Description: Chapter One He felt Ahm Lin die as he drank. A faint, almost imperceptible exhalation and a final shudder, then his friend was gone. Vaelin forced away the surge of despair to suck in the last few pulses of blood streaming from the mason''s wound. The thick metallic stream flooded his mouth and caught in his throat, making him gag. Heedless of his disgust, he forced the thick torrent down. Vaelin felt the gift blossom as soon as the first few drops entered his gut, spreading through his being with lightning speed, and bringing with it a song, a song that had more in common with a scream. The music was deafening, painfully so, filling his mind with an overlapping cascade of notes that somehow retained a tune of sorts despite their ugly discordance, a tune that held both certainty and meaning: Death comes from all sides. IT COMES NOW! He sprang away from Ahm Lin''s corpse, crouching low and ducking under the whistling slash of a sabre as its wielder, a hulking Stahlhast in full armour, came surging out of the long grass that covered the canal bank. The warrior cursed and tried again, both hands on the hilt as he thrust towards Vaelin''s chest. The song continued to scream as Vaelin found his gaze captured by the Stahlhast''s blunt, heavily creased features. The tune told the tale of a man steeped in blood and happiest in moments of violence. A man who had fought, killed, raped and looted his way across the Iron Steppe and the borderlands. A man who hungered for more when the horde swept into the heart of the Venerable Kingdom. A man who had also neglected to repair the small plate of armour that covered the space above his left hip, hacked away during the final assault on Keshin-Kho. All this the song screamed into Vaelin''s mind in the space of a heartbeat. He twisted as the Stahlhast closed, allowing the sabre to pass within an inch of his chest, then stabbed his sword point into the gap in the Stahlhast''s armour. The blade sank deep, slicing through vein, tendon and cartilage to sever all connections between leg and hip. The warrior shouted in shock and fury as he collapsed, glaring up at Vaelin, lips forming a last defiant obscenity. Vaelin withdrew his blade and hacked down, the warrior''s final word swallowed by the gush of blood that erupted from his mouth. The song''s shriek snapped Vaelin''s gaze to a fresh threat, two more Stahlhast thrashing through the tall grass barely yards away. He hacked again at the dying warrior''s neck, delivering two fast blows then taking hold of the man''s helmet as his head came free of his shoulders. The first Stahlhast to clear the grass received the thrown head full in the face and reeled back on his heels, stunned and blinded by the impact and explosion of gore. He managed to scrape the red mess from his eye in time for it to receive the tip of Vaelin''s sword, the blade skewering his brain before he had time to register the fact of his own death. Vaelin kicked the twitching corpse aside, pulling the sword free in time to parry the slash delivered by the second Stahlhast. He stepped close before the warrior had the chance to retreat, delivering a swift headbutt to his unguarded nose then snatching a dagger from the man''s belt before whirling and driving it into the unarmoured rear of his thigh. More pealing cries from the song sent Vaelin sprawling into the grass as a criss-cross hail of arrows snapped the air. The unfortunate Stahlhast, still upright and staggering as he tried to pull the dagger from his leg, took a trio of shafts in the chest, evidently loosed from close range judging by the ease with which the steel arrowheads punched through mail and plate. As Vaelin crawled away, his belly scraping the earth, he heard the warrior''s choking death rattle. Shouts echoed through the fog-shrouded bank interspersed by the occasional snap and whistle of a loosed arrow, but none came close. It''s different, Vaelin thought as he crawled, wincing as the song''s grating tune continued. Its pitch rose and fell continually, sibilant as a snake''s hiss one second then screeching like a distressed hawk the next. With every peak he felt his vision darken and his pulse quicken, accompanied by a rarely felt but familiar hunger. He had first felt it in the Martishe Forest many years ago, when his friend lay dying and Vaelin sprinted in pursuit of the archer who had felled him. It was bloodlust, a need to kill born of this song. A different song, he knew with growing certainty. Not my song. Not the song he had left in the Beyond after bleeding himself to the point of death at Alltor. Not the song he had ached for ever since. He came to a halt as the new song''s tune rose again, although the tune was not quite so discordant and the sensation it brought held no tinge of hunger. Still