Rone gritted his teeth under the scrutiny of the two soldiers, bristling at the suggestion. No. If he attacked them now, he could drop them. Carry Sandis if he had to, slap some sense into the panicking redhead next to him. They’d run.
And go . . . where?
Damn it.
A long, tight breath left his throat. Tugging Bastien’s elbow, he allowed the guards to lead them in the opposite direction. “For now,” he mumbled, repeating Sandis’s words.
It would be easier to run from a house, anyway. Not as much room for guards.
Rone hated everything about Dresberg, especially its government, but as he approached the carriages, even he had to admit it moved efficiently. Already guards were prepping the vehicles; the first took off with Triumvirs Peterus and Holwig, along with Chief Esgar. Rone shoved Bastien into the next, then carefully lifted Sandis in.
“I won’t let them hurt you,” he whispered as he settled beside her.
She didn’t seem to hear him.
Chapter 8
“Vre en nestu a carnath.”
Suffer as I have suffered.
“Ii mem entre I amar.”
You did not seek truth, so I will force it upon you.
“Vre en nestu a carnath.”
And punish all who wouldn’t listen.
“Kolosos epsi gradenid.”
Come to me, my monster.
A great punch of red light accented the soft whirring of the amarinth before swallowing it whole. Kazen reached forward and grabbed the tip of one of Kolosos’s great horns as the beast formed on the mortal plane, its brilliant red-and-black body a bloody star against the shadows of night-choked Dresberg.
Up, up, up Kazen flew, until he stood above the great wall of Dresberg. He commanded the horn to cool, but heat billowed off Kolosos, burning his skin and drawing sweat from his pores.
Kazen stroked Kolosos’s horn. Do not harm me. The blood bond between them pulled taut, and the heat diminished. Good.
Below, Kuracean looked little more than a roach, awaiting his command. And to think Kazen had once believed it powerful. But the armored monster had its uses, even if it was merely a distraction for soldiers who thought themselves brave.
He had a great deal of work to do, and if his calculations for the last two summonings were correct, he had limited time. His monster had survived in the boy’s body nearly two minutes less the second time than the first. Was it happenstance, or was Kolosos simply too powerful, even for an amarinth-powered vessel? Only time would tell. Allowing Anon to rest longer could help, but Kazen didn’t want to lose his advantage. He also didn’t want the lad to try and run.
Their efforts would pay off handsomely, soon enough.
Kazen pictured his destination in his mind’s eye. Kolosos turned toward the center of the city, then paused. Dug its hooves into the earth, gripped the wall with its great talons. Its wings folded. Smoke sputtered from the numen’s nostrils.
“Go.” Kazen voiced the command aloud this time. Still, he met resistance. It had come as an unpleasant surprise, this numen’s reluctant obedience. None of the others had been able to thwart his will. Kazen had taken more blood than usual before this summoning, but he dared not take too much, for fear of damaging his vessel further. Already Anon Gwenwig showed increased signs of wear, and not even the amarinth would keep him alive if he faded away in his summoning slumber. “Go!” Kazen repeated in a shout, pouring his will behind the word.
Kolosos trudged forward, crumbling the Dresberg wall with its sheer size. Stone hissed as it gave way to the numen’s powerful legs.
He didn’t hear screams this time, even as Kolosos’s shoulders crumpled the corners of flats and crushed abandoned carriages underfoot. No, their terror was silent. Like a prayer. And it was him they should be praying to.
Kazen allowed glee to form on his face, pulling his mouth into a tight smile. He’d already destroyed the homes of the two men who had betrayed him. The ones who’d refused to accept the truth of the Celestial. The ones who’d so faithfully served the Angelic who’d cast him out. That man had long since died, replaced by another, and another. But the taste remained bitter in Kazen’s mouth.
Celesia and its priests were not the only ones who needed to be taught a lesson. He would punish its supporters, too. The men who thought they could control him in a city he owned.
The Innerchord came into view. Destroy it, he commanded. Start with the tallest building.
