Dust of Dreams

moment, Stormy saw the burning sky keeps.
    And the storm was gone, the thunder vanished, the world filling with sounds of iron, flesh and bone. The song of ten thousand battles, made eerily surreal by there being not a single scream, not a single cry of agony or shriek begging mercy.
    The Nah’ruk were falling.
    Battle halted. Slaughter commenced.
    No song lives upon a single note.
    But to a soldier, who had faced death for an eternity since the dawn, this grisly music was the sweetest music of all.
    Slaughter! For my brave Ve’Gath! Slaughter! For Gesler and his K’ell! Slaughter, for the Bonehunters—my friends—SLAUGHTER!
     
    As if some fulcrum had been irrevocably destroyed, Ampelas Uprooted slowly rolled upside down. The entire edifice was burning now, spilling sheets of flaming oil that splashed bright upon rubble, corpses and wounded drones directly below.
    Gesler knew it was now dead, a lifeless hulk slowly tumbling in the sky.
    Two sky keeps still raged in death-throes behind it, leaning like drunks, moments from colliding with one another. The smoke column from a third was shredding apart to high winds, but of the keep itself there was no sign. The rest were but ashes on the black wind.
    Before them rose a mountain of gnarled rock, enclosing the wreckage that had once been Kalse Uprooted, holding it up as if it was a gem, or a giant shattered eye. Something about the stone was familiar, but for the moment, he could not place it. The manifestation reached stunningly high, piercing through the dust and smoke.
    Stormy’s hunt for the last fleeing Nah’ruk had taken him and a thousand or so Ve’Gath beyond the hills to the southeast.
    Exhausted, numbed beyond all reason, Gesler leaned back in the strange saddle. Some damned dog was yapping at his mount’s ankles.
    He saw Kalyth, Sag’Churok, Gunth Mach and the J’an Sentinel, and beyond them, approaching at a careless walk, two children.
    Grub. Sinn.
    Gesler leaned forward and glared down at the yapping dog. ‘Gods below, Roach,’ he said in a hoarse voice, ‘you returning the favour?’ He drew a shuddering breath. ‘Listen, rat, cos I’m only going to say this once—I guarantee it. But right now, your voice is the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.’
    The miserable thing snarled up at him.
    It had never learned how to smile.
     
    Slipping down from the Ve’Gath, Gesler sagged on aching legs. Kalyth was kneeling, facing the direction from which Sinn and Grub were approaching. ‘Get up, Destriant,’ he said, finding himself leaning against the Ve’Gath’s hip. ‘Those two got heads so swelled it’s a wonder a mortal woman pushed ’em out.’
    She looked over and he saw the muddy streaks of tears on her cheeks. ‘She had . . . faith. In us humans.’ The woman shook her head. ‘I did not.’
    The two children walked up.
    Gesler scowled. ‘Stop looking so smug, Sinn. You two are in a lot of trouble.’
    ‘Bent and Roach found us,’ said Grub, scratching in the wild thatch of hair on his head. It looked as though neither of them had bathed in months. ‘We were safe, Sergeant Gesler.’
    ‘Happy for you,’ he said in a growl. ‘But they needed you—both of you. The Bonehunters were in the Nah’ruk’s path—what do you think happened to them?’
    Grub’s eyes widened.
    Sinn walked up to the Ve’Gath and set a hand on its flank. ‘I want one for myself,’ she said.
    ‘Didn’t you hear me, Sinn? Your brother—’
    ‘Is probably dead. We were in the warrens—the new warrens. We were on the path, we could taste the blood—so fresh, so strong.’ She looked up at Gesler with bleak eyes. ‘The Azath has sealed the wound.’
    ‘The Azath?’
    She shrugged, facing the tree of rock, its lone knot gripping Kalse Uprooted. She bared her teeth in something that might have been a smile.
    ‘Who is in there, Sinn?’
    ‘He’s gone.’
    ‘Dead stone can’t seal a gate—not for long—even an Azath needs a life force, a living soul—’
    She shot him a quick look. ‘That’s true.’
    ‘So what seals it—if he’s gone—’
    ‘An eye.’
    ‘A what?’
    Kalyth spoke in the trader tongue. ‘Mortal Sword, the One Daughter is now the Matron of Mach Nest. Bre’nigan stands as her J’an Sentinel. Sag’Churok is the bearer of the seed. She will speak to you now.’
    He turned to face the K’Chain Che’Malle.
    ‘Mortal Sword. The Shield Anvil returns. Shall we await him?’
    Don’t bother, Matron, it’s not like