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‘And what if the enemy had raised more than a handful of the dead?’ Elodi glared at the Castellan, convinced the man had a hand in her father’s death. However, until Marrick could confirm it, she would have to bite her tongue. Elodi took a breath. ‘You have no reason to deny access to my sword. If those ghouls had breached the Lower Gate and crossed the bridge, how was I supposed to aid the defense?’

The Castellan edged back and took a position behind his desk as if a shield wall. His faced tightened as he made his excuse. ‘Lady Harlyn, I hope you understand that I was duty bound to have your sword examined.’

‘Understand! What is there to understand? You disarmed me without explanation, and now you’re asking me to understand?’

The Castellan sat. He glanced at the door over Elodi’s shoulder. ‘Your sword wields an ancient power, and one that you wear in the citadel for which I am responsible. I simply wanted Archonholm's scholars to have time to study it, to determine whether it posed a threat.’

Elodi’s jaw clenched. ‘Then why didn’t you simply ask? You did not have to confiscate it as if I were a child.’

He stuttered. ‘I… I wasn’t sure if you would hand it over.’

‘Too right I wouldn’t have. But why do you consider my sword a threat? By the Three, if I had not led a charge at the gate, our casualties would have been far worse. I have more combat experience than any living general or leader of a realm. I have looked them in the eye and felt their foul breath on my face. Have you, Castellan? I think not, but still you don't appear to trust me.’

He kept his eyes on the desk. ‘I trust you, ma’am, but your sword?’ He clasped his hands, straightened, and met Elodi’s gaze. ‘What do you know of its origins? What do any of us know of the’ — his mouth twisted — ‘Amayans?’

Elodi exhaled. ‘While you obviously cannot hide your disdain for them, let me remind you, they have saved the realms from atrocities in the past. Nyomae tells us they are protectors of the Amanach, the stones that keep the evil in this world at bay... for the time being.’

The Castellan waved his hand. ‘Old tales again, ma’am. How can we know if there is a shred of truth in something told long before the Seven Realms were formed? And now we discover we can't be certain whether the archives we took for granted are true.’

Elodi leaned on the Castellan’s desk. ‘I would rather place my faith in Nyomae’s word than anything that came from Uluriel via the Archon’s lips. And what about my sword? Your people have studied it for two days. Did your wise and most knowledgeable scholars discover the source of its power? Did they even have a clue where to begin?’

His eyes flicked back to the door. ‘Err… no, ma’am. They have made no progress to date.’

‘Then I shall have it back… today.’ Elodi tapped her finger on the desktop. ‘And if I don’t, please bear in mind I command the largest force here… be they a two-day march from the city.’

The Castellan’s fleeting boldness abandoned him. ‘Certainly, Lady Harlyn. I will make sure it is returned to you immediately.’ She held his gaze. He glanced down at his papers. ‘And I am informed all efforts are being made to accommodate your forces in and around Archonholm within the week.’

Elodi stood. ‘Thank you.’ She moved to leave, then turned. ‘And I can assure you, Castellan, my sword represents a threat only to my enemies.’

Elodi led the way up the steep spiral stairs. Toryn peered out of the narrow window to his right. ‘We must be at least halfway there. I can’t understand why the Archon didn’t have a rising platform like the one at the Caerwal Tower.’

Elodi spoke over her shoulder. ‘I would have thought it was obvious. It provides an excellent deterrent to unwanted visitors.’

Toryn grinned. ‘I would have liked to have seen the Castellan’s face when you threatened him about returning your sword.’

She laughed. ‘Threatened? Negotiated is perhaps a better… no, you’re right.’ She patted her sword, happy to have it back on her hip. ‘I accept my words may have come across as a threat, but that would have been his interpretation. Although, he did look a little taken aback. But I’ve learned that’s the only way to deal with the likes of him. He’s keen to dish it out, but he doesn’t know how to handle those who give it back.’

Toryn spoke while catching his breath. ‘I would still be wary of him. He doesn’t know what to make of you, and, like the rest of us, he was unsettled by the attack at the Lower Gate.’

Elodi stopped beside a window looking out onto the mountains. The light streaming through found the furrows on her brow. ‘The Castellan has changed of late. He’s less predictable than he used to be. One moment he stands up to me, then the next he capitulates. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Whenever I turn, he’s there… watching me. He used to avoid me when possible. But lately, he always seems to be there in the background… watching me.’

Toryn eyes were drawn to her red hair brought to life in the sunlight. It pained him to see her troubled, but it pained him more that he could do little to ease her angst. Her joined her at the window. ‘It’s obvious the man’s disturbed by the panic spreading through his precious city. The people can see he’s losing control. I fear if he can’t restore order, he’ll resort to hanging people from the bridge before long.’

Elodi leaned on the window ledge. ‘It seems the stronger and bolder our enemy become, the more I have to worry about our friends.’ She looked up the staircase. ‘Is this wise? Nyomae did ask to not be disturbed.’