He heard the whiz of an arrow and smelled smoke when it hit too low and burned against Kolosos’s half-molten skin. The fools. Did they still think mortal men could best him? But here they were again, faced with Kolingrad’s little army, noticeably smaller than before. Lining up a . . . was that a cannon? How quaint.
“Crush them,” he crooned.
Kolosos lifted an enormous hoof and slammed it down in the middle of the battalion, forcing the soldiers to scatter like mice. Something exploded beneath its weight—perhaps one of the cannons. There was a crunch as Kolosos shifted forward, swinging out his other hoof, but whether it was concrete or bodies, Kazen couldn’t tell. He also didn’t care.
“Don’t let them get in your way, my pet.” He patted the side of Kolosos’s massive horn. “Let’s finish our business, shall we?”
Kolosos growled and shifted forward, splaying its bloody talons. The Degrata crumbled beneath the beast’s fiery claws.
The carnage was glorious.
Chapter 9
“You will comport yourself appropriately, Rone Comf, or you will be dismissed from these proceedings, and we’ll make the decision without you.” Triumvir Var’s whiplike voice was at odds with the delicacy of the room. The crystal chandelier and its small candles, the floral wallpaper, the leather-bound books on the shelf against the far wall. A room in a house finer than that of Talbur Gwenwig.
It was an almost dizzying contrast to the destruction they’d felt beneath their feet as Kolosos’s steps shook the city. Kazen’s latest rampage had stopped not half an hour ago, and traces of fire still rose from the city’s great center. Now it was up to General Istrude’s scouts, Oz, and Jansen to track the monster. And Sandis didn’t mean Kolosos.
She began a prayer for their success, but it was cut short by the thought that she no longer knew whom she was praying to. But surely, if Ireth could sense her, the Celestial might as well.
It couldn’t hurt. She uttered the final words and fell silent. She’d missed a portion of the ongoing conversation.
“Surely not.” She felt the Angelic’s eyes on her. “She has such a bond? To which numen?”
Sandis curled her knees to her chest, careful to let her skirt fall over them modestly. She sat on the window seat in front of drawn curtains, leaning one shoulder against the edge of the alcove. Rone seethed beside her.
“I’d never read of such a thing myself,” Jachim said, sporting a purple eye, “but I witnessed it with my own eyes.”
Sandis really should pay attention. Listen to what everyone was saying, not just the louder snippets that wriggled past her knotted thoughts. But her mind was fragmented, lost in different parts of the city. Her consciousness bounced between them.
The lair, where Sandis had uncovered Kazen’s truths.
The sewer, where they’d found the broken amarinth.
The Degrata, where Jachim had voiced his revelation.
The cathedral, burned to ash.
The Lily Tower, where she’d watched, helpless, as her lost brother transformed into the greatest horror the world could offer.
“Theorize then,” someone—Triumvir Peterus?—said. “Both of you. Tell me how it could possibly work.”
In her mind’s eye, Sandis stood in front of the stone tablets in the Noscon ruins at the heart of the city, staring at them as though they’d speak to her at any moment. A special bond to a numen. A flash of light. Two hearts, merged into one. Ripped from their shared body to form the glimmering core that powered an amarinth.
Was that why Ireth had been so afraid?
Did he know these men would learn how to kill him?
Or was he afraid for her?
“You cannot fight evil with evil,” High Priest Dall countered. “You cannot possibly want to go through with this. Even to theorize about it is blasphemy!”
Sandis’s thoughts shifted again, and this time she found herself in Kazen’s office, peering at the diagrams of the astral sphere. Is it blasphemy, when all of it is the same? she wondered. Celesia, the occult . . . Where did one draw the line?
Did Ireth worship the Celestial, too?
“She is an innocent woman,” said the Angelic.
A long, tense breath squeezed from Rone’s chest. “For once, we agree. Consider our options! Sandis is powerful. More powerful than anyone here. You’d sacrifice her on a whim?”
Could they hear the anger lacing his voice, the sorrow? Rone’s hand touched her back, his thumb tracing one of the symbols embedded into the skin there.
“You’d sacrifice this city?” asked Chief Esgar.
