taint of Chaos.
The number of wizards present had been carefully calculated. No single mage could stand against three wizards of such skill. Even if he was tainted, and had been fully trained, there was nothing he could do here against the three of them. And he was not a fully trained wizard, merely a sixteen year-old elf with some stolen scraps of knowledge.
He felt the spell invade his form, passing along nerves and blood vessels, touching chakras and soul lines. He felt tiny flares of energy within his body respond, blazing up like a stoked furnace.
‘He has the Art,’ said the first.
‘He has worked magic,’ said the second.
‘Interesting,’ said the third.
‘If he lives this one will be mighty indeed,’ said the second.
‘The seeds of greatness are in him.’ Suddenly a huge jet of flame erupted from the pit. Gigantic plumes of molten magma formed themselves into the image of a huge, robed figure. Flames flickered in the eyes of the priests. Teclis saw the lines of force connecting them to the thing in the pit.
Teclis realised that the spell had joined not just the mages and himself. It had joined the mages at least in part to the power this shrine was sacred to. They were receiving wisdom from somewhere outside of normal space and time.
‘He sees us. He senses the presence of the god,’ said the third.
‘Mighty indeed,’ said the first. ‘And perhaps wise.’
‘This one will commune with ghosts,’ said the second.
‘This one will bear a crown,’ said the second. Her voice was altered. It seemed as if something else was speaking through her. ‘And a staff.’
‘And confront the greatest daemons,’ said the first. His voice sounded exactly the same as his comrades now.
‘And stand at the centre of creation.’
‘And face the Ender of Worlds.’
‘And fight against his own blood,’ said the third.
‘Against his own blood,’ all three of them said in one terrible voice. Then all of them slumped, like puppets whose strings had been cut, and the spell ended abruptly. The power went suddenly out of them, and they seemed less like threatening and mighty wizards and more like soul-weary ancient elves.
All of them looked at each other as if shocked, and Teclis wondered what they had seen, what visions of his future had passed through their mind. Fight against his own blood? Did they mean that he was to fight Tyrion? Surely that was not possible. It was something he would not do. He wanted to demand answers from them, but the part of him that was a wizard already knew that they would not answer and he could not compel them.
‘There is no taint in this one,’ said the first masked figure.
‘There is no taint,’ said the second.
‘There is no taint,’ said the third.
‘Pass from this place and walk free, Blood of Aenarion.’ All three of them spoke in unison. Weak, and sick at heart, Teclis limped up the stairs. It took him a very long time to reach the light of day emerging out onto a stone ledge. The smell of the sea assaulted his nostrils and made him feel sick.
Tyrion waited there for him. His heart started to pound. His head started to spin.
‘I passed,’ said Teclis and collapsed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-seven
By the light of the two moons, through the curtain of pouring rain, N’Kari looked upon the Shrine of Asuryan and gloated. The portal shimmered closed behind him as the last of his followers emerged from its glowing surface. Ahead of him, the misty outlines of a huge ziggurat were visible through the gloom.
N’Kari studied the walls with eyes that saw more than light. He inspected the great patterns of magic swirling around the shrine. Potent spells woven by great mages in the days of high magic were there, but they were old. There were areas where Time’s endless entropy had frayed them. There were places where the physical foci had gone and the spells were worn so thin that they were vulnerable.
He looked at them, seeing the patterns of magic superimposed on his vision of the world. He saw the souls of his own army, purple and sickly green cultists, bright blood-red Khornate daemons, lilac and lime for the Slaanesh daemons. He saw the sun-gold souls of the elven defenders.
His current force numbered in thousands with scores of daemons. They would have troubles of their own on the sacred soil within the shrine. Its very purity would make it difficult for them to maintain their present forms in the material world. Still, what