Kellanved's Reach

Silk nodded at that. Yes. But he’d been expecting a few ship’s mages, or a drunken hedge wizard – not this. He backed away from the wall, thinking, Hood take it, if they got through I know where they will be headed. And that damned assassin is with them …

He turned and ran for the nearest stairs.

‘What about the defence, man!’ Smokey yelled after him. ‘The walls!’

But in Silk’s eyes there was only one thing worth defending.

He found the palace in a panic. Functionaries and servants ran every which way. He grabbed one’s arm, demanding, ‘What’s going on?’

‘Creatures!’ the woman gasped. ‘The dead walk!’

Silk curled a lip. ‘Really? Did you see these?’

‘Well, no. But everyone’s saying—’

Snarling, he released her. He knew it; that damned Dal Hon sneak was up to something.

He pushed further into the complex. Curiously, just where he’d expect to see barricades or wall-to-wall palace guards, he found none. Yet neither was there blood, or corpses, or the ruin of battle. It was as if everyone had simply upped and run away. It troubled him greatly, but he made for the central cynosure, hoping to find Shalmanat.

Heaving open the door of the domed inner sanctum, he froze, absolutely shocked as he faced the backs of four individuals who, frankly, fitted perfectly the description he’d been given of dead walking. Without a pause he threw out his hands and gave them every ounce of summoned Warren power he possessed.

The conflagration of energies left the floor glowing and crackling and through the smoke he saw Shalmanat limping away through a distant door. Of the interlopers nothing remained, just smoke and charred ash.

He hurried forward only to be yanked backwards off his feet and lifted by an iron-hard grip at his neck. He was turned to stare into a face that was, frankly, death incarnate: dried, aged flesh stretched over bone, dark empty eye-pits and bared tannin-stained teeth. And round this head, the opened fleshless skull of a wolf, jaws agape.

‘Do not interfere,’ the apparition told him, and he was unceremoniously flung aside through the air to land tumbling.

Blinking, dazed, he squinted while the things seemed to disintegrate into dust before his very eyes. He blinked again. Dust. Dust? And bones? The Army of Dust and Bone?

So – they were here for her. Well, not without a fight. He clambered to his feet and staggered after Shalmanat. The door opened on to a narrow hall that led to the spire. Here he started up the circular staircase. He lost his breath about halfway but grimly carried on, teeth clenched, gasping in air.

He gained the top landing to find himself once more facing the rear of the four members of the Army of Dust and Bone. Two turned to face him, bony hands going to the grips of flint weapons thrust through twisted hide belts.

‘Leave her alone!’ he demanded. Shalmanat stood at the balcony of the spire, her chin raised, defiant. The wolf-headdress creature turned at his call. ‘She is not your enemy,’ Silk told it.

‘No. This is why she still lives.’

‘Then what do you want!’ Silk yelled.

Wolf-headdress raised a pole-thin arm of dried flesh over bone to her. ‘We are displeased to find one of her kind ruling here over you humans. This is distasteful to us.’

‘She has been our benefactor!’

‘None the less.’ The creature faced Shalmanat. ‘Liosan calls. It is time for you to return to your kind.’

Shalmanat shook her head, pushed her wind-tossed thin white hair from her tear-stained face. ‘No. You don’t understand. They would not have me.’

The creature drew a flint dagger. ‘Choose. Return to your kind … or face us.’

She snarled then, straightening. ‘Damn you pitiless Imass!’ And, grasping the ledge, she rolled herself over the top to disappear, her white linen shirt and trousers snapping in the wind.

Silk lunged forward, ‘No!

’

He half leaned over the ledge, only to be blinded by a great flash of light from below, and he turned away, blinking. ‘What have you done?’

‘She chose wisely,’ the Imass said.

And with that the four suddenly dispersed into dust that quickly blew away. Silk slid down the wall of the balcony to hunch, head in hands, somehow still unable to understand. Was she gone? Really truly gone?

What ever would he do now?

Resistance in Li Heng collapsed as the account spread of witnesses seeing monstrous creatures flinging the Protectress to her death from the top of the spire. This, plus the apparent routing of the Cabal of Five, completely ended the hostilities.

Kellanved and Dancer entered the central palace unopposed.

They found it a littered mess vacant of all functionaries, guards and servants. Kellanved peered round at the overturned furniture and scattered scrolls and vellum sheets, then eyed Dancer. ‘Not the welcome I was expecting.’