His axe rose and fell and rose and fell and he felt his throat go raw as he screamed again and again and kept hacking, dark blood splattering its way up his arms across his face and down his chest, painting his uniform in the color of the thing's vile juices.

He was dimly aware of Darus next to him and others coming closer, but they did not matter just then.

It only mattered that the thing be dead, the better for him to pretend it had never existed.

And then the fight was done and he stood on the bloodied remains and panted, looking at his trembling hands and then slowly around him to see Darus and the man from the wagon and a half dozen others staring his way with wide eyes and unsettled expressions.

"Well then." Nolan's voice was coarse and raspy. He stepped back from his grisly work and shook his head, trying to clear away the last of the red rage that had consumed him.

Nolan's legs gave out and so he fell back until he landed on his rump in the dirt.

"Well then," he repeated. "That's that."

It was close to an hour before he recovered enough to move. He heard the people speaking around him, but was too exhausted to care. Considering what he'd just done, it seemed the rest of the troop was fine with letting him alone.

News of the Emperor's death spread faster than tales of other events. Though the great eruption in the Corinta Ocean was certainly a topic worthy of discussion and the loss of the Guntha was a situation most would be speaking of for months to come, it was the death of Pathra Krous at the hands of an assassin that overtook conversations. The reason was simple enough: the changes wrought by his death would surely be more far reaching.

Still, even that news took time to cross the continent. First there were rumors and those are often ignored. Then there were confirmations and from there the true wave of guesswork flowed wildly.

The Pilgrim did not care for speculation or hearsay. Both were the work of weaker minds.

When he heard of the Emperor's death he sighed once and then rose from where he'd been resting for a very long time.

Pathra Krous had been a good man. He had been an important man. His death was what mattered, however. The Sooth had spoken to the Pilgrim of Pathra Krous' dying and what it meant to the world around him.

It was the sign he had waited for.

It was worth rising for.

The Daxar Taalor were not the only gods that made demands.

The Pilgrim struggled from the murky waters where he had rested for so long and shook off the sediment that covered his flesh. The air was hot and sticky with humidity. His clothes clung to him like a second skin. He was aware of the fabric as he was aware of the heat: as a secondary consideration. The most important thing was the news that Pathra Krous was gone.

Everything else was secondary to that one portent, that one sign that his time had come at last.

The Pilgrim had slept for so many years and now he would fulfill his destiny.

Muscles that should have atrophied and withered long ago moved stiffly at first but as circulation returned to his muscles, so too did the ease of movement he had known before.

How long had he slept? He did not know. He did not care. It was enough to know that he was needed again.

He called out with his mind to the gods and frowned as he waited for their response.

Silence.

Only silence. Still, he walked. He had a great distance to cover and there were people he needed to gather to his side if he were to succeed in his holy mission.

The bodies were heavy, and they felt greasy to the touch. Nolan did not like handling them and he liked being in charge of guarding the remains even less. Still, someone had to do it and Sergeant Niles insisted that it was the sort of honor that would eventually lead to promotions.

Of course Niles was also known to say the same thing of digging the holes they pissed in whenever they made a camp for the night, so his word was hardly trustworthy.

The bodies were covered in salt and then wrapped in cloths in the hopes that they might make the trip to Tyrne intact. There was a firm belief that whatever the things were, the leaders of the army would want to examine them.

Nolan would have dealt better with that thought if the damned things would stop moving around. Everyone said it was the motion of the wagons they were piled into, but Nolan didn't believe it for a second. They moved just as much when the column was at rest. They'd finally turned south and moved alongside the Freeholdt River. According to the maps that meant they were almost to their destination. He'd had doubts, too, until they finally saw the city in the distance.

Tyrne was immense. That was the only way to put it. Even from half a day away they'd seen the tallest buildings. Now they headed into the city proper and he did his best not to gape as they walked. He was not alone. Most of the soldiers he was with had never been to Tyrne and a goodly number had never been to any city of size except for Old Canhoon. Canhoon was large to be sure, and with a very heavy population, but it wasn't so very tall. The outer buildings were not so enormous but the ones further in rose higher than he would have thought any buildings could be built.

It took most of a day to get to Tyrne and that was long enough for some of the awe to wear off. And as they got closer they were joined by other groups coming to the capital in a large stream of humanity. Many of the people coming seemed to be taking care of regular business a carts loaded with goods to sell or leaving the city and heading toward other destinations with supplies were common sights a but there were more who bore a desperate air to them, who seemed to be heading to the city in the hopes of escaping from the inevitable war that people they encountered were certain was coming to eradicate them all.

War. That was an unpleasant notion. Darus shook his head and spat as they walked together. "You think there's anything to the notion of war?"

