Usurper Kingdoms, Book 2

Prologue The taste of defeat was bitter, the more so for being both unknown and unexpected. The might of the Horde he had raised was broken against the stones of the Lozin Gate, the creature he had lifted up to lead it slain by a near-beardless youth, the creature he had sent to slay that youth himself destroyed. He could not understand it, for his master had promised victory and the promise of the god Ashar was as sure as the fires of his birthing; yet it had come: the Kingdoms stood intact. In bitterness he retreated into the forests, leaving the barbarians to their own devices, to sue for peace or flee, he no longer cared: the promises he had made them in the name of his master meant nothing, for they had failed him. And yet, even in the chagrin of his rout, he saw that a purpose still remainedthe youth, the one called Kedryn Caitin, must be destroyed. He did not properly understand the significance of the young man, knowing only that Kedryn had somehow stood against the ensorcelled sword of Niloc Yarrum, had somehow escaped the berserk fury of Borsus, thus confirming the instinctive suspicion that he was, in some inexplicable way, a greater obstacle than all the armies mustered in defense of the Kingdoms. While he still lived Ashar's purpose must stand in threat of thwarting, and while that menace should exist so must his own existence stand in danger. He must find a way to bring about his master's design. He moved steadily deeper into the woodlands, traversing paths untrod by man, moving with a speed greater than human form might attain, the beasts of the forest scattering from his way as they would scatter from the encroaching breath of fire, sensing in him that which he was able to hide from man. Deeper and ever deeper he moved, until he came to that place where first he had known this life given him by his master, where Ashar's fires had first burned in the Beltrevan. It was a silent, sere place devoid of birdsong or animal life. The trees were not grown back where his birthing fire had scorched the ground, nor any undergrowth. Rather, it was a place that denied natural life, the earth still hidden beneath a thick layering of ash undisturbed by spoor or seeding, nubs of flame-scorched timber like rotted tooth stumps, the rock itself glass-smooth as cooled magma. Ashar was here. He could feel the presence of the god, and he felt a chill touch of dread. He shed the furs that had hid his frame from human sight and stood in unhuman nakedness, knowing what he must do yet fearing the wrath of his master, that fear stoking the hate he felt for Kedryn Caitin and the folk of the Kingdoms and the blue-robed followers of Ashar's enemy. He nursed the hate, letting it kindle until it burned fiercer than the dread, and then his thin lips began to move, forming words impossible for human tongue to utter. He stretched out his arms, blue flame flickering about his taloned fingers, sparking and crackling, filling the stifled air with the sharp tang of ozone. The droning of his chant grew louder, and as it did the cold fire formed in his mouth, wreathing about his mantis-features as his cratered eyes blazed red as smoldering coals. Louder and higher he chanted until the silence of the burned woodland was filled with the sound, his arms raised high, his head craned back, his frame rigid. Then, abruptly, he dropped his arms, screaming a single word: "Ashar!" The blue fire spurted from mouth and fingertips, converging, striking ground that exploded into flame, a great column of incandescence blazing red against a darkening sky, tongues of fire filling the blackened clearing, washing over him so that he shuddered with the ecstasy of the heat. Up and up rose the column until it seemed to link earth and heavens, seemed to burn down into the earth, a corridor to the netherworld from which he summoned his master. And Ashar came, the knowledge of the god'sWells, Angus is the author of 'Usurper Kingdoms, Book 2', published 1995 under ISBN 9780553762921 and ISBN 0553762923.