us, he will lead our vengeance.’

‘I understand.’

The undead mercenaries turned without further comment and ran back the way they had come, moving in near-silence and with a speed that belied their unhurried movements. The grass was barely disturbed by their passage and the six figures looked like ghosts as they headed back towards their comrades and quickly disappeared from view.

‘Will the king thank me for that?’ Isak wondered aloud.

‘He will,’ Doranei assured him. ‘If the Devoted mobilise against Narkang, he’ll need every soldier he can get – he’ll find a use for them all, even those without their humanity.’

Isak nodded and went to gather up his possessions, any thoughts of breakfast vanished on the wind. Doranei left him to it, knowing Isak wouldn’t want anyone taking Mihn’s place and fussing over him. Instead he went to help his Brother, for Veil was similarly encumbered and unable to tie his belongings to his saddle. As he did so Doranei caught sight of Legana, stepping in to help Isak; he saw the conflict on his face as she did so.

Legana was unsteady at times, unreal and ethereal all the time, and so dramatically changed from the tough young woman he’d first met that Doranei found it hard to remember the two were the same person sometimes. She had been beautiful; she was even more so now, in a terrifying way, and she carried the same weight of centuries that Zhia did. He secured the last of Veil’s saddlebags as Legana ignored Isak’s hesitation and inexpertly gathered his belongings. They were a strange pair together, each marked by the events they were caught up in.

They were all marked, by Mihn’s tattoos and Xeliath’s rune. Legana didn’t quite treat Isak with reverence, but her manner had once been of veiled and indiscriminate contempt towards everyone. Now there was a patient acceptance that the old Legana had never known: they were family now, bound by the magic that had marked them.

You don’t have to be friends too,
Doranei thought as Hulf came bounding up to Isak, returned from his regular dawn wanderings. S
ome things you do for family and it’s a tie that’ll live with you for ever.
He looked down at the owl tattoo on the palm of his hand.
And this makes us family, maybe with Legana playing mother to us all.
He laughed out loud at the thought, receiving a slap round the head a moment later.

It was Veil, peering at him strangely. ‘You still asleep there?’

‘Eh?’

‘Your mistress calls,’ Veil explained with a nasty grin, ‘but you were daydreamin’ about Legana by the looks of it.’

Doranei turned to where Zhia was standing looking impatient. ‘Just as well we’re family,’ he grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head and headed over.

‘Climb this branch for me,’ Zhia commanded before he’d even reached her. ‘I want you to loop a rope around the end.’

‘Eh?’ Doranei looked up at the small tree, an elderberry with long, slender branches.

‘Was that too complicated a request?’ Zhia said sharply. ‘Climb, tie, try not to fall on your head.’

‘Not sure it’ll take my weight so well.’ He turned away from her stern expression and fetched Isak’s massive horse instead. The branch was higher than a man could reach, but from Megenn’s back he found it a simple enough task to tie the rope on as ordered. Slipping down, he offered her the rope.

‘Put a stake in the ground and tie it down,’ she said, ignoring the proffered rope. ‘We need an archway big enough to allow horses through.’

Doranei didn’t bother asking why, but summoned Daken to help haul over what was left of the fallen tree they’d burned overnight. With a bit of levering it was moved into place and the rope tightened around it so that Zhia had the arch she required, weighed down by a log the size of a man.

Without bothering to thank them, Zhia came around the straining branch and knelt under the arch, one hand pressed to the Crystal Skull at her waist. Doranei exchanged a look with Veil as he retreated out of her way; his Brother was overly amused at Zhia’s displeasure.

The vampire reached out a gloved hand with her palm vertical, as though pressed flat against a door rather than in mid-air.

Doranei could see nothing of her face, but he had spent enough time in her company to recognise the taste of magic in the air as she drew on the Skull. The smell of her perfume seemed to wash over him on the wind and Doranei instinctively tilted his head up like a dog catching a scent.

‘Down, boy,’ Veil muttered from beside him, ‘mind on the job.’

The King’s Man scowled and pursed his lips.

Faint trails of light began to swirl through the air around Zhia, slow and languorous. The wisps were barely more than suggestions in the air, but they traced a pattern that almost looked like runes before fading and being replaced by others. The trails continued to move outwards, spreading up to the edges of the branch and tree trunk until there was a silvery white glimmer on the inner edge of the arch.

