The End Times | The Curse of Khaine

‘Yes, your majesty, it is just as you say. He fell to his knee once more, a fist clasped to his chest. ‘I feel so ashamed, but there was nothing I could do to stop myself. I understand now why Hellebron and her bloody sisters wear so little.’

It took all of Malekith’s will to quench the laugh that rose from his gut. He knew that he should have Kouran take off the treacherous dog’s head there and then, but if lying was to be a capital crime under his rule he would have no subjects left. It was hard to see to what benefit Malus’s current display was turned. There was no advantage to Malus being absent for the night – all of the most powerful druchii had been in camp with Malekith, so no collusion had been possible. There was a chance that he had conspired with agents of the asur, perhaps seeking to make a common foe of Malekith, but Malus was despised across Ulthuan almost as much as his king. Tyrion did not have the benefit of Imrik’s flexible morality and Malekith had ensured there would be no politicking from the Phoenix King, Finubar.

‘You vouch for this account?’ he snapped, turning his wrath on Drusala. She met his infernal gaze without flinching, her face set in an expression of sincere attention. Her part in this worried Malekith more. She was Morathi’s creature, no doubt, and if the queen was truly breaking bonds with Malekith the Tyrant of Hag Graef would make a well-positioned ally. Though the host of Hag Graef had been badly mauled in the three assaults upon Eagle Gate, if they were to combine with the army of Ghrond Malekith’s resources would be outmatched, in the short term at least. ‘How can you be so certain of friend Malus’s movements?’

‘He perhaps does not remember it, but he came to me last night, in a battle-fever, confessing what had happened and seeking my advice.’ Malekith could not see Malus’s face to see any reaction this stirred. Drusala approached, holding a bloodstained cloth in outstretched hands. ‘He gave this to me, asking if I would present it on his behalf. Malus thought it terribly important, although I must confess my ignorance.’

She let the wind unfurl what she held, revealing a torn banner of light blue and white, with a prancing horse in gold thread stained with blood. The remains of a device of spread wings in silver could be seen beneath the grime.

‘The banner of Eagle Gate,’ said Kouran, stepping up to take the trophy from Drusala. He looked at Malus. ‘The Ellyrians tried to escape with it?’

Malus tried not to look surprised, and failed miserably. He addressed his answer to Malekith. ‘I have no reason to doubt the lady of Ghrond’s account, your majesty, though my recollection of events before the sun rose this morning are… hazy.’

It was impossible to believe that they were telling the truth, but the threadbare nature of the story being woven by Drusala and Malus was enough for Malekith to believe it had not been prefabricated. They were extemporising, to what end Malekith did not know, but there was no sign of former conspiracy. Malekith was hardened to the fact that most of his subjects that did not hate him lusted after his position, and to consider every scheme a direct and immediate threat would have turned him into a paranoid lunatic many millennia ago. It also meant that the druchii were very adept at hiding their lies, so the obvious subterfuge confused him.

He gestured for Kouran to join him.

‘What do you wish to do with these liars, my king?’ asked the captain.

‘You think their story lacks merit?’

‘Barely a word they have spoken is truth,’ Kouran answered with a shake of the head, ‘but I can offer no proof to discount their version of events. Malus was pulled from Spite during the battle and then disappeared, that much I witnessed myself. He is not a coward, so I do not think he fled the fighting. What happened next, only Malus can tell us. Shall I summon your torturers?’

‘I think not,’ said Malekith. ‘The day is too fraught to make any bold moves. Malus is always scheming about something, and I am sure Drusala has her own agenda, but it serves no purpose to create turbulence on the day after our greatest victory. I have allies now,’ he waved a hand towards the dragons on the peaks, ‘and should Imrik sense disquiet in my camp, the hint of division between my armies, I think he would reconsider which side he has taken.’

‘We could slay them, my king, just to be sure,’ suggested Kouran, running the fingers of his right hand along the flat of his halberd’s blade. ‘No mess, just a swift death.’

‘Malus and Drusala both know that I need their warriors if I am to capitalise on the surprise of Imrik’s turning and our victory here. I have a far better plan.’

‘Friend Malus,’ said Malekith, turning back to the Tyrant, motioning for him to stand. ‘I must admonish you for your tardiness and appearance. It smacks of disrespect to turn up late to my council wearing nothing but an asur shroud.’ Malus clenched his jaw and the tip of the warpsword in his hand rose a little, like the tail of a scorpion moving before the strike. ‘Let the humiliation you have felt coming to kneel before me and my subjects be a lesson to keep good manner about you at all times. As for the reasons for your dishevelled look and late coming, I am impressed by your persistence. It is that sort of attitude that will be required to defeat the Ellyrians.’