Lord of Souls

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Attrebus never saw the thing that cut open his belly and sent his guts spilling out into his arms. It happened in the dark, and the only things he remembered other than the agony was the stink of his bowels and something like rotting ginger-and Sul dragging him along, cursing in a language Attrebus didn’t understand.

Now the pain-for so long the only thing real to him-was fading as his body finally understood it was done.

It was possible he was dead already-he wasn’t sure what death was supposed to be like. He hadn’t paid that much attention to such things when he should have.

He started, as from a dream of falling, and for a moment he thought he was falling, because all of his weight had vanished. With an effort he opened his eyes, but there wasn’t much to see; the air was full of ash, a gray cloud that extended in every direction. He saw his companion Sul a few yards from him but steadily drifting off. Presently the dust would make him a shadow, and then nothing at all.

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