Siege and Sacrifice (Numina)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

  Pain, scalding and bright, consumed her, shredding her flesh and grating her bones. It turned her inside out and seared her very soul. It lasted only a breath, yet stretched on for eternity, agonizing, flavored with whispers of death. It swallowed her whole and faded to black.

  But when the darkness lifted, she saw Rone.

  Rone jumped when the familiar white light engulfed Ireth. Their small army came to a stop, everyone turning as their general vanished from their midst. Summoned.

  And yet, in his place, dull light coalesced like condensation, taking on shape and color.

  Rone’s legs nearly gave out when he beheld Sandis. She was murky, without definition, but he would know her anywhere. He ran to her. Tried to touch her, but just like with the numina, his hands passed right through her.

  Her blurry brown eyes met his and widened. “Rone?”

  God’s tower, he could hear her.

  “Sandis?” He spoke too loudly, his arms trembling.

  A sharp sound escaped her, something between a sob and a laugh. She reached out fuzzy arms. They passed through his chest, ghostlike. She retracted them and held them to her breast. “Kolosos, it’s here. It’s—”

  “I know.”

  “Oz summoned Ireth. I . . . This has never happened before. Where are you?”

  Rone glanced at the two dozen numina around him. Sandis’s eyes never strayed to them. He guessed she couldn’t see them, only him in all his mortal glory. He also guessed they had very little time together.

  So he focused on her, her faint but beautiful face, and spoke as carefully and quickly as he could.

  “We’re making an army of numina on this side. The ethereal plane. Kolosos is building pillars here just like in Dresberg. He needs gold for the magic. To merge the planes. We have to stop him soon, or he’ll destroy us all.”

  Sandis hesitated only a moment. “Numina? The Celestial?”

  “We can’t depend on the Celestial, but we have a growing army. We have to strike him together, Sandis. Before his pillars are complete. It’s the only chance we have to overpower him. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  Her gaze never flinched. “We have to do it when Kolosos is here. In Dresberg.”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Without the Celestial.” It was more a statement than a question. He would have told her if it were otherwise.

  He dropped his head. “I’m sorry, Sandis.”

  “I don’t . . . I don’t know.” Her blurry form shifted. “Bastien and Rist and I . . . we ran from the government, Rone.”

  “I know.” He’d watched that part.

  “I don’t know what they’re doing. What their plans are. But we can’t fight without them.”

  “Go back.”

  She nodded. He could imagine her chewing on her bottom lip, though her figure was too murky for such a detail. “I’ll . . . we’ll try to knock down the pillars here. Slow Kolosos down. We’ll do what we can.”

  “Us, too. This place . . . it’s his headquarters. He’s still connected here when he’s there. We can still hurt him.” His pulse pumped too fast. He tried to touch her again. He might as well have been grasping smoke.

  Her colors began to fade, and the limited definition she had bled into the cool air surrounding them. “I’ll do it. I’ll tell them. Tomorrow night, midnight.”

  “They’re the Noscons, Sandis. The numina. They’re trapped here.”

  She paused before replying. “I’m . . . I’m fading, Rone.”

  Sorrow, cold and sharp, stung from his throat to his knees. He placed his hands on her, letting them hover over her intangible form. “I’ll be there. I promise. Sandis.” His voice strained as his throat tightened. “I love you.”

  The shadows of her facial features began to blur, but he could have sworn he saw her grin.

  Clearing his throat, awkwardly aware of the Noscons surrounding him, he added, “It would be nice if you’d say it back.”

  “Oh, Rone.” Her voice was little more than wind. Her form darkened, faded. “You’ve always known I do. I’ve loved you from the beginni—”

  She was gone.

  Chapter 25

  Sandis startled awake as though doused with cold water. She sat up in a weakly sunlit room, her dry eyes shooting toward a gauze curtain. Then the walls, the ceiling, the door, the bed gradually came into focus. It took a moment for her to comprehend where she was. A moment of staring at a blue-clad guard just beyond the window, on a short balcony, while her head throbbed the rhythm of consciousness.

  Triumvir Var’s home. Her assigned bedroom. Besides the guard, she was alone.

