Trull Sengar picked his way across the killing field. The rain was turning the churned ground into a swamp. The bones of the sorcery had vanished. He paused, hearing piteous cries from somewhere off to his right. A dozen paces in that direction, and he came upon a demon.
Four heavy quarrels had pierced it. The creature was lying on its side, its bestial face twisted with pain.
Trull crouched near the demon’s mud-smeared head. ‘Can you understand me?’
Small blue eyes flickered behind the lids, fixed on his own eyes. ‘Arbiter of life. Denier of mercy. I shall die here.’
The voice was thin, strangely childlike.
‘I shall call a healer-’
‘Why? To fight again? To relive terror and grief?’
‘You were not a warrior in your world?’
‘A caster of nets. Warm shoals, a yellow sky. We cast nets.’
‘All of you?’
‘What war is this? Why have I been killed? Why will I never see the river again? My mate, my children. Did we win?’
‘I shall not be long. I will return. I promise.’ Trull straightened, went on to where stood Fear and, now, a dozen others. The K’risnan was alive, surrounded by healers – none of whom seemed capable of doing anything for the figure writhing in the mud. As Trull neared, he saw more clearly the young warlock.
Twisted, deformed, his skin peeling in wet sheets, and eyes filled with awareness.
Fear stepped into Trull’s path and said, ‘It is the sword’s sorcery – the gift-giver’s own, channelled from the weapon into Rhulad, and from Rhulad to whomever he may choose. Yet…’ He hesitated. ‘The body cannot cope. Even as it destroys the enemy, so it changes the wielder. This is what the women are telling me.’
His brother’s face was pale, and nowhere in his expression could Trull see triumph or satisfaction at the victory they had won this day.
‘Will he survive?’
‘They think so. This time. But the damage cannot be reversed. Trull, Hanradi’s son is dead. We have lost a K’risnan.’
‘To this?’ Trull asked. ‘To the sword’s power?’
‘Partly. The Letherii mages mostly, I think, given how badly burned he was. They resisted longer than we expected.’
Trull faced High Fort. ‘It has surrendered?’