He glanced at Sandis, but she couldn’t escape that moment at the Lily Tower. She was looking at Anon, his dark eyes glimmering with recognition. Watching that flash of bloody light. Seeing that monster rear its head in her brother’s body.
Pressure rose in her head, warm and familiar.
Would it save them, Ireth? she asked. If we gave ourselves up, would it save them? The city? Rone? Anon?
Wouldn’t it be worth it, to die so the people she loved could live? So that the children hiding in their flats could see another day? So that mothers could take their shifts and put food on the table?
“I don’t know.” Jachim’s voice was oddly serious. “I . . . Both are excellent arguments. Lose the woman, or gain our salvation? Surely there are others who might be made vessels in the city . . . but from what I understand, it takes some time to recover from the branding.”
Was it too high a price to pay?
Warmth trickled up her spine. It wasn’t fear. Was this Ireth’s confirmation that their sacrifice would end the violence?
Could this be what he’d been trying to tell her from the beginning?
“That is the other side of the coin,” chimed Triumvir Holwig. “If we want an army capable of fighting this numen, then we must raise it, now, especially if it takes time for the vessels to recover from the branding. We can mandate all people between ten and thirty to come in for inspection. Oz could inspect them, couldn’t he?”
“N-No!” Bastien’s voice was wet with fear. “Y-You can’t just force them into slavery!”
“It’s not slavery,” countered Chief Esgar. “They will be free to leave when the city is reclaimed.”
In a rare moment of speech, Inda, one of Oz’s vessels, said, “Funny how you persecute us, until you need us.”
“Without you,” hissed Triumvir Holwig, “we would not have this problem in the first place.”
“I cannot listen to this!” shouted High Priest Dall.
“We are desperate, you fool!” Triumvir Var matched the priest’s volume. “You must either bend your faith or die by the hand of a demon!”
Rone stood, adding his voice to the fray, followed by General Istrude and Triumvir Peterus. They shouted, pleaded, and coerced well into the night.
Sandis was still at the Lily Tower, frozen in the moment of her horrific reunion with her brother.
Var needed to take his own advice. None of the council was “comporting,” not anymore.
They screamed at one another like little kids. Rone stared at the ceiling, feeling tired, wishing he could just whisk Sandis away and pretend the scarlets never found them in the first place. Bastien had his hands planted over his ears, and his face was scrunched like he was about to explode. No one else noticed. They didn’t actually care about the others in the room, just about making their opinion the loudest.
This was getting out of hand.
It was too loud to hear the door open, but Rone spied it from the corner of his eye. Oz appeared in the gap, his clothing singed, his body ragged. Rone squeezed Sandis’s hand, drawing her attention to the grafter. Bastien noticed, too, and turned in his chair.
“Hey!” Rone shouted, but his voice didn’t carry above the cacophony. “Would you shut up for a minute?”
Both of Bastien’s hands tore from his ears and slammed onto the table with shocking strength. “Oz is here!” He shouted so loudly Rone felt it in his chest. Beside him, Sandis tensed. Thankfully, the others finally shut up and noticed the new arrival. Var and Peterus even ran over, taking the summoner’s elbows and helping him stay upright.
Shaking his head, Oz coughed and said, “I lost it. I followed Kolosos halfway across District Four and lost it. I . . . I lost Jansen, too.”
A small gasp emitted from Sandis, and Rone squeezed her hand harder. But it was Bastien who worried him. The Godobian’s expression cracked. His pale skin blanched to white. His lips formed the name Jansen.
Bowing his head, Var had the audacity to say, “That is unfortunate.”
Bastien hid his face in his arms and sobbed.
Triumvir Var’s house was large and divided into many rooms, most of which were modest in size. Even the very wealthy in Dresberg could only take up so much space. Like everyone else, they had to fit inside the circular stone wall that enfolded them.
Sandis was starting to see why Rone thought of the city as a cage.
The vessels and grafters had been assigned two of the rooms—Rone, Bastien, and herself in one, Oz and his remaining vessels, Teppa and Inda, in the other. Sandis should have talked to the younger women. Seen how they were faring. Learned what they had in common.