‘Thought mirror-magic had to be worked from the destination,’ Veil whispered in Doranei’s ear.

‘It does,’ he confirmed, ‘but we’re going further than anyone’s capable of by themselves – she’s adding her strength to the link, or we’ll never reach the mirror.’

Behind them the rest of the party had gathered the horses and were preparing to lead them through the archway. The light around the edge of the arch continued to brighten while the air within grew dark and shadowy, reflecting the shadow of the courtyard Mage Ashain would be using, Doranei guessed.

He disliked trusting a man who’d been so vocal an opponent of the king’s for so many years, but there was no denying the man’s skill.

The shadowy air seemed to coalesce with a snap, almost as tangible as a curtain that trembled under Zhia’s fingers. The vampire stood and gestured for Vesna to go ahead. ‘The link is secure, but we should not waste time.’

Vesna nodded and briskly walked his horse through, vanishing into thin air as the dark curtain billowed around him. They had agreed he would go first, in case there was any form of treachery – it was unlikely any enemy mage would be able to hold a link open if the Mortal-Aspect of Karkarn attacked him, but as it was, the curtain settled with unnatural speed and was still long before the next person went through.

‘Move yourselves,’ Zhia snapped at those lingering behind. ‘Ashain is only mortal and his strength will be quickly sapped.’

Veil’s earlier mirth vanished and he jumped to obey with the rest. Doranei sent the horses through one by one, then it was his turn to step through. He couldn’t help but glance at Zhia before he did so, and she gave him a slight smile, her irritation melting away. The King’s Man took a deep breath and let his fingers settle around the hilt of his brutal broadsword before stepping forward.

With the sensation of a trickle of water dancing over his entire body at once, he pushed through the grey curtain and out into the courtyard of Leppir Manor, many miles to the south. He shivered and almost stumbled as the Land around him seemed to reform in a bright flash of light, grey pillars and flagstones replacing the trees and leaf-strewn ground. His stomach lurched and black stars burst before his eyes, fading only slowly when he tried to blink them away. The touch of the curtain had left a chill on his skin that raised every hair and set goosebumps on his body. A wave of dizziness passed over him and an ache blossomed in his head.

‘Stop gawping and move!’ snapped a voice he didn’t recognise, and he turned to see Mage Ashain, his bearded face contorted with effort. He moved to the side of the enormous mirror he’d just stepped out of, where Daken was waiting, ready to grab at the reins of the next horse to come through.

‘Only way to travel eh?’ the white-eye laughed, apparently unaffected by the strange sensation.

Doranei shivered again as Hulf scampered through, followed quickly by Isak. ‘Prefer my hangovers to follow a drink or two,’ he croaked, pinching between his eyes as the ache continued.

Daken cackled. ‘Let’s see what we can do about that, then!’

CHAPTER 22

At dusk, after a day of rest and recovery at Leppir Manor, Isak began to grow restless. The manor was owned by King Emin and maintained by a steward as a useful waystation on the border; the region had been fractious for years. After long weeks of travelling their horses were in need of rest; they all needed to replenish their supplies, repair clothes, tend weapons and spend at least one day not fleeing from search parties of Black Swords.

The haunted look was still on Isak’s face when he headed through the long hall. Without speaking Vesna followed his friend outside to the courtyard, where Hulf lay watching the steward’s geese from a safe distance. The dog gave a happy bark at the sight of Isak and ran to him.

It had been a warm day and neither man had bothered with anything thicker than a tunic. Isak’s brown sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, displaying the strange balance of light and dark on his scarred forearms. The Skull of Ruling was a bulge at his waist, kept secure by a thick strip of cloth worn under his shirt. His right hand was empty again, the skin as dark as charcoal.

Hulf kept clear of it, Vesna saw, though he couldn’t begin to guess whether that was wariness of the black sword’s return or fear of touching Isak’s stained skin.

‘Isak,’ Vesna began hesitantly, ‘what does it feel like?’

‘The sword?’ He raised his hand to inspect his skin. The look on his face was one of wonder and disbelief, as though even Isak couldn’t believe the strange turns his life had taken. ‘Like a cloud’s crossed the sun, that sudden chill – but the rest of my body is still hot, warmed by Ghenna’s echo in my bones.’

