to their chosen people? Even an elf as insensitive to most forms of magic as Tyrion could tell that this was a mystical place. Power charged the atmosphere all around them. He could feel it as he could feel the presence of a fine cool mist on his skin on a winter morning.
The Phoenix King himself had ordered them placed under guard here, which argued that he at least took the threat of the daemon seriously. And if Finubar did so, could he and his brother do anything less? No. The daemon was out there and soon it would come looking for them, and when it did he had better be ready, although he was not entirely sure how that was possible.
And tomorrow they would be tested. The Keeper of Secrets was not the only thing they had to worry about. It seemed that very suddenly his short life had become very dangerous.
The Temple of Asuryan rose above them. The stones were ancient and weathered, covered in an ochre moss. It was difficult to tell the real scale of the place. It seemed as if it was part of the cliffs, a mountain that had been partially sculpted by the ancient builders. It was as if the gods themselves had placed it there.
Even he could tell that there was a power contained within this place. He could sense the energy pulsing out through the very stone and he was sure that his brother, who was far more sensitive to these things than he was, was even more aware of it. Teclis stared as if he were looking at some natural marvel: a mountain landscape, a perfect beach, a glorious sunset. His face was transformed as if he were looking upon a wonder.
‘A god dwells in this place,’ he said.
‘What gave you the first clue?’ Tyrion asked. ‘Was it the fact that it is the Temple of Asuryan? Or was it something more subtle like the religious symbols carved into the cliffs? Perhaps it was the smoke rising from the Sacred Flame at the top of the temple.’
‘I can see the Flame burning through the cliff.’
‘You can see it through the rock?’
‘Perhaps see is the wrong word. I can perceive its energy. This is a place where a power from Outside touches our world. Something vast and slow and terribly ancient.’
There was a mixture of awe and something else in his brother’s voice. Tyrion could not tell what it was. He looked at the temple again.
‘It does not look like it was built by elves, does it?’ he said.
‘It is not in a typically elven architectural style, that’s true,’ said Teclis. ‘The ziggurat echoes the patterns of ancient cities of the slann. Some think it was they who first contacted Asuryan and taught his worship to the elves.’
‘Aenarion was in this place,’ said Tyrion. It was a strange thought – the first Phoenix King had not yet been touched by the power of Asuryan when he first looked upon the spot. He could have walked away and the whole course of history would have been different. There would never have been any Phoenix Kings. Perhaps the forces of Chaos would have engulfed the world and there would be no Tyrion standing here to look up at the temple with wonder and unease in his heart.
He noticed the Phoenix Guard seemed to be paying attention to them now. He was tempted to ask them what they thought but he knew he would get no answer. These warriors were sworn to silence and he did not know the hand signs they used to communicate. They guarded sacred mysteries and it was said they knew their own dooms.
‘Malekith was here too,’ said Teclis. ‘He tried to emulate his father. He tried to walk through the flame. He failed and was damned.’
How like his brother to concentrate on the dark side of things, Tyrion thought. But Teclis was correct. The Witch King of Naggaroth had once walked here too. He had gone forth from the spot, a wretched, scorched cripple, twisted by the experience. And yet, for all that, he had left. He had survived for far longer than his mighty father.
‘Every Phoenix King who was ever crowned has stood near where we are standing now. From this small island, a great deal of our history was shaped.’
‘Well, brother, now our history will be shaped. The course of our lives will be decided here,’ said Teclis.