“He’s in there,” she said, nodding to the doors that led into the Throne Room. Randor’s presence was overwhelming. “Are you ready?”
“One moment,” Cat said. He struck a casting pose, one hand lifted as if he intended to throw a baseball, then cast the spell. A howling wind, strong enough to pick up an armored man and blow him away, echoed down the corridor. “That should keep them busy.”
Emily nodded, then checked the doors. They were unlocked. She pulled them open and peered into the room, recoiling as the king’s presence grew stronger. Randor sat on his throne, his golden armor stained with blood and ichor. His eyes were closed, but she knew with absolute certainty he knew they were there. She shuddered as she tore her eyes off him. The throne was surrounded by bodies. It was easy to tell they’d been killed by necromancy.
Randor opened his eyes and looked at them. Red light glared, no longer hidden by powerful glamours. Emily heard Cat shudder behind her. He’d never seen a necromancer before, not even during the war. Now... Randor’s presence was growing stronger all the time. Emily wondered just how many people he’d killed in the last few hours. And yet, surely he should be stronger...? She almost smiled, even though it wasn’t remotely funny. Did Randor know he should be targeting magicians and those with magic potential?
If he doesn’t know, he might not have charged his magic properly, Emily thought. But it was clear that Randor had boosted his powers. Did he not seek out magicians specifically?
Cat strode forward, flaring his magic. “Your Majesty.”
Randor stood. His armor looked cracked and broken. Emily couldn’t help thinking of a maddened creature that had crawled back to its nest to die. As Cat stepped closer, the king’s meaty fists clenched, magic crackling around his fingertips. Emily hastily looked away, fumbling through her belt for her tools. If she could get the proto-mimic spell to work before Randor started throwing blasts of raw magic everywhere, they could end the war very quickly. If...
She sensed the surge of magic an instant before Randor slammed a colossal fireball into Cat’s wards. Cat stumbled back, hastily casting a series of shield-spells to defend himself and deflect Randor’s power away from him. Randor growled incoherently and hurled another spell. Cat’s shields started to crumble with terrifying speed, but he was unhurt. He chuckled – only someone who knew him well would have been able to tell it was an act – and shot back a spell of his own. Randor shrugged it off without apparent effort.
Keep him busy, Emily thought, as she hastily put the remainder of the spell together. Don’t give him a chance to stop us.
She slotted the battery into the valve, then started to input the spell. Master Wolfe had drawn on a nexus point when he’d created the first mimics. She had to rely on her battery. The mimic wouldn’t last for long – it was nowhere near as sophisticated as the mimics Master Wolfe and his successors had created – but it would last long enough to take out the king before crumbling back into nothingness. It wouldn’t go on the rampage...
“You’ve lost,” Cat taunted him. “Your kingdom is gone.”
Randor’s magic surged. Emily looked up, just in time to see a colossal force punch slam into Cat. He was picked up and thrown back, smashing the battery as he crashed into the antechamber and lay still. Emily threw herself back as the battery came apart, raw magic surging free and tearing into the walls. Her head ached as the magic flared in all directions, everything she’d stored up releasing in a single terrible second. Pieces of debris fell from the roof. Emily forced herself to stand, somehow. Her head was spinning helplessly. It was all she could do to stay upright.
“Well, Lady Emily,” Randor said. His voice was triumphant, even though pieces of crumbling stone continued to crash down. He looked unharmed. It dawned on her that he might have been able to absorb some of her magic. “Just you and me.”
His voice darkened. “And now you will pay for what you did to my kingdom.”
Chapter Forty
EMILY WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK. Their plan had failed, spectacularly. The battery was gone, the valve was nothing more than pieces of debris and the wand was useless. And Cat was either stunned or dead. She gritted her teeth, trying to force her head to stop spinning. She was face-to-face with a necromancer and completely out of tricks. Randor was even standing between her and the door.
