Blood of Aenarion - By William King Page 0,118

to the walled temple complex. The Eye of Asuryan worked into the surplice of his robes mirrored the symbols set in the wall. It gave Tyrion the feeling that he was in the gaze of the god.

They passed through a small postern gate and into the grounds around the great ziggurat. Within the cool shadow of the massive stone walls a host of smaller stone structures waited attendance on the mighty stepped pyramid of the temple proper.

The priest led them through courtyard after courtyard.

Ominously, the temple was full of elf soldiers, warriors of the levies hastily dispatched to increase the garrison camped in every courtyard and open space. There were hundreds of them, and Tyrion gathered that more were due to arrive soon. It seemed the Phoenix King was taking this threat very seriously.

Tall, grim elves in the uniforms of the Phoenix Guard moved everywhere. They said nothing, merely glanced warily at the twins, assessing them for any threat and then moving on.

They came to a small refectory and were offered food then showed to monastic cells. After the luxury of the Emeraldsea Palace, the size of the chambers and the sparseness of the furnishings came as a shock to Tyrion. Somehow small cabins had been easier to accept on a ship.

‘Spit it out,’ Teclis said. ‘I can see you have something on your mind.’

‘This place is a fortress,’ said Tyrion. ‘But there are not enough warriors here to defend it against a really powerful enemy. It is too big and the guards are still too few.’

‘It is a temple not a fortress,’ said Teclis, ‘which might explain that. Also it is defended in other ways, my magic-blind brother.’

‘How so?’

‘There are extremely ancient and powerful wards woven into the walls. And there is a mighty presence here. It is not exactly chained, but it is constrained in some way. I can feel it.’

‘Asuryan?’

‘The same thing as touched Finubar, so yes.’

Tyrion smiled. ‘We are here. In the same place as Aenarion once walked. Who would have thought this a season ago?’

‘I wish it were under happier circumstances,’ said Teclis. ‘I wish we were at home with Father.’

‘What could we do for him if the daemon comes?’ said Tyrion. ‘He is a wizard. He can look after himself.’

‘The daemon has killed other wizards. Some of them vastly more powerful than our father.’

‘There is nothing either you or I can do about that now, Teclis. I wish there was but it is not so.’

‘I do not like being hunted,’ said Teclis. ‘One day I intend to be powerful enough to destroy a daemon like N’Kari if he troubles me or mine.’

‘You do not lack for ambition, brother. I will settle for a good sword, nothing too ambitious, say Sunfang or the Sword of Khaine, then I will be able to do the same thing.’

‘Hush, brother, that is not something to be joked about in this place, at this time.’

‘Then I shall bid you goodnight and retire to my cell. Tomorrow a lot of things will be decided.’

Looking out through the window, Tyrion saw clouds scudding across the face of the moon. It looked like there was a storm coming. He wondered whether it was an omen.

N’Kari stood among the rubble of another destroyed town drinking in the emotions of fear, misery and disgust along with the adoration of his worshippers. He laughed as the buildings around the central square finally collapsed into a charred heap. In the distance he could hear the sound of his followers destroying the last few standing structures and rounding up the last of the terrified survivors.

It was time for the next phase of his plan. He was strong enough now to bargain from a position of power with those he needed. He had gathered enough sacrifices to begin the ritual. So far, his triumphs had been almost too easy but he was going to attack the Shrine of Asuryan and for that he would need allies of enormous power.

He looked at the assembled captives milling around like sheep in a pen. They had the eyes of those who had known defeat and enslavement and who knew that their fates were only going to get worse. N’Kari ensured they knew this by wearing his true battle form. He was not doing this just for their benefit. There were others he was going to have to impress more.

With the claw that tipped one of his four arms, N’Kari drew the symbol of Tzeentch in the ground, digging out channels with

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