“What?” Dormael’s voice answered. “I couldn’t summon the power to enter that storm if I tried! I’m spent!”
D’Jenn could feel something odd in the maelstrom of energy around Bethany and the Nar’doroc. Bethany’s magic and the song of the artifact were moving to a chaotic harmony, but a harmony nonetheless. One song played from the other, but the two were unmistakably linked.
It’s using Bethany’s magic against her! It’s why it only sings to wizards, and how it was able to trap her in a mental prison of her own making. It needs the magic to function, somehow. If Bethany can resist her, maybe the host’s magic is harmful to the artifact.
The Nar’doroc redoubled its efforts against Bethany, bringing the girl to a knee. She held on to the woman’s wrists, face contorted with effort, but D’Jenn could hear the strain in Bethany’s power.
It’s a parasite. It needs to be accepted by its host. Perhaps the thing fed upon magic, or its power was sustained by the magic of its host. Perhaps magic acted as a conduit for the creature, a way for the artifact to get inside the mind of its victims and blind them to its influence.
Or twist them to the same.
D’Jenn’s eyes went to the Source in his hand. What danger was the tick against the swatting palm of its host? The Nar’doroc was powerful—much more powerful than Bethany. What would happen if the scales were balanced?
D’Jenn hefted the Source. “Bethany! Catch!”
He tossed the stone as Bethany looked up. The warm feeling in his body fled with the stone, and D’Jenn felt the pains he’d gathered throughout the day rush to the surface. His knees buckled and his ribs stabbed his chest. He fell to the stone with a short, pained exclamation.
Bethany caught the Source, letting go of one of the woman’s wrists. The Nar’doroc pressed its hand back into Bethany’s shoulder, driving her further toward the ground. The cavern rumbled and the flames intensified.
Bethany paused as she caught the stone, a confused expression on her face. D’Jenn felt her power erupt like a thousand bright needles in his mind as she pulled magic through the Source. He made to cheer like a fool at a local contest but coughed blood onto the ground instead.
The Nar’doroc’s face twisted into a rictus of hatred. The woman bore down on Bethany, pushing with all her body’s weight. Bethany didn’t seem to notice the woman’s redoubled efforts. She stood, rising from the stone as if nothing were holding her at all. The flaming woman dug her feet into the floor, pushing with all her might, but Bethany was unmoved and unaware.
Bethany stared at the glowing stone in her hand, her expression full of wonder. The flaming hands of the woman tried to pull at Bethany’s face, but Bethany swatted her away with an irritated gesture. She mouthed something D’Jenn couldn’t hear and turned her eyes to the woman made of fire.
The flaming ghost froze as Bethany met her gaze. A new expression crossed her burning features: fear. The woman tried to pull away, but Bethany held her wrist in an iron grip. The Nar’doroc fought to free her arm, but it was no use. Bethany raised the stone in her hand, which made the woman shy away. They paused for a moment, and the features of the flaming woman changed. They melted away to reveal the face of a young girl. The woman’s form melted, shrinking down to fit the face it wore. It went to its knees and looked up at Bethany with a pleading expression on its face.
Bethany took the stone and jammed it to the Nar’doroc’s chest.
The fire around them reacted with immediate displeasure. It rushed in violent circles, making fluttering noises as it burnt the air with its passage. The ground shook with teeth-rattling force and light pervaded the cavern. For a moment, everything was blinding radiance and deafening noise.
It ceased with a reverberation like a sounding gong, leaving the cavern in quiet darkness.
Coughing echoed through the haze. D’Jenn had trouble breathing through the pain in his chest. Every one of his limbs were bruised and battered. The air was blistering against his skin, even with the sudden absence of the Nar’doroc’s fire. Wincing against his injuries, D’Jenn pushed himself from the ground.
“Bethany?” Dormael’s voice echoed in the darkness. “Bethany! Are you there?”