‘She’s been shut up here for three days. Nyomae must be made aware of the incident at the gate. It has to be the work of that stone beneath the ruined tower.’ Toryn shuddered. ‘We’ll face far greater numbers if the Ul-dalak can raise our dead to fight against us.’

‘You’re right. I’m sure she’d rather be informed than left in the dark.’ They climbed the last part in silence. Finally, they reached the top. Elodi glanced at Toryn and knocked. The door opened immediately.

Nyomae smiled. ‘Good. I have been expecting you.’ She stood to one side. ‘Please, come in.’

The sun climbed to the top of the sky, shedding its light directly down into the pass. From the Archon’s balcony, Toryn could see the iron railing at the top of the gate glinting in the sunlight. Nyomae stood between them. She let out a long sigh. ‘Ah, alas for those guards at the pass. Yet another mistake for which I must accept responsibility. I could not determine the stone's purpose, and yet I believed my intervention would constrain its evil. I did not imagine it could be used for such a vile act as raising the dead. I’ve never witnessed what you describe. Even during the dreadful battles for control of the north, the enemy did not use its victims as such. It defies all that is right in this world to not grant the fallen their well-earned rest.’

Toryn shivered in the heat of the noon sun. ‘How could they have done it? Does that power exist in the Song?’

‘I would say not. You mentioned you could see others as if they were inside your assailants.’

‘Ruuk. And it was if they could see through their eyes, and then move them like a hand-puppet of a jester.’

Nyomae looked down the pass. ‘Then I would assume the guards raised from the rubble were simply vessels. I don’t believe our enemy could reach into each of their Verses and bring them back to something resembling life. Even if it were possible, it would require tremendous power to raise just one.’

Elodi clenched the railing. ‘And you believe Uluriel can work her evil through the stone? Even from the north?’

‘Ah. Now there is another reason for concern. I doubt it was Uluriel. I have sensed no sign of her in the Verses at present. I believe she has yet to surface following her expulsion from the Archon. And this act is beyond the means of Uleva and Uldrak. This must be the work of a warlock. It appears they have finally revealed themselves.’ Nyomae clasped her hands. ‘But either they have become immensely strong, or… one has entered Farrand.’

Elodi gasped. ‘How is that possible?’

‘They have many ways to disguise their presence, in both the Song and the realms. The Verses are anchored to the place of their creation. To exert influence from the north would be most challenging, even for a warlock. But not so much from the south.’

Elodi’s hand hovered over her sword. ‘Should we search for this creature? Can you find it in the Song?’

‘Regrettably, I do not yet possess the power to locate it, or even if I could, I would not dare confront a warlock at this time. And it would easily overwhelm the both of you and fifty Archonians combined. My hope is that the effort to raise the dead will have consumed much of its power, thus it will return. But we must remain vigilant.’ Nyomae spoke through a tight jaw. ‘This is their first move of the next stage. And I cannot think of a crueler way to signal their intent.’

Elodi’s lip curled. ‘Cruel indeed. But should we prepare for a full-scale attack from the thousands that still lie beneath the rubble? And does that mean’ — she grimaced — ‘we must mutilate the dead to deny the enemy commandeering our dead?’

Nyomae’s gaze wandered back to the pass. ‘If I am correct about the means deployed, it would require an army of Ruuk to bring the same number against us. And I imagine that would be beyond even a warlock’s ability.’ She turned to face the door. ‘But while that may be so, perhaps it would be a wise precaution to… let us say, remove the means of our dead to wage combat.’

Toryn sighed. ‘I agree. The prospect of repeated attacks by even a dozen of our lost guards would be demoralizing at best. And how many of our reduced forces would perish in such actions? But even so, I cannot see that those clearing the pass would be pleased about slicing up their fallen companions.’

Nyomae agreed. ‘As unpalatable as that may be, it would prevent the bodies of the fallen suffering the shame of fighting for our foes. Perhaps it could be seen as a kind act to maintain their dignity.’ She held out her hand. ‘Let us go inside and take refreshment.’ Toryn and Elodi followed, welcoming the promise of a cool drink on a hot day. Nyomae filled three glasses. She sat. ‘But I believe the attack may have served only as a show, a move perhaps to deal our spirits a blow, and lead us to revise our tactics.’

Elodi tutted. ‘Then it has achieved its aim. Kernlow is now reluctant to send any force of merit north. I had persuaded him to allocate resources to keep an eye on the borders. But now he’s convinced we must stay put in Archonholm in case they raise another army from the pass.’

Nyomae held her glass to her lips. ‘Regardless, I need to do more to restrict the influence of that cursed stone beneath the tower. My efforts to contact Idraman have come to naught. I sense his presence, but he has weakened to the point I believe he struggles to enter the Song. He still maintains his Word of Forbidding, but that stone will soon drain the last of his strength if I cannot restrain its power.’

