Lena took a slow breath, as if marshaling her strength. “After Kiran escaped, Marten and I were working to discover a means of protecting Alathia from demons. I searched the Arcanum’s historical archives for any mentions of the creatures. I expected to have to sift through legends, traders’ tales, and the like for scraps of pertinent information. But in the letters of Denarell of Parthus, I found something far more startling.”
Denarell was Alathia’s founder; that much I’d learned while awaiting Kiran’s trial in Tamanath. Supposedly he’d been some big-name scholar in Parthus before he sailed over the eastern sea to Arkennland and convinced a straggling army of fellow immigrants to cross thousands of miles of plains, desert, and eventually the Whitefires to reach the verdant hills and rivers of the western coastlands. By the time Arkennland got serious about claiming more territory and Varkevia started pushing north, Denarell’s new-made country of Alathia was safely entrenched behind the magic of its famously impenetrable border.
Lena continued, “Denarell knew quite a bit about demons. At first I found only hints and oblique references. But as I pieced together clues from his writings and other sources, I began to suspect a truth I could hardly believe. Denarell bargained with demons for a source of magic great enough to power Alathia’s border wards.”
“You’re joking,” I blurted, hardly able to believe it myself. “Alathia’s wards are of demon make?” The hypocrisy of it was mind-boggling, from a country that acted like carrying a boneshatter charm was equivalent to slaughtering babies.
“The wards aren’t directly of demon make,” Lena said. “The spellwork is ours. But the power to fuel it is somehow linked to demonkind. When I told Marten my suspicions, he was startled, but not as skeptical as I’d expected. He told me he would investigate further. As Watch captain, he had access to areas I didn’t.”
Her voice grew tight. “He contacted me that night via a linking charm. He was agitated. So upset it was difficult for him to send coherent thoughts. You understand, that is highly unusual for Marten.”
I understood, all right. I’d only ever seen Marten’s mask of bright-natured cheerfulness shatter once. The day he learned his lover Talmaddis had betrayed him and was working with Vidai to destroy all of Ninavel. Ruslan had forced Marten into watching—no, more than watching, experiencing—Talm’s interrogation and mindburning at Lizaveta’s hands. My own hatred of Marten had died that day. I didn’t trust him, not one bit—he’d sacrifice anything and anyone for the sake of his country—but after seeing the raw depth of his pain, I couldn’t hate him as I had before. Yet even after Talm’s torture, Marten had quickly regained an iron control most men would envy.
Whatever he’d learned must’ve been one hell of a blow. That had me both curious and seriously worried. I leaned forward, willing Lena to talk faster.
Lena said, “Marten told me I was right about the wards. That wasn’t all he’d learned about them. I felt the weight of some other knowledge pressing on his mind like a wave he could barely hold back. But he refused to share it, saying if he did, the Council would be certain to execute us both. He said only, ‘The source of the wards is well protected. Demons can’t reach it, and neither can Ruslan. But I fear that Kiran may do what they cannot. If demons capture him—and they’ll seek him regardless of Ruslan’s intentions—then Alathia’s destruction will follow. You must ensure they do not find him.’”
“What? Why would Marten think Kiran could reach this source, whatever it is? Kiran’s not more powerful than Ruslan, let alone a demon.”
“I’m not certain,” Lena said. “Before Marten could say more, someone cast to destroy the linking charm. I learned afterward of his arrest. I tried to see him, but he was forbidden visitors and held in an area of the Arcanum guarded by our most powerful spells. I couldn’t even discover when he would be tried or on what charges. Many on the Council were not happy with his handling of our mission in Ninavel. I fear his sentence will not be kind, and by now, it may have been carried out.” She bent her head, her hands locking tight in her lap.
“Hey,” Cara said, gentle. “Don’t count Marten out yet. If anyone’s clever enough to talk himself out of trouble, it’s him.”
Talk. Ha. More like slither his way out. After all Marten had done to Kiran, I wasn’t too broken up over him getting a taste of the Council’s brand of narrow-minded injustice. But Lena’s loyalty to him ran deep—and for her pain, I felt plenty of sympathy.
