Midnight tides

In any case, Rhulad’s own army would present the western body of the Edur advance. Central was Fear’s army, and further to the east, beyond an arm of lesser hills and old lake beds, approached the army of Tomad and Binadas Sengar, on their way down from the town of Five Points.

The rise Udinaas and Feather Witch stood on was ringed in shadow wraiths, and it was clear to Udinaas that protective sorcery surrounded them. Beyond the rise, out of sight of the facing armies, waited the Edur women, elders and children. Mayen was somewhere among them, still cloistered, still under Uruth Sengar’s direct care.

He looked once more at Feather Witch. ‘Have you seen Mayen?’ he asked.

‘No. But I have heard things…’

‘Such as?’

‘She is not doing well, Udinaas. She hungers. A slave was caught bringing her white nectar. The slave was executed.’

‘Who was it?’

‘Bethra.’

Udinaas recalled her, an old woman who’d lived her entire life in the household of Mayen’s parents.

‘She thought she was being kind,’ Feather Witch continued. Then shrugged. ‘There was no discussion.’

‘I imagine not.’

‘One cannot be denied all white nectar,’ she said. ‘One must be weaned. A gradual diminishment.’

‘I know.’

‘But they are concerned for the child she carries.’

‘Who must be suffering in like manner.’

Feather Witch nodded. ‘Uruth does not heed the advice of the slaves.’ She met his eyes. ‘They have all changed, Udinaas. They are as if… fevered.’

‘A fire behind their eyes, yes.’

‘They seem unaware of it.’

‘Not all of them, Feather Witch.’

‘Who?’

He hesitated, then said, ‘Trull Sengar.’

‘Do not be deceived,’ she said. ‘They are poisoned one and all. The empire to come shall be dark. I have had visions… I see what awaits us, Udinaas.’

‘One doesn’t need visions to know what awaits us.’

She scowled, crossed her arms. Then glared skyward. ‘What sorcery is this?’

‘I don’t know,’ Udinaas replied. ‘New.’

‘Or… old.’

‘What do you sense from it, Feather Witch?’

She shook her head.

‘It belongs to Hannan Mosag,’ Udinaas said after a moment. ‘Have you seen the K’risnan? Those from Fear Sengar’s army are… malformed. Twisted by the magic they now use.’

‘Uruth and the other women cling to the power of Kurald Emurlahn,’ Feather Witch said. ‘They behave as if they are in a war of wills. I don’t think-’

‘Wait,’ Udinaas said, eyes narrowing. ‘It’s beginning.’

Beside him, Ahlrada Ahn bared his teeth. ‘Now, Trull Sengar, we stand in witness. And this is what it means to be an Edur warrior today.’

‘We may do more than wait,’ Trull said. We may also die.

The dark dust was spiralling upward in thick columns now, edging forward towards the killing field between the armies.

Trull glanced behind him. Fear stood in the midst of Hiroth warriors. Two K’risnan were before him, one a mangled, hunched survivor from High Fort, the other sent over from Rhulad’s army. Grainy streams of what seemed to be dust were rising from the two sorcerors, and their faces were twisted in silent pain.

The crackle of lightning came from the other side of the killing field, drawing Trull’s attention round once more. Coruscating waves of blinding white fire were building before the arrayed Letherii mages, wrought through with flashes of lightning that arced among them.

Far to the right, Rhulad began moving the mass of his warriors forward, forming a broad wedge formation at the very edge of the killing field. Trull could see his brother, a hazy, blurred figure of gold. Further right was Hannan Mosag and his companies, and beyond them, already moving south alongside the basin’s edge, were thousands of Soletaken Jheck and at least a dozen KenrylPah, each leading a score of their peasant subjects. The route they were taking had been noted, and the flanking Crimson Rampant Brigade was manoeuvring round to face the threat.

There would be nothing subtle in this battle. No deft brilliance displayed by tactical geniuses. The Letherii waited with their backs to the steep hills. The Tiste Edur and their allies would have to come to them. Such were the simple mechanics, seemingly incumbent, and inevitable.

But sorcery spoke with a different voice.

The spiralling pillars of dust towered into the sky, each one keening, the wind shrieking so loud that Edur and Letherii alike began to cower.

The Letherii white fire surged upward, forming its own standing wall of bridled mayhem.

Trull was finding it difficult to breathe. He saw a hapless raven that had made the mistake of flying over the killing field tumble and flutter to the ground, the first casualty of the day. It seemed a pathetic harbinger to his mind. Rather a thousand. Ten thousand ravens, caterwauling through the sky.

The pillars leaned, staggered, lurched forward.

And began toppling.

A rush of wind from behind battered Trull and his fellow warriors, blessedly rich and humid, in the wake of the advancing columns of dust. Faint shouts on all sides, as weapons were readied.

The spiralling pillars were a long time in coming down.