Shadowgod (62 page)

Just then, a scout hurried up on foot.

"My lords, my lords - a mounted force some ten thousands strong is approaching our rearguard. They have already sent forth heralds calling for our surrender."

"Azurech," Mazaret said, massaging a sudden ache in his side. He saw that the scouts had returned with an unconscious Alael, while across the valley enemy forces were now spilling down into the valley. "We cannot stay here - we have to use our strength…" He beckoned Yasgar, Yarram and his other captains closer. "We'll have the knights in the centre with a wing either side, except that the right one will be a feint - "

He was interrupted by a strange bell-like sound which filled the valley for a moment and made everyone pause. Then a dazzling pinpoint of light appeared along the valley to his right, and widened, becoming almost unwatchable. Then it was abruptly gone, revealing what to Mazaret's eyes seemed to be a herd of pure white horses, but as his vision re-accustomed itself he was assailed by a sense of stunned recognition.

"Witchhorses!" he said.

"By my ancestors, it's impossible!" cried Yasgur. "They are being led by Tauric…"

Mazaret looked round at Bardow. "You told me he was dead!"

"Atroc said he saw him die," Bardow said, " but there was no body found…"

"They're coming!" someone cried nearby.

Like the breaking of a dam, the Lord of Twilight's horde was now pouring down into the valley, its bellicose mass roar sounding clear and terrible in the still air. Mazaret gave out the command for every flag and standard to be unfurled, then looked round at the ranks of horsemen with his sword raised above his head. For a moment, the eyes of thousands were on him, then he roared out - "For our homelands!" - and dug his heel to his mount's flanks. The horse leaped forward and the downhill charge began.

Lo! For a bloody dream unfolds,
Ancient, strong and cruel,
From the embers of razed forests,
From the desolate ruins of cities,
From the aching pit of time.

—The Black Saga Of Culri Moal
, xii, 2

From the poolside of the witchhorse sanctuary, a wide track curved away through the mist-pale woods.

Before they had gone far, the track split into three and Tauric paused. Ghazrek, Shandareth and the rest of the witchhorses likewise halted.

Which one do we follow?
he asked the Fathertree spirit.

It matters little - choose one.

He gazed at all three, pondered the right hand for a moment then shrugged and veered off along the left.

Will we reach Besh-Darok in time to help?
he said
. Or are we going to arrive days after the battle?

Time as you understand it works differently in the Void and especially so in the Witchhorse's Sanctuary. It may be that the battle for Besh-Darok has already been resolved, but be assured that we shall have much to do on our return
…

Tauric expected snow-covered fields and icy air but when they emerged from the hazy mist it was into a wide, arid valley. Two great armies faced each other across the flat cracked ground with winged creatures hovering above the larger of them.

"Where is this?" Ghazrek said. "This is not Besh-Darok - it isn't even Khatris…"

"We know this place," said the witchhorse Shandareth who faced Tauric and knelt before him. "You had best climb upon my back, king of Besh-Darok. We are in the domain of the Lord of Twilight and a mighty battle looms."

"I can see the banners of Yasgur," Ghazrek cried. "And Gordag and Welgarak - "

"And there is the standard of Besh-Darok," Tauric said.

Then the Lord of Twilight's army began its chaotic charge with a thunderous roar that made the ground tremble. Moments later the allies careered down from their ridge in close held formations. Now sitting on Shandareth's back, Tauric uttered a wordless battle cry and the entire witchhorse herd surged forward.

* * *

Although some sensation and strength was returning to her limbs, Suviel still needed Atroc's help to traverse the remainder of the passageway. Leaning heavily on the Mogaun seer she at last entered the hollowed out chamber at the heart of the mountain, where fangs of rock rose like towers all around it, and pillars and vertical slabs formed a square at its centre. She saw the pulsating glow of the Wellsource and felt its hungry song through her flesh and bone. And heard a woman's voice ragged with weariness and distress, shouting, berating.

"… and Tauric is dead, and Nerek is dead and all because of you!"

With Atroc she limped between two pillars and tried to take in all she saw - the silvered statue sitting on a stool, the curled up whimpering figure of Kodel, the strange half-human, half-Daemonkind creature, who was reviling and ranting at Byrnak as he sat with the Crystal Eye in his hands...

