Jamal is dead, he reminded himself. And I am alive.
He felt oddly at ease with Jamal’s death, even though part of him still wished he’d been the one to kill his brother. But if Dread had been right … killing Jamal himself would have been giving in to madness, to anger and rage and outright hatred. No, Dread had been right. He knew that killing Jamal would have been revenge, not justice. But where did revenge stop?
Cass tried to tell me, he thought. But would I have listened if she’d told me before she died?
Elaine shifted in her sleep, her bare breasts pushing against his skin. Johan lay back, cuddling up to her. There couldn’t be anything wrong with their relationship, no matter what society would say. The bond had only made it stronger – and given them the ability to combine their strengths into one. Even the Witch-King had been surprised, although he’d known countless magicians like Johan. Could it be that he hadn’t expected the bond? Could it be he’d created the taboo to prevent other magicians from forming their own partnerships? It made a certain degree of sense.
He felt the bond shift gently as Elaine opened her eyes. “Johan,” she said, huskily. “What time is it?”
Johan hesitated. They’d made love … how many times? He’d always thought that he’d remember everything, but that could have been nothing more than Jamal’s bragging to his cronies. He looked at the grandfather clock and blinked in surprise. Six in the afternoon? Really?
“Six,” he said. He reached down and started to play with one of her breasts. “I …”
“We have to get up,” Elaine said. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, tottering slightly. There were faint marks on her back and buttocks where he’d held her too tightly. “We’re due for dinner at seven.”
“We could skip it,” Johan said, mischievously. “I’m sure the Queen wouldn’t mind if we stayed away from her plans to seduce Dread.”
Elaine turned and gave him a long look – he had no difficulty in seeing that she was tempted – before shaking her head firmly. “We can’t afford to give offence,” she said, as she walked towards the washroom. “The Queen might be willing to cut us some slack, but some of her noblemen will see it as a deliberate insult.”
“So I left a Great House where failing to bow as you enter is a declaration of war and entered a castle where failing to attend dinner is a deliberate insult,” Johan said. He stood and looked at himself in the mirror. Elaine had left marks on him too. “The more things change …”
He raised his voice as she walked into the washroom. “When this is over, where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere nicely isolated,” Elaine said. “But maybe not too isolated.”
“Just the two of us on an island somewhere,” Johan said, following her inside. “It wouldn’t be bad, would it?”
Elaine gave him a tired smile. “Do you know how to assist in a birth?”
“No,” Johan said, reluctantly.
“Or catch a rabbit, or grow crops, or anything else we might need to survive,” Elaine added, dryly. She turned on the shower, then stepped under the water. Johan shivered in sympathy as lukewarm water cascaded down from high overhead. “We couldn’t survive on our own and you know it.”
“I suppose,” Johan said, reluctantly. He stepped into the shower, then held her as the water washed them both clean. “But it would be nice to be away from everything.”
He gave her a kiss as he climbed out of the shower and walked back into the room, where he found the clothes the servant had left for him. Magic must have been involved, he guessed, because the outfit fitted surprisingly well. The dark trousers and shirt made him look like a combination of magician and soldier. In some ways, he decided, as Elaine emerged from the shower behind him, it was perfect.
“It suits you,” Elaine said. She seemed oddly self-conscious about dressing in front of him, despite the bond; he turned away to give her what privacy he could. “But you’ll probably need something else for the descent into the catacombs.”
Johan shivered, despite the warm room. “Do you think we can get to him before it’s too late?”
“I don’t know,” Elaine said. There was a pause as she searched for a piece of clothing and pulled it on. “Clearly, there’s some reason there has to be an army occupying Ida before he rises from the catacombs, but what? Unless he thinks Ida alone can offer meaningful resistance.”
“If it was that easy,” Johan said, “why would he ever emerge at all?”
“Good question,” Elaine said. “And I have no answer.”
She paused, her breath catching in her throat. “You may turn around now,” she said, softly. “I’m ready.”
