as possible. That was why he had spent the past few days in the ultimately tedious business of shipping the Witch King’s troops to various points around Ulthuan.
He paused for a moment, wondering where this sudden complacency had come from. He examined the nature of the spells binding him for what felt like the millionth time. There was indeed an element of subtle compulsion woven into them, guiding his thoughts into these paths. That increased his anger but even that was channelled. He laughed and allowed himself to enjoy the mind-altering sensation. All that was happening here was that certain aspects of his mood and personality were being amplified. It was strangely enjoyable, a thing which was also a component of the spell.
In his deepest secret heart, N’Kari understood the insult and resented it. One locked-off chamber of his mind plotted vengeance and began to muster its resources. Other chambers of his mind entered into the spirit of things and plotted how it could aid in this new Rape of Ulthuan. He gave his attention back to the dark elves.
He let his stern gaze rest on every watching druchii in turn. They kept their faces impassive but inwardly they quailed under the gaze of one who so resembled their much-feared leader and at the same time was rumoured to be a daemon straight from hell.
All of them, except perhaps General Dorian, were wondering exactly why they were here and exactly what was going to happen. Being what and who they were, they must be half-expecting a trap. They must be asking themselves whether Malekith had resolved to dispose of them in some new and horrific way. They were the last of the original force that had landed in Ulthuan. All of the rest of the soldiers had been deployed near their objectives. They were the only ones who had been issued with special amulets. Most of them had no idea of the purpose of those charms save perhaps the sorceresses and their commander.
Being who they were, all of them in their secret hearts knew they were guilty of some treason and N’Kari gave them time to dwell on their own particular variations on that theme. Once the fear and anticipation had reached a crescendo, he opened the portal in the flashiest and most terrifying way he could. The basic composition of the gateway was unchangeable but he could use his magic to add little touches of his own to the spell.
The air chilled, thunder rumbled and the stink of ozone drifted into every nostril as the gateway appeared illuminated by crackling lightning. The area within shimmered with multi-coloured light. There was no way they could see through it and know their ultimate destination. They could be going across Ulthuan as they were told, or to the deepest hell. They would not know until they passed through and their well-controlled terror was delicious.
General Dorian gave the order to move. In lockstep, the first of the units began to march through the gateway he had opened in the fabric of reality. Even N’Kari had to admit that their discipline was impressive.
Dorian studied his bodyguard as they marched with him into the portal. They were the elite of his force, a fine selection of druchii heavy infantry, disciplined and capable. They would stand and fight while others died or fled because they were proud of themselves, their heritage and their bloodlines. It was this pride that made them the finest heavy infantry in the world. It was what allowed them to march through the gateway under the daemon’s terrifying gaze without any apparent show of fear.
He understood them because he was like them. From birth, he had been brought up to see himself as one of the born rulers of the world. He had trained alongside his brothers for hours with sword and spear and shield and crossbow. He had learned to fight and to compete. His brothers had been both comrades and rivals. He wanted to outshine them and he had, with the possible exception of Urian, but that very rivalry had provided him with the motivation to excel. The same thing applied through the entire vast army on a very different scale.
Each soldier attempted to outshine every other soldier in his company. Every company tried to surpass every other company in the regiment. Every regiment tried to outclass every other in the army. And the army must prove itself against every foe.
Glory was both personal and communal. The Witch King looked