He was still laughing when he saw the white-winged Acolyte—was it a woman?—swoop down from the sky, wings extended like white knives. She cut easily through the smoke, unharmed by it. There was something black and ugly strapped to her face.
“What in the gods…” Iolus started to say.
He knew enough about human military history to identify the thing on her face. Clever. He hadn’t even considered the possibility.
It was a gas mask. The rebels weren’t below him—they were above.
Before he could muster his wits and cast a protective spell, or swing his levathon away, the woman’s shoulder crashed into his chest. There had been a white handkerchief in her hand, he was sure of it.
She had slammed him off Tyridius and now both Acolyte and Savant plunged through layers of smoke toward the forest. Iolus struggled but the woman was strong. He tried to tear the mask off her face. When that failed, he tried to light himself on fire using a defensive elemental spell. But the woman was as quick as she was strong. She clamped one arm around his neck and used the other hand to smash the wet handkerchief against his nose and mouth.
He smelled chemicals. He struggled.
Then the world darkened as he went limp in her arms.
CHAPTER 36
Behind closed eyes, Iolus could smell wet leaves and rotting wood, the fresh smell of a living forest after rainfall. The air was cool and moist against his face, tempting him with the promise of drinking water. He had to get the taste of smoke and chemicals out of his mouth.
He opened his eyes. The forest was shady, quiet except for the crooning of toads and insects. A swamp lay nearby; he could smell it. The place stank. No sunshine, only a dull grayness that failed to create shadows on the ground. There was no smoke in the air, which meant he was far from the battle.
The thought jolted him upright. He had to get back to his men.
But where was the Acolyte woman?
There, sitting against a nearby tree, her soft-looking white wings tucked behind her like a giant pillow. When he saw her, Iolus reached forward with both hands, fingers bent into claws.
A series of clanks as something held him back by the wrists and neck. He had been stripped of his armor and wore only the simple uniform of the emperor’s army. There were metal cuffs on his wrists, legs, and neck. Looking behind his shoulder, he saw that he had been chained to a large boulder not originally from this forest.
“Don’t struggle,” she said. “It’s Tiberian steel. Oh, and your magic won’t work in this forest, in case you were thinking of lifting the boulder.” She looked up at the overhanging branches and leaves. They shushed quietly, without a care in the world. She had brought him to Okki Forest, which was supposedly haunted, though of course Iolus did not believe in such things—unless low magic was involved. But she had brought him here for a reason, and now his curiosity was greater than his anger. He settled back against the rock and took a moment to admire the woman’s beauty.
She wore a simple suit of pale leather, Garshlocon hide probably—strong but light enough for an Acolyte about to embark on a long flight. The leather had been shaped to hug her body, and Iolus wondered if the woman had purchased the set from the woodwingers living in the northern forests of D’Aliara.
Hair the color of chestnuts streamed down over her shoulders, slightly twisted as if she had just loosened it from the tight bun of before. Her face tapered down to a narrow chin from a set of eyes that seemed larger than normal. They were a soft brown, and the lashes were dark and thick, adding an aristocratic fineness to her features. Her body was no less impressive—shapely and strong. This woman could have been a beauty queen in Theus just as easily as a sprinter in the Athalon Trials.
“Who are you, woman?”
She smiled, but there was no mirth in the expression. “I’ve never seen your face, and so I’m not surprised you’ve not seen mine. The difference is, I know exactly who you are.”
“Wait.” He jerked his arms forward, making a loud clanking noise with the chains. “I know who you are. Zandra, daughter of Aliara, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
Her voice was high and melodic. Standing tall, she looked down at him with scorn, wings expanding behind her shoulders. She stretched them to their widest.
No other Acolyte would have been able to match her wingspan. She was truly the daughter of Aliara—a demigoddess.
Iolus would have risen, but the chains around his ankles held him back. He clenched his teeth and curled his fingers into claws.
“I’m going to get you, woman. I swear it on the blood of the five gods.”
There came a rustling of leaves from above, followed by the snapping of branches as something landed between them with a loud thump. It was a man in armor, and with all the grace of a seasoned acrobat, he rose to his feet and tipped his head back. His armor was black plate speckled with red, like burning lava coursing down the side of a volcano. His spiked black-and-red helmet made him look like a demon.
“Pertheon,” Iolus said. “Thank the gods! Kill the woman and get me out of these chains, quick!”
Pertheon stood at full height, shoulders broad and straight. He was tall, even for a Sargonaut. He pulled off his gauntlets and tossed them aside. His skin was light brown from training long hours in the sun. From here, Iolus could make out every tendon and vein in the man’s neck, which seemed to be as thick as a pillar. A rush of confidence and affection surged inside him. Pertheon, his best friend—his brother!—was here to rescue him.
Instead of attacking the woman, Pertheon peered down at Iolus through the mask. “This is going to sting.”
Iolus could only gaze up at him in confusion.
“What…”
Pertheon removed his helmet, revealing the square jaw and serious features of the man Iolus had trusted for years. He looked down at the helmet in disgust and tossed it aside.
“I hope I never have to wear that thing again,” he said.
