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‘This weapon,’ Fear said as he halted five paces from Trull, ‘is Letherii steel.’

‘I saw them on the field of battle. They defied the K’risnan sorcery, when all else was destroyed. Swords, spear-heads, undamaged.’ Trull studied his brother. ‘What of it?’Advertisement

Fear hesitated, then looked out on the river. ‘It is what I do not understand. How did they achieve such a thing as this steel? They are a corrupt, vicious people, Trull. They do not deserve such advances in craft.’

‘Why them and not us?’ Trull asked, then he smiled. ‘Fear, the Letherii are a forward-looking people, and so inherently driven. We Edur do not and have never possessed such a force of will. We have our Blackwood, but we have always possessed that. Our ancestors brought it with them from Emurlahn. Brother, we look back-’

‘To the time when Father Shadow ruled over us,’ Fear cut in, his expression darkening. ‘Hannan Mosag speaks the truth. We must devour the Letherii, we must set a yoke upon them, and so profit from their natural drive to foment change.’

‘And what will that do to us, brother? We resist change, we do not worship it, we do not thrive in its midst the way the Letherii do. Besides, I am not convinced that theirs is the right way to live. I suspect their faith in progress is far more fragile than it outwardly seems. In the end, they must ever back up what they seek with force.’ Trull pointed to the sword. ‘With that.’

‘We shall guide them, Trull. Hannan Mosag understood this-’

‘You revise the past now, Fear. He was not intending to wage war on the Letherii.’

‘Not immediately, true, but it would have come. And he knew it. So the K’risnan have told me. We had lost Father Shadow. It was necessary to find a new source of faith.’

‘A faceless one?’

‘Damn you, Trull! You knelt before him – no different from the rest of us!’

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‘And to this day, I wonder why. What about you, Fear? Do you wonder why you did as you did?’

His brother turned away, visibly trembling. ‘I saw no doubt.’

‘In Hannan Mosag. And so you followed. As did the rest of us, I suspect. One and all, we knelt before Rhulad, believing we saw in each other a certainty that did not in truth exist-’

With a roar, Fear spun round, the sword lifting high. It swung down-

– and was halted, suddenly, by the demon, whose massive hand had closed round Fear’s forearm and held it motionless. ‘Release me!’

‘No,’ Lilac replied. ‘This warrior stole my death. I now steal his.’ Fear struggled a moment longer, then, seeing it was hopeless, he sagged.

‘You can let him go now,’ Trull said.

‘If he attacks again I will kill him,’ the demon said, releasing Fear’s arm.

‘We followed Hannan Mosag,’ Trull said, ‘and yet, what did we know of his mind? He was our Warlock King, and so we followed. Think on this, Fear. He had sought out a new source of power, rejecting Father Shadow. True, he knew, as we did, that Scabandari Bloodeye was dead, or, at best, his spirit lived but was lost to us. And so he made pact with… something else. And he sent you and me, Binadas and Rhulad and the Buhns, to retrieve the gift that… thing… created for him. The fault lies with us, Fear, in that we did not question, did not challenge the Warlock King. We were fools, and all that is before us now, and all that will come, is our fault.’

‘He is the Warlock King, Trull.’

‘Who arrived at absolute power over all the Edur. He held it and would not lose it, no matter what. And so he surrendered his soul. As did we, when we knelt before Rhulad.’

Fear’s eyes narrowed on him. ‘You are speaking treason, brother.’

‘Against what? Against whom? Tell me, I truly want to know. Have you seen the face of our new god?’

‘Were Binadas standing here and not I,’ Fear whispered, ‘you would be dead now.’

‘And, in our wondrous new empire, will that be the singular fate of all those who voice dissent?’

Fear looked down at the sword in his hand. Then let it drop. ‘Your warriors are awaiting you, Trull. In two days’ time we resume our march. South, to Letheras.’ He then turned and walked away.

Trull watched him for a moment, then looked out on the river once more. For every eddy in the current, in the lees of boulders and notches in the bank, the river rushed on, slave to relentless laws. When he had placed his hand in the water, it had quickly grown numb. ‘Eventually, Lilac, we will make sense of this.’ pqdm.com