He reached the clearing winded. It felt like he’d just run several miles. Stopping to catch his breath, he looked to Jataan and nodded.
Jataan transformed his Weaponere’s stone into a bow and he sent a whistler arrow into the air. Alexander began counting. When he reached one hundred, he crushed the activation stone for the explosive weapon and the world of time and substance shuddered. A deafening crack shook the trees, sending birds into the air and countless leaves fluttering to the ground. Moments later, stones began to rain down into the jungle, fragmented remnants of the once impregnable wall that had protected the fortress city for millennia.
“I’ll bet they didn’t see that coming,” Jack said.
Alexander gave him a little grin as he headed for Ratagan’s wyvern, opening his Wizard’s Den along the way for his friends. Jataan mounted up behind Horst and the pair of Sky Knights launched into the sky.
The scene of destruction that unfolded below them was awesome indeed. Where once a wall a hundred feet thick and a hundred feet high had stood, there was only a crater in the ground. A section of the wall several hundred feet wide was simply gone, blasted into fragments and dust in an instant. The men atop the wall were mostly gone as well. The few that remained were unconscious or so stunned by the force of the blast that they never even noticed Alexander float overhead.
He set his sights on the black tower at the center of the city, sending his vision forward to scout the rooftop and finding only Tasia and Anja, wings folded and waiting. Ratagan and Horst used every bit of influence they had with their steeds to get them to land close to the two dragons. Alexander and Jataan slipped to the ground and the two Sky Knights launched again.
Tasia transformed into a woman. Anja frowned, her great brow furling almost comically as she craned her neck to face Alexander.
“This had better work,” she said.
He caressed her snout and held out an oversized potion vial, placing it on her tongue when she opened her mouth. Tossing her head back, she broke the vial and swallowed it, glass and all.
Nothing happened.
“Why isn’t it working?” she said.
“You have to cast the spell, Child,” Tasia said. “The potion will provide the power, but you must guide that power with your will.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought about that,” she said, beginning to utter the ancient words, drawing on her natural connection with the firmament, augmented by the magic of Lucky’s potion. She finished the spell and still nothing happened. She was just about to protest when she abruptly transformed into a young woman.
She sighed. “It’s good to be back to normal again.”
“Don’t ever let your mother hear you say that,” Tasia said. “This is not normal. You are not a human, you are a dragon, and one day, you will have to face that fact.”
Anja frowned, looking down at the ground. “I know, but I don’t fit in as a dragon.”
“That’s because you’re not meant to fit in with humans—you’re meant to fit in with your own kind. Young Alexander is fond of the saying: Deal in what is. This is what is.”
Anja seemed to be searching unsuccessfully for some counterargument.
“She’s right, Anja,” Alexander said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “You’re a dragon and you’re magnificent. You should embrace your true nature.”
“But then I can’t stay with you,” she said.
“I know, but it would be for the best.”
“Maybe when this war is over,” she said, regaining her usual certainty. “Until then, you need me.”
“Anja, I will always need you, but not to protect me.”
Before she could respond, Alexander’s future sense ignited with warning. He whirled, drawing Demonrend in a fluid motion and throwing the blade before the threat had even fully materialized. It hit the wraithkin in the side of the head, burying to the hilt an instant after the demonically powered creation appeared behind Jataan.
Alexander retrieved his blade and opened the Wizard’s Den.
“Looks like they know we’re here,” Jack said, stepping out and tossing his hood over his head. Lita followed.
“Stay close and stay alert,” he said, heading for the staircase leading down to the top level of the black tower.
Chapter 35
“My dear Isabel, I hate to see you like this,” Phane said amiably. “It would be so much easier if you would just embrace it.”
Isabel ignored him, choosing instead to focus on the light within, even though that light was becoming more and more elusive. Azugorath was now a constant presence in her mind, not powerful enough to usurp her will without Phane’s help, but there nonetheless. Isabel felt dirty—unclean, as if her essential humanity had been sullied by the presence of such a vile creature in her mind.
Phane seemed to be enjoying her struggle, which made Isabel work all the harder to hide the deleterious effects that the Wraith Queen was having on her. Prior to leaving Karth, Phane had successfully transferred nearly two-thirds of his wraithkin to dependence on lesser wraith for their power, thereby freeing Azugorath to focus most of her dark will on Isabel. She knew deep down that her ability to resist was wearing thin, though she tried to avoid that truth lest her despair feed her nemesis.
The ocean voyage had been largely uneventful, at least as far as she was concerned. Phane traveled in the largest ship of his fleet, surrounded by a thousand smaller ships, each really nothing more than a giant canoe powered by one square sail and two dozen soldiers pulling oars. While crude, his fleet was effective, providing transport for three legions while dispersing them enough that any large-scale attack would do minimal damage.
Not that Phane cared about the lives of his soldiers beyond the power they allowed him to project.
