That wasn’t Beru.
She’d brought something else back.
54
BERU
BERU’S EYES OPENED. THAT’S WHAT IT FELT LIKE—NOT THAT SHE HAD OPENED her eyes, but that her eyes had opened on their own, upon some order that she herself had not given.
Her skin felt warm, tingling like a lightning storm raged beneath it. She felt herself rise to her feet, and again she knew it was not her doing it.
WHAT . . . IS THIS PLACE?
The thought. Again, not hers.
WHERE AM I?
And then.
WHAT AM I?
There were people around her. She saw Ephyra, on her knees in the dirt, as if bowing in supplication. Something about that felt right. Her eyes moved and she saw a tall, robed figure standing in the shadow of a red gate.
YOU. I KNOW YOU.
There was hatred in her gut. Betrayal. That man had done something to her. No, not to her. To it. The . . . presence inside her.
It wanted to crush him. But being in her body—that was new to it. It looked down at her hands. They were so small. What could hands like these do?
Her mouth opened. What came out was not a word. It was a sound like a sob, or a scream.
She watched Ephyra reel back.
The being inside her wanted to destroy. She could feel it building, this hunger, this need. Beru gathered her will. It was still confused. Hesitant. Unsure.
She opened her mouth once more. The sound came out again. She screamed, and screamed, and then her scream broke off and Beru pushed with everything she had and said, “Get out of here. Get out of here now!”
The being didn’t want her to speak. It cut her off with a choke.
Get out of here get out of here get out of here, she thought. No sound came out.
The robed man moved toward them. He, too, bowed in supplication. This did not please the being. The man could not be trusted. The man—
The man had killed it.
The man had promised to serve it, but he had killed it.
“YOU,” Beru’s voice hissed, full of more hatred than she had ever felt in her life.
The man looked up at her, his blue eyes bright and glassy. There was fear on his face.
The being inside Beru writhed with fury. It remembered what it was now. It was a god. It had created all of this, the sand, the people, the sky. It had been the god of creation.
But it had been destroyed. And now remade. And it was something else now.
It was a god of destruction.
55
JUDE
THE GROUND TREMBLED BENEATH JUDE AS HE KNELT BESIDE ANTON’S STILL form.
“Anton,” he pleaded, taking Anton’s face in his hands. “Come on. Please. Wake up.”
He wasn’t dead, Jude knew that much. When his Grace had returned to him in full force, he had suddenly been able to sense Anton’s—the way that he had in Nazirah. It was fainter than it had been then, a quiet undercurrent, but it was enough.
A high, frightened scream tore through the air. Jude looked up, and saw the girl—no, the creature—standing in the middle of the ruins, her face shadowed. She looked frayed, like she’d been ripped apart and put back together jaggedly. The power radiating off her was like nothing Jude had ever felt before. It was dark, chaotic, so potent he could hear it, a deep, bone-shaking roar.
The Hierophant was a blur of motion, tearing away from her.
Ephyra knelt at her sister’s feet.
“Go, Ephyra!” Beru cried. “I can’t hold it back any longer.”
“No,” Ephyra said fiercely. “I won’t leave you!”
Another figure sprinted toward Ephyra’s crumpled form. Illya. A loud crack startled Jude and he glanced up to see the Red Gate of Mercy beginning to crumble, the first pieces of debris crashing down just feet away from him. An even louder crash sounded as the arch of the Gate caved in.
Heart leaping in his throat, Jude wrapped his arms around Anton and heaved him to his feet.
Anton let out a soft groan and shifted. “Jude?”
Jude tucked himself under Anton’s side. “We need to get out of here.”
“The Gate,” Anton said. “I couldn’t—”
“Jude!” another voice called out. Hector sped toward them.
Jude gaped at him. He didn’t understand why Hector had seemed to be under the Necromancer King’s control, but he didn’t appear to be anymore. There was no time to ask that or any other of the questions spinning through Jude’s mind.
