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Asea stared at the board, her eyes concentrating on her pieces. She seemed to be paying no attention to her half-brother’s words. She moved one of her pawns moved forward to block the bishop’s attack on the Queen.

“There’s dark magic at work in this plague, for sure,” said Asea, as Azaar’s reached out and pulled his bishop back. “I have not seen anything so virulent since we left Al’Terra, and the way the victims rise afterwards is disturbing to say the least.”

"What's more disturbing is that the dead seem to be joining with Easterners."

Asea steepled her fingers in front of her and studied her reflection in the General’s mask. “Someone has cast a necromantic spell of immense power. I can feel its workings over this entire land.”

“Can you disrupt it?”

“Perhaps locally but even then perhaps not. I have not felt magic this powerful since we left the home world.”

“I wish you had not told me that,” Azaar said. “I'd like to think that you were the most powerful wizard on the planet.”

"Not anymore," she said. "Whoever is behind this is far more powerful than I."

Rik did not find this in the least reassuring. He shuddered. The General turned his bright mad eye on Rik. It took all the youth’s self control to keep from flinching. Azaar's family had been killed by Shadowblood and that if the General ever suspected what he was, the best he could expect was a quick death.

"I hear that you have the Lady Tamara in truesilver chains. Is there any particular reason for that?"

"Despite her appearance, she is a very powerful sorcerer."

"So was her father so that does not surprise me. Why do you think she chose to join us now?"

"She claims to have fallen out with the new rulers of Sardea. She claims that the Prime Minister is a follower of the Shadow and that he has a grudge against her."

"The bit about Xephan is quite possible," he said the General. "Her father and Xephan were great rivals. Xephan schemed to have old Malkior replaced for decades. Do you think there's any truth to the other part of Tamara's claim?"

"I fear there is. All of this sorcery, the plague, the war, the assassinations, the rising of Elder daemons — it's all connected."

"Then it's happening — what we've always feared. The Shadow has followed us to this world at last."

"Yes," Asea said. "And we are not ready for it."

"We were never going to be ready for it."

Asea seemed amused. As always she met adversity with perfect poise. Rik wished he could emulate her but he lacked her centuries of practise. Azaar looked at Rik as if trying to judge how he was taking this. Rik realised that he was in a position of immense trust if these two members of the First were prepared to discuss this in front of him.

The beadiness of the General’s stare increased. “There’s something about you I can’t quite fathom, boy. Something uncanny.”

Rik took a deep breath and willed himself to be calm. What did Azaar suspect? Rik had many secrets, any one of which would be cause for having him executed. Deep in his mind, the voice of beings long dead whispered to him. He did his best to will them to silence but it was hard to do under the circumstances.

“You’ve been teaching him sorcery, haven’t you, Asea?” It was not a question. “It’s written all over him. The question is why?”

Asea did not answer and the General went on speaking so quietly it seemed like he was talking to himself. “And he’s always there when strange things happen. He was at Achenar when the Spider God woke, and he was with you in Morven when you destroyed the Serpent Tower. He saved Queen Kathea and then he was accused of killing her. Easy to see why the Inquisition might be interested in him.”

He stared directly at Rik and said, “The eye of the storm always passes over you, boy. Have you any idea why that is?”

Rik’s mouth was dry. What did the General suspect? Why had he mentioned Inquisitors? “I have no idea, sir.”

There was no mirth in the ancient General’s cackling laughter. “I am not entirely sure I believe you.”

Rik wondered what he was supposed to say to that. He was in no position to argue with the supreme commander of the army. Technically speaking, he was still under his authority in the eyes of the law, even if he was no longer a soldier. At this moment, despite what he said, Azaar was the dictator of Kharadrea and would be until Queen Arielle sent someone to replace him.

"Leave Rik alone, Azaar," said Asea. "He's your guest and he's been adopted into our clan."

“Of course, where are my manners? I apologise, Rik. I have yet to congratulate you and I have something to give you — a gift to welcome you into our extended family.”

He summoned a servant with a gesture and the man brought a long wooden case. Asea looked up with interest, her gaze flickering between her brother and Rik. The servant gave the casket to the General and he offered it to Rik with his own hands. “Go on, take it!”

Rik took the box. It was made of a wood he had never seen before, ancient and polished. There was a smell of wax and incense about it and his thievish instincts told him at once that it was old and valuable.

“Open it up!” said Azaar. Rik did so and saw that there was a blade contained within it. The sword was long and straight and there were runes set on the blade. It was quite the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“A princely gift,” said Asea. “That blade came from Al’Terra, didn’t it?”

Azaar nodded. “It was made before we came to this world. See that you do nothing to disgrace it.”

Rik realised that this sword was probably worth more than all the things he had ever owned put together and then some. It was a weapon that could protect its owner from magic and which could kill daemons and Nerghul and other monsters.

“If this boy is going to be your bodyguard, I suspect is going to need a weapon like that,” said Azaar. He snapped his fingers and the servant brought a scabbard. It was plain and gave no hint of the wealth represented by the sword it was made to contain. Rik slid the blade home and then strapped the scabbard onto his belt. It hung there as if it had been made for him, and he barely felt the weight.

He bowed low to the General and said, “I thank you, sir. It is a gift beyond price.”

“My sister has brought you into our family. I want the world to know that I have welcomed you too. It may prove some protection to you in the days to come.” He shrugged and then maliciously added, “Then again, it might not. I am not without enemies myself.”

“I will do my best to see that I bring no disgrace on you or your sister,” said Rik.

“You’d better, boy. You’d better. Tomorrow we meet with the Sardeans so you’ll have a chance to live up to those words.”

“Look at them,” said the Barbarian, he pulled the sausage he was warming out of the fire and pointed the spit in the general direction of Sergeant Hef and his family. The Sergeant, his wife and all of their kids were on their knees praying, beside the small tent they all shared.

“It’s good someone is praying for our survival,” said Weasel “Maybe the Light will listen. You never know. Stranger things have happened.”

“Waste of time,” said the Barbarian, taking another slug from his vodka flask. The burning liquid scorched his throat. He offered the flask to Weasel who took it gratefully enough. “If your time is up, your time is up. No amount of praying will do any good.”

Weasel gave him a crazy lop-sided grin after he had finished a long pull on the flask. “You know that for certain, do you?”

“How many guys have you seen pray the night before battle that had their brains blown out the next day?”

“A fair number,” said Weasel “But I’ve known a few that prayed and they were spared too. Who is to say it didn’t make a difference?”

“I’ve never prayed before battle and I am still here.”

“There’s some would say it’s because you’re too stupid to die.”