Toryn shuddered at the memory. ‘Will you require our help?’

‘I shall attempt it alone. Now that I understand its nature, I shall not venture far into its past. I shall continue to strengthen the surrounding bedrock and thus hope to consume much of its wrong before it can reach Idraman’s barrier. But it’s imperative that I come to understand the intent of our foe. I had not imagined anything like the nature of the attack at the Lower Gate. What other cruel and macabre tactics will they unleash against us? There are many ways in which they can attack us that must be brought to Kernlow’s attention. He cannot use conventional means to defeat an unconventional enemy.’

Elodi shrugged. ‘But to convince him to use any means at present appears to be an uphill struggle.’

Nyomae placed her glass on the table. ‘Perhaps we can take one ray of hope from this hideous development. It would have been a significant effort for whoever orchestrated the raising of the dead. It was not a decision made lightly. Therefore, can we assume they would not welcome our forces riding north just yet? It may have been purely an attempt to convince us to concentrate our resources here. Do they yet fear an early strike?’

Elodi glanced at Toryn. ‘That may be so, but Kernlow is set on securing Archonholm. But from what you have said, I fear we may miss our chance to hurt them. And we have yet to debate whether we should open the gate and seek help from the south.’

‘That is a debate for another day. I would be wary of making ourselves known at present to whoever holds the old realms. If we cannot rely on their support, we could find ourselves fighting a war on two fronts.’

Toryn’s eyes wandered to the door and up to the blue skies. ‘But I saw an empty pass behind the gate. Surely, if an enemy lies south, they would defend it. And what if a strong ally awaits us?’

Nyomae held his gaze. ‘It is not beyond the skill of our enemies to create an illusion. If they wanted us to open the gate, they would show you an unguarded pass. But if it was no trick and the pass is indeed empty, then it is not a sign of a strong realm, be they friend or foe. If we open it and find people in need of help, it places yet another demand on our already depleted resources.’

Elodi took Toryn’s side. ‘Perhaps a potential powerful ally sees no need to defend it. Or maybe they have fortified the southern end of the pass.’

Nyomae shook her head. ‘I am certain that Idraman is being held in a dungeon. I do not believe a strong ally would see the need. It tells me those who live in the south distrust Idraman. But they also appear wary of ending his life, perhaps afraid of retribution from the old Order. No, I would say those in the south are weaker than we in the north. Therefore, I propose we should not concern ourselves as yet with the matter of opening the gate. We have other, more pressing issues.’ She looked at her desk. ‘You may be wondering what has occupied my time while in isolation.’

Toryn nodded. ‘Would this be regarding the scroll you took from the archives?’

‘Indeed. It appears insignificant at first glance. It was written by Draegelan’s physician, recording the treatment he administered to him in his later years. If Uluriel had scoured the archives for works by the Imaari, she would have neglected the section where it was located. You see, this scroll was stored in the archives relating to curative practice, not a subject I imagine of interest to Uluriel. These are references for apothecaries and healers. But the one I removed contains something that has stoked my curiosity.’

Elodi frowned. ‘And this would be because…?’

‘The physician made an interesting observation. The old Archon suffered from what he believed to be hallucinations in the last months of his long life. The herbs and tinctures did little to help, seeming to worsen his condition. The physician noted Draegelan’s actual words during such episodes, for which I am most grateful. Draegelan spoke in an ancient tongue known only to a few, but thankfully it's a language understood by the healers of the day. But even to those who knew it, the words I could decipher would appear to be the rantings of a confused mind. However,’ Nyomae stood and walked to her desk. She picked up the scroll. ‘From the little I have been able to translate, I don’t believe these words were from a confused mind. I think it’s the opposite. Draegelan may have had a fever when he uttered them, but I would say he spoke with clarity. Not only fully aware of what he said, but also why he used the words he did. I believe he knew the physician was documenting his thoughts. I also suspect he spoke as he did to ensure only those with a certain knowledge of the Song would understand.’

Elodi straightened. ‘And these words… Do they reveal anything of use?’

Nyomae dropped the scroll. ‘That I cannot yet say. But his words have given me much to ponder. But if my hunch is right, they may prove to reveal knowledge that may lend us strength at a time of great need.’ She clasped her hands. ‘Now tell me of events in the city. I sense a dread sweeping through its streets, and if left unchallenged may defeat us from within.’

The scream awoke Elodi. She leaped out of her bed, bathed in sweat and her head pounding. Her eyes shot around the dark room but while everything looked in place, the cry of anguish still echoed in her mind. A dull glow from the corner of her room caught her attention. She strode to the chair, grasped her sword handle, and drew it from its scabbard. The blade burned with the familiar orange light; but the threat lay elsewhere. Her sisters! She felt their pain — the pain of three Amayans in grave danger.