As they made their way up the coast of Andalia, Tyr had joined Phane’s fleet with about a hundred ships of wide-ranging designs and capabilities. Isabel got the impression that he and his men were little more than pillagers and pirates, though they were able seamen.
When they neared the north coast of Andalia, the Babachenko had demanded that Phane give him a tenth of his fleet and soldiers to secure Andalia against Talia’s invasion. Phane just laughed. When the Babachenko pressed him, Phane flatly refused, offering to let the Babachenko have a rowboat to go to his countrymen’s rescue. Isabel found herself hoping that they would fight amongst themselves, but the Babachenko and his Acuna wizards acquiesced after Phane made it clear that he would secure Andalia on their behalf as soon as he had the Nether Gate.
Isabel had her doubts.
They’d made landfall on the Reishi Isle the previous day, the Regency soldiers working well into the night to unload the ships and prepare to march north. Phane had remained aboard his flagship with his wraithkin and his company of personal guards until his troops were ready to move. Now he was traveling in a large armored carriage drawn by six horses, surrounded by his wraithkin, his bodyguards, the Acuna wizards, and his three legions of soldiers. For the most powerful wizard in the world, he seemed a bit paranoid, which was perhaps justified given that he was also the most hated and feared man in the Seven Isles.
She kept Slyder out of sight and at a distance, observing their progress from the air from time to time, always grateful that the slave collar she wore didn’t interfere with the link she shared with her familiar. In many ways, Slyder had helped her maintain her sanity through the ordeal she’d endured over the past few months.
A horse rode up next to the carriage.
“Prince Phane,” a voice said.
Phane opened a window in the stout door.
“Scouts report that Prince Trajan is pacing us, along with a number of his men,” the soldier said.
“Ah, I wondered where he’d gone,” Phane said. “Keep an eye on him. If he attacks, kill him.”
“Shouldn’t we run him down, My Prince?”
“No, keep the soldiers in formation around me.”
“As you wish, My Prince.”
; Phane closed the window and sat back with a smile.
“I suspect that he’ll show himself in due time. As I understand it, he’s become less than rational, an unfortunate side-effect of the Goiri bone, no doubt.”
Isabel continued to ignore his attempts at conversation.
A journey that would have taken a small party two days took Phane’s army twice that. Isabel felt like she was traveling toward her doom, and yet, she found herself almost anxious to arrive. One way or another, her part in this war was coming to an end, and she was so tired of war.
When she wasn’t fighting Azugorath in her mind, she tried to focus on Alexander and her family, thinking often of her childhood in Glen Morillian. At one point she realized that she was reviewing her life, evaluating past actions, taking a survey of her experiences and facing every hurt she’d ever caused an innocent person … making an effort to atone for any wrongs she’d ever committed, even those that seemed minor in hindsight. On balance, she decided that she was happy with her life, proud of her decisions and her relationships.
Come what may, she had lived well.
When the carriage rolled to a stop after several days of travel, Isabel knew instinctively that they had arrived at their destination. She felt strangely calm, content even. She smiled to herself at the realization that all of her reverie about the past had left her feeling grounded and centered. She knew who she was, she was happy with herself. If death came for her, she would face it with a clear conscience.
“Prince Phane, we’re a league away, as ordered,” a soldier said.
He flashed her his boyish smile. “It won’t be long now,” he said, opening the door and stepping out into the afternoon sun. “Come along, I want you to see this.”
Isabel took a moment to stretch her legs, shaking them to get the blood flowing before scanning the surrounding area. She saw Lacy sitting in a wagon with her wraithkin guard and gave her a reassuring smile.
“Come on, I haven’t got all day,” Phane said.
Isabel obeyed, though slowly.
Phane just smirked at her impotent act of rebellion as he led her toward the van of the army surrounded by a cordon of a dozen wraithkin blinking out of and then back into existence every few steps. Even Phane’s personal guard, two hundred men and another two hundred women, didn’t seem to like the wraithkin. Phane ignored them all.
As they walked through the sparse trees and tall grass, the Babachenko came hurrying up, shying away from the wraithkin until Phane nodded for them to allow him to pass.
“May I ask what your plan of attack is, Prince Phane?” he said with exaggerated formality.
“That will depend entirely on how our adversaries respond to my first move.”
“I see,” the Babachenko said, falling silent for a moment before he began to speak again.
As he opened his mouth, Phane cut him off. “It’ll be far easier to show you,” he said with his characteristic smile. “This should do.”
He motioned for Isabel to come closer, then burned a magic circle into the ground around them with a word. His next spell took longer to cast. Nearly a minute passed before he spoke the final word. The air grew still and the ground trembled for a moment before the place beneath their feet rose into the air a dozen feet above the trees. Isabel was a bit startled by the sudden change in geography. In an instant, she was standing atop a tower of stone jutting up out of the ground at a slight angle, rising more than seventy feet into the sky.
From their vantage point, they could see the mountain where the Nether Gate was located.