  She searched for water, but found none. As she rubbed her eyes, faint memories surfaced in her thoughts. It almost had the feeling of a dream, but vessels never dreamed when possessed.

  Rone. The sweet flood of relief almost overwhelmed her aching head. He was alive, and although his image had been blurry, he’d appeared unharmed. Jachim had been right—he was in the ethereal plane. With an army of numina. The . . . Noscons?

  Her lips parted, releasing all the air within her. The ancient people who’d once inhabited Kolingrad were . . . numina? But how? How did an entire race of people turn into—

  Ireth is Noscon. Ireth is . . . human?

  Was that what he had wanted to tell her all along? This changed everything. Everything. The occult wasn’t simply summoning monsters from another world, but another time. Noscons.

  Was Kolosos Noscon, too? Rone had called the demon “he.”

  Her spine stiffened. Anon. Celestial, save him. She’d been right there. If only she’d come a minute sooner. If only she had grabbed the amarinth first—

  Jaw set, Sandis pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and watched colors swirl behind her eyelids. Regret would get her nowhere. She repeated this to herself, a mantra, until she believed it. She had a plan. And she had mere hours to fulfill her end of it.

  Sandis wrenched her hands away and blinked until her vision cleared. What time was it? Afternoon, but early or late? Ignoring a twinge of nausea, she got up from the bed, swaying once with fatigue. A white long-sleeved dress with silver embroidery hung from her frame. A priestess’s gown? Had they taken Priestess Marisa’s things to clothe her? But at least she was clothed.

  The guard on the balcony must have noticed her activity, for a second later the gauzy curtains parted and he trudged into the room, tall, broad, and stoic. “You are not to leave.”

  Sandis winced, the pounding in her head increasing. “I need to speak to the triumvirate.”

  “My orders are—”

  “Now. Please.” Pain chipped at her resolve. She held on to it with a white-knuckle grip. “I’ve spoken to Rone in the ethereal plane. I know how to defeat Kolosos.”

  She hoped.

  The soldier considered for a moment, his lips pressed into a tight line. “I’ll escort you.”

  Sandis let him take her arm and open the door. She moved compliantly at his side as they wound through familiar halls and ventured down familiar stairs. All three triumvirs were gathered in the study. Triumvir Var’s face was hollow, the skin around his eyes dark and droopy. When was the last time he’d slept?

  Oz was with them, as was High Priest Dall.

  Triumvir Holwig looked up first, his sword-straight hair tangling with his eyelashes. “She’s awake,” he said, alerting the others in the room.

  The soldier saluted. “She claims to have valuable information.”

  Triumvir Var’s red-veined gaze moved toward her. He nodded, and the soldier released her. Sandis swayed on her feet before righting herself.

  Oz said, “If you want her to be useful, get her some water and something to eat.” He glowered at Triumvir Var, as though this had been part of an earlier and unpleasant conversation. Sandis was still unsure how she felt about Oz, but she passed him a look of gratitude.

  Var groaned softly and nodded again. The soldier scuttled off, hopefully to do as Oz had said. Sandis’s stomach had b
egun to cramp, and her headache marched across her skull like a well-fed army.

  She approached the table in the center of the room and sat in a chair before rubbing some moisture into her eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Two past,” the high priest answered. She’d been “dead” for fourteen hours.

  Oz added, “The others aren’t awake yet. Or if they are, these men won’t let them out of their rooms.” He gestured toward the triumvirs.

  Triumvir Peterus growled. “They are deserters.”

  “They saved your sorry army last night,” Oz spat.

  “That,” said Var, “is still up for debate.”

  Rubbing her temples, Sandis said, “Tell me what happened.”

  Triumvir Var took a deep breath through his nose. “Kolosos did not return to the Innerchord. It took to the wall. Crumbled the exits and rebuilt it as rubble.”

  Sandis’s throat went dry. It doesn’t want us to escape.

  “At least it quelled the rebellion,” Triumvir Holwig commented. Something else must have happened with the civilians while Sandis was gone, but she didn’t take the time to ask about it. She thought of the pillars, of the mind-controlled people infected by the demon’s magic. Was that to be their destiny? To live as will-less slaves under Kolosos’s eternal rule?