She forced herself to stand up, despite the pressure beating against her mind. Randor wanted her to bow to him, to submit... she gritted her teeth, calling on every mental discipline she’d ever learnt. Randor wasn’t being subtle, but he was strong. It took everything she had to keep herself from collapsing in front of him. He looked mildly disappointed at his failure, although not particularly surprised. Emily couldn’t help wondering who he’d practiced on. Alicia? It couldn’t have been another magician.
“I knew you’d come,” Randor said. His voice hummed with magic. “It’s what you do.”
Emily took a step backwards, thinking hard. She couldn’t go toe-to-toe with a necromancer, not without the battery. Even with the battery, it would be chancy. She needed to push him into expending his power freely, until he drained himself, but she was far too close to him for comfort. Randor only needed one solid hit to shatter her wards and leave her defenseless. If she could find another way out of the chamber... the wards were too strong to allow her to teleport, even if she dared risk concentrating her magic on a single spell. She was trapped.
Maybe he’ll blast a hole in the walls, she thought, grimly. If I can lead him on a chase through the castle...
“I should never have allowed you to introduce the New Learning,” Randor said. He sounded almost pensive. “You made the commoners uppity. You encouraged them to forget their place and reach for the stars. You destroyed my kingdom.”
“You did the damage yourself,” Emily said. Alassa had said Emily wasn’t to blame and Emily believed her friend. “If you’d kept your word, four years ago...”
“I inherited this kingdom from my father, who inherited it from his grandfather,” Randor snapped. Red light flared in his eyes. “And I will hand it down to my son.”
Your son, Emily thought. Alicia’s child? Randor was mad. There was no way Alassa would tamely accept being put aside, after everything that had happened. But it didn’t matter. The king had used necromancy. There won’t be a kingdom left for anyone to inherit.
She took a breath. “The entire world knows what you’ve done,” she said. Lady Barb’s last message had said that the White Council was debating the matter, but they didn’t have much time to act before Randor made himself impregnable. “They’ll come for you.”
Randor clenched a fist. A fireball, blazing so brightly that Emily could feel the heat, hovered above his hand. “Let them come,” he snarled. “I will destroy them all.”
Emily kept her voice as calm as she could, even as the air grew warmer. “Listen to me,” she said, quietly. “Necromancy will kill you. If you care about the kingdom, you have to stand down and let the power drain away...”
Randor’s face twisted. “I am the kingdom,” he snapped. “And you are dead!”
He threw the fireball at her. Emily jumped to one side, glancing around for cover as a wave of heat shot past her and exploded. There had to have been something wrong with the spell, as sheets of fire blasted out in all directions. Randor was steadily losing control of his magic. A normal fireball didn’t do that.
Unless he wanted to be sure he didn’t blast a hole in the wall, Emily thought, as she ducked a second – smaller – fireball. It slammed into the drapes and set them on fire. Zangaria’s coat of arms – and the insignias of everyone who had ever pledged themselves to the king – started to burn. Smoke filled the air. He can’t be reasoned with, not now.
Randor grunted a curse and threw something in her direction. Emily twisted, allowing her magic to hurl her into the air. The gravity rotated a second later, the ceiling suddenly becoming the floor. It wasn’t something she would have dared to try against a sane opponent, someo
ne who might think to simply cancel the spell, but it was worth trying against a necromancer. Randor’s face darkened, his eyes glowing brighter than ever, as he mustered his power. Emily waited for the surge, then cancelled her own spell as Randor struck. She dropped back to the floor, her head spinning, as Randor hit the ceiling with a spell she didn’t recognize. The room shook. Chunks of debris fell to the ground.
Emily gritted her teeth, then aimed a blinding spell at him. It wouldn’t have worked against a sorcerer, but a newborn necromancer... Randor howled, stumbling around and firing bursts of magic in random directions. Emily took advantage of the diversion to aim a force punch at his back, although it barely touched him. Randor was too powerful to be hurt so easily. She could hear him muttering the words of a cancellation spell as he turned to face her. Her spell wouldn’t last very long.
