The Crippled God

Draconus has been freed – his own chains for ever cut away from him. Don’t you see? My brother ended Mother Dark’s vow of isolation – once again she faces her children. But why should it stop there? Tulas! My brother also freed Draconus.’
    ‘Anomander would force the wounds to heal? The arrogance of the man!’
    ‘He forces nothing, Tulas. He but opens the door. He makes possible … anything .’
    ‘Does Draconus understand?’
    Now that is the question, isn’t it? ‘When he is done killing the Elder Gods he feels should be killed, he will pause. He will ask himself the question, what now? And then, perhaps, it will come to him. The fullest recognition of Anomander’s gift.’
    ‘My friend, if I truly had breath, you would have taken it from me. But … how can you be certain? Of any of this?’
    Silchas Ruin studied the sword in his hand. ‘I think I know who crouches at the centre of this mad web. Tulas, when I veer, what happens to this Hust sword?’
    ‘It becomes one with the fibre of your flesh and bone – as you well know, Silchas.’
    ‘Yes … but this is a Hust – a slayer of dragons.’
    ‘Was the usurper trying to tell you something, do you think?’
    ‘I begin to suspect the gift wasn’t the sword. The gift was what the sword meant – what it means .’ He sheathed the weapon. ‘The time has come, friend, for our last stand. War we shall now wage.’
    Another rattle from Tulas Shorn’s dry throat, but this time it was laughter. ‘I delight in this irony, beloved blade-brother. Very well, let us go and kill some dragons.’ Then he paused and cocked his head at Silchas. ‘Korabas … will she thank us?’
    ‘Do you expect her to?’
    ‘No, I suppose not. Why should she? We will fail.’
    ‘Now,’ Silchas mused, ‘you give me reason to wonder. After all, will this not be the first time that she does not fall alone?’
    Tulas was silent for a moment, and then he said, ‘My friend, our deaths shall be our gift to her.’
    ‘Tulas, can two Ancients make a Storm?’
    ‘We shall have to try.’
    Anomander, I believe I shall see you soon. And Andarist, too .
    ‘Since we are about to die, Silchas, will you tell me what happened to the Throne of Shadow?’
    Silchas Ruin smiled and shook his head. ‘Perhaps, if the throne so desires, it will one day tell you itself.’
    ‘Thrones cannot speak.’
    ‘That is true, and it’s just as well, don’t you think?’
    ‘It is a good thing we are going to die side by side,’ Tulas Shorn growled, ‘else I would be forced to fight you after all.’
    They had moved well apart, and now they veered.
    And two Ancient dragons, one living, the other undead, lifted into the empty sky.
    Olar Ethil crouched in the grasses like a hare about to be flushed by a hawk. Torrent studied her for a moment longer, struggling to disguise his dark satisfaction, and then turned to check once more on the three children. They slept on – the hag had done something to them. It was just past midday and they’d not travelled far since the dawn. Behind him, the Bonecaster was muttering to herself.
    ‘Too many came through – nowhere to hide. I know now what is being attempted. It cannot work. I want it for myself – I will have it for myself! There are Ancients in the sky, but I am the most ancient one of all. I will see them driven back … but first, Korabas needs to die. They need to fail!’
    Torrent walked over to his horse. Examined the primitive-looking arrows in the quiver strapped beside the bow. Then he glanced back at Olar Ethil. ‘What are we waiting for?’
    Her battered face lifted. ‘I will not be part of this fight.’
    He looked round, seeing nothing but empty plains. ‘What fight?’
    ‘You are as good as dead already, pup. Soon I won’t need you any more. I have gifts to give. And he will forgive me – you’ll see, he’ll forgive me.’
    ‘How can I see anything if I’m to be dead soon?’
    She straightened, kicked at the grasses. Two skeletal lizards dodged out, evading her gnarled foot. He heard their clacking jaws as they scampered past him, down the slope and away.
    ‘That’s it then,’ Olar Ethil rasped, watching them flee. ‘They’re gone. Good. I never trusted them – GO!’ She hobbled to the edge of the ridge, shouted after them, ‘Find the great Storm of T’iam! As if that will help you, hah!’ Then she wheeled and stabbed a crooked finger at Torrent. ‘I am watching you, pup!’
    Torrent sighed.