The Twilight herald

Rojak's vision whirled, flames blurring for a brief while before the details of the street ahead returned. He could just see the rotting corpse of a wyvern, one of the pair kept by the Raylin called Mistress. The beast had had its fill of the clamour and stink of dead meat all around. It had snapped at what it thought was a corpse, but the mo¬ment a canine caught Rojak's sleeve, the minstrel's plague had caught it, passing through its razor-sharp teeth to its tongue and down its throat. Its scales, once glittering in myriad shades of green and gold, had sloughed off as its body erupted in viscous pus-filled boils and thick, black blood had seeped from all its orifices. In a few moments the wyvern was just another rotting pile on the ground.

Rojak sat upstairs in a small house now exposed to the elements after the abbot's magic had torn roof and walls away. It was the closest remaining building to where the abbot himself lay gibbering, curled in a foetal position, in what was left of his cellar. The furious incarnation of Erwillen, the abbot's Aspect-Guide, fuelled by the Skull's power and random blasts of raw energy, had blown up the building.

Much of what remained was still burning fiercely; the protective ring of fire kept the boldest of Scree's citizens away for the time being. There was little of the house left intact now, only the thick stones of the kitchen hearth and the wall opposite it, almost to the height of a man. The rest was broken stumps of wood and heaps of stained brick. Amid the rubble lurked the soot-blackened feathers and claws of the High Hunter. Rojak could hear the beast's laboured breathing, no doubt echoing Abbot Doren's own exertions.

'Ve

'Leave?' Ve

'You must leave now,' Rojak repeated. 'You ca

'You're going to need me here,' Ve

the abbot's ruined house. If Rojak had been able to turn his head and see through the fog of shadows that thickened in his eyes, he would have spotted the three tight knots of soldiers that were advancing steadily. 'Flitter has said that King Emin outnumbers us. He has the vampire with him.'

Rojak beckoned Ve

Ve

'Find Ilumene. You and he shall prepare the way, ready the Land for your master's twilight reign.'

'How? Ilumene is the general, the conqueror, not I.'

Rojak reached out a clawed hand, one hooked finger brushing Ve

'Will they follow me?'

'The Harlequins have been servants for too long. You must give

them a ba

If Rojak had wanted to say any more, it was lost. His body could sustain the effort no longer. He appeared to fold inward on himself, sinking further down into his seat.

Ve

'Treasure and loss in the darkness, from holy hands to a lady of ashes. It is the heart of the "Twilight Reign" prophecy.'

'If you ca

'Have faith,' Rojak said, gritting his teeth against the pain. 'They will take no more than I let them take; our lord's reign is coming. Ilumene knows what is to be done; trust him. Now go.'

This time, Ve

The minstrel listened hard for the sound of Ve

'What are your orders, minstrel?' To Rojak's weary ears Mistress sounded petulant, and he knew she was trying to conceal her fear. He allowed himself a moment of contempt for mercenaries: when there were glory and riches to be had, they were full of vigour, but put them in a hole and the complaints never ceased. A tiny smile crept onto his lips; soon they wouldn't be able to complain. Soon it wouldn't matter if they did, because there would be no one left to bear.

'Wait,' Rojak whispered, 'wail until they are closer. They must first kill the abbot, and then when his blood is shed, you will fall on them.'

'They've split up,' warned Flitter from her post. 'One group is circling around behind us.'

'Slow them down then,' Rojak sighed, his eyelids sliding shut for a low heartbeats. The lure of whatever lay beyond the sleep of utter ex¬haustion was almost too great to resist; only the touch of his master's ancient breath gently skimming the grazes on his earlobe kept him awake. Azaer was still with him, ever-patient and unrelenting.

He could not rest yet, not quite. There was still his duty to do and he would see it through with his very last breath. It would kill him, hut what was life when compared with changing the face of the Land itself? The price would be paid with a smile on his face, Rojak was certain of that. 'Take two of the Jesters' acolytes and lead the king's men a merry dance.'

'We don't have the numbers to stop them,' said one of the Jesters from somewhere behind him. Rojak summoned the image of the tall grey-ski

'You don't have to.' Rojak could hardly hear the sound of his own voice now; he was not sure if it was a weakness of tongue or ear, or both. 'Draw them in; stall them for as long as you can. It is nearly time.'