It was Rkard who broke the astonished silence. “Jo’orsh and Sa’ram said I will kill the Dragon.” The boy addressed the advisors directly, utterly composed and confident. “But they also said I would need an army—an army of humans and dwarves.”
“Kled’s militia is prepared to fulfill this prophecy,” Neeva said. “After I learned of Rkard’s destiny, I summoned them to guard against attempts on his life. Even as we speak, they are at the Asticles estate, preparing to march.”
“And that’s why you have commanded Tyr’s legion to stand ready for action?” demanded Cybrian. “To give it to a child?”
“The legion will remain under Rikus’s command, as always,” Sadira replied.
“Speaking of Rikus, where is he?” asked Lady Laaj. “I’m sure that all of the advisors want to hear his opinion of this plan before voting.”
Sadira took a deep breath, knowing that her answer would send the council into an uproar. Still, she did not even consider concealing the fact that there were giants in the valley. The advisors had a right to know about any threat to Tyr, even if it meant it would be harder for her to get what she wanted.
“Well?” Cybrian asked.
“As they were returning to attend this meeting, Rikus and Magnus happened across some rampaging giants at our newest relief farm,” Sadira explained. “I’ve trapped the invaders for now—”
The chamber broke into a tumult as astonished advisors began yelling questions across the packed floor: “You mean half-giants?”
“How many?”
“What do they want?”
The wrab slithered completely into Sadira’s hand. The sorceress felt confident that it would rather have retreated to its lair in the ceiling alcoves, but it was too well trained to flee while a speaker commanded such rapt attention.
“Quiet, please!” Sadira shouted. “We can’t accomplish anything like this!”
The furor slowly faded to a drone.
As soon as it was possible to speak without screaming, Lady Laaj asked, “How many giants are there, and what are they doing so far from the Sea of Silt?”
“There are eight of them, and they want the Dark Lens,” answered Sadira.
“Then I suggest we tell the giants where to find it before they destroy us,” said Cybrian.
“I can’t do that,” Sadira said. “Not only would that endanger Agis—”
“Agis would be the first to sacrifice himself for the good of Tyr,” Lady Laaj interrupted. “Every noble knows that.”
“True—if his sacrifice would save Tyr,” Sadira agreed. “But it wouldn’t. Unless we kill the Dragon—”
“We won’t discuss such nonsense!” declared Cybrian.
“Would you rat her let him destroy the city?” Sadira countered. “Or are you willing to sacrifice a thousand lives a year to him?”
“Your scare tactics won’t succeed here,” Cybrian said. “We have nothing to gain by attacking the Dragon. He hasn’t been to Tyr since Kalak died.”
“That’s because Tithian has been paying the levy in secret,” Sadira replied.
“With what?” scoffed the templar. “His personal staff?”
“With men, women, and children kidnapped by his slavers,” said Neeva, stepping forward to stand at Sadira’s side. “They attacked our village less than four months ago.”
“How dare you speak such a lie?” Cybrian stormed. “King Tithian freed the slaves. He’d never—”
“He did, and I can prove it,” Sadira interrupted. She looked down at Caelum. “Open the box.”
The dwarf obeyed. A shriveled, ash-colored head with sunken features and cracked lips rose out of the box. It hovered in the air for a moment, its sallow eyes roaming over the assembly, then floated up to Sadira’s level.
Gasping in disbelief, the advisors pressed close around the sorceress’s podium, craning their necks to peer up at the disembodied head. Though many of the councilors had heard rumors that King Tithian kept a pair of disembodied heads as companions, few of them had ever seen one in person.
“Some of you may recognize the king’s confidant, Wyan,” Sadira said. “He’s the one who brought Agis’s signet ring to me.”
Wyan regarded the assemblage with a sneer, then rotated around to face Sadira. “What do you want?”
The sorceress nodded toward the crowd. “Tell them about Tithian’s slavers.”
