<u>2</u>


    In the uttermost north stood a vast tower constructed of tarnished metal and bone. Slabs of pour-stone and earth-heart as well, dredged from what had been a sea, in earlier times. No water now but in brackish pools that reflected a gunmetal sky. No rain. No signs of life but the struggling creatures of darkness, most of whom died on their way. Only the strongest, most brutal… only the cannibals… made it this far.


    The summons drew. Distance, exhaustion, starvation <u>slew</u>. Of this latest surge, only five now remained: two hobgoblin warriors, a lizard-man, a ghoul… and a certain vile witch. Through the bitter, alkali waste they’d trudged; eating the fallen, killing the weak, drinking blood and never quite daring to sleep. Preserved all this way by endurance and hate.


    The witch, Ulnag, kept a wary eye on her remaining companions, mostly staying behind them. Sheer fury had kept her alive and moving as others dropped dead all around her. That, and the summons which pulsed in her breast and colored her thoughts, promising power enough to get back what she’d lost. And so Ulnag forced herself onward, until the tower that haunted her fleeting dreams was at last a reality.


    Alone in the midst of a barren plain, flanked by distant, low mountains, the spire was utterly silent. Grim. Dark as a night without stars. No sound at all but a thin, keening wind, making music through ribs and cracked skulls.


    …except for the group’s rough breathing and crunching footfalls, that is. Those harsh noises rang loud in that bare, poisoned waste. It had been many days since one of their shuffling band had succumbed to starvation and thirst. Many days since she’d had anything other than hoarded shreds of dry flesh.


    Ulnag eyed her companions as they did her; sideways. Judging their strength. Waiting. Predicting the next one to fall and be portioned alive. Most likely one of the hobgoblins. The one with a festering wound on its warty right leg. Limping already, falling behind, it wouldn’t last very much longer, she thought. But the tower was near; that summons so strong that each of their staggering footfalls pounded in time to its pulse.


    And somehow, those last miles were crossed. The tower’s fanged opening gained. For a long, bleary moment, Ulnag stared upward through wavering air at a pillar woven of ancient remains. Parts of crashed airships and twisted steel rails, the plating from fallen giants, were fastened together with manna and rivets of bone.


    The wounded hobgoblin did collapse, right on the tower’s black threshold. There was no fighting among its erstwhile companions, who had time for no more than a great, tearing bite and two groping fistfuls apiece, before that hammering summons pulled them away from their writhing meal


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    In through the tower’s wide portal they staggered, past up-thrusting snags of dark metal. Still cramming gobbets of slippery, dripping-warm flesh into their mouths, they followed the call… and now they were four.


    Inside, all was dim, reeking chaos. There were bones in great piles. Desiccated tatters of hide hung from this rib and that outstretched arm. A plague of corpse-flies filled the shadowy chamber. Great, droning swarms of them lifted, swirled and settled again as Ulnag and her companions lurched past.


    That first floor was otherwise empty, except for a number of constructs and waist-high pillars that Ulnag could make nothing at all of. Old Ones had built the devices, and only an Old One could bring them to life. She’d had an Old One, an elf, trapped in her grip, enslaved to her will… and then lost him.


    Angered afresh, Ulnag forced herself onward, for there, at the ground floor’s center, was a tall and spiraling stairway. It coiled serpent-like, so far overhead that it faded away into shadow. The steps were jumbled, uneven, with no handrail at all. Thence, came the summons. There she must go if she meant to regain what had briefly been hers. Once more to bite deep, taste blood, enjoy pain.


    With the remaining hobgoblin, the lizard and ghoul, Ulnag came to those crumbling stairs and started to climb. She was as harsh and unpitying with herself as she’d been to her few, shrieking clients. Her victims, who’d thinned out at the end because that wretched, disobedient Old One… her slave… had driven them off, shunted their path from her door. Well, she’d soon have him back, and then he would learn… very much… the cost of defiance.


    About halfway up, the lizard-man stumbled, losing his balance. Reached wildly for something to grab, but Ulnag twisted away from his clutch. Let him fall over the side and plunge to his death, barely hearing him crack like an egg on the floor, below. Now they were three.


    How long did it take to reach the tower’s high peak, refusing to rest for fear that they wouldn’t get up again? Ulnag lost track of time. Just took one burning breath, one shaking step, one spiteful thought, then another.


    At last… at last… they came to a lofty central chamber. She and the ghoul, for the hobgoblin had crashed to its knees in front of her. Ulnag had kicked it over the side and out of her way, leaving just two to go on.


    They came off the stairs now and into a circular room. Its walls and floor were pitted, scarred metal, inset with panels that flickered like ghosts. At the rear, visible as she staggered up from the stairwell, was a scavenger’s throne. It was made of found items, torn bits; sharpened rods, rusted armor, twined wire, piled bones. With the last of her strength, the witch reeled toward it.


    At first, it seemed that no one sat on this grim, twisted seat. Then Ulnag made out a crowned skull, nailed somehow to the throne’s tattered headrest. Green corpse-light puddled and swirled in the skull’s hollow eye-sockets. The glow flared brighter as witch and ghoul dragged themselves nearer.


    ‘You have done well to reach me, where others could not,’ whispered a cold and thin, slimy trickle of words. Meanwhile a very faint outline began to take shape on the throne, growing from skull down to feet. ‘Prove yourself, now. Summon hatred. Call fury and power. Kill the other, and rise up alone, Servant of Darkness.’


    Turning to face that final obstacle, Ulnag smiled.