“Cara’s right. Marten’s a survivor,” I said. Lena was silent. I forged on. “I get why the Council pounced on Marten, if he dug up some secret he shouldn’t have. But if what Marten said about Kiran is true, why are you here and not an entire company of the Watch? Seems to me the Council should’ve been panting to hunt down Kiran before demons could get him.” By hunt down, I meant kill. The Council had ordered Marten to let Kiran die from drug withdrawal. Actively murdering him wasn’t such a far step.
Lena said, “The Council didn’t hunt Kiran because they assume he summoned Ruslan the moment he passed our wards. They’re certain he’s in Ninavel at Ruslan’s side. That’s where they’re focusing their efforts.”
“What efforts?” Much as I detested the Council, they weren’t complete idiots. If they were trying some scheme against Ruslan, maybe we could use that somehow.
“The Council did not share their plans with me,” Lena said, and I wasn’t at all imagining the bitterness in her tone. “Both Marten and I were under suspicion in the aftermath of your escape. Even though the Watch’s top arcanists certified that my mind had been forcibly altered using blood magic.”
I glanced at Cara. “I hope you explained she was the one who insisted Kiran burn away those memories.”
Cara assured me, “I told her everything. I even let her cast a truth-tell on me so she’d know I wasn’t lying.”
Lena said, “I was relieved to know Kiran had not cast on me against my will. Of course, I didn’t know that in those first days. But I did know you had left with him. I was the one who argued to Marten that the Council was wrong about Kiran returning to Ruslan. I knew from our time in Ninavel just how hard you would fight to prevent that.”
An ache grew in my chest. I’d stopped Kiran from sacrificing himself to Ruslan, yet still, I’d lost him. My only hope was that the demon needed him intact.
“You think the demon took Kiran so it could make him steal the source of your wards?”
“Perhaps,” Lena said wearily. “I know what you’ll ask of me, but I must admit I’m not sure how we can find Kiran. We must hope he’s wearing his amulet, or Ruslan will have taken him long since. But if he does wear the charm, the amulet’s warding is so powerful no spell of mine can find him. Believe me, I tried when I left Alathia. The Watch had blood samples from all three of you, but even so, I failed to find either Kiran or you, Dev, which I hoped meant you remained at his side. Cara was the only one I could track.”
She stopped again, her eyes gone dark and distant. I could guess what she didn’t want to discuss: the terrible choice she’d had to make. Clear enough that the Council hadn’t given her permission to chase after Cara. She’d left anyway, and the way they’d see it, she’d abandoned her duty and broken her oaths. Even if we killed Ruslan and saved the Council’s collective asses, they’d probably still execute her as a traitor if she ever went back.
So we had best make sure her sacrifice wasn’t for nothing, and I had an idea on where to start.
“The godspeaker of the black-daggers knows plenty about demons and how to summon them,” I said. “I say we grab Gavila and hold a little interrogation.” If Lena was too squeamish to rip information from Gavila’s mind, I’d carve it out of Gavila myself.
Lena raised her head, but Cara spoke first. “I’m all for Dev’s plan, but you need rest before casting.” She cut a warning glance at me. “I know you’re desperate to find Kiran, but it won’t help anything if Lena collapses.”
“I didn’t mean right this instant.” Even if I wished Lena could
drag Gavila here this instant. But a creepy bluish glow still lit the distant rocks where we’d left the black-daggers. “Better if we wait until Gavila’s not surrounded by a horde of demons.”
“Good.” Cara leaned in and said low in my ear, “Careful with Lena. She’s the sort who’ll run herself right into the ground. You should’ve seen her when she found me and the kids in the Whitefires. She was half-starved and barely able to walk—she’d worn herself near to death, casting to speed her travel and hiding herself from the Watch.”
“Is that why you came south with her?”
Cara nodded. “I didn’t think she’d make it to Prosul Akheba without help. If she didn’t reach you in time, I figured it wouldn’t matter how far north I took Melly and Janek, we wouldn’t be safe. I had to make sure Lena found you. Especially after what she said about the spell Vidai left in you.”
A chill slid down my spine. Kiran had worried over my binding too. “What about the spell?”
