War was coming. Either to Midkemia or Kelewan, the twin of this world, and the only things holding off the initiation of a bridgehead into the next realm were the preparations being made for the Dark God’s forces. This gathering of energies must be the final preparation for such an invasion.
Pug sensed the logical need for such a war. He was only beginning to form opinions as to the root cause of this society’s twisted behaviour, but it was clear to him that a brittle homeostasis existed here, social forces locked together by their own pressures: one blow from an oblique angle would cause the entire structure to collapse. How fast this society recovered from this day of wholesale butchery would be instructive, for such a thing in Midkemia would surely bring a town, city, or even a nation to its knees.
Pug understood that in every human culture too much disruption at any level, among farmers and labourers, merchants and traders, the military or the gentry and society would descend quickly into chaos.
It had taken the Western Realm nearly twenty years to recover fully from the Serpentwar, and that was only because bright and talented men and women rose up to serve, including members of his own family.
Pug turned his attention to the parkland below. He could see a band of armed Dasati – Lessers from their attire – crouched in a shallow wash, screened from view from everywhere but above by dense shrubbery. They were bloodied, exhausted, and from what Pug could observe as he sped above them, they had finished fighting and were now trying to wait out the coming day.
As they reached the south-western boundary of the parkland, Pug thought the hiding Lessers were unlikely to survive this day, for a large contingent of heavily armed, mounted Deathknights and a pair of Deathpriests were marshalling in a square, clearly intending to conduct an organized sweep of the area. Pug wished he could intervene, but to what end? And just because in the normal course of social behaviour the Deathknights were more often the predators than the Lessers, that hardly made the latter any less bloodthirsty and murderous. He knew that given the chance they would destroy him and his companions without hesitation.
Pug realized bitterly that even though he had been able to assimilate Tsurani culture when he was a captive on Kelewan in his youth, and had become adept at navigating the cultural byways of many other alien societies, he would never fully be able to grasp the essence of the Dasati, any more than he could fathom the thinking of ants in a hill, even if he could appreciate and apprehend their social order. He then admitted to himself that he had a better chance of understanding the ants.
They continued to fly over the cityscape, seeking out potential threat amongst the uniform buildings. But the journey proved uneventful and after a long flight in relative silence they heard Macros say, ‘Over there, near that open area with the small lake.’
Magnus changed their direction and took them towards their indicated goal. They descended slowly over the city to the edge of the raion and Macros said, ‘That building over there, on that hillock.’
The building was a modest one, though like all things Dasati heavily defended. It had a stout wall with a deep trench just inside fortified with sharpened wooden stakes. ‘Some local predators are quite adept fence jumpers. You’d best set us down behind those trees, Magnus. If we suddenly appear before the front door we may be filled with arrows before someone recognizes us.’
His grandson did as he was told and when they were on the ground, Pug dropped the spell of invisibility. The three Lessers were silent, as they had been the entire way, but their faces looked pale – their already-grey skin now looking ashen – and their expressions revealed relief at having their feet once again on solid ground. Macros told them, ‘Go and announce our arrival, and try not to be killed before you can speak. I suggest you yell at a safe distance from the door.’
As they left he added, ‘It’s probably an unnecessary precaution, but one never knows. We control this entire raion but unless the TeKarana himself sent his personal legion into this district, our forces were most likely able to keep this area calm.
‘Before we go inside, I should warn you that we have little time for planning and even less for action. Something monstrous is now underway, or this Great Culling would not have been called. History is of little interest to the average Dasati Deathknight or Lesser, but I have made it my business to ferret out as much of it as I could since I regained my human memories.
‘These massive killings have only ever been called for two reasons: to relieve social pressure and suppress any hint of revolution against the Dark God and his servant, the TeKarana, or to ready the people for the invasion of another world. The last world pacified by the Dasati was Kosidri, and that was over three centuries ago. There is not one indigenous form of life on that world left from the time before the Dasati found it.’