Reaper's Gale

‘They are now,’ Bugg replied.

All right, then, since I can’t think of anything more absurd. With.’

Bugg reached for a clay cup. ‘I knew I could count on you, Master.’

She woke to a metallic clang out in the corridor.

Sitting up, Samar Dev stared into the darkness of her room.

She thought she could hear breathing, just outside her door, then, distinctly, a muted whimper.

She rose, wrapping the blanket about her, and padded to the doorway. Lifted the latch and swung the flimsy barrier aside.

‘Karsa?’

The huge figure spun to face her.

‘No,’ she then said. ‘Not Karsa. Who are you?’

‘Where is he?’

‘Who?’

‘The one like me. Which room?’

Samar Dev edged out into the corridor. She looked to the left and saw the motionless forms of the two palace guards normally stationed to either side of the corridor’s entranceway. Their helmed heads were conspicuously close together, and those iron pots were both severely dented. ‘You killed them?’

The huge man glanced over, then grunted. ‘They were looking the wrong way.’

‘You mean they didn’t see you.’

‘Maybe my hands.’

The nonsensical yet oddly satisfying exchange had been in whispers. Samar Dev gestured that he follow and set off up the corridor until she came to the door to Karsa Orlong’s room. ‘He’s in here.’

‘Knock,’ the giant ordered. ‘Then walk in ahead of me.’

‘Or else?’

‘Or else I knock your head… together.’

Sighing, she reached towards the door with one fist.

It opened and the point of a stone sword suddenly hovered in the hollow of her throat.

‘Who is that behind you, witch?’

‘You have a visitor,’ she replied. ‘From… outside.’

Karsa Orlong, naked above the waist, his escaped slave tattoos a crazed web reaching down to his shoulders and chest, withdrew the sword and stepped back.

The stranger pushed Samar Dev to one side and entered the small room.

Whereupon he sank down to his knees, head bowing. ‘Pure one,’ he said, the words like a prayer.

Samar Dev edged in and shut the door behind her, as Karsa Orlong tossed his sword on the cot, then reached down with one hand-and hammered the stranger in the side of the head.

Rocking the man. Blood started from his nostrils and he blinked stupidly up at Karsa.

Who said, ‘There is Toblakai blood in you. Toblakai kneel to no-one.’

Samar Dev crossed her arms and leaned back against the door. ‘First lesson when dealing with Karsa Orlong,’ she murmured. ‘Expect the unexpected.’

The huge man struggled back to his feet, wiping at the blood on his face. He was not as tall as Karsa, but almost as wide. ‘I am Ublala Pung, of the Tarthenal-’

‘Tarthenal.’

Samar Dev said, ‘A mixed-blood remnant of some local Toblakai population. Used to be more in the city-I certainly have not seen any others out in the markets and such. But they’ve virtually vanished, just like most of the other tribes the Letherii subjugated.’

Ublala half turned to glower at her. ‘Not vanished. Defeated. And now those who are left live on islands in the Draconean Sea.’

At the word ‘defeated’, Samar Dev saw Karsa scowl.

Ublala faced the Toblakai once more, then said, with strange awkwardness, ‘Lead us, War Leader.’

Sudden fire in Karsa’s eyes and he met Samar Dev’s gaze. ‘I told you once, witch, that I would lead an army of my kind. It has begun.’

‘They’re not Toblakai-’

‘If but one drop of Toblakai blood burns in their veins, witch, then they are Toblakai.’

‘Decimated by Letherii sorcery-’

A sneer. ‘Letherii sorcery? I care naught.’

Ublala Pung, however, was shaking his head. ‘Even with our greatest shamans, Pure One, we could not defeat it. Why, Arbanat himself-’

This time it was Samar Dev who interrupted. ‘Ublala, I have seen Karsa Orlong push his way through that sorcery.’

The mixed-blood stared at her, mouth agape. ‘Push?’ The word was mostly mouthed, the barest of whispers.

Despite herself, she nodded. ‘I wish I could tell you otherwise, you poor bastard. I wish I could tell you to run away and hide with your kin on those islands, because this one here makes empty promises. Alas, I cannot. He does not make empty promises. Not so far, anyway. Of course,’

she added with a shrug that belied the bitterness she felt, ‘this Edur Emperor will kill him.’

To that, Ublala Pung shook his head.

Denial? Dismay?

Karsa Orlong addressed Ublala: ‘You must leave when this is done, warrior. You must travel to your islands and gather our people, then bring them here. You are now my army. I am Karsa Orlong, Toblakai and Teblor. I am your war leader.’

‘The marks on your face,’ Ublala whispered.

‘What of them?’

‘As shattered as the Tarthenal. As the Toblakai-broken, driven apart. So the oldest legends say-scattered, by ice, by betrayal…’

An icy draught seemed to flow up around Samar Dev, like a cold wave engulfing a rock, and she shivered. Oh, I dislike the sound of that, since it echoes the truth of things. Too clearly.

‘Yet see my face behind it,’ Karsa said. ‘Two truths. What was and what will be. Do you deny this, Ublala of the Tarthenal?’