Fires of Azeroth

Then they slept, insolently secure, posting no guard. He fretted long, trying his bonds, with an eye to stealing a horse and ru

It was more of the same the next day: no food nor water until the evening, enough to keep him alive, but little more. He nursed his anger, for it kept him fed the same as the food did; but he kept his senses too, and bore their arrogance without resistence. Only once it failed him, when a guard seized him by the hair; he rounded on the halfling… and the guard stepped back at what he saw in him. They struck him to the ground then, for no more than that-that he had dared look one of them in the eyes. Their treatment of him worsened thereafter. They began to torment him with mindful spite when they must handle him, and began to talk among themselves, for they knew that he could understand, of what might befall him at their hands.

"You have the grace of your Barrows-ancestors," he said to them finally, and in their own tongue. One of them struck him for this. But Shien frowned, and curtly bade his own men to silence, and to let him be.

That night, when they made camp by a new tributary of the Narn, Shien stared at him long and thoughtfully after the others had begun to settle to sleep, stared with a concentration which began to disturb him . .. the more so when Shien roused his men and dismissed them out of hearing.

Then Shien came and settled at his side.

"Man." It was an inflection that only a khal could give that word. "Man, it is said that you are close kin to the halfling Chya Roh."

"Cousin," he answered, u

"Fwar's handiwork has disturbed the resemblance, but it is there; I see it. And this Morgen-Angharan…" he used the name by which Morgaine was known to them, and laughed. "Can Death die?" he asked, for Angharan was a deity among the marshlanders of Shiuan, and that was her nature, the white queen.

He knew khalur humor, which believed in nothing and reverenced no gods, and he shut his ears to this pointless baiting. But Shien drew his dagger and laid it along his cheek, turning his face back with that, lest he soil his hands. "What a prize you are, Man… if you know what Roh knows. Do you realize that you could become both free and comfortable if you hold what I think you may? Man who speak our language. And I would not disdain to seat you at my table and give you-other-privileges. Gods, you have some grace of bearing, more than some who go boasting their tiny portion of khalur blood. You are not of the Hiua's kind. Do you know how to be reasonable?"

He stared into Shien's eyes… pale gray they were by daylight, as so few of the halflings' were: near full-blood, this prince. He was shaken to reckon that he could be what Shien said, a prize among khal, a commodity of value among the powerful: he had knowledge of Gates, the lore which they had lost, knowledge by which Roh himself had gained power among these folk. "What of Roh?" he asked.

"Chya Roh has made mistakes, which may well prove fatal to him. You might avoid those same mistakes. You might even expect that Hetharu could be persuaded to forget his vexation with you."

"And you will present that solution to Hetharu, is that it? I work at your orders, give what I know to you, and you regain what power Hetharu has taken from you."

The blade turned, and bit slightly. "Who are you to talk of our affairs?"

"Hetharu brought all the Shiua lords to their knees because he had Roh to give him power. Do you love him for it?"

He thought for an instant that Shien would kill him outright. His expression was ugly. Then Shien slipped the knife back into sheath at his belt "You have need of a patron, Man. I could help you. But you want to play games with me."

"If there is a way out of my situation, make it clear to me."

"It is very clear. Give me the knowledge that you have, and I will be able to help you. Otherwise not."

He stared into Shien's eyes and read it for half-truth. "And if I give you knowledge enough to contest with Hetharu and Roh, then my usefulness is ended there, is it not? Give you knowledge so that you can politic with it and trade influence with your brother-lords? Not in Hetharu's game. Be braver than that, Shiua lord, or do not think that you can use me for a weapon. Break with them both and I will serve you and give you the power that you want; but not otherwise."

"The khal who rode with you… who?"

"I will not tell you."

"You think that you are in a position to refuse?"

"Those men of yours… how well can you trust them? You think there is not one among them who would bear information to Hetharu for reward? How you killed me out here, trying for knowledge Hetharu would not approve you having… why else did you send them out of hearing? No.If you are going to break with Hetharu, you need me alive and healthy. I will tell you nothing; but I will help you get what you want."

Shien sat on his heels and stared at him, arms folded. He knew that he had gone very far with this khalur prince. He saw a veil come over Shien's eyes, and hope failed him.

"It is said," Shien murmured, "that you killed Hetharu's father. And do you hope to deal with him after that?"