  Thoughts of Rone’s mother slipped through her mind.

  High Priest Dall, who sat across from Sandis, knit his hands together atop the table. “We have volunteers trying to dig through or find a means to climb over. The devil did not have enough time to cage us completely.”

  “Where”—Sandis had to swallow against the dryness in her throat—“is the Angelic?”

  “Seeing to the faithful,” the high priest replied. Sandis shrunk beneath his hard tone. Did he still see her as a heretic?

  Had her brands burned away her faith?

  Was her faith relevant, anymore?

  Footsteps sounded behind Sandis, and a cup of water and bread with some kind of brown spread was set before her. Sandis whispered a thank-you and grasped the cup, drinking until her belly hurt and her worries cleared. The bread was sweet, its flavor unfamiliar. After two bites, Triumvir Var said, “Now, tell us what you know.”

  Sandis swallowed. Rubbed her sore stomach. “Kolosos is building pillars in the ethereal plane as well.” What exactly had Rone said?

  “I love you.”

  She bit down on a smile before continuing, “It wants to . . . to merge the planes. I don’t know why. He didn’t have time to tell me.”

  Oz’s brow rose. “He?”

  “Rone.”

  The men exchanged glances. High Priest Dall spoke first. “You . . . spoke to him?”

  Sandis nodded. “When Oz summoned Ireth last night, I saw him. Briefly. Jachim was right. He’s in the ethereal plane. With the numina.” What was it like, the ethereal plane? She had only seen Rone surrounded by swirls of color, like paint dripped into stale water. “He said Kolosos is making pillars there. That it needs gold. That it wants to merge the planes.”

  Triumvir Holwig shook his head. “A fever dream.”

  “Vessels don’t dream,” Sandis and Oz said in unison, both their tongues sharp. Clearing her throat, Sandis added, “Not when numina take their bodies. It’s . . . hard to explain.”

  Triumvir Var shook his head. “This is preposterous.”

  Sandis stood, light-headedness be damned. “Rone will strike Kolosos tonight with an army of numina. We must strike at the same time with everything we have. This cannot be negotiated. I can’t send a message to him to change our plan.” Not if she wanted to be awake for the battle. She stared hard into Triumvir Var’s eyes. “We have until midnight to ready your forces. Our forces.” She glanced to Oz. “We have to be ready for Kolosos and hold nothing back.”

  “Attack Kolosos from both planes,” Oz said softly. “I don’t know . . . It might work.”

  “We need Franz,” Triumvir Peterus murmured.

  “Wake him,” Triumvir Var replied, and Triumvir Peterus abandoned the table, his stride quick.

  Triumvir Holwig picked at a scab on the side of his nose. “This sounds like a fancy. No one has claimed to see inside the ethereal plane before. Why now?”

  “No one has summoned Kolosos before this, either,” Sandis snapped. This man didn’t understand any of it. He just saw monsters and vessels, black and white. Enemies and instruments to be used. But there was so much more to them. All of them.

  Oz shrugged. “Rone doesn’t belong there. Maybe she was able to see him because he’s mortal. Maybe because of the bond he has with her.” He stuck a thumb in Sandis’s direction.

  Sandis leaned forward. “What other choice do you have? Your army dwindles by the night. This is our best chance.”

  Triumvir Var didn’t meet her gaze. “We have the vessels.”

  Sandis shook her head. “Five vessels aren’t enough—”

  Oz looked away, his jaw tight.

  Sandis’s heart sank. “You’re making new ones.”

  The triumvirs and Oz didn’t answer. High Priest Dall, scowling, said, “It was not a unanimous decision.”

  “This,” spat Triumvir Var, “is not a country run by council. You forget your place.”

  Sandis might have wept, were her eyes not so dry from possession. “They’ll take weeks to heal!” Sour memories surged forward, of her lying on a bed, her back swollen and burning, healing from her brands while Zelna wiped pus from the wounds. “Dresberg will be destroyed by then!”

  Triumvir Var’s palm slapped the table. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

  “These people are not your slaves!” Sandis matched his volume. “We are not your slaves!”

