"My brothers," Tharnatus intoned, his voice deep and resonant for a human's, "the Scorpion welcomes you, for this day we take a momentous step and set one of His own upon the throne of Navahk! And from Navahk, our brother Chalghaz shall reach out to rule all the Bloody Sword clans, and the Horse Stealers, as well, and he shall forge of them a weapon which will sweep beyond his present borders with fire and the sword. Not in twelve hundred years has this world seen the power of the massed clans of the hradani, and no one will stand against them when our brother strikes, for the Scorpion shall ride with him, and his enemies will be as straw in the furnace before him!"
A rumble of dark agreement went up from the gathered worshipers, almost all of them hradani. They had not forgotten the dark and terrible things their enslaved people had done in the Fall of Kontovar, but unlike the vast majority of their folk, they didn't care. No, that was wrong. They did care... but only because they hungered to do the same dark, terrible things themselves, and the fact that doing them would confirm all the hatred the other Races of Man felt for their people meant less than nothing to them.
"Very well," Tharnatus said, and nodded to the four burly hradani who waited by the side door. They bowed to him, opened the door, and slipped through it, and Chalghaz felt his nerves tighten with hungry anticipation as he heard the hopeless, sobbing pleas of the sacrificial victim echoing through the doorway. Metal rang as the cell door beyond it was unlocked and thrown wide, and the pleas became louder and more frantic as the sacrifice was dragged down the short passageway. And then—
"TOMANAK!"
Chalghaz jerked as if an arbalest bolt had struck him squarely in the back as the sudden, basso rumble of that hated name beat in on him. No voice, not even a hradani's, could thunder so! It wasn't a voice; it was an earthquake, an avalanche crunching over everything in its path, and he wheeled towards the sanctuary's entrance in shock.
"Tomanāk ! Tomanāk !" Other voices screamed the same terrifying war cry, and Chalghaz heard Tharnatus curse vilely while other members of the congregation cried out in confusion as great as the prince's own.
Bahzell Bahnakson leapt across the threshold of Sharnā's hidden fortress just as the first startled warrior spilled out of the guardroom inside the arch. He had no idea why no one had spotted his Horse Stealers as they crept soundlessly up on the entrance. His people were masters at such things, yet there was precious little cover out there, and he'd expected to be seen at any moment. But they hadn't been. It was almost as if the men who should have been watching for him had been distracted, concentrating on something else instead of their duty. Not that he intended to complain.
His clansmen had looked at him with wondering eyes as they neared the hillside. The hidden entrance and its guardian scorpion had become clearer and clearer to him as he drew near, yet still none of them saw a thing. He'd felt the noisome, clinging stench of Sharnā's power reaching out to blind and baffle them, and he'd stepped directly in front of the arch, his sword in his hands, and concentrated all his mind and will upon his god.
And then he had called upon Tomanāk . Called upon him as his champions should, when the moment for battle came and they summoned him as their captain. And as his bullthroated bellow echoed from the valley walls, the power which had baffled his men went out like a tempest-snuffed candle, and he heard their exclamations as they, too, saw what he had seen from the start.
That had been enough. Kaeritha and Vaijon had echoed his war cry even as he drove forward, and behind them three-score Horse Stealer hradani had taken up the cry. The deep, deadly music of their voices had thundered into the hillside like hurricane-driven surf, and the newest chapter of the Order of Tomanāk had charged into battle on its leaders' heels.
That first, gawking guard barely had time to get his sword up—not that it did him any good. Bahzell's blade crashed down in a two-hand stroke that sheared clear through his own right at the quillons and carried on to split his helm and the skull within it, and bright blue fire flashed as the champion's blade bit home. More of the same fire washed about Bahzell, gilding his massive frame in swirling flame, and the other guards rushing to meet him cried out in terror of the light the Dark hated and feared above all others.
Nor did that light cling to Bahzell alone, for Kaeritha charged at his right hand and Vaijon charged at his left, a compact, deadly wedge leading the attack, and all of them glittered like bright blue stars in the maw of darkness. Some of the guards fled deeper into the hillside, wailing in terror. Others tried to stand and fight, but they stood no chance against two champions of Tomanāk and a warrior of Vaijon's caliber. Steel crunched and bit, bone shattered, screams died in wet, horrible gurgles, and then Bahzell and his companions were through the antechamber and charging onward to find their foes.
"—dozens of 'em! Scores!" the guardsman blurted as he flung himself at Tharnatus' feet. "They came through the arch like the shield wasn't even there! They—!"
"Silence!" Tharnatus' hand cracked viciously across his face, but the priest's own fear was evident to Chalghaz, and the crown prince understood it only too well.
The shouting and clash of steel cascaded towards the chapel, growing louder and more deadly sounding with every second. The Church had mustered a force of trained warriors to guard the sanctuary. Some were human, and even a handful of dwarves had been smuggled in, but most were locally recruited Bloody Swords. Yet there were less than a hundred of them, for the sanctuary could house only so many men and much of its space had been taken up by other functions. The crash and fury of combat told Chalghaz that more and more of them were joining the fray, but it was also clear they were merely slowing the attackers, not stopping them. Fortunately, whoever was assaulting the sanctuary was too unfamiliar with its serpentine architecture to pick the shortest path to the chapel... not that they didn't seem to be doing just fine with the longer way around. On the other hand, their unfamiliarity might offer him a chance to escape with his life. If he could fade away, slip past them down the side passages—
"Get your arms, Brothers!" Tharnatus cried to the rest of the congregation. "The Scorpion is with us yet, but I must have time! Buy me only a few moments, and we shall drink our enemies' blood still!"
Chalghaz stared at the priest, then stabbed a glance at Yarthag. The Navahkan lord was pale, his ears plastered tight to his skull, but understanding flashed in his eyes as they met Tharnatus', as if he, at least, knew what the priest was talking about. More importantly, as if he believed Tharnatus spoke the truth.
That was the deciding factor, and Chalghaz abandoned his plan to creep away and drew his own sword.
"You heard, Tharnatus!" he bellowed. "So come on, you whoresons!"
The warren of tunnels and side passages hampered Bahzell's advance badly. Not because it was confining—it had been built for Bloody Sword hradani, which meant the tunnels had almost enough headroom even for Horse Stealers—but because he had no idea of its layout. He knew the direction he must go to reach the core of corruption which lurked at the heart of this lair, but none of the tunnels led straight towards it.
And there were other problems—like far more guards than he had expected to meet. Not all were Bloody Swords, either, and human and dwarvish blood, as well as that of other hradani, steamed on his blade as he cut his way forward. At least the tunnels limited the number of foes who could face him at any one time, but the side passages gave opportunities for enemies to slip around his peoples' flanks and hit them from the sides. He heard the crash of steel behind him, but he also heard the thunder of his warriors' war cries as they bellowed Tomanāk's name and hewed their foes into ruin. He knew too much of battle to think only the enemy were falling in this brutal, close-quarters fight, but his people had two enormous advantages. They served the God of War, whose strength supported them... and they knew the truth about the Rage.