Nolan looked at the man and cocked his head to the side. "I expect yes. We just fought some sort of monsters and we're heading for the capital. Not just us, either. There's more soldiers behind us and more ahead. I saw a full regiment of cavalry making for the city up ahead."

Darus spit again, squinting up the road as if he might see the horses and their riders. Nolan knew better. His friend had eyes meant only for seeing things close by. The further out he looked, the worse his sight.

"You sure?"

"I saw them." Nolan was about to say something else but whatever it was fell away from his lips unspoken. Up ahead the road was clear enough to let him see what waited in that direction. The great wall of the city and the open gateway, and through the gate he could see the long road leading upward into the heart of Tyrne. He could see the path leading all the way to the palace.

"Can you see them now?"

"No." His heart hammered in his chest. "No. I don't know where they went."

"Well I guess we'll see for ourselves soon enough."

Sergeant Niles came toward them from further up in the column, his lean form walking with the usual swagger. His eyes were dark splotches in the sunlight. "Nolan!"

"Aye, ho, Sergeant?" He didn't much like Niles, but he could respect him well enough. There was a difference.

"Got a note from the Office of the Commander General says you're to go to the palace immediately and bring your prizes with you." He pointed to the wagons loaded with rotting flesh. "Get to it and take Darus, Tolpen and Vonders with you."

Nolan nodded and started to head for the carts. It was Darus that asked the question that had already started ringing in Nolan's head. "Why us?"

"March because he was asked for. The rest of you because the captain says you deserve recognition for killing those things." The sergeant didn't wait around any longer. Before Darus could ask another question the man was heading back the way he'd come.

"What do you make of that?" Darus' voice was soft.

"I make nothing of it. We'll learn what we need to know when we get there." Nolan wasn't sure he believed that himself. He just knew he needed to get to the palace. He wondered if Merros Dulver would be there. He knew the answer, of course, but he wasn't sure how he felt about that knowledge.

Desh Krohan swept into the throne room with a smile on his face. Merros looked at the man as if he might have lost his mind. What in the name of all the gods was there to smile about?

Nachia Krous looked up from the throne with a similar look of puzzlement on her face.

"Oh, look at the two of you." Desh shook his head. "It's like watching two children trying to study their letters with their eyes closed. The sun is out, the clouds are fading to the south and the day is young. Nachia, you're to be Empress of this land within a week and Merros you've been promoted to the head of Nachia's armies. Try to actually enjoy that fact for a moment, will you?"

Merros cleared his throat, trying to find the right way to respond without having himself reduced to cinders by the man.

Nachia was more direct. "I don't want to be the Empress. I want my cousin back."

The wizard shook his head. "I know. Still, you can't have Pathra back. He's gone from us and wanders now wherever the spirit goes when the flesh is sundered." He leaned closer in to the woman who was allegedly his ruler. Allegedly because Merros was almost certain that no one ever actually ruled over the man. "I know that look. Calm yourself. Tantrums won't help you now. You're ascending to the throne. There's no choice in this."

Merros sighed. That was the problem with the wizard. One of them at least. He tended to be very sure of his declarations. He also tended to be right. The general did not like that combination very much. Not that he could do much about it.

"So let's have a chat, shall we?" Desh walked to the table where paperwork sat for the Empress' consideration and pushed the papers away from one edge, the better to rest his hip and buttock against the marble. "I think it's time to get past the losses we've suffered and move on to running the Empire properly."

Nachia opened her mouth, her lips peeling back in an angry scowl, and before she could respond Desh shook his head. "I don't mean we forget the death of Pathra. He was one of my dearest friends. I mean we don't let his death stop us from keeping his Empire safe. He wouldn't appreciate his hard work being allowed to fall into ruin because our souls are heavy with his loss."

That stopped her. She closed her mouth and slowly nodded. "What do you suggest, Desh?"

Merros felt himself release a breath he had been unaware he was holding. The simple fact was that angering the future head of the nation was a bad idea, even if you were working in her behalf. Desh Krohan was not his friend, exactly, but he was definitely a benefactor. He needed a few of those.

"Merros here has been bolstering the city's defenses and that's a wonderful notion, but we need to do more. There are soldiers coming here, forces gathering, because we need them, but they need to be supplied, they need to have places to sleep."

"There are ample barracks, Desh. I've made sure of that." Merros couldn't keep a defensive edge from his voice.

"Oh, to be sure, Merros. I know that about you. If I didn't think you were up to the job I would have never recommended you to Pathra as strongly as I did."

Merros resisted the urge to snort at the comment. Nachia Krous did not. "Recommend, he says."