Hector reached them and without a word, slung an arm around Anton’s other side, propping him up. “Come on.”
The three of them careened away from the destruction, away from the god, as the cacophonous sound of the collapsing Gate rang around them. The sky flashed with bright, white light, like the biggest lightning storm Jude had ever witnessed.
They didn’t stop until they reached the city walls, almost a mile from the Red Gate. Anton was still conscious, but not strong enough to stand on his own, so Jude and Hector helped him lean against the wall. Jude looped an arm around his waist for support.
“So, you’ve been keeping busy?” Hector asked mildly.
Jude huffed out a laugh. He didn’t understand how Hector was here, what had brought them together again, but in the midst of the terror around them, it was something to cherish.
“You could say that,” he answered. “Hector, what was that back there? With the Necromancer King?”
Hector sighed. “It’ll be easier to show you.”
Before Jude could question what that meant, Hector peeled off his shirt and turned around. Jude’s eyes widened. A dark handprint stood out against Hector’s tan skin.
“It was Ephyra. She killed me to save her sister.”
Jude’s next breath choked him. His heart plunged into his stomach. Killed?
“The Necromancer King brought me back,” Hector continued, pulling his shirt back on. “It created a connection between me and Beru. Between our esha. I can feel what she feels. But right now . . . right now what I feel is the thing inside her. It’s angry. It wants to destroy.”
Jude suppressed a shiver. “I think I know what it is. I think . . . I think Ephyra resurrected an ancient god inside her sister’s body.”
It was exactly what Anton had seen in his vision.
“How—?” Hector cut himself off, staring at Jude. “Actually, you know what? I’ve heard and seen a lot of truly unbelievable things today, so I’m going to just go with you on that.”
“Captain Weatherbourne,” a voice said from behind them.
Jude turned to find Prince Hassan standing before them, looking scratched up but otherwise unharmed. He held the Crown of Herat in one hand.
“Prince Hassan,” Jude said. “Are you all right?”
Hassan nodded, a haunted look in his eyes. “Arash, he . . . he didn’t make it.”
His countryman. “I’m sorry,” Jude replied.
Hector was staring at Prince Hassan. “Aren’t you the Prophet?”
Jude and Hassan exchanged a look.
Anton weakly raised his head from Jude’s shoulder. “That would be me, actually.”
Hector gaped at him, and then at Jude. “Is he joking?”
Before Jude could reply, the sky flashed bright with white light. The wall behind them began to shake, and it was a moment before Jude realized that it wasn’t just the wall—it was the whole city.
“She’s going to destroy Behezda,” Hassan said faintly.
“It’s still confused,” Hector said. “I think it’s just smashing things at random, trying to kill the Hierophant. It hates him.”
“Then we should give him to it,” Hassan said bitterly.
“The Hierophant might be the only one who knows how to stop it,” Anton said. “Pallas, I mean. He’s a Prophet. He’s dealt with the god before.”
Jude clenched his jaw at the reminder of the Hierophant’s true identity. Pallas the Faithful. It filled him with horror and loat
hing to think what he had once worshipped had become this.
“We need to find him,” Anton decided.
That broke through Jude’s disgust. “No,” he protested. “You’re weak. You nearly died. And you don’t have the Relic of Sight anymore.”
“I failed,” Anton said. “Let me do this.”
Jude met Anton’s eyes in grim acknowledgment. Trying to seal the Gate had almost killed Anton. But what it had unleashed might kill them all.
With a deep breath and a nod of assent, Jude curled his fingers around Anton’s as if to say, I’m here. Anton closed his eyes and Jude felt him summon some deep reserve of energy, his Grace strengthening.
He swayed, eyes blinking open as he let his weight fall on Jude. “He’s fleeing toward the mountain.”
“I know where they’re going,” Hassan said. “There’s a cave where the Hierophant and his Witnesses had me locked up.”
