JULIEN

II

Chapter 70

An ill wind

Tandil was not of course composed exclusively of jungle, although even in places where humans could possibly have lived and worked the local flora and fauna remained so dangerous that it really wasn't practical to think of setting up settlements. Other than a couple of science stations and an official enclave which was used for maintaining courteous but somewhat distant contact with the most intelligent species, the vril birds, the only place that could offer shelter to off-world visitors was the ultra-secret base that had been used for a time by Julien and his friends.

However, there were also the two fairly small polar icecaps, as well as a few areas of desert, and for thousands of years outcast groups of varying sorts had set up bases there. They generally didn't survive for very long, but despite every effort to erase them they still popped back into existence under another form after a while, even if several years passed between appearances. Most of these groups were dedicated to the Dark Arts, and so their principles were entirely at variants with those of the rest of the Nine Worlds.

Of course the Emperor and his advisers were well aware of their existence, and from time to time Yulmir had carried out a purge of the worst and most threatening practitioners of those Arts. This was actually quite a dangerous thing to attempt, and the Protector of the Nine Worlds had on several occasions met a most unpleasant death in the process.

The main difficulty was that proficiency in the Dark Arts frequently called for a relationship with a Dre Tchenn, an entity a bit like a Neh-kyong but which had developed, among other characteristics, a predilection for terror and pain in every form. It was impossible for humans, or indeed for any other inhabitant of what might be called the ordinary, 'real' universe, to understand the motivation, or indeed anything much else, of the Dre Tchenns, but it was possible to establish some sort of contract in which their services could be paid for by the pain of creatures offered to them as a sacrifice. And if you were sufficiently hungry for power, an alliance with a Dre Tchenn could seem to offer enough profitability to justify the high fee charged for its help – especially since that fee usually involved the suffering of somebody else.

This was exactly the situation with the very secret brotherhood of the Sorcerers of Eng'Hornath. It wasn't the only one of its kind, and nor was it the most numerous, although no organisation of that sort had ever claimed more than three or four thousand adherents. By now its numbers had been reduced to around two hundred, but it had existed for more than six thousand years, during which time it had offered its support to every enemy of the Imperial order, be they overt or secret. In fact the Eng'Hornath Sorcerers were the heirs of those who, back in the mists of time, had first learned to communicate with the beings that lived in what had then been called the 'In-between world'.

Unlike the Neh-kyongs, the Dre Tchenns didn't seem to follow strict rules that governed their relationships with other species. For example, they could, if offered sufficient payment, act as guides, and without observing the scrupulous niceties of travel demanded by the virtuous Guides of Hyaï Ho. Naturally the price of that kind of service was both of a different nature and considerably higher than that charged by the regular Guides. But almost any price was worth paying if it allowed you to transport a score of ghorrs, for example. And in any case the brotherhood had no other means of travelling to and from Tandil.

The Sorcerers were, as they had always been, absolutely determined to dispose of Yulmir and everything he represented once and for all. And this time, if the information they had received about the weakness and confusion of the latest manifestation of the Emperor was true, they felt that they had an excellent chance of success.

oo0oo

Layaï wasn't supposed to leave the territory of the Yenei Area, but the airstream had picked him up and carried him far further and far faster than he had thought possible. It was most unusual for a great intercontinental airstream to drop so low. Nobody could have found enough strength to fight the strength of the current, which moved several times faster than any flying creature could achieve, and a young vril still some way short of maturity was not the fastest of flying creatures. In order to get back home he would have to descend far lower than was considered safe, probably lower than eight thousand kenks. There would be a lot of predators to look out for, many of them smaller than himself but still very dangerous if they caught you unawares.

Fortunately there was plenty of time before darkness fell, and if he took a detour beyond the crest of the Barrier he could avoid having to fly over the forest for too great a distance. It would add perhaps a third to the length of the journey, but it would be far safer to fly above the desert than to stay close to the tops of the largest trees for any length of time: there were always flying predators lurking around the treetops. Once he got back home he knew he would have to face the wrath of R'rang Naïk and would almost certainly be punished, but that was unavoidable: he would get back far too late for his absence not to have been noticed.

He reduced the lift from his wings and went into a dive, veering to the left towards the chaotic folds of the Barrier Mountains. He was still around fifteen hundred kenks above the black and red rocks when he felt himself leaving the airstream and his speed dropped back to normal. He then steered west, flying parallel to the Barrier, darkened his corneas to filter the sunlight and began to concentrate on getting the best speed possible from his wide emerald wings.