Sadira did not worry that the head would disobey or lie. Wyan was one of the Dragon’s most ancient enemies, for Borys had separated him from his body more than a thousand years ago. Since then, the head had been condemned to a miserable existence where his sole physical pleasure was the drinking of warm blood. The sorceress had no doubts that Wyan would do whatever it took to destroy the Dragon, even if it meant betraying one of Tithian’s most carefully guarded secrets.
When Wyan did not speak up quickly, Sadira reminded him, “The sooner you talk, the sooner we can attack Borys.”
With a weary sigh, Wyan looked out over the advisors. “The king was only thinking of Tyr,” he said. “Anyone who thinks the Dragon would be denied his levy is a fool. Tithian did what was necessary to protect the city.”
The chorus of outrage that followed came mostly from the free citizens, but many of the guildsmen also added their voices. The nobles looked more frightened by Wyan’s admission than angered, while the templars quietly exchanged whispered comments of concern.
Wyan cautiously floated higher in the air, apparently fearing that one of the free citizens might try to hold him responsible for Tithian’s acts.
“Let me see if I understand this correctly,” said Lady Laaj. “You want the council to give you the legion so you can go off to battle the Dragon—leaving Tyr to defend itself from eight full giants?”
At this, the wrab crawled out of Sadira’s hand and launched itself into the air. For a moment, the sorceress didn’t understand why it had abandoned her, since everyone in the room seemed to be interested in the same thing. Then she realized that it was a matter of emphasis. Lady Laaj was talking about the defense of Tyr, while Sadira was still trying to convince the advisors to kill the Dragon.
Hoping the wrab would return to her, Sadira kept her hand in the air. “As I was saying earlier, I have the giants under control for now,” she said. “Before we take the legion out of the valley, they will be under control permanently—one way or another.”
The wrab settled on Lady Laaj’s finger. “And what if there are other giants?” the noblewoman asked. “The Dark Lens must be very valuable to them. Surely, they’ll send more warriors when these don’t return.”
“We should be back by then,” Sadira said, reluctantly lowering her hand.
“That’s not something you can guarantee, my friend,” said Charl, the guildsmen’s speaker. He shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, but what Lady Laaj says is right. It’s foolish to worry about the Dragon when angry giants are about to storm the city.”
The noblewoman smiled. “We’ll put the matter to a vote,” she said. “All those in favor of telling the giants where to find the Dark Lens—”
“There’s no need to vote,” Sadira said. With the other three orators supporting it, the sorceress knew without a doubt that Lady Laaj’s motion would pass. “I won’t reveal the location of the Lens—none of us will. You’d be condemning Agis to death.”
“You’d defy the council for the sake of your husband—the same husband who has lectured this body so many times on the importance of lawful rule?” asked Cybrian.
“How dare you speak to me about the law!” Sadira spat. “You’re only doing this because you hope to see Agis and Tithian dead. You want control of the council.”
“Maybe that’s true of them, but not of me,” said Charl. “If you defy Lady Laaj and Cybrian on this matter, you’re defying the entire council. You, more than anyone, should know that when someone of your power does that, the city is on the path to despotism.”
“Tyranny of the many is tyranny nonetheless.” Sadir
a hissed the words, spewing wisps of black shadow over the heads of those standing between her and the guildsman. “If this council betrays Agis, voting to do it together makes the act no less wicked.”
“We have already discussed the matter,” said Lady Laaj. “Your magic is powerful enough that the council cannot compel you to obey, but we can strip you of citizenship. Will you comply with the council’s wishes or not?”
When Sadira replied, her throat was tight with anger. “No.”
The sorceress stepped off the podium, motioning for Rkard to follow.
“What are you doing?” demanded Caelum.
“Leaving Tyr,” Sadira replied, starting for the door.
“But what about Rkard’s destiny?” asked the dwarf. “Jo’orsh and Sa’ram said that he would have humans as well as dwarves in his army.”
The sorceress cast a cold glance over the council chamber. “Apparently, those humans will not be from Tyr,” she said. “We’ll gather them somewhere else.”