Jude curled a hand around Anton’s shoulder and looked up at Hector and Hassan. “You two, go find him. We’ll wait for you here.”
“What?” Anton demanded. “Why are they going?”
“Because you’re about to collapse,” Jude replied evenly. “So we’re going to stay here while you recover your strength. Hector and Prince Hassan can handle it.”
Anton did not look pleased, but he didn’t try to move away from Jude, either.
Jude looked up to find Hector staring at them.
“Be safe,” Jude said to him.
Hector just nodded and jogged after Hassan, who had already turned to go.
Another quake shook the ground and Jude turned to shield Anton between the wall and his own body as dust rained down. The shaking stopped but Jude stayed where he was, Anton’s heart a steady pulse against his own.
“I couldn’t do it,” Anton said, his voice breaking. “We had the Relics. I was right there. And now the Age of Darkness is coming and—”
“We won’t let it,” Jude said fiercely, gripping Anton’s hand. “We’re going to make it out of here. I promise you. Whatever happens, I’ll protect you, remember? Whatever happens.”
Anton didn’t say anything, just held Jude’s hand tighter as the city crumbled around them.
56
EPHYRA
EPHYRA WOKE UP PINNED TO THE GROUND. SHE COUGHED OUT DUST AND raised her head weakly. Debris and rocks were piled high behind her.
There was no sign of Beru, but Ephyra wasn’t alone. Someone lay beside her, half-covered by fallen rocks. She rolled the person over and saw it was Illya. His eyes were closed, and for a moment Ephyra thought he was dead. But his chest rose and fell.
She leaned over him, checking for injuries. His shirt was torn open, his whole left side wet with blood. Ephyra set her trembling hands on his ribs.
She had touched him like this before, skin-to-skin, but those nights felt a world away. She pressed down and focused on her own esha.
His lashes fluttered. “What are you doing?”
“Saving your life,” Ephyra replied. She focused, but she couldn’t seem to get her esha to flow into him.
“Come on,” she whispered, gritting her teeth. The connection kept breaking. “Come on.”
Illya opened his eyes.
“I’m not good at this,” she said. “I haven’t done it in so long. I’m . . . I’m better at killing than healing.”
His hand came up to rest on hers. She met his gaze.
“You don’t have to be what they say,” he said. “The Pale Hand. The harbinger. You’re not . . . you can be more than that.”
“What if I can’t?” she said, desperate. Tears soaked her voice. “What if I’m—”
“You’re Ephyra,” he said. “You can do this.”
She shut her eyes and focused on the sound of his breath and her own, feeling the pressure of his hand on hers. The esha began to flow, seeping from her hands into him. The point at which they touched grew warm. Tears sprang to her eyes and relief rushed through her. She staunched the flow of esha before cutting it off altogether. She shuddered, light-headed, but Illya’s wounds were healed.
He sat up, looking himself over in awe. “What happened?”
“My sister,” she said, but that was all she could get out. “I need to find her . . . I need to stop that thing.”
“I don’t think you can.”
“That’s my sister,” Ephyra said. “I need to get her back. Tell me what the Hierophant is planning.”
“I have no idea what he’s planning,” Illya said, surprising her. “I knew he wanted the Chalice. That was it. What we need to do now is get out of the city before it’s destroyed.”
There was a great crash and the southernmost edge of the city seemed to buckle in on itself, the buildings collapsing into the breaking ground.
Illya was right. Going into the city would be suicide. But Ephyra had risked more for Beru every day for most of their lives.
She turned back to him. “Don’t you need to go running back to your master now?”
He set his mouth in a tight line. “He’s not exactly happy with me.”
“Well, isn’t that sad for you?” Ephyra sneered.
“He wants to rule the Six Prophetic Cities, not destroy them,” Illya said. “Whatever he was planning, I think you screwed it up.”
All of this was her fault. She destroyed everything she touched. Which now included an entire city.
“I didn’t know this would happen,” she said. She looked back at him. “Why did you stay? Why didn’t you run?”