"The papers were signed by your cousin, Nachia."

"I know that. You know that. But I have no doubt as to who was holding the pen in place for him." She was not angry as she spoke. If anything she seemed to be teasing the man. Merros had no idea what sort of relationship they had, really. He had seen both of them repeatedly but most of their interactions had been in front of an audience of people and now they were positively casual with each other.

"I merely make suggestions, Nachia. Same as I always have."

The gesture she made was universally accepted as a rude one. Merros managed not to laugh out loud. It was possible that both of them were trying too hard to get along, but he rather liked it. The camaraderie, forced or not, was closer to feeling natural than the stony silence that had held sway over the palace since the murders.

"What do you want to do about the black ships in Roathes, General Dulver?" The sorcerer, advisor to the Empire, looked his way as if he might be asking about the weather.

"Well, I suppose we could send a few of the Sa'ba Taalor to handle the matter." His response was automatic, offered in a dry voice and completely inappropriate. It was the sort of thing he should have saved for when he was speaking to Wollis March.

Both the future Empress and the sorcerer who technically ruled the land until her ascendency looked at him for a long moment in complete silence, and then the wizard started laughing out loud, his face reddening as he let loose with a raucous cackle. Nachia joined in only a moment later.

And when they were done he sighed and shook his head. "I suppose I should send troops that way. Just to ensure that if there really is a problem it gets handled quickly."

"You doubt the existence of the black ships?" Nachia's voice was low and curious. He sensed no hostility. She merely wanted an honest answer from him.

"I do. Mostly because King Marsfel has already proven himself to be untrustworthy." The man had lied, and repeatedly, in an effort to gain financial assistance from the Empire. He had apparently made a practice of it as his father had before him.

"True enough, but the claims aren't only coming from him. They are coming from a dozen different sources."

"And yet these black ships that are supposed to be running around in the Corinta near Marsfel's shores have made no move to attack. They are simply out there sunning themselves like lizards." Merros shrugged. "I have made no secret of my dislike for the king. That has not changed my decision one smattering. I don't think we can afford to send too many forces to chase after phantoms when we are very likely at war with the Sa'ba Taalor."

"No very likely to it. They aren't welcome here and if they show themselves, I'll expect you and your soldiers to cut them down." Nachia's voice held a sharp edge.

"We have a company of two hundred men missing in pursuit of them. I expect we'll hear from them all too soon, Majesty."

Desh raised one eyebrow and said nothing.

Nachia sighed. "So we wait on the ships then?"

Merros lowered his head rather than stare at her. "I'll do exactly as you tell me, Majesty, but I would suggest waiting. We have seen no sign that the ships mean harm and even with a dozen reports we've little proof that they even exist."

"I'll defer to you, Merros. I'll trust in your judgment. Now, tell me what happens with the city's defenses."

"They've been finished, Majesty. The gates are back in working order, the areas where the walls needed repairs have been mended and the structures that had taken root along outside of the wall have been taken down."

"Taken down?"

"Yes, milady. Several buildings had gone up using the outer wall as a support. They weren't supposed to do that to begin with, but when they did it was easy to see how they might be used by the Sa'ba Taalor to allow their mounts to climb over the wall."

Nachia contemplated the great beasts that the enemy rode and then nodded her head. "Are we safe from attacks without those structures?"

"Safer, I suppose. I honestly don't know how well those things can scale a wall, but I know they made it out of the Blasted Lands without having to resort to the Temmis Pass, and we have never managed that on horses."

She nodded her head again. For a moment there was silence and then Desh spoke up again. "Onto the next matter at hand. Regarding the defense of the Imperial Roads...."

It was going to be another long day, Merros supposed, but at least it seemed they were able to move on a bit. There was much to do and it seemed they would have very little time to get anything accomplished.

He had no idea.

Chapter Five.

It seemed help would be a long time coming.

Marsfel looked out at the dark waters of the bay and sighed softly to himself. No one to blame, really, but himself. He had angered the Empire's military commander. What could he possibly expect after that?

There were no stars to see. The clouds had blacked them out again. He knew that the Great Star was in the sky, as bright as ever, but he could not see even that light through the ash and the heavy foulness that tainted the air.

The rains had come done throughout the day and painted the sands with gray and black patterns of soot. Every building within sight of his palace was black now, and even the trees were darker in color than they should have been.

The only light outside of a few torches came from the fire raging in the distant ocean and in the lightning that sometimes stabbed the waters where the new island covered over the remains of the Guntha.

The Guntha had never been friends. They had been enemies for most of his life and occasionally they had been allies when all parties felt there was some use in their alliance. No matter what they had been, however, they had always been a part of his world and now they were gone.