"Keren…"

The Daemonkind paused and looked up at Suviel, then stumbled over, holding out a slender, cloth-wrapped object.

"Please, Suviel, make me human again," Keren said. "Orgraaleshenoth said the Staff could do this."

"It may, Keren." Then; "Byrnak - are you …
aware
?"

He looked up with a sombre introspective gaze then stood, came over and handed her the Crystal Eye with the Motherseed held captive within it.

"I have become aware," he said, "of many things and many places."

With that, he strode away through the pillars to the passageway leading out and was gone.

"Curious," said Atroc. "Neither of you tried to stop him."

"There is no power in him now," Suviel said. "Only visions."

Keren and Atroc helped her over to the fane of the Wellsource where she sat on the steps and considered the three talismans for a moment. With the ovoid Motherseed suspended within its substance, the Crystal Eye now looked very like an eye and while motes of light floated up and down the Staff of the Void its headstone remained a dull, black sphere. Suviel smiled and casually tapped the Crystal Eye with the Staff.

The Eye distorted and twisted and in an eyeblink was gone. Keren and Atroc cried out in shock…then Suviel held up the Staff of the Void for them to see that its headstone had been transformed into the Crystal Eye with the Motherseed at its centre. Suviel could feel how the powers of each interlocked with each and multiplied them all. She only needed to glance at Keren to see exactly how Orgraaleshenoth had used the powers of his realm to alter her form, and it took only a thought to unlock that sorcery and let the reversal begin.

Another thought wiped the pain and weakness from her own body and a further notion sent the catatonic Kodel into a deep healing slumber. Breathing deeply, she stood and smiled at Atroc and Keren.

"Now I must enter the Wellsource," she said, "and use the complete talisman to destroy it - "

But at that moment a voice boomed out: "That cannot be."

Into the Wellsource shrine stepped a large, dog-like creature, followed by a wide-eyed and fearful Tauric who grinned suddenly when he caught sight of Atroc and Suviel. But Atroc was astonished.

"Majesty - you are alive!"

"So it would seem," Tauric said, then looked at the dog creature, who Suviel knew to be the spirit of the Fathertree. "All I did was walk forward along the middle branch - where are the witchhorses?"

"Even now they are fighting for all their worth," the Fathertree spirit said, gazing at Suviel.

"Yes," she said. "Battle has been joined - I can feel it. But why do you delay me? The Wellsource must be quenched, extinguished."

"But not by you - your attunement to both the Lesser Power and the Crystal Eye will prevent you using the full potential of the talisman trinity."

A shocked realisation struck her. "And because Tauric is not attuned to any of the powers, he is the one who has to use the talisman staff."

The spirit of the Fathertree sat on his haunches and seemed to smile. "Precisely."

"But I know nothing of the Wellsource," Tauric said. "Or the Crystal Eye or… or the Staff… how could I use them to destroy the Wellsource?"

"That is not what the talisman trinity is for," the dog-thing said. "Gods are the living dreams of the Void, and only a dream can destroy a dream."

Understanding at last, Suviel nodded sadly and held the talisman trinity out to Tauric who hesitantly accepted it.

"It will guide and protect you as you travel down the Wellsource," the Fathertree spirit told him. "It is a long journey into the depths of the Void and in its uttermost depths you will find, and know you've found, a place for the seeding of power and the beginning of a new dream."

"I am ready," Tauric said.

The spirit then looked at Suviel. "There are unknown dangers at those depths - will you go with him?"

Suviel nodded. "I shall."

"Approach the Wellsource together."

Suviel and Tauric walked side by side over to the roughly-carved, conical fane then climbed the steps.

"May Fate's hand be open," Atroc said.

"Farewell," said Keren.

On the rushing, dazzling brink of the Wellsource with its voice weaving and swirling around them, Tauric said, "I'm so very scared."

"Good," said Suviel, tightly grasping his hand while her other hand was in her side pocket, holding Mazaret's ivory book leaf. "I wouldn't want to be the only one."

Together they stepped into the coruscating torrent of power.

* * *

In the thick of the battle, a gash in his forehead oozing blood into his left eye, and with half his armour torn away, Mazaret yet knew they were prevailing. Despite the shattering din of the fighting he could see how the huge undisciplined horde recoiled and panicked as the Besh-Darok knights and the Mogaun warriors charged them again and again. Many of their leaders lay in the carnage of the first onslaught, during which the witchhorses had wrought such deadly havoc.