there was a sour note to it, a grudging thrum of welcome. The horse''s hoof came down a few inches from his head, stamping in impatience. Vaelin looked up and grimaced as Derka''s snort showered hot vapour onto his face. The stallion angled his head to regard Vaelin with a single, insistent eye, shaking his neck to allow the reins to fall free. "Yes," Vaelin grunted, reaching for the reins, "it''s good to see you again too." A fresh chorus of shouts erupted as he vaulted into the saddle, swiftly followed by another volley of arrows. They met only air as Derka bore him away, spurring unbidden into a gallop to be swallowed by the fog. The song let out another shrill cry of warning an instant before a mounted Stahlhast came thundering out of the mist directly ahead, a tall woman whirling a double-bladed axe above her head. Vaelin took a firmer hold of the reins, intending to guide Derka to the rider''s left, but the stallion had a notion of his own. Earth and shredded grass fountained as he came to a halt, rearing with a whinny as the charging horse closed. The hard crack of shattered bone sounded as Derka brought a hoof down on the opposing horse''s head, sending it and its rider into an untidy tumble. Vaelin started to spur Derka forward but stopped as the song surged again, the tune not as loud this time but somehow even more painful. The notes were harsh and insistent, seeming to dig deep inside him to conjure images of the siege, all the soldiers he had commanded now dying at the hands of the Darkblade''s horde, and Ahm Lin''s bleached, pleading face at the end. Please . . . my gift to you . . . His vision blurred as the song rose to a deafening, near-agonising pitch, turning the world into a reddish grey haze. He was aware of his hand on the reins, of the sword''s handle turning against his palm and the flex of his arm, but had no control over any of it. He couldn''t say how long it took for the song''s tune to fade and his vision to clear-it might have been just a few seconds or an hour-but when it did he found himself staring down at the Stahlhast woman, now slumped against the flank of her slain horse. Her features were a curious mirror of Ahm Lin''s at the end, whitened by blood loss and imminent death. She looked up at Vaelin and blinked once before turning to regard the jet of blood pulsing from the stump of her severed arm, watching her life drain away in rapt fascination rather than horror. Dragging his gaze away, Vaelin slid his sword into the sheath on his back and spurred Derka into a gallop, disappearing into the fog once more. Shouts and bowstrings continued to echo through the haze but faded soon enough. Slowing Derka to a walk, Vaelin cast around for a landmark, some indication of where he might be. The fog had thinned to a low-lying mist unveiling the sun and revealing a plain of tall grass that rose into undulating hills to the south. The dim conical bulk of Keshin-Kho dominated the skyline to the north and he could see the unerringly straight line of the canal a few hundred paces to the west. The only appreciable cover consisted of a dense patch of woodland off to the east and, knowing pursuit would not be long in coming, he turned Derka towards it and set off at a steady canter. As he rode, the sight of the dying Stahlhast woman''s face lingered. He had taken many lives but always, he preferred to think, out of necessity. With the Stahlhast dismounted he could have ridden on. Killing her was unnecessary, and yet he had done it. A sharp snarl came from the song then, the tone one of harsh rebuke that carried a new thought: An enemy is deserving only of death. He found his hands tightening on the reins, bringing Derka to a halt. Glancing over his shoulder Vaelin peered into the misted grass, hearing the faint but growing shouts of his pursuers. They killed Ahm Lin, he thought as the song''s tune grew more melodious, becoming almost seductive in the promise it held. They killed Sho Tsai and so many others, all in service to a false god. And I have a blood-song once again. Would it be so hard to kill them all? Would it not, in fact, be an insult to Ahm Lin''s memory if I didn''t? He gave me a gift, after all. Derka gave a loud, irritated nicker, breaking through Vaelin''s burgeoning hunger and provoking another snarl from the song. Vaelin clenched his teeth and determinedly turned his gaze east once more, kicking the stallion into motion. No, he decided as the hungry tune persisted, setting a continual ache in his head as he refused to answer its call. This is not a blood-song. Blood is the stuff of life. This is a song of death. A black-song. By the time they reached the trees the song had diminished into a sullen murmur and the ache in his head subsided

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