Make him waste his power, she told herself, as she cast a handful of illusions into the air. He would see a dozen Emilys, each one identical to the original. He’d know they were fakes, but how would he know which one was the real one? She cast an invisibility spell on herself and started to creep around the room. If she was lucky, she might be able to duck out of there and force him to chase her through the castle. Keep him busy, don’t give him time to think.
Randor hurled a blast of raw magic at one of the illusions. It flickered and vanished. Randor stared at it dully, just for a second, then jumped back until he was standing in front of the door. Emily cursed under her breath. She had no idea how good Randor’s senses actually were – he was making so much noise that she doubted he could hear her – but he’d almost certainly sense her if she tried to sneak through the door. And then Randor pressed his fingers together, summoning his magic. Emily had no time to dodge before a shockwave rippled through the chamber, lifting her up and hurling her against the far wall. Pieces of debris flew in all directions. It took her a moment to realize that the throne had been destroyed.
Smart of him, she thought. The spell was normally ineffectual, but backed by necromantic power... Randor strode towards her, ignoring the remainder of the duplicates. Of course... he’d felt the feedback when his spell had struck her. The invisibility spell was already coming apart. She cancelled it – no point in wasting power – and forced herself to stand on wobbly legs. But he’s burning up his power.
Randor jabbed a finger at her. A blast of magic screamed towards her, the air burning in its wake. Emily managed – somehow – to get out of its way and launched a series of seeking fireballs in his direction. Her aim was poor, but it didn’t matter. The fireballs were designed to seek out the largest source of magic in the area and hit it. Right now, Randor was the most powerful magician in the room.
She heard him howl in outrage as one of the fireballs detonated against his wards. Another followed, and another... she wondered, suddenly, if his wards were as strong as she’d thought. Shadye had been pretty much invulnerable, at least until she’d brought a nexus point into play, but Shadye had been a necromancer for decades. Randor, on the other hand... she gathered her magic as Randor batted away the last of the fireballs, then started to hurl spell after spell towards the mad king. Randor seemed to stagger under her blows – for a moment, she thought she was actually winning – and then he threw a massive force punch at her. She jumped aside barely in time. The walls cracked and shattered under the impact. A giant piece of debris fell from the ceiling, smashing down far too close to her for comfort.
Randor laughed. There was nothing human in the sound.
Shit, Emily thought. He’s lost it.
The castle shook for a second time, although she couldn’t tell if Randor had hit the walls again. Perhaps Alassa’s forces had taken the city and were bombarding the castle. Emily hoped that Alicia had had the sense to take her child and run before it was too late. She glanced towards Cat, lying still on the stone floor, and felt cold. He might be dead. She couldn’t take the time to check on him.
Randor laughed, again. Magic blossomed over his fingertips and launched itself into the air. Lightning bolts stabbed at Emily, tearing into her wards. Emily shoved her wards forward, hastily casting new ones as Randor’s magic threatened to break through her defenses, then cast a wardcracker of her own. Randor’s body glowed with light as the wardcracker started to weaken his spellware, but it didn’t seem to slow him down. The fireball he aimed in her direction nearly took her head off.
Emily glanced from side to side as Randor supercharged his wards. Hope blossomed in her breasts as the light grew brighter. Randor was doing precisely the wrong thing. She’d been taught to discard any wards that were tainted by a wardcracker, even if she thought she could dismantle or cancel the spell. There just wasn’t time to be clever when someone was trying to kill you. She sighted some of the debris and hastily cast a set of locomotive spells, hurling it at Randor with terrifying force. A chunk of debris slammed into his chest. He staggered back, coughing violently, but he was still alive. His armor had taken the blow.
Randor glared at her. Emily saw red light in his mouth. The necromancy was consuming him, slowly turning the king into something inhuman. But he didn’t have enough power to make the transition, she thought. There were no sources of power in the chamber, not any longer. Her heart sank as she realized that wasn’t entirely true. She was a source of power. And Randor was smart enough to know it.
