Tom Lloyd - The Twilight herald

The other Reapers were still dispatching those citizens left in the plaza, chasing them down with unexpected swiftness. The Soldier was oblivious to this as he approached the temple over a carpet of carnage, the bones of the slain snapping under his weight.

'Keep your positions,' Isak said calmly. He didn't bother to raise his voice; an unnatural hush had fallen over the soldiers and every man could hear his words.

'It feeds on the fear they feel,' Xeliath reminded him, 'but remember, you look like a God to them; show no fear and you weaken it.'

With a deliberately unhurried movement, Isak pushed his way past his Farlan guards and jumped over the trench he'd carved in the Temple Plaza. He kept his eyes on the Soldier, like a sane man does on a dangerous dog. Break eye contact and you lose what little control you might have; despite centuries of breeding, it remembers that it was once a wolf.

'My Lord,' said Vesna quietly. Isak raised his shield hand in warn¬ing and the count fell silent. Whatever Vesna's objection, it was past the point of making. He'd only intervene now if he thought Isak was in danger – and damn him, he would, as well: Isak had no doubt that Vesna, broken spirit or not, would charge headlong to attack the Aspect of Death if his lord was threatened.

Is this what you do to men? Isak thought as he approached the Soldier. He could feel the pull of its presence now, the aura that Lord Bahl had worn like a mantle of authority, the glamour that Morghien had spoken of, enough to cow men into obedience. Even as he forced himself to face up to the minor God, Isak found himself having to fight the urge to kneel, to lower his gaze and make obeisance, despite the horror he fell in his heart.

Is this how the rest of them see you? Isak asked himself, remember¬ing the battle outside Lomin, calling the storm down onto himself in Narkang, and the images seared into his memory.

This close, he could see that the Soldier was covered with blood; his boots were soaked through and the battered blade he dragged over the ground, careless of its edge, was covered in filth and gore. Isak almost gave up when he realised how much taller than he the Soldier was, but pride kept him going. He wouldn't falter now; he would meet these consequences head-on.

'Give him to me,' the Soldier growled to Isak when they were no more than four yards apart. The white-eye looked confused for a moment, then noted the Soldier's intent expression, as though the Aspect was looking straight through his flesh and into Isak's soul. As if to confirm Isak's suspicion, the Soldier sniffed the air cautiously, savouring the scent on the breeze that drifted towards him past Isak's shoulder. At the back of his mind, something stirred.

'He's mine,' Isak said simply. He watched the Aspect's dead eyes for any sign of emotion, but there was nothing.

'Give him to me,' the Soldier repeated. 'His soul is forfeit to Lord Death. We have hunted him for millennia, and no whelp will deny me this prize.' The Aspect looked past Isak, at the terrified soldiers behind him. A thin smile appeared on its lips. 'Give him to me or they will all die.'

Isak felt a rising surge of anger, and a sudden contempt. Showing your hand so easily? Threatening them just shows me you're afraid, other¬wise why would you bother? You really are nothing more than Death's cruel shadow, and you're frightened of me.

'They will not die and nor will I give you my chained dragon. You have done my bidding here, and just as I summoned you, I now dismiss you. Your services are no longer needed.'

'I am your God,' the Aspect hissed, 'and you do not dismiss me.'

'My God?' Isak echoed.

He took a step forward and carefully removed his helm and hood. There was nothing he needed to hide. The Soldier stayed still.

'Nartis is my God, and like the one you serve, he does not com¬mand me. He made me; he gave me my strength and my gifts, but that doesn't mean he owns me. With these gifts I act as 1 see fit, and that includes wielding weapons, of which the Reapers were not the first.'

'Do you think you can deny me?' The' Soldier's fury was obvious now, which only confirmed Isak's hunch. 'I am a part of you; I am the incarnation of a white-eye's anger-'

'Then you are a part of me,' Isak snapped, 'but you are not all thai I am, and 1 command the anger inside me. My soul may be stained, 1 may have been born a creature of anger, but I will not let that make me a monster like you and yours.'

Carefully, deliberately, Isak sheathed Eolis and touched his fingers to his chest. 'I gave you the power to be here,' he said in a controlled voice. His fingers warmed as they rested on the Skull, the magic within a living thing. 'And that power is mine to retrieve when I choose.'

With a thought Isak took hold of the energy gushing out from the Skulls into the plaza beyond. The magic kicked and writhed under his grip, desperate to keep flowing, and for a moment he wondered if he was strong enough to control that vast stream of power. Could he dam it so that these monsters could no longer feed from it? His self-doubt disappeared in a flash as he realised Aryn Bwr was there, guiding his movements. He could feel the last king's desperation to escape that cruel, hungry gaze and allowed the dead spirit to steer his thoughts and cut the flow as easily as drawing a curtain.

To his immense satisfaction, Isak saw a flicker of surprise cross the Soldier's face, then the Aspect vanished, leaving only a set of bloody boot prints on the stone ground. In the distance he sensed the other Reapers also disappearing from the city. A smile almost crossed his face, but he caught it in time and made sure he was expressionless when he turned back to the living soldiers outside the temple.

He could see no personal consequence of summoning the Reapers; it hadn't marked his skin, like calling the storm had… but the dead lay in every direction. This was neither the place nor the time to feel pleased with himself.

Crossing the trench once more, he was greeted with awe-struck relief. Vesna and Jachen wore smiles, but Isak didn't need to heal them speak to know the smiles were forced. They'd just watched him face down the Reapers; it was too early for either to feel anything more than astonishment that they were still alive.

'My Lord,' Vesna croaked, 'you continue to amaze me.'

'Didn't expect that, eh?' Isak coughed, the exhaustion oi the evening's fighting catching up with him.

'Could anyone have expected that?' Jachen wondered. He had already removed his helm and now he started on his hauberk. His face was covered with sweat, his hair plastered flat.

'You'll get used to it,' Isak said with a smile, and made his way to the temple steps where he sank down gratefully down.

'Are you well?' Vesna asked cautiously.

'Just tired – and thirsty, now that I think of it.'

The words were hardly out of his mouth before Vesna was shout¬ing orders and what remained of the Farlan cavalry staggered for the horses still cowering in the forest of pillars of the Temple of Nartis. The animals had been ignored by both the mobs and the Reapers and though they were still unsettled by the stench of blood and guts, they were unharmed. It wasn't long before the first of the cavalry were heading towards the Temple of Vasle, where the waters still ran. If any of the Devoted objected to the sacrilege, they had the good sense to keep quiet.

The rest of the soldiers had dropped to the ground too, following their lord's lead. Vesna opened his mouth to bawl them upright again, but found himself sinking down almost without thought. Soon all the survivors were sprawled on the ground where just a short time before they'd expected to be ripped to pieces by the ravening hordes. None of them had the strength to speak. Those with pipes intact fumbled with tobacco pouches, sharing with those who had none. A scar-faced man with greying hair found it too much effort to walk the few paces back after lighting his pipe from the torch at the entrance of the temple, slumping instead on the steps a few feet from Isak. He started to puff away, then, almost shyly, offered the pipe to Isak.