I’d forgotten to keep my voice down. Lena said hoarsely, “I believe it to be a far greater danger than we first assumed in Ninavel. Consider this: demons seem to need the magic of confluences and currents as a fish needs water. That lets us avoid them by walking ground devoid of magic. But you are bound to Ninavel’s great confluence no matter where you walk.”
“You think demons could use the binding to find me? Spy on me?” Was that how the scarred demon had first found Kiran? Maybe it’d sniffed me out and then latched onto him.
“Perhaps even spy through you. See and hear what you do, touch your thoughts, while you—being untalented—might never know it. I must break the spell.”
Khalmet’s bloodsoaked hand. “How soon can you do it?” If I didn’t know she was near dead on her feet, I’d demand she rip the cursed thing out of me right now.
“I can’t do anything to the binding without studying it first.” Lena’s shoulders drooped. “I need a few hours sleep and then I’ll examine you. If you permit.”
“Of course I’ll let you. I’ll shut up so you can rest.” The sooner she could cast again, the sooner she could get the demon magic out of me. Not just for my sake—though that was plenty of reason!—but for Kiran’s. We’d never get hold of Gavila if her demon friends told her our every move. A thin hope, maybe, that we could use her to get to Kiran, but even a thin hope was better than none.
“I only wish I’d come sooner.” Lena’s voice was a rasp of a whisper. “I’m sorry, Dev.”
I couldn’t let that stand. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. You left your country, your friends, your entire life, and did your best to help us.” She’d done it for Alathia, not for us, but it didn’t make me any less grateful. “If not for you, I’d be mindburned right now. Instead, I’m alive and whole and I tell you, this isn’t over yet. I don’t care what that Shaikar-spawn’s done with Kiran. Even if it’s bad, and we can’t save him”—but I would save him, I would—“we’ll find a way to stop demons from destroying Alathia.”
“Thank you,” Lena whispered. Cara squeezed my shoulder in silent affirmation.
Teo cleared his throat and edged back toward me. “I promised Kiran I’d help you. I will not cast, but as a healer I can perhaps help Lena determine a way to break your binding without harming you.”
“I’ll take all the help I can get.” I rubbed a weary hand over my eyes. Lena wasn’t the only one dragging.
But that led me right back to thoughts of Kiran. Wherever he was, exhaustion would be the least of his worries—assuming he wasn’t mindburned or dead. Fuck, I shouldn’t think of that. Yet I couldn’t shut out the questions that kept circling like vultures. Where was he, and what was the demon doing to him?
Chapter Eighteen
(Kiran)
Kiran’s eyes saw only darkness, but his mage-sight insisted otherwise. A blindingly bright yet bizarrely frigid sea of energies seethed around him, as if he’d been plunged into an icy version of Ninavel’s great confluence. Ruslan was gone from his mind, the mark-bond a silent void, but he was far from safe. Wild currents crashed over him, sweeping away his defenses and ripping at his ikilhia. He struggled, drowning, his soul on fire with agony.
This is no refuge, he shouted into the storm. This will destroy me!
He couldn’t distinguish the demon’s aura amid the chaos around him, but its answer rang in his mind with brutal clarity. If you were purely human, it would. The brighter your souls, the faster you ratlings die in the halls of flame. But bound within you is a thread of the ssarez-kai’s strength. Use that thread, and you may survive. If you do not, then you are too weak to matter.
Frantic, Kiran demanded, How do I use it?
No reply came. He was dissolving, his self shredding away as surely as it would have under Ruslan’s casting. Terror and pain threatened to disrupt his remaining focus. A flash of memory whirled past: scorpion voices whispering to him in the temple, Yield to our fire, little rat, or it will destroy you.
Kiran abandoned his attempts to block the currents. He let magic blast through him like the howling, life-stealing winds of a blizzard, and plunged deep within the fraying flame of his ikilhia, seeking in a last, desperate effort for a spark of his soul that could survive the storm.
There! An azure ember that did not quail under the force of the power flooding him, but shone undimmed and undisturbed. If he could shelter behind it—no, within it—Kiran fanned the ember into a slender pillar of flame. Working with desperate haste, he coaxed that flame out and over himself to create a frighteningly frail shield around his ikilhia.