If you think it will replace them, you’re wrong.
The thought came unbidden, but it struck like a crowbar. Heath, Kaili, Alys. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. And what of Dar? Rone had seen him working construction in the city. Was he still here? Was he hiding, or had he been injured in one of Kolosos’s attacks? Did he have work and money, or was he starving in an alley somewhere?
Rone kicked the door to the room closed; Bastien had stayed with Jachim, asking him questions and answering the scholar’s many, many queries in return. Celestial knew he was in need of the distraction.
Sandis sat on the edge of the bed, her body leaden and exhausted, her mind twisted like stripped wire.
You can still save him, she thought. Dar. You can save all of them, if you give them the power inside you.
“Sandis?”
She blinked and looked up. It seemed to take too long to move her neck and meet his eyes.
Rone frowned. He’d been unbuttoning his shirt, but paused on the fourth button down. “This is going to sound like a stupid question, but are you all right?”
She took a deep breath, thinking of how she should respond. But all her thoughts were aligned the same way, so the truth came out. “I could save them, couldn’t I?”
Rone’s eyes widened, and his face blanched white. “Sandis, no.”
Her gaze fell to her knees. “No, I can’t save them, or no, I shouldn’t try?”
“Sandis. Sandis.” His voice was weak yet urgent. He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of her and grabbed her hands. “They don’t even know for sure, all right? Please don’t think like that.”
But Sandis shook her head. “Jachim knows more about the Noscons than even Kazen does. He would know—”
“No!” His response was sharp, and the bump of his throat bobbed. “No, Sandis. And so what? Even if we could make an amarinth, then what? We can’t beat Kolosos in sixty seconds.”
“We could summon the Celestial.”
Rone’s hands turned to ice around hers. The look of horror and pain etched into his face made her heart squelch. Her eyes burned.
Setting his jaw, Rone shook his head. His grip on her fingers tightened nearly to the point of pain. “Please.” His voice was hoarse. “Please don’t, Sandis. If you give in now . . . everything we’ve done is meaningless.” The last word pitched high, and Rone swallowed ag
ain, waiting a moment before continuing. Even then, his voice trembled, and the sound of it crumbled something inside Sandis. Something delicate and necessary, and it hurt. “What’s the point of surviving, if you’re just going to leave?”
The image of his face—his beautiful face—blurred. Sandis blinked, and a single tear traced the length of her cheek. She whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Not this.” His own eyes watered. The only time Sandis had seen him this emotional was in that underground tunnel on the evening he’d apologized so genuinely to her. The memory only spurred more tears. “Please, Sandis, not this. I can’t . . . I can’t without you, don’t you understand?”
Sandis pressed her lips together to contain her own emotion. She pulled her hands free and cradled his face, sweeping a curl from his forehead. There was so much she wanted to say. Those unspoken words warred inside her, and inside him, too. She knew him well enough to feel it. They stayed like that a long moment, barely containing their words and their sobs. Sandis’s throat ached. Her chest ached.
Pushing himself off the floor, Rone kissed her, sending spikes of heat through her skin that clashed with the sorrow. She welcomed him, tilting her head to the right and parting her lips. The taste of salt and sadness washed through her, and she gave him her worries and fears in return. He took them eagerly, tracing her mouth with movements both familiar and new. Replacing them with a fire so very unlike Ireth’s.
Sandis tangled her fingers in his hair—hair she loved touching for the softness of it. Rone pulled back just enough for a quick breath, and Sandis nipped at him, needing him. Needing to feel him and not her doubts.
His hand pressed into her lower back. The kiss deepened, his tongue slowly, softly seeking hers. He tasted like the ocean and rain and winter storms. And then the mattress was at her back. Rone’s weight on top of her was tantalizing and wonderful. Their mouths danced, and Sandis’s fingers explored his hair, his jaw, his shoulders. He broke away, placing a kiss just below her ear, making a trail of them down her neck. He supported himself on one forearm by her head, while his free hand slid up her thigh—a touch that stoked the flames growing in her belly.
Siege and Sacrifice (Numina) Page 8