Johan swung around, unable to avoid sensing her nervousness, her fear that he would reject her. Elaine was wearing a long green dress that swirled around the stone floor, hiding her shoes from his gaze. It covered everything below the neck, hinting at her curves rather than revealing them, but it drew his attention anyway. He couldn’t keep himself from staring as she turned, the dress fanning out around her to reveal that she was wearing flat leather shoes.
“I’d prefer to wear something I could run in,” Elaine said, her cheeks colouring as she sensed his amusement. “I’d prefer not to wear a dress at all, but I wasn’t given trousers and I don’t have time to change yours.”
“You could ask for a pair,” Johan said. He hadn’t seen any maids within the castle, but he was sure a crowned queen would have dozens of female attendants. Charity had had nine and she’d kept them all hopping. “Or don’t women wear trousers here?”
“I can’t recall,” Elaine said. She stood on tiptoes, gave him a gentle kiss and then turned towards the door, just as the clock struck seven. Someone knocked as soon as the clock had finished chiming. “Shall we go?”
“If we must,” Johan said. He reached out and took her hand, then hesitated. “Should we be so close here? Won’t the Queen object to … you know, us?”
Elaine laughed. “They’ll know what we’ve been doing,” she said. She held up a mirror, winking at him. “That grin on your face gives it away.”
“Oh,” Johan said.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Elaine added. Her face twisted into a tart smile. “The kingdom has too many other things to worry about right now.”
Chapter Twenty
The Runnymede Gap had lasted for thousands of years, ever since something had rent the ground and created a parting in the very earth itself. Over the years, the Empire had bridged the Gap in a dozen places and a number of towns had been built at the bottom, isolated from the rest of the world.
It took the Emperor’s magicians twenty minutes to shatter both walls, collapsing the Gap into nothingness.
Charity watched, feeling nothing but numb horror, as magic tore through the stone. A dull rumble echoed through the air as the canyon shattered, great chunks of rock falling free and plunging into the Gap. Homes and farms at the bottom were smashed to rubble before the inhabitants knew what had happened, their lives snuffed out by the Emperor’s sorcerers. She turned, just in time to see the red-robed sorcerer collapse into dust, his work completed. The Gap had been closed. There would be no need to use any of the bridges to move the army on to Ida.
“Send the scouts forward,” the Emperor ordered, coolly. “Once the dust has settled, start moving the first regiments over the Gap and onwards to Ida.”
“At once, Your Supremacy,” General Vetch said.
The Emperor took one last look at the remains of the once-great landmark, then turned and strode back to his tent. Charity knew she should follow him, but she hadn’t been given any specific orders and so she remained where she was, watching as the scouts spurred their horses forward and over the debris. It looked like a giant bowl now, dust rising up as the horses picked their way through the broken rock, but they seemed to have no trouble finding their footing. And, this time, it didn’t look as though the makeshift embankment would collapse any time soon.
She closed her eye
s in pain. Was there anything that could slow the army down, let alone stop it? The Emperor had bridged the Lug and closed the Gap by sheer force of magic, unleashing the collected might of countless magicians. How could the mountains of Ida stand in his way, when he could summon earthquakes to smash them to rubble? He’d storm through the remains of the tiny kingdom and put its population to the sword, throwing its queen to the soldiers. Charity shuddered to think about what would happen to her.
A low roar echoed through the air; she opened her eyes and looked up, just in time to see a dragon flying overhead, heading towards Ida. By now, according to the reports, the entire continent knew about the dragons … and what the Emperor’s troops had done to every town and city that had crossed their path. It made no sense! Charity could understand crushing rebellious states – the Emperor would have to crack a great many skulls to secure his power – but why butcher entire populations that were no threat, that were prepared to submit at once without a fight? It was almost as if the Emperor was determined to push the entire world into revolt.
And with his dragons, he might well win a global war, she thought, numbly. The carnage would be horrific, of course, but the Emperor would have a decisive advantage. And yet, why was he making it impossible for potential allies to bend the knee to him? They’d fight if they knew they were going to be butchered, even if it was futile. They might take a few of the Emperor’s men with him. What is he doing?