A golden light bloomed, pushing back the shadows. Bethany stood at its center, holding the Source over her head. She looked around and gave a short cry when she spotted Dormael. The two of them rushed into a tight embrace, which was joined by Allen and Shawna.
D’Jenn had no interest in hugs—he concentrated on trying to breathe.
Once she was through with his friends, Bethany came over to help D’Jenn stand. She paused after helping to pull him to his feet, then wrapped him in a hug just as tight as she’d given everyone else. D’Jenn winced at the pain but returned the embrace.
The Nar’doroc had reverted to its inert state. A pair of silver bracelets rested on either of Bethany’s arms, now as still as the air in the cavern. D’Jenn touched one of them, which prompted Bethany to pull them down her arms and drop them to the ground. The Source hummed in her hand, but after regarding it for a moment, Bethany offered it back to D’Jenn.
“You hold on to it, little one. I don’t know if I could handle touching it just now.”
Shawna approached with Allen and Dormael. Dormael’s face was twisted with pain and he was favoring one of his legs. He peered at the Source as he walked over, but kept his thoughts to himself.
“What happened there?” Shawna said. “How did she just—”
“Disappear,” Allen finished. Shawna gave him an irritated look, but there was more exhaustion behind it than anger.
D’Jenn shrugged. “I don’t know, but I have a few ideas.”
“Like what?” Dormael said.
“The Source compresses magical power and holds it for later use. Maybe it compressed her power, too.”
Allen looked at D’Jenn. “How did you know it would work?”
“I figured anything sturdy enough to hold a world’s worth of magic might be able to counteract the Nar’doroc.”
“But you didn’t know?” Dormael raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Source.
D’Jenn gave a tired snicker. “How could I? It was a gamble.”
“Gambling with ancient magic and vengeful spirits.” Allen shook his head. “What’s our grandmother going to say about that?”
“Is she trapped, then?” Shawna reached down and picked up the pair of arm bracelets, holding them at arm’s-length.
“She won’t wake up,” Bethany said. “I could hear it when she went. I don’t know if she can get out, but I don’t think she can sing on her own anymore.”
“Why?” Dormael regarded Bethany with interest.
Bethany shrugged. “I could always hear it singing—the fiega, I mean. Even when it was quiet. I don’t hear it anymore.”
A beastly call rose from deep in the city, echoing through the cave.
We need to get out of here.
“We should leave this place,” Dormael said, echoing D’Jenn’s thoughts. “We need to get to the summit.”
The mood was quiet as everyone gathered themselves. D’Jenn let Dormael carry the Source, as he was having trouble walking, and put the pair of armlets through his own belt loop. They were a sorry lot as they made their way back into the upper tunnel. Dormael and D’Jenn were both injured and exhausted, and Allen had taken a blow to the head that affected his balance.
It hadn’t affected his mouth, much to D’Jenn’s disappointment.
Bethany gave D’Jenn a silent nod when he caught eyes with her. She walked with her back straight, eyes scanning the shadows. Her face was perhaps haunted, but her expression was resolute.
D’Jenn’s thought of the burning apartment. What secrets had Bethany left in the inferno? If the truth was buried somewhere in Bethany’s eyes, D’Jenn couldn’t see it. Her face was as unreadable as ever. Perhaps he would ask her about it, but there had been enough excitement for one day.
D’Jenn turned his attention inward and left t
he ancient city behind.
Epilogue
Maaz’s shadow leaned over Inera’s shoulder.
“The spell traps the essence, you see, and directs it into the blood in the vessel. If you do it right, it is pure artistry. The distillation of life—of vitality—into a concentrated source. Brilliance.”
Inera stared in wonder at the contraption she and her shadow had constructed—a globe made of winding bars of steel. It stood in the center of a candlelit room she had commandeered from a family in the slums of Bureva. The original occupants were dead.
In the center of the globe hung a naked, screaming woman. She struggled against the rope tying her ankles to the top of the globe, which made the veins stand out against her reddening forehead. Inera’s shadow flitted about the fringes of the contraption. Inera approached the globe and ran her eyes over the glyphs in the surface of the steel, checking them one last time before she proceeded to the next step.
