Deadhouse Landing

A roar like that of a lion sounded then, followed by a scream and the crunch of bones and rending of flesh. Fearful, he tried to turn to look but the mage of Meanas urged him onward. He was, at that moment, experiencing a kind of sliding simultaneity of multiple selves that threatened to split his head in its impossibility. He felt as if his consciousness was being fragmented into pieces and was astounded that this odd little fellow could so easily endure such a storm of manipulation, let alone generate it.

Among these multiple concurrent possibilities was one strengthening version where they pushed through a tiny iron gate and up a narrow path of paving stones to tumble on to a broad slate landing before an iron-bound door.

The mage was yanking on his sweaty, dirt-smeared robes. ‘Hurry!’

But he had to hold his head just to be sure that it was still whole. And he wondered, Am I really here?

‘Run down at last!’ a voice called, and Tayschrenn peered over see a coterie of D’rek priests and priestesses at the gate and low wall of the property.

The mage of Meanas was struggling with the door. ‘Come on!’

He shook his head. ‘It’s no use…’

The D’rek adherents swung over the wall and came on across the wild unkempt garden.

The door swung open, almost brushing Tayschrenn aside. At that moment he became further certain of his insanity as the ground itself became alive with writhing vines and roots all lashing themselves about the priests and priestesses, who screamed their mortal terror. They cut and pulled and blasted at the bonds but to no benefit he could discern as each now began sinking, flailing and writhing in utter blind panic.

The few who won through – mostly on the narrow walkway, and each of them a Fang of D’rek – now drew daggers. Yet at that instant a towering presence brushed past Tayschrenn to take these in huge armoured fists and throw them aside on to the steaming ground, where the vines and roots quickly enmeshed them.

All this Tayschrenn took in almost as if dream-walking, or in a daze. He turned to the house and what he now saw there, and what he understood of it, froze him completely.

The spindly mage was pulling at him. ‘Now! Come!’

He shook his head in mute denial. No, he mouthed, barely able to speak. ‘Do you know what this is?’

‘Yes, yes. Now move! More are coming!’

He gaped up at the armoured colossus as it thumped past, ignoring him completely, to re-enter the house. ‘You would choose to be entombed for ever?’

The fellow waved his hands, a touch frantic. ‘Not a bit of it! Now come!’

He shook his head. Better any fate than this mad desperate throw.

Strangely, instead of becoming angry or impatient, the little Dal Hon mage just shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. ‘Well, all right,’ he said. ‘But too bad for them.’ And he rocked back and forth on his heels.

Tayschrenn eyed him narrowly. ‘Who?’

The mage nodded to the street where Tayschrenn sensed a further mass of priests and priestesses rushing in upon them. ‘Damn you…’ he hissed.

The fellow shrugged innocently. ‘Perhaps you ought to get rid of them.’

Tayschrenn shook his heavy head. ‘I can’t kill them. They’re just being used.’

The wizened mage rolled his eyes to the sky. ‘Oh, dear Ascendants. Just get rid of them! Push them away. Whatever.’ He fluttered a hand to the door. ‘Demonstrate to me that you are worthy to be shown the secrets within.’

Tayschrenn blinked blearily in his exhaustion, taking this in. Of course I’ve driven them off before! Many times! But they’d just returned. Again and again. Like a stinging cloud of insects. Yet this mage claims this would be the last time … Very well. I’ll drive them off all right!

As more of the pursuers appeared, he drew down far into the depths of his Warren to summon every bare remaining scrap of power to thrust it outwards in one last great surge. He stored it momentarily, feeling it gnawing within at the lineaments of his flesh like a fire, then released it in a sudden surging blast of might that shot outwards like an eruption that seared across the Warrens.

He opened his eyes, blinking. The little mage now stood pressed up against the sturdy iron-bound door, a hand at his forehead. ‘Well,’ the fellow managed, his voice shaky and hoarse, ‘that was something.’ He waved to the sky. ‘Behold.’

Tayschrenn glanced about; the skies were clear of pursuers. Like summoning a gale within the Warrens, he’d driven them away. Just how far, though, he couldn’t say for certain. They may be gathering themselves to return this very moment – or perhaps not.

Kellanved gestured invitingly to the door. ‘Impressive. You may pass within.’

He eyed him sharply. ‘Not as a prisoner?’

‘No. Not as a prisoner, I assure you.’