was, he knew he would not survive the day; he was letting the power within the Skull run rampant, and channelling such a vast stream of energy meant he was burning out his own brain at the same time.
The sensation sparked incandescent fury in Styrax’s belly. He’d felt this before, when the Farlan bastard had killed his son. He marched on, head down as he kept his defences up, barely seeing his men around him being torn apart by the blistering rage in the air. Styrax tightened his grip on his sword. He was unable to counter-attack without weakening his shields or scorching his own mind. He fought for every step, like fighting a swift current, but step by step he closed on the hillock. The air screamed and ripped before his eyes, burst white and gold like the heart of a star, until suddenly he was there, taking the sloped side of the platform in one stride.
The energies winked out, vanishing instantaneously, and for a breathless moment the gigantic white-eye and the mage faced each other. The mage was a big man himself, the size of a normal white-eye, but his face was withered, the veins in his neck bulged out, and his skin was as white as his hair. As Styrax met the man’s tortured gaze, the mage’s hair crumbled to ash. The Lord of the Menin raised Kobra high, and with an almighty effort, he cleaved the mage’s body in two, from left shoulder to right hip.
Styrax felt the Land slow about him, a hush descending over the slaughter. The mage’s Crystal Skull hovered before him, waiting for the white-eye to claim his prize. He turned about to face the fort, which was being slowly engulfed by his soldiers. At the foot of the platform Reavers and Bloodsworn - the few dozen men left — were desperately trying to resist the Kingsguard, while the greater bulk of the Cheme legion on his left were readying themselves for a counter-attack.
Lightning split the sky as his fingers closed about the Skull, and a sense of victory descended upon him. Up above, the heavens roared their approval, and underfoot the ground shook, echoing the vast, looming power of the clouds. Through the Skull he could feel trails of energy running through the moor, great iron chains drawing power to him through the earth. He turned lazily towards the beleaguered fort and the mages at its heart, sensing their presence like campfires in the dark.
It ends now, Styrax thought with grim finality.
The Land exploded underneath him. Everything went white.
ENDGAME
With his hand flat against the ground, Isak watched lightning strike the chains around the earthen platform. A haze of white fire encircled it, leaping up from the iron links and between the steel-capped stakes set in the surrounding ditch. Great chunks of soil flew up into the air as great thick-limbed figures of earth and stone rose up on all sides. The figures moved slowly, but with strange grace, reaching to the sky as they ascended from the churned ground between platform and ditch.
Their inhuman faces were serene as they advanced on the black-armoured white-eye, quite unlike other elementals Isak had seen before. But these were Ralebrat; they were a breed apart from the rest - and they had the chance for atonement for their deeds during the Great War within their grasp. Some looked carved from stone, others were made of pebbles and dirt, like a statue without its skin. As the fire all around intensified, they attacked.
Isak stood, letting the cloak slip away from his shoulders. Underneath, he was shirtless, displaying the heart rune engraved on his chest, and as faces turned his way, he felt their gaze like needles, pricking into the long swathes of twisted tissue that covered most of his body. One hand covered his belly and the jagged scar that ran up his stomach. That wound he’d not received in Ghenna. That memory the witch had not been able to erase.
Isak watched Styrax’s blade, remembering its presence in his own gut - the white-hot pain, the way it jerked through flesh and bone, how it ripped out his guts . . . and he remembered his own high-pitched screaming. At that moment he’d smelled the hot, foetid breeze and he’d heard the chittering voices as darkness fell like acid eating his vision, and the emptiness of the grave swept over him.
Isak pulled his body straight as he faced the man who had killed him. On his