  “I am using every resource I have to defeat this monster. I am giving everything!”

  “Then trust me.” Sandis’s voice bent in her throat. A hard knot formed there. She held the old man’s gaze, taking a few seconds to regain her composure. “Trust Rone. We’ve been fighting Kolosos since before you knew what it was. If we ever had a chance, this is it.”

  Triumvir Var’s jaw clicked as it moved back and forth. Sandis felt the high priest’s eyes on her. Triumvir Holwig watched Triumvir Var, and Oz stared beyond them all, his hands gripping the edge of the table.

  “She’s right.”

  The new voice startled Sandis. She turned, expecting to see Triumvir Peterus with Jachim, but it was the Angelic who stood in the doorway, his white clothes stained with ash, his face heavy with new wrinkles. A wisp of white hair poked out from his lily-crested hood.

  The Angelic closed his eyes. “This war is twofold. It is not merely among mortals. Even as we speak, it rages on. And if the battle on the ethereal plane fails, we fail as well. We must be ready to strike with our allies.”

  High Priest Dall stood. “What are you saying?”

  The Angelic opened his eyes, but he did not look at his subordinate. He focused on Sandis. She saw the strain in his face, the weariness. His emotions ran deeper than those that haunted Triumvir Var. This seemed personal. Did Adellion Comf fear for his son, or for something else?

  Sandis didn’t get the chance to ask.

  “Get the men ready,” Triumvir Var said. “Call back Istrude. I want those pillars taken down. His men can rest when the demon is dead.”

  Triumvir Holwig stiffened. “You’ll be fighting with exhausted soldiers, Boladis.”

  Triumvir Var stood to his full height. “I mean to use our resources, Mirka. Not waste them. And if we are wrong in doing so . . . we die either way.”

  Chapter 26

  Isepia was hard to see against the nothing sky, even with the demented “sunlight” glowing from Rone’s far left. If not for the pale skin of her head and neck moving against the patches of shadow, he might have missed her.

  She flew in a circle twice, that single wing somehow keeping her aloft, and took off toward the north, if Rone were to guess.

  Two circles. She’d found a pillar, then. Navigating this place was ann
oyingly hard. Everything looked the same, though the numina seemed to understand it. After a couple thousand years, Rone supposed he’d begin recognizing random block formations and clusters of stars, too.

  Iihedoh—the deformed hornet—took off after her, its split wings thumping more than they buzzed. Mahk’s massive body floated behind. Rone would think that Pesos, the cloud with tentacles he still found hard to look at, would be able to fly as well, but it had yet to rise from the glassy ground. Instead, it—though he was fairly certain Pesos was a she—crawled forward like some sort of sea creature, its body half rolling with every flopping appendage. Drang moved beside Pesos, hackles raised as though impatient to use its—her?—speed.

  Any numen, for the short time they had been part of Rone’s life, had always been “it.” Knowing what he did now, it felt strange not to know who they once had been. Ireth and Kolosos were both male. Isepia was obviously female. Unaresa—the serpent—seemed female as well. He’d asked, once, and gotten silence as a response.

  He supposed it didn’t matter. What mattered was slowing down Kaj and giving the mortal world a second to catch up.

  The numina surged forward, following Isepia’s path. Ireth lingered behind, his fire tamer than usual, emphasizing the burnt silver shape of his body. His black eyes met Rone’s. She is afraid.

  “We all are.” Rone jerked his head toward the others. Ireth took off at a trot, keeping pace with Rone’s jog. Rone was the slowest of the group, save perhaps for Pesos. And he stayed slow, so long as there wasn’t immediate danger. His energy was low—a new normal for him, as was the buzz of the headache in his skull. He’d already lost weight, too, but his burns were less painful than they’d been.

  The pillar wasn’t as close as he had hoped; he was gasping for air by the time they reached it, and Rone took a moment to put his hands on his knees and scold his body into cooperating. After this, he would rest, and then he’d dip into the mortal world again. Find something meaty. Would the ethereal plane permit him to pull a whole goat through the divide? That would last him a while. All he’d have to do was cook it over Ireth’s tail.