had once possessed, to feel cool air on his skin, not to be entombed in iron. He pushed that weakness aside.
‘Dwelling on the past?’ the daemon asked.
Malekith did not ask how the daemon knew. In some ways it was preternaturally sensitive to the thoughts of others, in other ways completely blind. Also, it would never do to lose sight of the fact that the daemon was not of this world. It had gifts, in some ways like his mother’s.
‘That is my business, daemon.’
‘For the moment, your business is my business,’ said N’Kari. It brandished its chains. ‘You have made this very clear to me.’
‘This does not mean I have to discuss it with you. Do not make me sorry I granted you permission to speak once more.’
‘Who else are you going to discuss it with, Witch King – those idiots out there on their pathetic ships?’
‘I do not require to talk about it with anyone, least of all you, lackey.’
‘Then you are most unusual among your kind. Always they need to talk, to boast, to vaunt their pride. They are worse than humans in their way.’
Malekith was inclined to agree, but he was not about to admit it to this creature. ‘You were thinking about life and death and the gods,’ said N’Kari.
Malekith wondered if the daemon had been reading his mind. He did not think that was possible. His helmet was inscribed with very potent runes to prevent exactly that sort of thing from happening and he had shielded his thoughts for millennia using magic.
No, he thought, the daemon was simply making an obvious insinuation and attempting to unsettle him, and that was not something he was going to allow.
‘That shows no great gift of understanding,’ said Malekith. ‘It is what most elves would do, standing on these heights, and looking at this view.’
‘While engaged in an exercise on this vast scale…’ said N’Kari. ‘It is what you mortals are like.’
‘I am no mortal,’ said Malekith.
‘That remains to be proven,’ said the daemon, allowing some of its malice to creep back into its voice.
‘By you?’ Malekith allowed his contempt to show in his voice. An elf or a human would have quailed.
The daemon merely smiled. ‘My time will come.’
‘If ever it does you will find me ready.’
‘I did this once,’ said N’Kari. The daemon sounded thoughtful. ‘Invaded Ulthuan. In the time before ever your father arose to oppose me.’
Malekith laughed. The sound was iron, cold and biting as a blade. ‘It seems mortals are not the only ones compelled to talk, to boast, to reminisce.’
‘It is a weakness of being bound in this form in this world,’ said N’Kari. ‘Every day I become more like you. I live. I breathe. The realm of my birth becomes an ever fainter memory. But then you understand that too, don’t you? We have some things in common you and I.’
‘I very much doubt that.’
‘You are attempting what I once did. I suspect your results will be much the same.’
‘I will prevail. I do not seek to destroy the world and enslave my people. I am merely reclaiming what is mine by right of birth.’
‘Are you certain of that?’
‘Of what?’
‘That you are Aenarion’s son? Your mother was, to say the least, promiscuous. I lay with her myself many times in many different forms. More than even she is aware of.’
Malekith knew the daemon was merely trying to goad him. He would not let it.
‘The Flame rejected you. It did not reject Aenarion.’
There was nothing Malekith could say to that, so he let it pass. He knew it was pointless debating these things with daemons.
‘Why do you think that was?’
Malekith exercised his will. The bracelets that bound the daemon pulsed with energy. It stood frozen in place, unable to move or speak until he willed it. He returned to contemplating his fleet.
Soon, he thought, he would be home and there would be a reckoning: with this daemon, with the elves of Ulthuan and with their gods.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Teclis woke from an unpleasant slumber. Strange dreams had haunted his sleep, filling his mind with images of destruction and slaughter. In every nightmare was the hideous image of Morrslieb, the Chaos moon, blazing brightly in the sky. Something had transformed it into an eye through which a daemonic god looked down on the world.
He washed, pulled on his robe, and went down to breakfast. He had barely sat down at the table when there was a knocking at the door. Moments later Rose entered and said, ‘A