The ground trembled, and not from the bombardment, but from a movement deep below. With a loud snap, a crack appeared in the pyramidal roof, a shaft of light breaking through to illuminate the newly-blessed Phoenix King.
‘Hail the Phoenix King,’ Caradryan said, tone uncertain, lifting his halberd in salute. Malekith stopped, shocked by the similarity to Kouran, as though he were the light from which came the shadow that was the captain of the Black Guard.
Malekith noticed Caradryan’s confused look and gazed down at himself, expecting to see pale skin, living muscle. Instead there was the same fractured and pitted metal, though the blood had stopped leaking from his wounds.
‘You said I would be reborn!’ bellowed Malekith rounding on Teclis. The mage back-stepped as the Phoenix King stalked towards him, one finger pointed in accusation. ‘Look at me. Look at me!’
‘In spirit,’ the mage replied, stopping when he was beside Caradryan. ‘Spiritually reborn.’
‘This is a mockery,’ growled Malekith, fighting the urge to fall to his knees and weep. He swayed, a hand across his face. ‘Six thousand years encased in this prison…’
The temple bucked again, a sound like thunder reverberating from below. A chunk of masonry larger than Malekith fell from the roof to crash on the tiles close to the flame, shattering into white splinters. Another piece fell a moment later, just a few paces from the Phoenix King. The steps split, letting immense blocks of marble fall to the sanctum floor. Shards like immense icicles fell from the roof around the elves.
The sunlight flickered as the silhouettes of dragons passed over, their roars mingled with the shouts of clashing warriors and the crackle of flames.
‘We should hurry,’ said Teclis, another tremor causing him to flinch and stumble as he turned towards the doorway. ‘Even if we escape the shrine, Aislinn’s forces are all over the island by now.’
‘Not that way,’ said Caradryan, pointing across the inner shrine. ‘There is another exit, known only to the Phoenix Guard.’
The former captain started across the sanctum at a run, Teclis on his heel. Malekith followed with a leisurely stride, ignoring the pieces of stone falling around him.
‘Why do you tarry?’ demanded Teclis, stopping to look back. ‘The temple is about to collapse!’
‘I do not think Asuryan invested me with his last power only to have me squashed by wayward masonry,’ Malekith replied with a laugh. It was quite overwhelming, the mixture of elation and disappointment. He held out a hand and let his essence flow. The fire inside him burned white and he laughed again, delighted by this revelation. ‘I have become the sacred flame.’
‘I would prefer it that the flame was not extinguished quite so soon,’ Teclis said, tapping his staff on the floor in impatient agitation.
‘Do you not think I look magnificent?’ Malekith said, stopping also, confounding the desires of the mage for a little more amusement. It was pleasing to see the Sapherian so uncertain for a change, after so much time dancing to the tune he called. A thought occurred to Malekith. ‘You have not yet properly welcomed me back to the land of the living, nephew.’
‘What?’ Teclis shook his head and moved to continue his retreat.
‘Teclis!’ The Phoenix King’s shout rebounded from the breaking walls, echoing in a strange way, its metallic intonation changing as it faded. The archmage stopped in his tracks, unable to ignore the call. Malekith pointed to the floor at his feet. ‘Pay proper homage, nephew.’
‘Now?’
‘Now.’
Muttering, Teclis returned to Malekith, casting frightened glances about him as more masonry continued to crash down from above. The sound of shouts was close at hand, dulled only by the doors of the inner sanctum. Metal crashed against metal just outside.
‘Hail the Phoenix King,’ the mage said hurriedly, bowing his head.
‘I am unconvinced by your display. Try harder, with more sincerity.’
Teclis glared at Malekith and the Phoenix King looked back, burning white eyes in the slit of his helm. Nodding, suddenly humbled, the mage dropped to one knee, his staff proffered before him.
‘Praise Malekith, heir to Aenarion, rightful Phoenix King of Ulthuan.’ Teclis looked up again, earnestness written across his features. ‘Saviour of elvenkind. The Defender.’
The title cut through Malekith’s cloud of self-satisfaction. He had been so obsessed with taking up his birthright it had never occurred to him what he would do as king. Now that his ascension had been achieved, he was unsure what to do next, but Teclis’s tone made it clear what was expected.
‘It is one thing to become Asuryan’s incarnation, it is another to rule,’ said the Phoenix King, gesturing for Teclis to stand. The thud of blades on the doors to the inner sanctum lent fresh urgency to Malekith’s thoughts. ‘Better that our foes do not learn yet of what has happened here. Caradryan, lead on!’
They followed the leader of the Phoenix Guard between two columns at the back of the shrine. Pausing at the wall, he ran his hand over the stone, his fingers tracing an intricate pattern while he whispered an incantation. He stepped back when he was done and the wall shimmered into a golden field, revealing a corridor beyond.
They stepped through and Caradryan restored the wall so that none would be able to follow. At the end of the passageway was a winding stair, which led further down into the island. Another corridor brought them out onto a broad loggia looking south across the Sea of Dreams. There were a handful of ships in view, but they were sailing west to the landing grounds.
Arranged along the balcony were a number of skycutters, their empty traces lying on the bare rock. Caradryan let out a shrill whistle and waited. It was not long before the flap of immense wings preceded the arrival of a mighty frostheart phoenix, the same one that had borne Caradryan into battle over the Blighted Isle.
‘Ashtari,’ said Caradryan, smoothing the feathers of the great bird’s neck as it perched on the edge of the loggia. ‘We have need to be far away and soon, and must not be seen.’
The phoenix stalked across to the nearest skycutter, claws leaving ice-rimed scratches in the floor. With Teclis’s aid, Caradryan harnessed up the bird and all three elves stepped into the skycutter’s platform. Caradryan spoke a word and the magic of the skycutter billowed into life, surrounding Malekith with a warm aura of Azyr.
‘Go,’ he commanded and Ashtari obeyed, leaping out over the waters, the skycutter lurching into motion behind.
They sped over the sea, the phoenix’s wings almost touching the waves. A loud crack caused the elves to turn, in time to see the pyramid of Asuryan explode into brilliant white light. The temple collapsed in on itself, but the destruction did not end there. Cliffs fell into the sea and great fissures split the isle, letting the waters of the Sea of Dreams race in, washing away thousands of soldiers loyal to both sides.
Imrik’s dragons whirled away as fire and water plumed into the sky. The ships of Aislinn’s fleet put up their sails and turned away as the Island of the Flame sank. Some were too slow, the closest sucked into the maelstrom created by the island’s demise, hulls shattered and masts split by the titanic whirl of water.
The wave created by this disaster raced after the fleeing Phoenix King, as high as a tower, a wall of dark destruction. Ashtari climbed higher, leaving a trail of ice in the spume of the tidal wave as it passed beneath them.
‘Where shall we find sanctuary now?’ Caradryan asked, sadness making his voice crack.
‘Caledor,’ said Malekith, pointing at the dragons streaming south-west. ‘We shall wage the war from the land of the Dragontamer.’
Twenty-Six