Beyond the Shadows

The man blinked again, but after a few moments seemed to master his fear. “My predecessor, Keeper Yrrgin, said that the first of your line, Godking Roygaris, tried. He needed hundreds of thousands of skeletons for the attempt, so he invaded what is now the Freeze. Keeper Yrrgin said it was once a great civilization, filled with mighty cities. Roygaris took it with little difficulty, for they thought him their ally. And then he put them in camps and killed them all—an entire civilization. Keeper Yrrgin said that above the thirteen arcanghuls, Godking Roygaris found a rank he called night lords. With one night lord, Roygaris conquered the rest of the Freeze, and his armies only grew. He couldn’t be content. He thought he was closing in on the mysteries of the universe. He thought if he could master thirteen night lords, he would master God. I can’t imagine that there were ever so many people in all the world, but my master told me that he succeeded in capturing and putting to death almost five million people, and that there, above the night lords, he found . . .” the man face was pasty and sweating, his voice low and hoarse. “There he found Khali. She destroyed him and became our goddess. She gave us the vir to bind us to her and to make us destroyers. This is why agony is worship to her, because like all the Strangers, she hates life.”

“What happened, Ashaiah?”

The man’s voice was a whisper, “Jorsin Alkestes.”

Dorian’s heart went cold. He’d heard this history, but only from the southern perspective. The Mad Emperor and the Mad Mage. The conqueror and his dog. Now, Ashaiah was saying that Jorsin and Ezra had stopped a goddess and her army of five million krul.

“Elsewhere our armies would suffer losses in the day and be remade in the night. That alone made us almost invincible. But Alkestes somehow warded all of the great city of Trayethell and leagues around it so that the krul couldn’t be raised there.”

“Black Barrow?” Dorian asked. The city was in southeast Khalidor, but it had never been inhabited. It was cursed. No one lived within leagues of the place. Indeed, all of eastern Khalidor was sparsely populated. “Who else knows about these bones and about the krul?”

“I have a number of deaf-mutes who assist me. We take all the castle’s and the city’s dead. I never allow anyone in the larger chambers. Paerik and Moburu were the only aethelings who knew. General Naga learned it from Paerik. No one else.”

No one else.

“So Paerik wasn’t a fool,” Jenine said, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the vast room. “With twenty thousand men, he was facing sixty thousand. Paerik didn’t come here for the throne—or at least not only for the throne—he came for the krul. What does it mean, my lord?”

Dorian felt sick. She seized on exactly the crux of it. “My father suffered a huge setback by being stalled in Cenaria. It was a distraction, a mistake. He thought he could grab it and send home riches and food, but the supplies he hoped to send home were put to the torch instead by the fleeing Cenarians.” Dorian rubbed his face. “So when the barbarians come down from the Freeze, Khaliras will be indefensible. Its citizens would want to cross Luxbridge and live here in the Citadel. As they wait out the siege, they’ll have to be fed—and we have no food. Our military’s good at following orders, but no good at taking initiative. If I throw them into a battle facing three-to-one odds, they’ll get massacred. There’s no way to win.”

Jenine said nothing for a moment, then glanced around at the stacks and stacks of bones. “You mean there’s no way to win except . . .”

He looked at the bones of men and thought of all the stories of krul he’d ever heard, and he thought of dipping so deeply into the vir, and he thought of men dying no matter what he did. “Yes,” he said. “There’s no way to win except to raise these monsters. It will be an orgy of death.”

“Whose deaths? The invaders’ or your innocent people’s?”

“The invaders’,” Dorian said. So long as he did everything right.

“Then let us raise monsters,” Jenine said.

28

After dressing appropriately, Kylar walked to Logan’s tent. Logan’s bodyguards nodded and pulled back the flap for him. The sun was poised on the horizon, but the tent was still dark enough that lanterns were needed to illuminate the maps that the officers, Agon, and Logan were studying.

Kylar joined the group silently. The maps were accurate, aside from missing the supply train.

“They outnumber us six to one,” Agon said, “but they don’t have any cavalry. So we ride out, the wytch hunters pick off a few officers and we melt back into the hills. We start gathering food so we can make it through the winter, and send out more scouts so we find any supply train they might have coming. It’s the only way. They didn’t expect walls. They’ll starve before we do.”

“The supply train is right here,” Kylar said, pointing on the map. “It’s accompanied by a thousand horse.”

There was silence at the table.

“We have lost a scout in that direction,” an officer said.

“Are you certain?” Agon asked. “How big is it?”

Kylar dropped a sheaf of notes on the table.

There was silence as the men picked up the rice paper sheets and read. Only Logan didn’t read as the officers shared the notes back and forth. He stared at Kylar quizzically, obviously wondering what he was trying to accomplish.

“How did you get these, Wolfhound?” an officer asked, using the nickname the soldiers had given Kylar.

“I fetched.” Kylar gave him a toothy smile.

“Enough,” Agon said, throwing his papers down on the table. “It’s worse than we feared.”

“Worse?” the officer said. “It’s a disaster.”

“General,” Kylar said to Logan, “can I have a word with you? Alone?”

Logan nodded and other men filed from the tent, carrying the notes for further study. “What are you playing at, Kylar?”

“Just making you look good.”

“An impending slaughter makes me look good?”

“A disaster diverted makes you look good.”

“And you have a plan.”

“Garuwashi wants food and a victory. I propose we give them to him.”

“Why hadn’t I thought of that?” Logan said, uncharacteristically sarcastic. He was really worried, then. Good.

“It doesn’t have to be a victory over us,” Kylar said. Then he explained.

When he finished, Logan didn’t look surprised. He looked profoundly sad. “That would make me look good, wouldn’t it?”

“And save thousands of lives and the city,” Kylar said.

“Kylar, it’s time for us to finish that conversation.”

“What conversation?”

“The one about king-making and queen unmaking.”

“I don’t have any more to say.”

“Good, then you can listen,” Logan said. He rubbed his unshaven face and his sleeve fell to show the edge of the dully glowing green tattoo etched in his forearm. “People commonly misquote the old Sacrinomicon and say that money is the root of all evil, which is moronic if you think about it. The real quote is that the love of money is the root of all sorts of evil. Not as pithy, but a lot truer. In the same way, what I am capable of doing in the pursuit of power and sex, the man I choose for Logan Gyre to be will not allow. My hunger for food couldn’t make me a monster in my own eyes. Not even when I ate human flesh. I was driven to that by necessity, not perversion. I suppose the same could be said for you, for killing. I saw it on your face when you killed my gaoler Gorkhy. You do it, but you don’t love it. If you loved it, you’d turn into Hu Gibbet.”