Then I have to keep burning up my own power, she thought. She hoped that everyone in the castle had started to run. I can’t let him drain enough power to survive the transition.
“I will destroy you,” Randor said. He was still between her and the exit, damn him. His voice came in cold gasps. “And then I will go into the streets and slaughter the rebels. I will put their heads on spikes. The streets will run red with blood. I will rule forever.”
“Your reign ends today,” Emily said, with a confidence she didn’t feel. Randor was holding up better than she’d expected, for someone who’d barely started experimenting with necromancy. He’d had enough experience with using his limited magic that he might have been able to keep himself under control. He’d certainly managed to hide his true nature from his followers until it had been too late. “This is the end.”
Randor threw a burst of magic at her. Emily jumped, allowing her instincts to guide her as Randor fired again and again. She drew on her own magic, jumping to the ceiling and down again, hoping that Randor would rapidly expend his remaining power. If he ran out, he’d die. She could jump out of range and watch from a safe distance, just to be sure. Lady Barb had warned her that she had to see the body. If a body wasn’t found, the man wasn’t dead. Emily had thought that it was incredibly paranoid at the time, but she understood now. The kingdom had to see Randor’s body before the people believed their former king was dead.
Emily noted the presence of another pile of debris and hastily cast locomotion spells, then followed with a handful of more aggressive spells. She wasn’t sure how much damage they’d do – Randor was heavily armored – but they would stoke his rage to boiling point, keeping him from thinking logically. Randor howled as one of the rocks struck him in the knee – Emily thought she heard something break – and then yanked his hand back in a casting motion. Emily barely had a second to realize what he’d done before the wall disintegrated, a shower of debris raining down on her. She crashed to the ground, pieces of stone landing on top of her. Her wards protected her from the impact, but she was trapped. She had a nasty feeling she’d broken something too. She wasn’t sure how much magic she had left. Her head was pounding.
She gritted her teeth as she heard Randor clump towards her, somehow still on his feet despite a broken knee. She cast a force punch. The backlash hurt worse than she’d expected, pieces of debris crashing into the ceiling and slamming back to the ground, but she was free. She crawled away, trying to use an illusion to distract Randor long enough to let her get back on her feet. The pain was excruciating. She thought she might have cracked a rib, perhaps more than one. It hadn’t hurt so badl
y the last time she’d used a force punch to escape a trap...
A hand caught her shirt and yanked her back, lifting her up into the air. Her skin burned under Randor’s touch as he turned her around, his red eyes glaring at her. She could see power – and madness – pulsing within them. His grip grew tighter as her legs dangled in the air. She found herself hoping he would snap her neck before he thought to claim what was left of her power. Her dead body would be useless to him.
Randor’s face twisted. “And now...”
Emily felt a surge of raw anger. I am not going to die like this.
She brought her leg up as hard as she could and kicked him in the groin. Randor stumbled and let go, even though his armor had taken most of the impact. Emily hit the ground hard enough to make her scream in pain as one of her legs buckled. She thought, for a horrified moment, that it was broken. If she couldn’t escape... panic yammered at the back of her mind as she forced herself to stand. Randor’s power was growing... she stumbled away, pushing as much power as she could into her wards. The blast that slammed into her back shattered them. She stumbled and fell to the ground. It was all she could do to stay on her hands and knees.
“Finally you show me proper respect,” Randor said. She could hear him stagger up behind her. A flash of pride ran through her. She’d taken a bite out of him. Perhaps she’d even weakened him enough for Jade to take him out when Randor stepped out of the castle to fight the rebels. “I like you on your knees.”
Emily cringed, one hand fingering the virgin blade in her sleeve as she forced herself to stand again. Randor was leering at her as his power built, waves of raw magic thrumming through the air. She thought, just for a moment, that he was finally reaching his limits. His face, no longer truly human, suggested that he was starting to get hungry. If he ran out of power, he was doomed.
The Broken Throne Page 39