“The same reason you healed me,” he answered, his eyes intent on hers. “I didn’t want to see you die.”
She didn’t know what to make of that, only that she could no longer look at him. She got to her feet and began making her way toward the city. After a moment, she heard a soft curse and the sound of his footsteps behind her, quickening until he fell into step with her.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Why? You just said you wanted to get out of this city.”
“Well,” he said. “There are a few things I want to take care of first.”
Screams filled the air as Ephyra and Illya approached the city. Panicking crowds fled through the gates like a stream bursting through a dam. They had to push their way upstream through shrieking families and groaning carts.
“Look,” Illya said.
Ephyra followed his gaze toward the city walls and spotted two familiar figures, one crouched over the other. Jude and Anton. Ephyra hurried over, Illya at her heels.
“Where is she?” Ephyra demanded the moment she was by their side.
Jude stood, glancing at Illya warily. “We don’t know.”
“What’s going to happen to her?” Ephyra asked, too aware of the crack of desperation in her voice. She didn’t ask the question she truly wanted to know: What did I do to her?
“When you brought her back, you brought something else back,” Anton said. “A god. One that the Prophets slayed. It’s . . . inhabiting her.”
“But she’s still in there,” Ephyra said. “She spoke to me. There must be some way—”
“I don’t know,” Anton said. “But we need to stop her. However we can. Otherwise this city . . . this world, will be destroyed.”
A chill crawled down Ephyra’s spine. She had done this. There’s something dark inside of us.
Beru had meant both of them, her and Ephyra. But it was Ephyra who’d unleashed it in them both. Ephyra, who had kept pushing, and pushing, even when Beru told her—begged her—to stop. And in the end, she hadn’t been able to, not when she’d thought Beru was gone. Because losing Beru meant losing her faith in the world, losing her ability to see the good in people. In herself.
But it was still there, buried deep. She knew that now. She’d seen it when she’d healed Illya. There was something dark inside of her, but there was light, too.
“All right,” she said.
Anton looked up at her, startled.
“I’m in,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder at Illya. “So is he. What do you need us to do?”
57
HASSAN
HASSAN KEPT PACE WITH THE PALADIN HECTOR AS THEY CROSSED THE CANYON toward the Hierophant’s hideout. They passed panicked Behezdans, rushing along the streets and crouching in alcoves to protect themselves from the violent quakes.
Hassan watched it all, helplessness and anger roiling within him. He could tell these people to get out of the city, to safety, but would they really be safe? The god would not stop, not until it had the one it wanted. The Hierophant.
They reached the entrance to the cave, where three Witnesses were standing guard.
“Stand back,” Hector warned, and a moment later he was right in front of the Witnesses, his sword unsheathed. Then the Witnesses were on the ground. More rushed in toward them.
“Go on ahead,” Hector said, jerking his head and facing off against the newcomers.
With the Witnesses occupied, Hassan darted into corridor and came face-to-face with the Hierophant. Flanked by more Witnesses, he watched Hassan’s approach with icy blue eyes.
“You,” Hassan spat. “You did this. You brought that thing back, and now it’s going to destroy this city while you’re hiding out in here.”
He was so furious, he barely registered the fact that he was charging toward the Hierophant. The Witnesses around him moved to hold Hassan back.
“Is this what you wanted?” Hassan yelled, struggling against them.
Another tremor shook the ground so violently it knocked several of the Witnesses off their feet. Hassan pulled away from them and seized the Hierophant’s robes.
“It is, isn’t it?” Hassan spat. “You wanted to open the Gate and unleash all that power. To cleanse the world of your mistakes. Well the god you brought back wants you dead. And now you want to stop it?”
The Hierophant met Hassan’s gaze. “The god was never meant to return.”
“It wants you,” Hassan growled. “Maybe if we hand you over, it will leave the rest of us alone.”
As the Shadow Rises: Book Two of The Age of Darkness Page 38
