The End Times: The Return of Nagash

‘It is almost time,’ Arkhan said as he joined Mannfred in the garden. Mannfred didn’t turn around. Instead he continued to examine the worm-pale tree, whose blossoms had sprouted, flowered, and now drifted across the garden like snowflakes. He was reminded slightly of the cherry orchards of far Nippon, and the colours of their blossoms as they swirled in a breeze. There had been a beauty there that even he recognised.

‘This tree has somehow blossomed, despite being quite dead,’ Mannfred said. He plucked a fallen blossom from his pauldron and held it up. ‘They smell of rot, and of grave mould. Is that a sign, do you think?’

‘Perhaps the land is telling you that it is ready for the coming of the king,’ Arkhan said. He held Alakanash, Nagash’s staff, in one bony hand. He leaned on it, as if tired. ‘Or perhaps it is merely a sign of things to come.’

Mannfred popped the blossom into his mouth and smiled. ‘A parody of life. A good omen, I should say.’ He turned to Arkhan. ‘I can feel it as well as you, liche. The winds of death are blowing strong. Geheimnisnacht will soon be upon us.’ He cocked his head. ‘Where is it to be, then? I suppose it’s too much to hope that here will do, eh?’

‘I have located the site. A stone circle.’

‘This is Sylvania,’ Mannfred said. He gestured airily. ‘We have many stone circles.’

‘East of the Glen of Sorrows,’ Arkhan said.

Mannfred smiled. ‘Ah, the Nine Daemons. Legend says that those aren’t stones at all, you know, but the calcified bodies of daemons, imprisoned for eternity by the whim of the Dark Gods.’ He plucked another blossom from the tree and sniffed it. ‘Are you developing a sense of humour in your old age?’

‘Legends do not concern me. Those stones sit upon a confluence of the geomantic web. The winds of magic blow strongly about them.’

‘Legends might not concern you, but our enemies should,’ Mannfred said. ‘My spies–’

‘Your spies are your concern, as are our enemies,’ Arkhan said. He tapped the ground with the staff. ‘My concern is with our master.’

‘Your master,’ Mannfred spat. He calmed. ‘But you are correct. They are my concern. This is my realm, after all, and I will deal with them as I see fit. And you, my friend, will see to the preparations for our eventual triumph.’ He smiled unctuously. ‘Do not hesitate to ask, should you need any help in your preparations. My servants, as ever, are yours.’

‘Of course,’ Arkhan said. The witch-fires of his eyes flickered slightly and he inclined his head. Then, without a word, he turned and departed. Mannfred watched him go. His smile thinned, turning cruel. He turned back to the tree.

‘Well?’ he asked.

Elize stepped out from behind the tree, her hand on the pommel of the basket-hilted blade sheathed on the swell of one hip. She’d been there the entire time he’d been speaking with Arkhan, listening. ‘He’s planning something,’ she said.

Mannfred laughed. ‘Of course he is, gentle cousin. We have come to the end of our journey together, after all. Our paths diverge, come Geheimnisnacht and what was begun at the Valsborg Bridge will at last be finished.’ He looked at her. ‘What else?’

‘He’s already begun transporting the artefacts. Three wagons of bone and tattered skin left by the main gate not an hour ago, accompanied by those desert-born dead things he summoned from those blasted canopic jars of his.’

‘And the sacrifices?’

‘They are still in their chamber,’ she said, leaving the obvious question unspoken.

Mannfred shrugged. ‘Let him take them, if he wishes. The ritual protections I wove about our fair land have grown so thin and weak that they are no longer necessary in that capacity. It is past time we disposed of them.’ He gestured flippantly. ‘Now, what of our visitors, sweet cousin?’

Almost every eye and ear in Sylvania was his to command. He knew the size and composition of each of the forces that had, in the past few weeks, begun to encroach on his realm, but he thought it best for Elize to consider herself useful, and so had left the particulars of scouting out the invaders to her.

Other than Nictus, she was one of the last of Vlad’s get remaining in Sylvania. One last link to the old order. He had considered dispatching her soon after his return from the Border Princes for what he suspected was her part in exacerbating Markos’s regicidal tendencies. He had reconsidered after seeing how she had defended Sternieste in his absence. Such loyalty was to be rewarded, and such commitment to his cause was to be husbanded against future treacheries. She made a fine castellan, and a fine Grand Mistress of the Drakenhof Order.