“There isn’t time to find another army!” snapped Wyan. “The giants won’t be the only ones searching for the Dark Lens. Every day we delay increases the chance that the sorcerer-kings—or Borys—will find it before we arrive!”
Sadira turned around and faced the head, who was still hovering high over the free citizens’ podium. “We can’t have Tyr’s legion,” she said. “You can see for yourself we don’t have the votes.”
Wyan ignored her and glared down at the advisors. “The city was better off under Kalak!” he yelled. “We will have our legion!”
The head floated closer to the ceiling, placing himself directly in the sun’s rays streaming through the window. His shadow fell in the center of the chamber floor, covering the heads of more than a dozen councilors, and began to expand. Crying out in alarm, the advisors pushed their way into the gallery seats. As the floor emptied, the black shadow spread across the granite blocks like an ink stain.
“Wyan, no!” Sadira commanded, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. She had known for some time that the head could communicate with the shadow giants, the nebulous beings of the Black, but she had never before seen any evidence that he could summon them to Athas. “Stop!”
When Wyan did not listen, Sadira pulled a glass rod from her pocket and pointed it at him. The head’s eyes went wide. Before she could begin the incantation of her spell, he left the light and flew up into the murky alcoves of the ceiling.
It did not matter. The shadow on the floor had taken on the shape of a tall, thin man with ropy limbs. A pair of sapphire eyes began to shine from the head, and a blue gash opened where the thing’s mouth should have been. Sadira pushed Rkard toward his mother. The sorceress did not need to utter any warning, for both women had seen such creatures before. Neeva had fought a shadow giant named Umbra during the war with Urik, while Sadira had visited the shadow people’s home in the Pristine Tower.
As Neeva took the child, she asked, “Are you going to allow this, Sadira?”
“It’s not for me to allow or disallow,” the sorceress replied. “The shadow people are the ones who bestowed my powers on me, and my magic won’t work against them.”
“But you’ve got to do something!” Caelum said. “We need Tyr’s legion.”
“I have no way to interfere,” Sadira snapped. “When I can do something, I will!”
The shadow rose to its feet, taking on a full three-dimensional body as tall as that of a half-giant. It stepped toward Cybrian and Lady Laaj, who defiantly remained standing on their podiums.
“Your tricks won’t fool us.” Cybrian looked past the shadow to Sadira. “You won’t win your way with a simple illusion.”
“The Black is no illusion!” hissed the shadow giant, stretching a hand out to each of the pair.
Recognizing the voice as that of the chief of the shadow people, Sadira stepped after the dark being. “Khidar, leave them alone.”
“You are not the one who asked me to take them,” the shadow replied.
Khidar wrapped his sinuous fingers over the pair’s skulls. As their faces disappeared into darkness, the wrab took wing and disappeared into its shadowy lair. Cybrian screamed, then Lady Laaj, their voices harmonizing into a single, pained, fearful howl.
Sadira grabbed the arm holding the noblewoman. The shadow giant’s flesh felt misty and cold, and holding it was like trying to grasp water. Still, the sorceress came closer to touching it than most beings, and when she pulled, tendrils of the arm came away in her hand. The black filaments evaporated into the air, vanishing like a dawn mist in the morning sun.
Khidar’s murky substance continued to swallow the templar and noblewoman, slipping over their shoulders, then down their wildly thrashing arms. Finally, the shadow consumed even their hips and legs, and they were gone.
For all of her magical powers, Sadira was helpless to stop the shadow giant. Casting a spell against him would have been useless, like trying to pierce the sun with a ray of light, and she knew better than to try. If she accomplished anything, it would be only to enrage Khidar to the point where he attacked more councilors.
Instead, the sorceress looked toward the ceiling. Though she could not see Wyan, she had no doubt that he was still up there in the murk. “This accomplishes nothing, Wyan. An army coerced into fighting is an army of slaves,” she said. “You know that neither Rikus, Neeva, nor I will have anything to do with that.”
