They entered the inn to find Azkun staring at the picture of Gilish throwing himself into the Chasm of Kelerish. He glared at it as if it were a personal threat.
“Do you still want to do this?” asked Althak, placing a gentle hand on Azkun's shoulder.
“I have never wanted it, but I must do it.” He turned to Tenari. “Look at her, Althak. She is under a spell, she is trapped by the Monnar. I do not know how to free her. Gashan will destroy Anthor and probably Relanor; I promised them help, but I do not know how to save them. In Kelerish I will find out or I will die.” He nodded at the picture on the wall. “I hoped I would learn something from the pictures. They only show me how to fail. I do not want to fail.”
“And you will still journey alone?”
“Yes.” Tenari, who clung to his arm showed no sign that she understood him. Her blank expression was unchanged.
Althak sighed.
“I wish I could think of something else you should do instead, but all I can do is help you to your doom. You'll need a horse to take you to Kelerish. I have some gold. We should be able to find one here, though we'll not be overwhelmed with choice.”
Leaving Shelim at the inn Althak sought out his cousin Akarth. He had a household across the road from the inn and to reach it they had to pass the dragon post. Azkun had not seen it on his previous visit but now it confronted him: a thick, wooden post rammed into the ground with a carefully carved dragon’s head on its top. The sides of the post were black with old blood and the mud around its base was a dark shade of red.
He stopped before it. The dragon's head seemed to leer at him like a spectre and he instinctively clutched Tenari's arm. He would have to leave her soon, what would he do if the spectres came upon him when he was alone?
“Althak, what is this?”
Althak hesitated,
“It's the dragon post. The place where the sacrifices are offered.” Deaths unnumbered paraded in front of Azkun. Sacrifice after sacrifice, oblivion opening and swallowing life after life into darkness, throat after throat opened. He felt a burning in his own throat, he remembered the sacrifice he had been unable to stop. The Gashan deep in his mind stirred. If he had let it it would have made him burst into gleeful laughter.
They entered Akarth's house. It was dim inside, much like Darven's house with its cauldron and animal pens. A similar wickerwork screen covered the women's quarters at the far end. But this house was made of rammed earth bricks. The smells were much more pungent than in Darven's wooden house. Akarth was not at home, he and most of his folk and his animals were out in their boats or their fields. But there was a priestess there and a middle-aged woman supervising a group of children.
“Althak!” said the priestess. “Unexpected but welcome. Akarth will be pleased to see you again.”
“It is good to see you, Tari.”
“Have some stew, Althak,” said the other woman. “Who's with you? Is that Tenari?”
Azkun saw the two women exchange a look.
“Yes, it is,” said Althak. “And this is Azkun. He was here with us last time but he didn't come to your house.”
Tari peered through the dimness.
“Oh, yes, I saw him go with you on the boat with Awan. Come and tell us your news.”
“Have you seen Loreli?” the other woman frowned in thought. “She said she used to call herself Thalissa, said she knew important folk away south.” She shrugged, “Told us she had to make sure they didn't find her, then chased off after Tenari when you'd gone. I never could fathom her.”
“Yes, Moreni,” said Althak. “She sailed with us but… there was an accident. She died.”
“Well, some here will miss her, but not many.”
“She was my mother,” said Azkun.
“Oh, you're the son she always talked about? The one she thought should be emperor?” Moreni frowned. “I take it you're not the Emperor, then?”
“No. I am… someone else.”
“Azkun needs a horse to get him to Kelerish.”
“What do you want to go there for?” Tari grimaced. “Entrance to Hell and all that.”
Althak forestalled him from answering.
“My friend has a great burden. He hopes to leave it at Kelerish. Now, about this horse.”
“Akarth will be happy to loan you a couple of horses, Althak.”
“Only one, and it needs to be more than a loan. I've some gold for it.”
“All right, let's have a look at the horse paddock.”
There were several of the stocky beasts common to this part of the country, none of them in very good condition, but Althak selected one he liked the look of and they agreed on a price with Moreni, who seemed happy enough to sell it cheaply to Althak.
“That's the business done, now, about that stew. I could use some gossip.”
“I have what I need,” said Azkun. “I can go now.”
“Aren't you hungry?” asked Tari
“No. But thank you.”
“You'll want something for your journey at least.”
“It's all right, Tari,” said Althak. “Azkun… actually neither of them seem to need food.”
Tari stared at Tenari.
“She hasn't eaten all this time? I knew she didn't eat when Trian first found her but that was only a couple of days. She ought to be dead by now.”
Azkun would once have assured her it was the power of the dragons but now he had nothing to say.
“We don't understand it either,” said Althak.
“I must go,” said Azkun. He could feel a weight of promises on his shoulders.
Althak folded him in his arms and wept.
“I hope we'll meet again, but I fear for you.”
“Tell Menish I was wrong about the dragons, and that I am sorry. If I do not bring you aid then I will be dead. Do not search for me if I do not return. Look after Tenari.”
When it came to it, Tenari would not be separated from him. Neither he nor Althak were prepared to force her and she clung to Azkun's arm as dumbly and as blankly as ever.
Azkun tried to explain the danger, why she could not come with him, but it was like talking to a stone.
At last he gave in and let her climb onto the horse behind him. He hoped he would not be her doom, but she was a small comfort to him. And he had not forgotten the times she had helped him. He told himself the first thing he would do was rescue her from the Monnar spell.
As they rode off the last he saw of Althak was a backward glance at the Vorthenki standing in the road looking after him with one hand raised in farewell.
He rode as fast as the horse could tolerate. He did not need to stop for food, and he feared the Gashan that haunted his sleep. But he could only force the horse so fast. It had to stop, and during those stops he had to sleep. His dreams were filled with the Gashan and the old Monnar calling the dragons.
His burned arm still troubled him. He had to hold it bent to ride the horse and that cracked open the remaining scab painfully.
They came to the bridge built by Gilish to reach Sheagil and Azkun stopped for a moment to gaze at it. He was weary and he remembered his thoughts when he had first encountered it. A bridge to the dragons, that was what he had called himself. A bridge to rid the world of corruption. He had hardly known what corruption was then, he had only witnessed the death of a pig. The dragons were beasts, what good was a bridge anyway? He looked down into the gorge below. What good was he? He could end it all now, he could go where the Gashan could not reach him. It would take little effort to make the leap into the void and be swallowed by oblivion. And he felt the Gashan urging him, lusting after his death.
No, he would not placate the Gashan. He strengthened his will with the memory of the promises he had made and carried on.
When he emerged from the foothills onto the barren plain of Kelerish he forced the horse into a gallop. The beast was tired, but he ignored its complaints. He wanted to reach his doom quickly. Power or death, he wanted to get it over with.
The Tor waited for him at the edge of the Chasm like a sentinel of warning. The place where the dragon had flamed him was still blackened, for there was little rain in Kelerish to wash it away. When he dismounted he put the horse's reins into Tenari's hands.