He turned and looked at Zandra. A smile spread across the Acolyte woman’s face. She ran toward Pertheon and draped her arms around his neck, having to rise on her toes to do so. Their lips met, and the kiss was a hungry one.
“There will be more of those later,” she said.
Iolus balled his hands into fists. “You’re not Pertheon. You’re not the man I once called brother. No, you’re something else. A traitor. A liar and a cheat. Yes, it comes so easily, doesn’t it? I saw you lie with women in my keep. I gave them to you by the dozens. I watched you dishonor your wife again and again, roaring with pleasure.”
The man who was not Pertheon looked at Zandra. Her smile widened.
“I know, my love,” the woman said. “I received word from our agents. It was your celibacy and honor that helped you rise to your position. It was the reason Iolus loved you so much. Because you were nothing like him.” She looked at Iolus. “My husband is a real man, not the shadow of one. I hope you learned something from your time together.”
Iolus felt the skin around his eyes go tight with rage. His jaw clenched. It was true; Pertheon had been a man of prayer and dignity who had spent most of his time training with the sword and reading books on military strategy. The man had never even been drunk.
Iolus closed his eyes and turned away from the married couple.
How had he never noticed? How could he have been so stupid?
This was a new kind of pain. Part of him wanted to throw his arms around Pertheon and beg him not to do this. At the same time, Iolus wanted to break the man’s face for making him feel this vulnerable. He pushed the pain down into the deepest part of him and looked up, his face as hard and cold as a steel plate.
“Maximus,” he said. “I knew I would meet you someday. I truly thought I would be the one to kill you, not the other way around.”
Maximus, son of Sargos, approached Iolus, got down on one knee, and rested a heavily muscled arm on the other. He sighed.
“I don’t like this any more than you do, Iolu
s. I’ve spent the past six years living a lie so I could get close to you. I barely saw my wife, and I had to fake my own death so as not to risk any of my own men turning coat and exposing me. And now…”
“Save the lecture,” Iolus hissed, doing so with such venom that Zandra was forced back a step.
“It’s okay,” Maximus told his wife. “He’s afraid.”
“You don’t know what fear is.” Iolus glared at Maximus from beneath eyebrows that hung heavy with rage. “Go ahead and kill me. You can’t do much else. The people want our rule. They want to be slaves.”
Maximus shook his head. “I’m not going to make a martyr out of you. Instead, I’m going to reason with you. I’m going to show you why you should fight alongside me, and continue to be my brother.”
Iolus looked away. He didn’t want to admit how good the words made him feel. The thought of having Pertheon as his friend and brother again—
“Never,” he said, swinging his head up in order to give the man his most vile look. “I would rather be burned at the stake and sent down into the deepest, darkest pits of the underworld.”
Maximus gave him a smile full of pity.
“You don’t want to die,” he said. “You just want to be loved.”
ENERGY SIZZLED from the web Kovax had spent the past fifteen minutes weaving.
It hung flat against the air like a network of white scars against an invisible body. Basher thought it looked flimsy and fragile, but he knew the opposite was probably true. It was always that way with dark magic.
“So, what happened?” Basher said, leaning forward. He sat cross-legged on the ground, not caring how childish he might look. Coscoros stood against a nearby tree, draped in shadow, arms crossed as if disinterested. And yet he stole glances at Leticia every few seconds.
The spell lit half of the woman’s face. The other half was dark, except for the orange crescent of her eye. It glowed with the intensity of a burning coal.
“He was never the same after that,” she said.
Coscoros uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on his hips. “I take it they imprisoned him? Even Maximus wouldn’t have been foolish enough to try and change Iolus.”
“No. They put him in a prison cell deep inside a mountain, and there he stayed for six years, in solitary confinement. Didn’t speak a word to anyone. Maximus gave him the opportunity to negotiate, but Iolus spat in his face each time. He was brave. When King Corgos disbanded the rebels and exiled Maximus and Zandra, Kovax broke him out.” Leticia’s eyebrows drew down in the middle and her lips parted, forming an expression of profound confusion. “I was with him after that, but only for a short while. That’s how I know what happened. But”—she closed her eyes against the memory—“he was a different man after that. A violent man. Cruel.”
There was a pause, and the three of them watched Kovax spin his web of energy. The low mage was in a trance, and they could hear arcane chants falling from his lips. A grinding, lisping sound, almost like a snake gargling rocks.
Basher turned to Leticia.
“I have to know,” he said. “Different how?”
Leticia studied the glowing web without speaking. Basher was about to ask again when Coscoros motioned for him to shut up.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” the Dark Acolyte said, clenching his wings together.
CHAPTER 37
When Kovax spoke, his voice was a dry hiss that seemed to come from the rotting leaves and twisted branches surrounding them.
“It’s time.”
After weaving the web of energy, Kovax used another spell to knit the brilliant lines together into a sturdy-looking rope, which he coiled and slung over his shoulder.
Coscoros, Leticia, and Basher stood by, waiting for his next command.
“Put out the fire.”
Basher did so with one massive stomp of his boot. Kovax looked at the Berserker, and the rest of the party could sense, by the shallow way he drew each breath, that he was exhausted.
“I need your strength.”