"A lie. Hetharu killed his father, and blamed me for it to save his reputation."

Shien laughed wolfishly. "Aye, so do we all think. But that is the kind of lord Hetharu is, and so he dealt with you once when you trifled with him… so he dealt with his own lord and father; and now do you propose that if I refuse your mad scheme you will throw yourself on his mercy again? You do not learn readily, Man."

A chill came on him, remembering, but he shook his head nevertheless. "Then you also know him well enough to know that you will never profit by serving him. Take my way, lord of Sotharrn, and have what you want-or have nothing. I learn too readily to hand any khal the only thing that makes my life valuable."

Shien's white brows knit into a frown. For a moment thoughts passed visibly through his eyes, none of them good to behold. "You assume that you know how to deal with us, and how I must deal with the other lords. You do not know us, Man."

"I know that I am dead when you have what you want."

Shien's frown bent slowly into a smile. "Ah, Man, you are too unsubtle. One does not accuse his possible benefactor of lying. I might even have kept my word."

"No," he said, though the doubt was planted in him.

"Think of it, tomorrow, when we deliver you to Hetharu."

And Shien rose then and settled some distance away. Vanye turned his head to stare at him, but Shien poured himself a cup from his flask and sat with his face averted, drinking delicately.

Beyond him sat the others, halflings aping khal, with bleached hair and coarse arrogance, and a hate for Men that was the greater because of their own human blood.

Shien turned his head and smiled at him thinly, lifting the cup in mockery.

'Tomorrow," Shien promised him.

They forded two shallow rivers, one at dawn and one at noon. Vanye reckoned well now where they were, nearing the Gate that stood in Azeroth. He grew afraid, as it was impossible not to fear contemplating that power, which could drink in substance and ravel it.

But no sign of the Gate was yet visible, not in the long ride they made that afternoon. There were few rests; Shien had promised that they would come to Hetharu's camp in this day and seemed determined on it if it exhausted them. Vanye said nothing to Shien as the distance wore away under the horses' hooves. Shien had nothing more to say to him, save now and again to gaze at him brooding speculation. He reckoned again what his chances were if he yielded on the Shiua lord's terms, and averted his face from temptation.

They did not stop at dusk, even to rest, and the night turned bitterly cold. He asked them for a cloak, but they refused it, though the guard who had lent it before would not wear it himself; they took pleasure in refusing. After that he bowed his head, trying to ignore them. They taunted him with threats which this time Shien did not silence, but he said nothing, caring nothing for them.

Then there appeared a glow on the horizon .. . cold, like the moon; but the moon was aloft, and the light was far brighter.

The Gate of Azeroth, that Men called the Fires.

He lifted his face, staring at that terrible presence, seeing now where they were bound, for nearer at hand were the dimmer red lights of woodfires, and ungainly shapes: tents and shelters.

They passed sentries who sat their posts concealed in shelters of grass; and rode past picket lines, where horses stood… few in proportion to the vast sprawl of the Shiua camp… the camp of a nation spread over the vast plains under the Gate; of more than a nation: of the remnant of a world.

And it aimed at the heart of Shathan.

Morgaine and I have done this thing, he could not forbear thinking. My doing as much as hers. Heaven forgive us.

They passed the fringes of the camp. Suddenly Shien put the company to a gallop, passing the sprawling shelters of grass and cloth which hemmed them about on all sides.

Men stared at their passage… dark shapes, small: true Men, of Shiuan's marshes. Vanye saw the stares and went cold as someone sent up a thin, hysterical cry.

"Her man. Hers!"

Men rushed out to bar their way, scattered from the hooves of the horses when the khal kept coming. The marshlanders knew him, and would gladly tear him limb from limb if he fell among them. The khal whipped their horses and thundered through, reckless of human lives, and into a quieter portion of the camp, where demon-helms quickly parted and shdt a barricade of brush and sharpened stakes, and backed it with a row of barbed pikes.

The mob no longer pursued; the gate sufficed. They slowed, the horses blowing and panting in exhaustion, stretching at the reins and seeking air. They rode slowly up to a sprawling shelter, the largest in the compound.

The structure was patched, cobbled together of various bits of cloth and bundles of reeds and grass, and part of it was a tent. Light blazed within, showing through the canvas; and there was music, but not such as the arrhendim had played. They halted there, and guards came to take the horses.