Maaz’s shadow sighed. “Examining your spell for flaws is a valuable task, but building it correctly from the start is much more valuable.”
Pain blossomed in every bone of Inera’s body. She went to her knees, uttering an involuntary gasp. She sucked in her breath and sought silence as the pain continued. Maaz never stopped until she was silent.
“Yes...Lord!” The breath seized in Inera’s chest.
The pain ceased. Inera rose, hiding her discomfort from her master. Maaz would punish her further if he sensed weakness—she had learned that long ago.
“Study harder.” Maaz turned his back on her and walked around the globe. “If your magic fails, it’s because you are a failure.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“Attend.” Maaz gestured to the woman hanging in the globe.
Inera turned to the whining wretch, who hadn’t stopped making noise since she’d awakened. Inera had hoped the insufferable cow would go hoarse at some point, but her voice was as strident as a screeching bird. Inera had no fear of being overheard—her magic held the noise inside the building—but the woman’s constant whimpering was driving Inera mad.
“You must drain the subject while they still live. If you kill them first, or maim them, the magic will not cling to their essence.” Maaz walked around the globe, peering at the struggling woman with his liquid-black eyes. “You must monitor your catch and watch for the moment of death. The last drop of living blood is what you want. The creatures need to be alert when you drain them. If a drop of dead blood contaminates the vessel, it corrupts the entire endeavor. Even the cage is useless afterward. Do not let your incompetence ruin these preparations. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Lord.”
“This is the first of your collection?”
“Yes, Lord. I completed the globe this morning. This quarry was a lucky catch.”
“Surprisingly enough, you’re on schedule.”
That was as close to praise as she ever got from him.
“How many do I need to drain before we can move to the next phase?” Inera felt a quiver of excitement in her stomach—an echo of her master’s emotions traveling through the Bond of Servitude. Inera curled her left hand into a fist, hiding the shortened nub of her left index finger. Beyond everything else—the pain, the ill treatment, the abandonment of her former life—having his emotions violate her being was repulsive.
“You will need ten vessels to see this done, Inera—ten properly drained vessels. Have you chosen a site?”
Inera’s eyes turned in the direction of the city’s center, as if she could see it through the wall.
“The castle,” she said. “I’ll plant the seed in the Duke’s personal chapel to the gods.”
“How poetic of you.” Maaz regarded her with suspicion. “You are certain the place will serve?”
Inera nodded. “When the curse falls, it will take the city’s leadership in the first sweep. By the time the Emperor storms Bureva, it will be too late. I will be in position and ready for the next phase.”
Maaz gave her a cold smile. “The curse will take much more than the city’s leadership, Apprentice. I am satisfied with your preparations. I trust you will handle this with more care than the debacle in Ishamael. You would not survive risking my disappointment a second time.”
Inera’s stomach fluttered. “I won’t fail you, Lord.”
“Good. Do not let yourself be seen while you’re draining these chattel.” Maaz gestured at the woman hanging in the globe. “From this moment on, you are to remain hidden. Anyone who discovers you must die.”
Inera hesitated before speaking. “The Emperor will wonder where I’ve gone.”
“That is not your concern.”
“Yes, Lord.”
Maaz hovered over the woman in the globe, his black eyes crawling over her naked form. The foolish cow was uttering a string of sobbing pleas, but Maaz showed no reaction. His attention was analytical, like a surgeon deciding which limb to remove.
Inera cleared her throat. “Lord, what is to be my place once the plan is complete?”
Maaz turned his reptilian gaze upon her. “Your place?”
“When we have the Emperor’s artifacts. What happens next?”
Maaz stared at her for a long moment, his expression as opaque as the darkness in his eyes. Inera thought he was going to punish her again, but instead, he looked back to the sobbing woman inside the twisted steel globe. After another pause, he turned and faced Inera.
“You are free to proceed,” he said. “Contact me when the curse has been released.”