“When I had my people abduct Wren from Blackstone Keep, I also had them take a spellbook—one that should be very near and dear to your heart considering it contains the spell that Cedric used to create Glen Morillian. I never could figure out how he did that. After reading his raise-mountain spell, I can’t help but have a newfound respect for him. It’s a pity really. As brilliant as he was, he caused so much unnecessary destruction.”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Isabel said.
Phane chuckled. “Don’t ever lose that, Isabel. I cherish your willingness to speak your mind. So few are willing to tell me what they really think.”
She just shook her head with a snort.
“Well, shall we begin?” he said, beginning to cast a spell. He spoke in a variety of languages, at times seeming to command the world itself to bend to his will, only to switch to another language and plead with forces unknown.
While Phane was occupied with his spell casting, Isabel sat down and tried to touch the spark of light within her. Though Azugorath was quiet, she wasn’t absent. When Isabel reached for the light, the Wraith Queen was there to block her, but that didn’t stop her from trying.
When the earth began to shake, she got to her feet to see what was happening. To her dismay, the mountain range that housed the Nether Gate began to move. The world itself seemed to groan as the mountain began to shift and shrink, sinking into the earth. Phane worked his magic for the better part of an hour, during which Isabel stood transfixed, not daring to look away, in awe of the power being unleashed. He was literally remaking the face of the Seven Isles.
The mountain slowly sank into the ground, leveling out the area around it and finally raising the Nether Gate to the surface, crushing or scattering Zuhl’s soldiers who were encamped near the entrance to the hidden fortress. When the world stopped moving, there was no trace of the mountain, no trace of the hidden fortress. All that remained was a level plain strewn with rocks and boulders, some as big as a house. For a league in every direction the ground was barren and flat. At the center was the Nether Gate.
Off to the far side of the newly formed plain was the vitalwood tree, still encased in the protective shield that Selaphiel had placed around it. Isabel was flooded with memories of her encounter with the tree. Even with all of the horrific events that had occurred in that peaceful, secluded grotto, she remembered the feeling of belonging and acceptance that she’d had in the presence of that most ancient tree.
She smiled to herself at the memory. It was one of her most profound and treasured experiences.
She noticed Phane frowning at her.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect you to smile when I cast this spell.”
She pointed to the tree. “There is light in the world that you can’t eradicate and it will always show people their true nature, it will always remind people that they can be more than they believe, that they can do more than they think they can. But more than that, it will always remind people that a child with a conscience is more worthy than a king without one.”
Phane snorted, shaking his head. “And here I thought you might be coming around.”
He spoke a word and the tower lowered back into the ground, leaving just a few misplaced stones as the only evidence that it had ever existed.
“General Hargrove!” Phane shouted.
Not a minute later, the general and an aide came riding up.
“Yes, Prince Phane.”
“Give the command to proceed.”
“As you wish, My Prince,” Hargrove said, bowing in his saddle before riding back into the main body of the army. It wasn’t long before Isabel and Phane were inside the armored carriage, rolling toward the end of the world as Isabel knew it.
They had traveled for just over an hour when Hargrove rode up to the carriage window and said, “Prince Phane, Zuhl’s forces have reached the Nether Gate.”
“Where are we?” Phane snapped.
“Less than half a league out.”
“Stop and set perimeter,” he said, turning to Isabel with a humorless grin and cold, dead eyes. “And so it begins.”
Isabel followed him out of the carriage, scanning the distance for the enemy as she stepped to the ground.
Phane stopped, looking back at her. “Come along,” he snapped.
Isabel held his stare for a few moments, obeying his command only after his temper began to show. Once again he lifte
d them both up on a conjured tower, well above the army. The field was littered with stones of every conceivable size and shape. Surrounding the Nether Gate was a regiment of Zuhl’s barbarians numbering in the thousands.
Phane’s army spread out evenly beneath the tower in all directions, forming layered cordons of protection, each of increasing power as they got closer to the center and the Reishi Prince. When Isabel realized that for all of his power, he was a coward at heart, she couldn’t help but smile.
He ignored her, his gaze fixed like a raptor on the enemy in the distance.
“My dear Isabel,” he said, his eyes never wavering from the Gate, “I have been waiting a very long time to cast this particular spell.” He stopped, staring off into the distance. “I envy you,” he finally said. “Your link to the netherworld is so extraordinary and so powerful … I never imagined what it could do, until now.”
He turned on her, lifting her from the ground with a gesture and walking around her until she was between him and the enemy in the distance.
“What are you doing?” Isabel shouted.
“Using you,” he said, binding her hands and feet in midair with circles of magical force, holding her in place, helpless again.
He began to chant as she struggled and railed against him.
Then she stopped shouting at him, calming herself and focusing on defending herself from the darkness that was about to come.
Phane spoke the final word of his spell with force, and the portal in her mind was torn open, flooding her psyche with cold darkness and empty despair. She heard screaming, visceral and primal. It took a moment before she realized that it was hers.
Sovereign of the Seven Isles 7: Reishi Adept Page 43
