The Last Goddess
Page 16
***
It was virtually impossible to make out anything in the smoke-filled corridor, but Tiel hoped that blindness worked both ways. He nestled himself up against a pile of dislodged stones and waited for the Darenthi group to pass by. Rook and the others had already dashed madly down the corridor to make their final stand within the coffin room, but it was a futile effort and they all knew it. They were skilled enough fighters, certainly, but they were no match for a trained Darenthi war-mage bolstered by a Siphon. They would bunker themselves in and perhaps even take another man or two with them, but in the end they would all die and the Kirshal would be captured.
Tiel clenched his fist as the Darenthi group made their way almost casually into the hallway amidst the smoky rubble. He refused to believe that after a thousand years of searching, the Kirshane were going to lose their savior to a handful of common soldiers. He had no idea how the Darenthi even knew she was here in the first place, but right now it didn’t really matter. If they were going to have any chance at all, he was going to have to even the odds.
“Form up,” the mage ordered as he glanced to the wounded Faceless. The automaton still managed to lumber forward despite looking like a pincushion full of crossbow bolts. “You, take point. Hopefully they’ll listen to reason and just give her up.”
Tiel maintained his crouch until the group started forward, then lifted himself from the rubble and slowly trailed behind them, being sure to stay in the smoke as long as possible. He eventually darted around a nearby corner just as the troupe reached the steel door. There he waited, closing his eyes and swallowing heavily.
He had taken an oath to defend the Kirshal with his life when he was fourteen, but of course all Kirshane had been doing that for a millennium and none of them had ever been forced to honor it. It was an idle ritual at this point, but perhaps he should have felt honored. After all, he was going to be the first one to ever put the vow into practice. Two Faceless, four soldiers, and a mage…even if he succeeded at killing one or more of them, the rest would quickly cut him down. At best he would be sacrificing his life to give a handful of strangers a desperate chance to survive.
But he knew there simply wasn’t an alternative. The Kirshal was real—from the moment he looked down upon her, he had never been more certain of anything in his life. And no matter what happened to him or anyone else, she had to be given a chance. Perhaps Rook would even take her to Jehalai in his stead. He seemed sympathetic enough in a way, and Vorani even more so.
“You’re hopelessly outmatched, Mr. Rook,” the mage called from up ahead. “I’m not here for you or your people. Turn her over and we’ll leave you alone.”
“What does a Darenthi mage want with a slave?” Rook asked, his voice muffled by the metal door.
The mage grunted softly enough the others probably couldn’t hear it. “I don’t have patience for games. Whether or not I have to kill you to get to her makes no difference to me. I suggest you see reason and turn her over. Spare the lives of your companions.”
Rook paused for several seconds. “I’m open to negotiation. Name a price.”
“Your life,” the mage said flatly. “Last chance.”
“I could kill her before you even bend that door,” Rook pointed out. “If you want her that badly, I think you’ll need to come up with a better offer.”
The mage let out an exaggerated sigh, and a second later the passageway rumbled as he unleashed a spell. Bits of metal clanked across the rocky ground, and chunks of debris even made their way to Tiel’s corner. He could hear the Darenthi soldiers stomp forward immediately after, soon followed by the thunder of a gunshot and the thwump of crossbows…
Tiel spun around the corner and charged.