Basher nodded and helped Kovax hoist the glowing rope off his shoulder. He held it in his big, rugged hands as though it were no more than twine.
“Now what?”
“There’s a heavy part at one end,” Kovax said. “A bulb. I need you to swing it up at the shack. Keep doing it, as hard as you can, until something happens.”
Basher’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Hey, wait a minute. What’s going to happen?”
Kovax gave a cynical smile. “Those boulders will come crashing down on us, and we’ll die. Unless you can smash them.”
“Um—yes—yessir?”
Coscoros sighed. “What an adventure this turned out to be.”
It only took the Berserker one swing to break the invisible shield encasing the shack. There was a flash of white light. When it cleared, they heard a vast and terrible rumble—the sound of the earth about to split open at their feet.
“Your hammer!” Kovax screamed. He searched for Coscoros and Leticia, found them, and waved them over. “To me! To me!”
They gathered beneath the towering Berserker. Black chunks of rock broke off the side of the mountain and came crashing down, tumbling and skipping in the dark. Running would not have helped—the boulders were going to demolish the entire forest.
Basher swung his warhammer at any boulder that came close. The others clutched their ears at the horrible racket. Kovax stared down at the ground, his hand a tight fist over his heart.
This had all been so easy—so far.
BOOM! BRRRRSHH! The hammer shattered the boulders into chunks. Basher’s back and shoulders swelled. He looked huge in the dark, like a rock golem at full maturity.
“Hoooooo-weee!” he shouted. “Take that!”
Leticia cowered by Basher’s knees, stinger raised as if she could use it on the boulders. Coscoros had draped his wings over his body, cocooning himself in black feathers. Kovax stared at the ground and clenched his teeth.
After minutes that felt like hours, the boulders stopped crashing down and Kovax opened his eyes. The forest gave a low murmur as everything settled back into place.
“Is it over?” A hint of hysteria in Leticia’s voice. Her tail had wrapped around one leg.
“Not yet,” Kovax said. “Now, we climb. Basher, swing that rope again. The bulbous end will stick to anything it touches. Try and get it over the ridge.”
Sweat ran down the Berserker’s face and chest. He was taking deep breaths and grinning, eyes wide with delight.
“Was that it?” he said.
“That was the easy part,” Kovax said.
Coscoros stood, brushing dust off his wings. “Why can’t I just fly up there? I’ll attach the end of the rope to the cabin. I’ll even open the door for you.”
“No.” Kovax scowled at him. “We broke through his shield, but you’ll die if you touch any part of this mountain. That includes the shack. Now, shut your mouth and get back.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Leticia said.
“Not yet.”
Kovax nodded at Basher, who reached back and began to swing the glowing rope. Light and shadow flickered against his body. When he let go, the bulbous end flew up and smacked against the shack in a burst of sizzling light. It stuck, just as Kovax had said.
A reaction took place in which the bulbous tip turned red and a vile surge of scarlet energy began to flow back down the rope toward Basher. It happened in three blinks of an eye, so fast that Basher almost didn’t have time to drop the rope. The Berserker fell back with a shout.
When he opened his eyes, Kovax was holding the rope. The red energy had stopped at the low mage’s hands. The part of the rope swinging by his feet remained blue.
“Let me guess,” Coscoros said. “That red stuff would have fried him.”
“This isn’t a joke,” Kovax said.
He gave the rope a good squeeze and let go. The blue and red light merged and became a neutral white. They watched the rope disinteg
rate, its purpose complete.
“The mountain and the shack are safe now,” Kovax said, looking up at the small building. “I blew its circuit, as the humans would say.”
Basher grunted.
“You’ll have to fly us up there,” Kovax said.
Coscoros shrugged. “Should be easy enough.”
“That’s what you think,” Basher said. “I weigh over two hundred stone.” He pulled the warhammer back and rested it on his shoulder. “Might be too much even for you, Cos.”
Coscoros leaped toward the Berserker and grabbed the business end of the warhammer. The flapping of his wings tossed back the branches.
Basher, keeping a firm grip on the handle, kicked his feet in wild confusion as he was lifted through the air.
“Hey! What are you doing? Put me down!”
Coscoros laughed. “Hold on tight, you ninny.”
He lifted the Berserker, coursing in a zigzag pattern up the steep slope, and dropped him onto the ledge next to the shack. Then he dived back down to pick up the others. With a graceful backflip, he landed in front of Leticia.
“How about a lift, sweetheart?” He grinned.
Leticia’s stinger rose behind her, sharp and deadly, a tiny bubble of poison dotting the tip.
“I’ll be gentle,” he said. “I promise.”
She hissed. “No touching any part of me you don’t have to.”
“I’ll be a gentleman.”
He put his arms around her waist. She pulled her face away from his in disgust. His wings beat the air again, slowly at first, and then quickly as their bodies rose. The stoic look on Leticia’s face softened and she found herself staring into his black eyes.
“This is…” she began.
“Nice?”
She nodded and let her tail go limp and harmless. “Just don’t get the wrong idea.”
When they got up to the ledge, they saw that Kovax was already there.
“Sir, how did you get up here so fast?” Basher said.
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