It came without warning: he didn't see it, and he almost didn't feel it either in the fraction of a second before he lost consciousness: the faint prick of the sting of the rakhan, which injected its paralysing venom into the nape of his neck, freezing his motor muscles and transforming his body into a stiff, docile glider.

oo0oo

In the near-absolute darkness of the little cell in which he was kept Layaï had no way to measure the passing of time, but a considerable period – perhaps fifty days – elapsed before they came to take him out. He had been given enough food, although he suspected that it had been laced with drugs that were designed to keep him calm and relaxed. The food was brought to him by a human, but he never stopped to wonder about that, even though humans were so vanishingly scarce on Tandil that neither he nor any of the people he knew had ever seen one.

But a little while back he had become aware that there had been a change: he was starting to feel a sort of dull anguish, brought about by an increasing awareness of his predicament. This fear grew steadily as his body flushed out the remnants of the tranquillisers, but it was as nothing compared with the outright terror that swept over him when he finally saw the light of day once more.

oo0oo

Chapter 71

The Lurker at the Threshold

The seventeen sorcerers of the Invocation Circle of Eng'Hornath had had to wait for the conjunction of the three black moons, a very rare event, in order to set in motion the sequence of events that would lead to their ultimate victory. And the fact that the conjunction coincided with a total eclipse of the setting Ach'r Ratath (the true name in the tongue of the Old Gods of Nalden, Tandil's sun) made that moment unique and gave an indication of success that was as clear as the passage of the stars themselves.

The Voice of the Circle took his place on the Arrha Stone and started to murmur the first stanza of the invocation as the eclipsed star sank below the jagged line of the Aktael Barrier mountains. He was accompanied by the screeching sounds of the yabbhaï flute and the demmbal drum, and he held in his hand the anghoï hammer, the Bone-crusher, that he would shortly bring down upon the spread wings of the young vril, who was now fully awake and horribly aware of his fate. The vril knew now that the horror stories which had scared him during his clan's funeral services were not simply tales invented to scare children into obedience – indeed, he was about to discover that even those horror stories barely scratched the surface of the real nightmare.

The victim's first howl rang out with perfect precision at exactly the moment when Ach'r Ratath, now almost concealed by the Barrier, was unveiled by Hyerr'lammath, the Second Moon, as it broke from its incestuous union with its elder brother, allowing a final ray of light to shine out from behind the peak of Mount Dannath before giving way to the icy darkness of night.

Basins of naphtha, animal fat and brimstone were lit and started to give off, as well as an unwholesome illumination that emphasised just how hideous this place was, a stench that was – according to the uncivilised and superstitious adepts of the cult – supposed to delight the Old Gods.

Crouching on the vast Arrha Stone in front of the celebrant and his victim was a cloud of darkness that no light could penetrate. This was all that could ever be seen of the One who lurks at the threshold of the In-between-World and who can sometimes be heard whispering in shadows.

He was there in that place just as he was elsewhere; whenever pain was inflicted in his name, he was there.

He was there, drinking in the terror and abject madness which consumed the helpless creature who was kept from sinking into a merciful unconsciousness by the power of the seng juice.

He was there, feasting rapturously on the bitter honey of offered despair.

The Voice of the Circle, fighting not to succumb himself to the fear twisting in his entrails in the presence of the Dre Tchenn, continued his incantations to the slowly-accelerating rhythm of the demented music, which was blended with the high-pitched rattles escaping from the throat of the young martyred vril. He tried hard to control the trembling in his hand so that the zeng thallath blade should not slip and so put a premature end to the life of the trembling creature: it was essential that the victim should not die before the rite was concluded.

Thousands of presumptuous would-be sorcerers had died because they thought that invoking a Dre Tchenn automatically meant that they would then be able to control the creature and use its power. Others believed themselves protected by the deal sealed during the rite. They were wrong. If you're going to get into the business of dealing with entities like a Dre Tchenn you should find out the truth before you start: the only way to avoid being instantly obliterated by the one you are calling is to provide him at once with what he wants, which is access to that most precious thing: the inimitable flavour of a being in a state of the most abject terror.

oo0oo

There had been other victims, many of them, as the planet revolved slowly on its axis. Some had been captured long before, and some had been handed over by their kin or members of their community in exchange for favours or the promise of the blessing of the Old Gods. But none had the value of the young vril, just as none of the other guests invited to this feast of death and horror had the ominous power of the Whisperer.

The One-who-is-escorted-by-discordant-madness was also present, if 'present' was a word that could be applied to entities such as this, and in fact it was he who was to offer direct help to the worshippers of his master.

oo0oo