And here, now, looming before him, pillars of stone. The surfaces, he saw, cavorted with carvings, unrecognizable sigils so intricate they spun and shifted before his eyes.
As he drew closer, silts gusted ahead, and Bruthen Trana saw a figure climbing into view. Armour green with verdigris and furred with slime. A closed helm covering its face. In one gauntleted hand was a Letherii sword.
And a voice spoke in the Tiste Edur’s head: ‘You have walked enough, Ghost.’
Bruthen Trana halted. ‘I am not a ghost in truth-’
‘You are, stranger. Your soul has been severed from now cold, now rotting flesh. You are no more than what stands here, before me. A ghost.’
Somehow, the realization did not surprise him. Hannan Mosag’s legacy of treachery made all alliances suspect. And he had, he realized, felt… severed. For a long time, yes. The Warlock King likely did not waste any time in cutting the throat of Bruthen Trana’s helpless body.
‘Then,’ he said, ‘what is left for me?’
‘One thing, Ghost. You are here to summon him. To send him back.’
‘But was not his soul severed as well?’
‘His flesh and bones are here, Ghost. And in this place, there is power. For here you will find the forgotten gods, the last hold’ ing of their names. Know this, Ghost, were we to seek to defy you, to refuse your summoning, we could. Even with what you carry.’
‘Will you then refuse me?’ Bruthen Trana asked, and if the answer was yes, then he would laugh. To have come all this way. To have sacrificed his life…
‘No. We understand the need. Better, perhaps, than you.’
The armoured warrior lifted his free hand. All but the fore
most of the metal-clad fingers folded. ‘Go there,’ it said, pointing towards a pillar. ‘The side with but one name. Draw forth that which you possess of his flesh and bone. Speak the name so written on the stone.’
Bruthen Trana walked slowly to the standing stone, went round to the side with the lone carving. And read thereon the name inscribed: ‘ “Brys Beddict, Saviour of the Empty Hold.” I summon you.’
The face of the stone, cleaned here, seeming almost fresh, all at once began to ripple, then bulge in places, the random shapes and movement coalescing to create a humanoid shape, pushing out from the stone. An arm came free, then shoulder, then head, face-eyes closed, features twisted as if in pain-upper torso. A leg. The second arm-Bruthen saw that two fingers were missing on that hand.
He frowned. Two?