Charity shook her head tiredly, wondering if she could force herself to the edge of the Gap – or what remained of it – and jump over the side. She didn’t want to watch as the army marched onwards, looting, raping and burning its way through anything in its path. But her body quivered at the thought, reminding her that her oaths prevented suicide – or any form of self-harm. She couldn’t even put herself in danger on the off-chance it might kill her. There was no way to escape the trap.
Another flight of dragons swooped overhead, their riders catcalling cheerfully as they flew over the marching soldiers. Charity watched them go, feeling a sudden flicker of envy, then turned and made her way back towards the tent. The first regiments were already on their way, crossing the Gap and heading on towards the nearest town. Behind them, the conscripts from a dozen towns and cities were following, their faces pale and wan. Several dozen had been crucified in the last couple of days for trying to desert, while others had been stripped and whipped around the camp for failing to meet the army’s exacting standards. Charity had a feeling that none of the young men would ever see their homelands again, although they were luckier than their womenfolk. Charity knew, all too well, what the army had done to them.
He’s being cruel for the sake of being cruel, she thought, as she reached the tent and opened the flap. She understood the need to make examples, sometimes – her father had been happy to punish his subordinates who didn’t meet their commitments – but the Emperor was being pointlessly nasty. It made no sense. Does he want to push them into rebellion or merely crush all that remains of the previous Empire?
It was a chilling thought. The army had rounded up and sacrificed countless magicians, slowly destroying magical society even as it tormented mundane society. And the Emperor held the Peerless School, as well as hundreds of children from the strongest magical bloodlines. Given enough time, he could make sure that magician training remained firmly in his hands; male magicians would swear loyalty to his bloodline, female magicians would be enslaved and turned into brood mares. Did the Emperor intend to provoke a civil war so he could use it to reshape the entire world?
She heard a muttering sound ahead of her and tensed, then pressed onwards. The Emperor was seated in his wooden chair, muttering to himself. Charity recognised a handful of words from one of the oldest languages in the world – it was said to predate the Empire – but she couldn’t pull them together into a coherent whole. Her father had tried to make sure that Jamal and Charity learnt enough to get by – some really interesting books were written in ancient languages – but neither of them had mastered more than the basics. It hadn’t seemed important at the time.
“Your Supremacy,” she said, bowing. “I …”
The Emperor looked up. His face was different, somehow. Everything was the same, yet there was a definite sense that he wasn’t quite the same person. Charity shivered – these attacks were becoming more and more frequent – and then she froze as his eyes locked on hers, holding her spellbound. His eyes narrowed, as if he wasn’t sure who she was, even though he’d been the one to enslave her. And then his eyes looked down at the map.
“Ida,” he said, clearly. And yet his voice was wrong, as if he’d forgotten how to talk. “We must get to Ida.”
“The scouts are already on their way, Your Supremacy,” Charity said, carefully. “They will reach World’s Gate and link up with the forces there by nightfall.”
“Good,” the Emperor said. “But it is already too late.”
He shuddered, suddenly. Charity wondered if she should call a druid, even though she was sure the Emperor would refuse to show any weakness to anyone. His entire body twitched – for a moment, she was sure he was going to be sick – and then he looked up. His face had returned to normal.
“Charity,” he said. He sounded normal again, as if nothing had happened. “What news of the scouts?”
“They’re on the way to Ida, Your Supremacy,” Charity said. But she’d already told him once, hadn’t she? It didn’t seem like the kind of news he’d want her to repeat time and time again. “They should be in World’s Gate by nightfall.”
“And the Head Librarian should be in their hands,” the Emperor said, his face twisting into an ugly leer. Charity felt another stab of pity for the Head Librarian and hoped – prayed – that she remained out of the Emperor’s clutches. “And then we will put Ida to the sword.”
But you said it was too late, Charity thought.