His body disappeared like smoke blown by the wind.
Inera stifled a bout of rage as his presence fled. The woman in the globe sobbed and pleaded, but Inera ignored her foolish sputters. She stared at the place her master had been standing and ground her teeth in thought.
He will try to kill us.
Inera didn’t bother to look at her own shadow. She could feel its presence over her shoulder and hear its whispers in her Kai. She knew the truth of its warning.
“He’s killed others,” Inera said. “I can hear it in the song of his magic.”
We must become stronger.
“He’s been alive far longer than me. I have taken the Bond from him. I couldn’t kill him if I tried.”
Purge yourself of such weakness. All bonds can be broken. All things can be destroyed.
Inera paused. “The Bond can be broken?”
It will not be easy. You must embrace our path before it can be done.
“Embrace our path.” Inera let out a derisive snort. “I have given everything.”
You have given excuses.
“Excuses?”
Even now, you bow to the weakness inside you.
“How?”
I can feel your reluctance when you look upon the creature in the globe. Weakness.
Inera turned her eyes to the sobbing wretch. The woman had given up her pleading. She hung, upside down, with her hands over her face. Despite Inera’s protests to her shadow, there was a part of her that found the whole thing distasteful.
“I don’t have to enjoy this the way he does. I don’t have to revel in it.”
You must not cow from it. True power comes at a cost.
Inera looked down at the pallid skin on the backs of her hands. She’d never had a sun-browned complexion, even when she’d been hale. The color she bore now was devoid of all vitality. She looked like a dancing corpse and she knew it.
“I know the cost.”
Then pay it. You know what is coming, what he plans to do. Your weakness will not serve us. Purge it and rise.
Inera’s gaze fell on the crying woman.
“I am not afraid of this.”
Then show me.
Inera sighed. “Very well.”
Summoning her Kai, Inera walked to the edge of the globe and stood where she could observe the woman. She wrapped her Kai around the prisoner’s wrists and stretched them toward the bottom of the globe, where a jar was ready to receive the blood. The woman cri
ed out as she looked toward the jar’s open mouth.
“Please!” The cow struggled against Inera’s Kai, but it was no use. “Please! I have a daughter! Please!”
Show me.
Inera sliced the woman’s wrists and watched as blood drained into the jar. The woman tried to struggle, but Inera held her body in a firm magical grip. The creature pleaded and wept, but her resistance died as the blood drained from her wrists.
When it was done, Inera felt nothing.
***
“Right of discovery?” Lacelle snorted. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“I’ve realized why you hate Hamarin so much.” D’Jenn shifted his seat, holding his breath as his ribs gave a pained protest. It had taken weeks to escape the mountains, and D’Jenn’s body hadn’t taken the climb well. Even in this disembodied place, where physical sensations were a distant echo, he could feel the pain of his injuries.
“Are you alright? You look like you’re in pain.”
D’Jenn nodded and waved away her concern. “I’ll heal.”
“You should eat something.” Lacelle gave him a motherly smile. “Get some rest.”
D’Jenn smiled in return. “I will.”
“I’m not surprised to learn that Hamarin tried to keep the ancient city a secret. I told you he was not to be trusted. Loot was ever his primary concern.”
“How do you know so much about him?”
Lacelle sighed. “I wrote a critical essay of his travels years ago. It was one of those busy-work assignments masters give to their pupils when they can’t think of anything else. I dug up everything I could find on the man. Did you know he was murdered?”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
“Stabbed to death over a personal dispute.”
“What about Lorian Dovich? His name was also on the plaque in the bottom of the temple.”
“Lorian Dovich traveled with Hamarin more than once. He died on a separate expedition—buried in a mudslide, I believe.”
“Maybe our boy Hamarin killed him and cooked up that story,” D’Jenn said. “Maybe he didn’t want to share the spoils.”
“That does sound in line with his character. Speaking of spoils, what are you going to do with the Source?”
The City Under the Mountain Page 44