And there, overhead, the great white horses were soaring above the main press of the enemy which had been hemmed in on three sides. Plumes of white freezing vapour drifted downwards…and the enemy ranks went wild with panic, their retreat quickly becoming a stampeding, shrieking rout. Pursuit became bloody slaughter, and Mazaret and Yasgur had to go after groups of their own battle-maddened men to get them to fall back to their rallying standards…

Yet even as they began obeying the repeated orders, bellowed at them by captains and sergeants, Mazaret felt a breeze pluck at his ripped cloak and his hair. Turning, he saw that a wall of mist had fallen across the far end of the valley during the battle…

Bardow came riding up, exhaustion in his face.

"Best rally everyone, Ikarno," he said, nodding at the hazy, towering barrier. "There's worse to come - I can feel it…"

Then the breeze picked up and the wall of mists began to fray and come apart. Tauric and the witchhorse Shondareth landed nearby and trotted over.

"What can we expect next?" he said.

The next moment answered his question as the rising wind tore aside the misty veilto reveal a direful, reason-defying sight - a gigantic, towering citadel which stretched up unbelievably high, floor after floor of battlements and parapets and turrets, some of which Mazaret thought he recognised…

"Impossible!” said Bardow. "it should collapse under its own weight!"

Then he saw it - this vast tower was composed of those that the Shadowkings had employed, Gorla, Keshada, the Drumkeep of Rauthaz, the Red Tower of Casall, and others piled one on another, a supreme demonstration of arrogant power. Horns began to blare from its high walls, gongs to sound and drums to pound as gates opened all along the foot of the colossal tower and the Army of Twilight rode forth in their tens of thousands.

From a pebbly hillock Mazaret saw blue-armoured warriors astride giant war-wolves while trident-wielding handlers guided ferocious looking dogs the size of horses. There were spearmen in spiked chariots, scythe warriors riding green, six-limbed reptiles, and fur-clad savages with great clubs balanced on their shoulders. Mazaret knew that to order his men to battle against this vast host was the maddest folly, but he looked round at his captains and allies and saw only a grim, unbending resolve.

Then another blast of horns caught his attention and he turned to see a huge figure emerging from the gates. Towering head and chest above his tallest warriors, the Lord of Twilight was garbed in barbaric splendour, long fur cloak over his chain mail, heavy hacking blade clasped in his hand, and a rude helm with downturned horns sat above brutal, gleeful features.

Mazaret snatched a banner from his bearers, bellowed a battle cry which was taken up by the riders rallying to him. Then, with Yasgur at his side, and the witchhorses soaring overhead, he led the charge.

They were hopelessly outnumbered. The enemy was a surging sea of blades and death that absorbed their every charge and probing attack. Acts of heroism were innumerable, some scarcely believable even to those who witnessed them, but deaths were final and unanswerable.

Yarram, Lord Commander of the Knights of the Fathertree, died before his men, throat torn out by a war-wolf as he speared its rider. Welgarak, chieftain of the Black Moon clan, died from a cluster of arrows, surrounded by dead foes. Yasgur died trying to get through the cordon of black knights that surrounded the Lord of Twilight, crushed by mace blows. Bardow died in a circle of scythe blades and when Tauric tried to get to him on Shondareth, three Daemonkind swooped upon him and snatched him from the witchhorse's back.

His bloody, lifeless body fell to the ground away from the battle but vanished soon after.

Bleeding from numerous wounds, Mazaret gathered the remaining few hundred of his men on a low hill near the valley wall, thinking to make a final stand. The ranks of the enemy were reforming some distance away and Mazaret was checking his weapons and trying to ignore the pain in his side. Off to one side, Alael sat leaning against a standing stone, face buried in her hands. Then someone cried:

"He's gone!"

Dashing sweat from his brow he turned to gaze out at the fiendish throng, searching for that huge, horn-helmed figure. But the lookout was right - the Lord of Twilight was no longer on the field of battle. And as he surveyed the enemy's endless numbers and noticed their growing disarray and confusion, the ground suddenly trembled underfoot. Out in the valley, a chorus of moans and wails went up from the Army of Twilight. The sky darkened and a chill wind sprang up. The ground shook again, a brief sharp movement that was still no preparation for the violent quake that struck moments later.