Though the sun stared in through a dozen vaulted windows there was darkness in that place where Darkness met.
A pool of molten stone simmered in the center of the vast floor. It cast bloody light upon four seated figures floating a few feet in the air. They faced one another over the pool, forming an equilateral triangle with a couple at its apex. Those two were leagued more often than not. They were allied now.
There had been war among the four for a long time, with nothing gained, one in relation to another. But at the moment there was an armistice.
Shadows slithered and swirled and pranced around them. Nothing could be seen of any of them except vague shapes. All four chose to conceal themselves within robes of black, behind black masks.
The smallest, one of the couple, broke a silence that had reigned an hour. “She has begun moving south. Those who served her and still bear her indelible mark are moving also. They have crossed the sea, and they come bearing mighty talismans. And their road is strewn with those who would join their destinies to that black standard. Including some whose power we would be foolish not to beware.”
One angle of the triangle made a sound of contempt.
The other asked, “And what of the one in the north?”
“The Great One remains secure. The lesser one who lay in the shade of the prisoning tree does so no longer. It has been resurrected and given new form. It comes south too, but it is so insane and vengeance-starved that it is not to be feared. A child could dispose of it.”
“Have we cause to fear that our presence here is known?”
“None. Even in Trogo Taglios only a few are convinced that we exist. Beyond the First Cataract we are but a rumor, and not that above the Second. But he who has made himself master in the great swamps may have sensed us stirring. It is possible he suspects there is more afoot than he knew.”
The reporter’s companion added, “They come. She comes. But harnessed to the pace of man and animal. We still have a year. Or more.”
The one snorted again, then spoke. “The swamps would be a very good place for them to die. Take care of it. You may impress the one who rules them with the majesty and terror of my Name.” He began to drift away.
The others stared hard. The anger in the place became palpable.
The other ceased his drift. “You know what sleeps so restlessly upon my southern border. I dare not relax my vigilance.”
“Unless to stab another of us in the back. I note that the threat becomes secondary whenever you care to try.”
“You have my pledge. Upon my Name. The peace will not be broken by me while those who bring danger from the north survive. You may speak of me as one with you when you extend your hands beyond the shadows. I cannot, I dare not, give you more.” He resumed his drift.
“So be it, then,” said the woman. The triangle rearranged itself so as to exclude him. “He spoke one truth, certainly. The swamps would be a very good place for them to die. If Fate does not take them in hand sooner.”
One of the others began to chuckle. The shadows scurried about, frantic, as growing laughter tormented them.
“A very good place for them to die.”