She kept that thought to herself. There was no way to know what was wrong with the Emperor, but as long as he didn’t ask her specifically she didn’t have to tell him. If he’d forgotten … it suggested brain problems, perhaps caused by overuse of dark magic. Who knew? Maybe she could take advantage of it. A mental collapse might well lead to his death, which would free her from her oaths. She could run before the army realised its commander was dead.
The tent flap rustled. Charity turned, just in time to see Moeder, the older woman who’d gone with Jamal to capture the Head Librarian. She looked … pleased, although there was no sign of either Jamal or the Head Librarian. Charity felt her heart sink as the woman bowed curtly to the Emperor, clearly unwilling to submit herself to him. She had to have completed her mission.
“Your Supremacy,” Moeder said. “I must report that the Head Librarian escaped and Jamal is apparently dead.”
Charity staggered, shocked. Her brother was dead? He’d been awful to her – and everyone else – and yet he’d been her brother! She stared down at her hands, feeling the weight of Jamal’s dagger in her belt. How could he be dead?
“Dead,” the Emperor said. His face darkened rapidly. “How do you know?”
“I forged a blood-link,” the woman said, coldly. “He died.”
The Emperor glowered at her. “Explain.”
Charity listened as Moeder outlined the entire story. The team had gone to World’s Gate, expecting to trap their prey when they walked through the town to Ida. Instead, the Inquisitors had made their presence alarmingly obvious and the blood-tie between Jamal and Johan had showed the latter heading away from World’s Gate. They’d gone in pursuit; Jamal had stayed behind to deal with Johan, while Moeder had gone after the Head Librarian and knocked her out. And then Johan had prevented Moeder from taking the Head Librarian when she’d escaped.
“You failed,” the Emperor growled.
“Only partly,” Moeder said.
She stood defiantly, as if she hadn’t failed at all. Charity felt her heart slowly climbing into her mouth. The Emperor didn’t tolerate failure. Moed
er was likely to wind up being tortured to death, or drained of her magic and thrown to the soldiers, or simply fitted with a slave collar and enslaved. And yet … the Emperor’s face shifted, again, as he clapped his hands to summon the guards.
“Take this woman to a tent and guard her,” he ordered. His voice was different too. “She is to be treated as a honoured guest, but not allowed to leave.”
Charity gaped as Moeder was pulled out of the tent by the guards. She was to be treated as a honoured guest, even though she’d failed? It made no sense!
“They escaped the trap at World’s Gate,” the Emperor mused. “How?”
Charity fought – desperately – to keep her mouth closed, but the oath compelled her to answer truthfully. “The Inquisitors made the trap obvious,” she said, damning herself to the deepest darkest hells. “Johan and his friends saw it before it could close and walked elsewhere.”
“So my tools are not as loyal as they should be,” the Emperor said. He didn’t seem to realise that Charity had noticed the loophole too, but maybe it was just as well. His low opinion of women might have saved her life. “They shall be punished.”
He stood. “We ride,” he ordered. “We will be at Ida soon enough and storm the mountains before the kingdom can organise a defence.”
“Yes, Your Supremacy,” Charity said.
The Emperor strode out of the tent and issued orders. Moments later, the remainder of the camp was hastily dismantled by the soldiers and loaded onto carts. The slaves followed, carrying vast quantities of material; the magicians brought up the rear, watching carefully as the carts carrying their supplies crossed the remains of the Gap. Charity watched an uncomplaining Moeder shoved into one of the luxury carts, trying to understand just why she was staying so calm. Didn’t she know she was doomed?
She mounted up behind the Emperor as he climbed onto a dragon and then ordered the giant beast into the air. It was colder now, Charity noted; the distant mountains covered with ice and snow. Perhaps Moeder and Jamal couldn’t be blamed for failing to realise how treacherous the landscape could be … she closed her eyes as it grew colder, trying to come to terms with her feelings. Jamal would have happily abandoned her to slavery, if the Emperor had kept his word, but she couldn’t have abandoned him.
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