“You take it correctly.”
“What now, Milady?” Rik asked to forestall any further sniping. He feared that things would not go well for Tamara, given Asea’s present mood.
Asea considered for a moment. “The power behind the plague is a mighty one. The Army of the Dead is only going to get stronger until the spell is ended and the gateway closed.”
“I would say that is a fair assessment of the situation,” said Tamara. “But somewhat irrelevant.”
“How so?”
“Because we have no way of breaking the spell. Your army was defeated today, Milady, and the armies of the East march towards your homeland.”
“Be that as it may, it does not alter the nature of the problem in the slightest. While the dead march the West cannot win this war. Every casualty is a potential new recruit for our foes. Every loss to our side is doubled.”
Tamara nodded. “I know that as well as you but that was not point. Without your army you have no way of getting to Askander and closing the Gate.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I should think it obvious. All the armies of Sardea lie between you and your destination.”
Asea smiled. “Perhaps not. As you have so astutely pointed out, they will soon sweep on, invincibly, into the West.”
“You cannot be thinking of striking East on your own.”
“Why not? I can do no good here and I may be able to close the Gate in the East.”
“It is guarded.”
“Guards can always be taken by surprise. You of all people should know that. And I doubt our enemies will expect such a bare-faced attack.”
“Presumably because they assume you are not insane.”
Rik stared at Asea. She sounded serious. She really was considering heading East, on her own, to try and close the Gate. Perhaps she had gone mad. It was possible some backlash from today’s sorcery had deranged her.
“You have no chance,” said Tamara.
“I have a tiny chance,” said Asea. “And when you have run out of options, that is better than nothing.”
“I think you might be noticed in your war-gear.”
“There’s always disguise.”
“They will be looking for you.”
“They will be looking for me in the West, with the armies of the West. I doubt they will expect me to go rushing into their territory. Would you?”
Tamara’s smile could almost have been admiring. “No. Because I have always thought you were clever.”
“The Princes of Shadow will come. I have already seen one world lost to them. I will not see another.”
“How will you go?” Rik asked. “The wyrm is a bit conspicuous and we do not have any dragons. Do you know some sorcery that will transport you there?”
“I will go on foot if necessary and I will go soon, for every day that passes our enemy grows stronger, and it may be that they will soon be sufficiently mighty or Talorea may become sufficiently weak for them to overcome us without their undead legions.”
“You underestimated us, didn’t you?” said Tamara quietly.
“Yes,” said Asea.
“It’s not surprising. I did too.”
“Who could have foreseen anything like this, on a world with so much less power available than Al’Terra?”
“The people who planned it did.”
“Yes. They managed to find something that would work even with the full power of their magic unavailable to them. They were devilishly clever.”
“They had centuries to prepare,” said Rik.
“So did we,” said Asea, “but we spent it building an Empire over the humans and fighting among ourselves, and our greatest foes have taken advantage of that. Then again, they always knew how to exploit our weaknesses, and why should they not, for they are just like us in many ways.”
“Does that not mean that you should be able to exploit their weaknesses in return,” said Rik.
“I hope so, for if we do not then civilisation as we know it on this world is doomed and a new age of darkness has begun.”
“Can you close the Gate?” Rik asked.
“I have done so once. I can do it again. I might even be able to destroy it, if I get close enough.”
“How will you do that?”
“I am hoping that you can show me the way.” There was a hint of pleading in the look she gave him.
“I’ll need to think about it.”
She nodded. “Don’t take too long. Every hour counts.”
Rik lay in the gloom of the ruined building. Try as he might and tired as he was he could not get to sleep. Eventually, he rose and made his way up the old stairs to watch the moonlight turn the oily surface of the river to silver. A devilwing or perhaps a large bat moved across the face of the moon. All was quiet save for the rush of the water below.
What was he going to do now? Asea seemed determined to throw away her life so he was about to lose his patron. The vision of wealth and privilege that had been so briefly dangled before his eyes evaporated like morning mist in the rays of the sun.
The followers of the Princes of Shadow were going to take over the world, and use humanity as their cattle and the undead as their fist. He saw no reason to doubt that. It was what his father would have done, and Malkior seemed a not untypical representative of the Princes and their servants.
He thought of the world wracked by plague, with humans raised to be devoured by a new generation of masters far worse than even the Terrarchs had been. It made him angry and the most frustrating thing was that his anger counted for nothing. It never had and it never would. The powerful would get on with what they wanted without any regard to the way people like him felt. It was simply the way the world was made.
The anger burned in his gut, warming him like a potent spirit. For a moment, he thought he understood what Asea intended to do. She would defy fate and the Princes of Shadow and attempt to change the way history wanted to be written. Even though she knew she had very little chance she was prepared to take the risk anyway. The alternative for her as much as for him was to flee or do nothing, and she was choosing not to do either. It was admirable in its way, even if it was foolish.
What was he going to do? Perhaps, he should go with her. She had helped look after him, and he should help look after her. He had nothing left to go back to.
Did that really mean he had to throw away his life though? The truth was that his life was most likely thrown away anyway. He was known to be of Asea’s party and he doubted that the Princes of Shadow would be any more forgiving of their enemies than the usual run of Terrarchs. He could hide but the chances were that he would be run down eventually. Even if he was not, all he could look forward to was a lifetime of skulking and fear.
At least it would be a life. Accompanying Asea would be suicide.
Ah, but if she succeeded, he would be famous. What were the chances of that though? Vanishingly small, but he had succeeded against such odds before. Perhaps he could do so again.
The thought began to take hold of him, although the voices protested. They did not want to lose their last toehold on life, terrible though it might be. Their whining pushed him in the opposite direction. He was tempted to go with Asea just to show that he was still master of his life, not their puppet and vessel.
He told himself to sleep on it, make no hasty decision, but he knew that in some strange way his choice was already made.
Sardec studied the compass then the angle of the sunrise. By his calculations if they headed directly south they would encounter the main road. They would also encounter the triumphant Sardean army and its outriders which seemed like something to be avoided at all costs.
He looked at Weasel and the Barbarian. They had just come back from trapping breakfast. They brought with them a brace of rabbits and a bunch of edible roots and herbs and set about cooking them in their small military issue mess cans. Sardec was grateful for their skills. He could not have provided for himself with such efficiency, given the fact that he had a hook instead of a hand.