Maintaining the shield was a strange, difficult balance, like trying to turn himself inside out while simultaneously teetering along a razor-thin alpine ridge. But the currents parted smoothly around the slick of azure encasing him, roaring past without penetrating to the fragile flicker of his self. Pain and cold receded.
Ah, said the demon, satisfied. You are indeed our cousin in fire.
Kiran still couldn’t sense the demon. The currents pouring around him were too bright, a confusing, chaotic vortex that hurt to examine. He hadn’t the least idea of how far he was from lands he knew—and everyone he worried about. If Dev and Teo remained anywhere near the cave, they were in tremendous danger from Ruslan’s demon allies.
Panic crept up to eat at his concentration. Calm. He had to stay calm. Think as if this were a spell-exercise Ruslan had set him. Where am I?
The demon said, No place in the world you know. This is another realm, a higher realm, the land of ever-flowing fire. It touches your mud-lands in a thousand places, and where it touches, veins of power bleed through. You akheli splash about in the shallows of that power like clumsy children, using your channels and trinkets to manipulate what your flesh cannot touch. We gave up flesh long ago to claim this realm, and now its fire is our lifeblood.
Gave up flesh? The demon’s grip had felt as strong as any human’s. Kiran shook off speculation in favor of concentrating on the demon’s first words. If he were in another realm entirely, that explained why his mark-bond seemed blocked even without his amulet. It also explained the demons’ ability to walk untouched through wards and vanish as they pleased. They must be stepping from the human realm into their own and back again.
The cave—and Dev—could be as close as one step away. A step he didn’t yet know how to take, but…
Give me back my amulet. He could only hope the demon still held it, and that the charm’s spellwork had survived exposure to this cauldron of strange magic.
The demon’s voice in his head turned mocking. So anxious to return within your master’s reach? Our bargain is not yet done. I require payment for my help.
Your help? Kiran’s gossamer shield wavered and slipped under the force of his outrage. He hastily channeled his anger into mere words. You made sure Ruslan would turn all his will upon destroying me!
Exactly, the demon agreed. He will be distracted from his efforts for the ssarez-kai, while you will be prevented from reconsidering your allegiance. I know h
ow fickle humans are in their loyalties. You should thank me. I have made certain you can never crawl back to your master in a moment of weakness.
True enough that any chance of bargaining with Ruslan was lost. Kiran felt as if the very foundation of the world had skewed off-kilter. For all his insistence that Ruslan knew nothing of love, Kiran had believed it a fundamental truth that Ruslan wanted him. The changing of that truth left him deeply shaken—and bitterly ashamed of the strength of his dismay.
Calm, he reminded himself. Focus on practicalities. You spoke before of a bargain Ruslan made with the ssarez-kai, and Lizaveta confirmed he is aiding them. What help has he offered them?
An excellent question, the demon said. One I can only answer when I have the truth I have preserved you to find.
You don’t know either, Kiran said, realizing. The ssarez-kai are your rivals. You know they have some scheme, but you don’t know their intent, and so you seek to discover it. He didn’t wait for the demon to answer, but plunged ahead. You’re right to fear what Ruslan might be doing to help them. You seem to think little of humans, but I warn you now: Ruslan is so clever that the ssarez-kai will underestimate the depth of his cunning. Yet you proved with Lizaveta that in a contest of strength, even a master akheli cannot stand against a demon.
He charged his next words with all the conviction he could muster. If you want to be certain your enemies’ schemes will fail, don’t wait to discover their intent. Kill Ruslan now.
Kill Ruslan. Voicing it left Kiran dizzy, as if the world had wrenched farther yet out of true and sent him skidding toward some unknowable edge. He felt no satisfaction in Lizaveta’s death, only a numb, hollow shock. Imagining Ruslan dead—he could barely picture that. Yet to think he might survive Ruslan’s death and leave this demon realm to find his mark-bond broken, and Dev, Cara, and Melly safe from vengeance—that, he wanted too much. He was terrified the demon would guess the depth of his desire and twist it into a weapon against him.
The Labyrinth of Flame (The Shattered Sigil Book 3) Page 33
