Ahlrada Ahn drew out his Merude cutlasses once again, studied their deadly sharp edges. The grips felt good, felt proper, nestled in his large hands. He heard a stirring among the warriors gathered on the deck and looked up to see the one named Taralack Veed pushing through the crowd, at his side Atri-Preda Yan Tovis and in their wake the Jhag known as Icarium.
Taller than most Edur, the silent, sad-faced warrior carried naught but his old, single-edged sword. No bow, no scabbard for the weapon in his right hand, no armour of any kind. Yet Ahlrada Ahn felt a chill whisper through him. Is he in truth a champion? What will we see this day, beyond the gate?
Two hundred Edur warriors, the Arapay warlock Sathbaro Rangar – now dragging his malformed hulk on a route that would intercept Icarium – and sixty Letherii archers. All ready, all eager to begin the killing.
The warlock squinted up at the Jhag, who halted before him – not out of deference or even much in the way of attentiveness; rather, because the twisted old man blocked his path. 'I see,' Sathbaro Rangar said in a rasp, 'in you… nothing. Vast emptiness, as if you are not even here. And your companion claims you to be a great warrior? I think we are deceived.'
Icarium said nothing.
The human named Taralack Veed stepped forward, pausing to spit on his hands and sweep them back through his hair. 'Warlock,' he said in passable trader's tongue, 'when the fight begins, you shall see the birth of all that waits within him. This I promise. Icarium exists to destroy, exists to fight, I mean to say, and that is all-'
'Then why does he weep at your words?' Tomad Sengar asked from behind Ahlrada Ahn.
Taralack Veed turned, then bowed low. 'Preda, he grieves for what is lost within him, for all that your warlock perceives… the absence, the empty vessel. It is no matter.'
'It is no matter.' Ahlrada Ahn did not believe that. He could not. You fools! Look at him! What you see, Sathbaro Rangar, is nothing more than loss. Do none of you grasp the significance of that? What do we invite among us? And this Taralack Veed, this foul-smelling savage, see how nervous he looks, as if he himself dreads what is coming – no, I am not blind to the eager light in his eyes, but I see fear there, too. It cries out in his every gesture.
What are we about to do here?
Tomad Sengar said, 'Warlock, prepare the path.'
At that, everyone readied their weapons. Saur Bathrada and Kholb Harat would lead, followed by Sathbaro Rangar himself, and then Taralack and his charge, with the bulk of the Edur behind them, and the Letherii appearing last, arrows nocked.
This would be Ahlrada Ann's first foray against the guardians of the throne. But he had heard enough tales. Battle without quarter. Battle as vicious as any the Edur had experienced. He adjusted his grip on the cutlasses and moved into position, in the front line of the main body. Low-voiced greetings reached him – every Edur warrior emboldened by Ahlrada Ahn's presence in their ranks. Spearbreaker. Fearless, as if eager for death.
Oh yes, I am that indeed. Death. My own.
And yet… do I not still dream of going home?
He watched the ragged gate blister the air, then split wide, limned in grey flames, its maw nothing but blurred darkness.
The warlock stepped to one side, and Saur and Kholb lunged into it, vanished into the gloom. Sathbaro Rangar followed, then Taralack and Icarium. And it was Ahlrada Ahn's turn. He pushed himself forward, into the void-and stumbled onto crackling loam, the air sweet with forest scents.
As with the world they had just left, it was late afternoon.
Continuing to move forward, Ahlrada Ahn looked around. They were alone, unopposed.
He heard Icarium ask, 'Where are we?'
And the Arapay warlock turned. 'Drift Avalii, warrior. Where resides the Throne of Shadow.'
'And who guards it?' Taralack Veed demanded. 'Where is this fierce enemy of yours?'
Sathbaro Rangar lifted his head, as if sniffing the air, then he grunted in surprise. 'The demons have fled. They have fled! Why? Why did they yield us the throne? After all those battles? I do not understand.'
Ahlrada Ahn glanced over at Icarium. Demons… fleeing.
'I do not understand this,' the warlock said again.
Perhaps I do. Oh Sisters, who now walks among us?
He was startled, then, by a faint whispering sound, and he whirled, weapons lifting.
But it was naught but an owl, gliding away down the wide path before them.
He saw a flicker of motion among the humus, and the raptor's talons snapped down. The owl then flapped upward once more, a tiny broken form clutched in its reptilian grip.
'No matter,' the Arapay warlock was saying. 'Let us go claim our throne.' And he set off, hobbling, dragging one bent leg, down the trail.