Vesna flexed the black-iron clad fingers of his own God-touched limb. ‘Do you feel Death’s presence?’

Isak laughed softly. ‘I’ve felt that for a while, my friend. No, I know you didn’t mean it that way: you mean can I feel Death’s spirit as you feel Karkarn’s?’

‘I suppose I do, yes.’

‘No, and for that I’m glad. He’s not so much a part of me as that – maybe it’s because the Gods are weakened, but all I can feel of Death Himself is an echo in my bones. It’s not so different to when I had the Reapers caught in my shadow. Maybe it’s better to say I’m walking with one foot in the lands beyond this one. Part of me is still there, and Termin Mystt’s the key to reaching it. I actually feel more complete this way, can you believe that? My soul’s caught between realms, but with Termin Mystt in my hand I feel like I’m on the border between them. It’s not enjoyable, but at least it feels like I can reach both parts of me from here.’

‘Will you be able to step back from it?’

‘Step back?’

Vesna caught his friend’s arm, careful to touch the cloth of his sleeve only. ‘Isak, you can’t live this way for long, remember? You might walk the border between lands, but you’re still flesh and bone, a mortal man. Even using Ruling to balance the power of Termin Mystt it isn’t something you’ll be able to endure for long. You remember why you did this, right?’

‘You’re fussing like an old woman,’ Isak growled. ‘I’ve forgotten nothing.’

‘So you remember you will have to give this up?’ Vesna persisted.

Isak shrugged. ‘Soon this will all be over, one way or another. It might not be quite the Age of Fulfilment some hoped for, but there’ll be a resolution between us, Azaer and I have ensured that.’

‘And we will win,’ Vesna said firmly, ‘never doubt it. Azaer has nothing to match our power and—’ His voice wavered, but he finished, ‘and I refuse to allow Tila’s death to be in vain.’

Isak winced at the mention of her name. ‘I feel her death on my shoulders,’ he whispered, ‘and Mihn’s too. How many others do I bear? What chains of responsibility will I have to drag after my Final Judgement?’

‘You’ll not bear them alone,’ Vesna declared fiercely. ‘There’s an army of us behind you, all those marked Ghosts and Hands of Fate: they’ve embraced your fate and your burdens too. The ivory gates will shake as we march up Ghain’s slope, but it’ll not be for long years yet, my friend.’

‘Think so? What place in this life will I have afterwards? On that day, victory or no, the Land’ll be done with me.’ He raised a hand to stop Vesna as the Mortal-Aspect began to argue. ‘You think you can change what I am? I was born for this Age, and this Age alone. Once the Land’s remade, my purpose is done –
I’m
done. But I’ve lived long enough with Death’s hand on my shoulder and Death’s Aspects in my shadow, and my friend, I don’t fear it. Part of me craves some form of relief from all this. I’ll give up the sword easily enough, my friend, or it will give me up.’

They came to a stream running merrily through the moorland that ran east from Leppir Manor. The ground was studded with clumps of purple heather, rejuvenated by recent rain. Twenty yards beyond the stream, half-concealed by the grass, was a lichen-clad stone circle the height of a man’s knee. Isak didn’t enter, but placed his left hand on one of the stones and bowed his head as though in prayer. That done, he turned to face Vesna and sat without reverence on the stone.

‘Calming the local Aspect?’

Isak nodded. ‘Two, actually – a lord and lady, for want of better words. The circle’s dedicated to some Aspect of Nyphal, a safe rest for travellers unwelcome at the manor.’

‘And the other?’

‘The river-spirit – a son of Vasle.’ Isak smiled in his crooked way. ‘Both are weak, they were even before the Gods drew on their Aspects at Moorview. The union’s probably all that’s keeping them from being hunted by daemons each night.’

‘I’m sure Tila would have found great romance in a union of competing Gods,’ Vesna said.

‘No doubt, but my mind’s on other things right now.’

Vesna squinted, trying to see Isak’s expression.

‘We’re about to have a visitor,’ he said by way of explanation, looking up at the sunset sky past Vesna’s head. ‘I wanted to have this conversation away from the others.’