Midnight tides

Something like a smile. ‘The one who rules us now, Father. The one Hannan Mosag made pact with. No, not one of our lost ancestors. A new… ally.’

‘This is not for you to speak of,’ the Warlock King said, his voice trembling with rage. ‘The pact was-’

‘Was something you intended to betray, Hannan Mosag,’ Rhulad cut in savagely, leaning forward to glare past his hands where they were folded about the sword’s grip. ‘But that is not the Edur way, is it? You, who would lead us, cannot be trusted. The time has come, Warlock King, for a change.’

Trull watched as Rhulad surged to his feet. And stood, balanced and assured, back straight and head held high. The bear cloak was swept back, revealing the rippling coins. The gold mask of Rhulad’s face twisted. ‘The sword is mine, Hannan Mosag! I am equal to it. You are not. Speak, then, if you would reveal to all here the secret of this weapon. Reveal the most ancient of lies! Speak, Warlock King!’

‘I shall not.’

A rustling step forward. ‘Then… kneel.’

‘Rhulad!’

‘Silence, Father! Kneel before me, Hannan Mosag, and pledge your brotherhood. Think not I will simply cast you aside, for I have need of you. We all have need of you. And your K’risnan.’

‘Need?’ Hannan Mosag’s face was ravaged, as if gripped by a physical pain.

Rhulad swung about, glittering eyes fixing on his three brothers, one by one. ‘Come forward, brothers, and pledge your service to me. I am the future of the Edur. Theradas Buhn. Midik Buhn. Come forward and call me your brother. Bind yourselves to me. Power awaits us all, power you cannot yet imagine. Come. I am Rhulad, youngest son of Tomad Sengar. Blooded in battle, and I have known death!’

Abruptly, he turned about, sword-point scraping along the floor. ‘Death,’ he muttered, as if to himself. ‘Faith is an illusion. The world is not as it seems. We are fools, all of us. Such… stupidity.’ In the same low tone he continued, ‘Kneel before me, Hannan Mosag. It is not so much to surrender, is it? We shall know power. We shall be as we once were, as we were meant to be. Kneel, Warlock King, and receive my blessing.’

The head lifted once more, a flash of gold in the gloom. ‘Binadas. You know pain, a wound resisting mending. Come forward, and I will release you from that pain. I will heal the damage.’

Binadas frowned. ‘You know nothing of sorcery, Rhulad-’

‘Come here!’ The shriek echoed in the vast chamber.

Binadas flinched, then limped closer.

Rhulad’s golden hand snapped out, fingers slashing across his brother’s chest. The faintest of touches, and Binadas reeled back. Fear rushed close to hold him upright. Eyes wide, Binadas righted himself. He said nothing, but it was clear as he straightened that the pain in his hip was gone. Tremors shook him.

‘Thus,’ Rhulad said in a whisper. ‘Come, my brothers. It is time.’

Trull cleared his throat. He had to speak. He had to ask his questions, to say what no-one else would say. ‘We saw you dead.’

‘And I have returned.’

‘By the power of the sword you hold, Rhulad? Why would this ally give the Edur such a thing? What does that ally hope to gain? Brother, the tribes have been unified. We have won our peace-’

‘You are the weakest of us, Trull. Your words betray you. We are Tiste Edur. Have you forgotten what that means? I think you have.’ He looked round. ‘I think you all have. Six pathetic tribes, six pathetic kings. Hannan Mosag knew a greater ambition. Sufficient to conquer. He was necessary, but he cannot achieve what must come now.’

Trull could hear the brother he knew in Rhulad’s words, but something new was threaded through them. Strange, poisonous roots – was this the voice of power?

Dull clicking of coin edges, as Rhulad faced the silent crowd beyond the inner circle. ‘The Edur have lost sight of their destiny. The Warlock King would twist you away from what must be. My brothers and sisters – all of you here are that to me, and more. I shall be your voice. Your will. The Tiste Edur have journeyed beyond kings and warlock kings. What awaits us is what we once possessed, yet lost long ago. Of what am I speaking, brothers and sisters? I shall give answer. Empire.’

Trull stared at Rhulad. Empire. And for every empire… there is an emperor.

Kneel, Rhulad had commanded. Of Hannan Mosag. Of everyone here. Tiste Edur do not kneel before mere kings…

Fear spoke, ‘You would be emperor, Rhulad?’

His brother swung to face him and spread his arms in a deprecating gesture. ‘Do I make you want to turn away in horror, Fear? In revulsion? Oh, but did not that slave fashion well? Am I not a thing of beauty?’

There was an edge of hysteria in the tone.

Fear made no reply.

Rhulad smiled and continued, ‘I should tell you, the weight no longer drags at me. I feel… unburdened. Yes, my brother, I find myself pleased. Oh, does that shock you? Why? Can you not see my wealth? My armour? Am I not a bold vision of an Edur warrior?’