Then there was light – a dancing, disturbing light that made his shadow jerk feverishly hither and thither over the rocks, but enough to see by, nonetheless. And it was coming from overhead. He made no attempt to look up at its source for fear of what he might see. Classical images of the Watchers of Ishryth, grim and terrible to doubters, filled his mind.

‘Great is Your wisdom, Lord. To You are all things known.’

Onwards, upwards, Cassraw struggled, such rational thoughts as he had being swept aside by the monstrous rapture now compelling him forward regardless of his protesting limbs and pounding heart.

And at last he was there, standing on top of the canted, broken obelisks of rock that formed the summit of the Ervrin Mallos. He dropped to his knees with a jarring impact, then immediately dragged himself to his feet again. He held out his arms and, closing his eyes, threw back his head to offer his face to the might of his god.

Such few doubts as he had known were gone now, driven out by the power he could feel all around him.

‘Lord, You will do with me as You will, but I implore You, though I am but the least of Your servants, give me the strength to fulfil Your will in the world of men. Great are the sins done there in Your name. Great is the ignorance of Your Word and great the deceit and contention with which it is read.’

He waited.

A coldness touched his mind. He started violently then willed himself to stillness.

‘Lord,’ he whispered painfully. ‘I am Yours. I will serve You with all my being.’

The coldness began to spread through him, and with it a sense of foreboding. Whatever this was, it was but the beginning.

Yet there was a strange quality about it – a human quality, it occurred to Cassraw – though he quickly disowned this blasphemous thought and concluded by praying for forgiveness. There was no response.