Azkun was afraid, desperately afraid. Until today there had been the dragons. Dragons to provide guidance and hope. Dragons to work wonders in the name of. Dragons to hide him from the dread of Gashan.
And now it was all a lie. He had promised them: Menish, Vorish and Althak. He had told the Vorthenki not to sacrifice but to wait for the dragons. He had promised himself that the dragons would purge him from that evil spectre that lurked in his mind and secretly delighted in murder; that tiny part of Gashan that had entered him.
So he went from day to day. Althak set him mundane tasks to do, to try and prevent him from brooding. But Azkun’s hands fumbled in despair. He had to find an answer. Desperation rose like a shriek in his mind. They were sailing to their doom and there was nothing he could do.
His injured arm was a constant reminder. Although the burn scabbed over cleanly enough, the pain of it as it healed was a constant testament to his broken promises.
He had lost count of the days when the only possible answer came to him. Power was the key. His own power was unpredictable. If he tried to use it against the Gashans they would simply possess him. He needed a way to resist them; to think his own thoughts, not theirs. He needed to destroy them and still weep at their deaths, not gibber with glee, though the thought of such destruction made him cringe with horror. To do that he needed power.
If he had not been as desperate as he was he would never have thought of it. But the horror they sailed towards drove him to resourcefulness.
His answer was Kelerish.
Gilish had gone there seeking power and he had found it. He had also found his own death. Azkun was terrified of death, but he was more terrified of Gashan and the murders he would be forced to commit. Kelerish was the only way. He announced his intention to the others, and asked if Shelim could take their boat to Lianar.
“Are you mad?” said Althak.
“On the wall of the stairs to the dragons’ lair, did you see it? An Eye like the Duzral Eye, but with many eyes not one. That is the answer. There is another Eye in the Vaults of Duzagen. I will go to Kelerish and fetch it.”
“But the Vaults drove Gilish mad and killed him. It's an evil place. We Vorthenki say the spirits of the evil dead lurk there and howl in the wind. It smells of death.”
“I was born there. It holds no fear for me.” That was not true, but the fear he felt for Kelerish was a fear of the numbness he remembered. The numbness was akin to oblivion. It was not as terrifying as murder. Even his own death was preferable to the horror of Gashan.
“Azkun, this is foolish. I can't let you kill yourself. You have your own magic. Use that against the Gashans.”
“No, you do not understand. They would possess me. They would make me use it against our own folk. They would make me delight in murder. I must go there. I am afraid to do anything else.”
“And you think that following in the footsteps of Gilish would bring you power over them?”
“Althak, do you not see my torment? I do not wish to die. I do not wish to climb raving mad from the Chasm and wreak havoc on my friends before I destroy myself. But the murder of the Gashan haunts my dreams.” He shuddered. “The slaughter of the pig still haunts me. Althak, I have to stop the Gashans. I have to stop them possessing me.”
“I begin to see. But you don't need to do this. Hide yourself away. Don't take part in the battle.”
“Menish will lose. You know that. That is why you came with me.”
Althak nodded. “Yes, that's true.”
“And I promised them help. I promised. The dragons are no more than beasts, but that does not mean I have become like them. I promised in the name of dragons, but now the promise must be met in my own name.”
He covered his face with his hands and wept.
Althak sighed deeply. He had followed Azkun to the end of the world, and now he wanted to go to the depths of hell itself.
“Very well,” he said. “I'll go with you.”
“No. I must go alone. Thank you, Althak. I know your offer is generous; you are afraid of the Chasm. I cannot take anyone with me. If I return from the Vaults of Duzagen mad like Gilish I might destroy you. I must go alone.”
“What of Tenari?”
“Take her back to Atonir. She was happy there.”
But Tenari's grip on his arm, steady as it was, suggested otherwise.
“Then I'll travel back to Anthor, to Gildenthal. Perhaps Menish will need me again. If not then at least I can see how Keashil and Olcish fare at Meyathal.”
“I have broken your friendship for nothing. For that I am deeply sorry.”
So they sailed on, and Azkun’s nights were troubled by dreams of spectres racing across the sky or hanging in the night clouds, watching him from single eyes in their foreheads. He dreamed of the days since he had left the Chasm. The dragon fire had bathed him with the power of sense and speech, but it had not after all. The power was his own. He dreamed of the storm when he had been struck by lightning, and of the man he had brought back to life in Atonir, and he wondered how he could do these things. But, most of all, he dreamed of the horror of Gashan and the evil that lay there, and he would wake in a sweat of fear at night, dreading sleep.
He also dreamed of the future, of the coming battle with Gashan. He saw the battlefield in Ristalshuz, the wide valley with the river and the mound of the dead. But it was night. Moonlight filled the air, and in that moonlight hobbled the old Monnar. He was coughing still. Azkun saw the eye in his forehead glistening brightly as if freshly painted. He was up to some wickedness, Azkun could feel it. He held branches of some plant in his arms, and these he crushed and scattered around himself. The eye in his forehead stared at Azkun and he fled from it.
Fennel. Fennel to call dragons. The Monnar was going to murder them all.
He woke from this dream confirmed in his resolve. He could imagine the Monnar watching him through Tenari, laughing at him on his fool’s errand. But they would not laugh if he emerged from Kelerish with the Second Eye. He would stop their evil and drive back the Gashans. And he would release Tenari from their magic.
Chapter 36: Drinagish's Fire
Vorish did not spend much time at Meyathal, after two days he was anxious to press on northward. With him went Menish and most of the rest of Meyathal. Mora arrived from Kronithal just in time to accompany them north to Gildenthal.
For Menish it was much like the migration that took place every spring when he went north for the spring games. The clan chiefs always gathered at Meyathal beforehand and they and their people travelled with him. Most of the rest of Anthor also converged on Gildenthal, some coming from the north, from the foothills of the Ristalshuz Mountains, others coming from the wide plains to the west. Everyone who possibly could went to the games, but this year it was not the games they were going to, this year it was battle.
It was a relaxed time for the Anthorians because of the usual ban on cattle raiding before the games. They could move their herds together without fear, though there were usually a few arguments after the games about whose cattle were whose if they had not been branded carefully. Someone took advantage of the fact that this year there were no spring games, therefore the ban should not apply, to make off with some of Yarva’s yaks. It was just one of the disputes Menish had to resolve along the way.
Cattle were always an obsession with the Anthorians. Menish was often asked how far it was beyond the battlefield to their pastures, and did he see many cattle when he was in Gashan? Did they keep yaks or camels or did they prefer sheep? At first he explained carefully the difference between a battle and a cattle raid, but usually their minds were closed to what he said.