“Then let the council vote,” Wyan countered. “They can do it here or in the Black.”
“Why bother?” demanded Charl Birkett. He stepped onto the floor and crossed to Sadira. “You and your friends have the power to take the legion, whether we like it or not—but I won’t lend my name to a sham.” The guildsman spat on the sorceress’s sandaled feet and turned toward the exit.
Khidar blocked his path. “The council has not voted,” said the shadow giant.
Charl glanced over his shoulder and glared at Sadira. “Tell this thing to stand aside.”
“I had no respect for Lady Laaj or Cybrian, true, but this is not my doing,” Sadira said. “You saw me try to stop him.”
“I saw you pretend to try,” the guildsman retorted. “Do not take me for a fool.”
Charl tried to step past Khidar. The shadow giant raised a hand to stop him. Sadira lashed out, closing her powerful fingers around the guildsman’s shoulder, and pulled him back. She shoved him roughly toward the gallery seats, drawing a murmur of angry comments from the other advisors.
“I suggest you vote.” The sorceress looked at Khidar, knowing that by now Lady Laaj and Cybrian would be half-frozen with the cold of the Black. “And do it now.”
Without taking his narrowed eyes off her face, Charl growled, “All those who think we should give our legion to Sadira?”
“Aye,” came the response.
Though the chorus was far from deafening, Charl said, “The motion carries. Now can we leave?”
Sadira glanced up at the ceiling. “Are you happy?”
Wyan came down out of the shadowy alcoves just far enough to be seen. “Your duties are finished, Khidar.”
“What of the noblewoman and the templar?” the shadow giant asked.
“Keep them,” Wyan sneered. “They’ll serve as an example to those who cross me.”
“As you wish.”
The shadow giant began to shrink. He quickly lost his human shape and melted onto the floor like a puddle of black water. Sadira waited until his blue eyes and mouth disappeared, then dropped to her knees and pressed her palms into the center of the dark stain that had been Khidar. The cold she felt was not that of the stone. It was more bitter and biting, numbing her flesh to the bone and stiffening her joints so that she could hardly bend her fingers.
“Caelum, keep Wyan out of the light!” she yelled, not looking up.
“I’ll burn him to cinders if I see him poke so much as his nose out!” the dwarf promised.
Sadira uttered a string of mystic syllables, and her hands sank into t
he Black up to her elbows.
“Lady Laaj, Cybrian, take my hands!” Sadira directed her words at the floor and began to shiver as the circle of shadow slowly contracted around her arms. “I’m here to help you!”
Whispers of astonishment echoed down from the galleries as the advisors started to return to the floor, but Sadira hardly noticed. Her whole body ached with cold, and her teeth chattered uncontrollably. She began to fear that the noblewoman and templar had been gone too long, that the Black had turned their bodies into frozen lumps of flesh.
Then, as the stain on the floor contracted to no more than a pair of small circles around her arms, Sadira felt a weight at the end of each hand. Her frozen flesh no longer had any sensation of touch, so the sorceress had no way of knowing whether or not the missing advisors had finally found her. Nevertheless, she willed her fingers to close, not sure whether the digits were obeying her wishes, and rose.
As Sadira pulled her arms from the floor, each of the dark circles around them expanded to the size of a human body. Out of the shadowy stains came the shivering forms of the two advisors. Their flesh was as pale and shiny as alabaster, and their muscles were so stiff that their own legs would not support them. With each breath, plumes of white steam rose from between their quivering lips, and hundreds of gleaming ice crystals clung to their clothes.
Murmuring reticent words of gratitude, several allies of the two advisors stepped forward to take their shivering friends from Sadira’s arms. Charl studied the sorceress thoughtfully, then asked, “Why’d you do that? You already got the vote you wanted.”
Sadira shook her head. “No,” she said. “Not the one I wanted—only the one I needed. If Khidar had taken any more of you, I wouldn’t have been able to pull you all back.”
“Then you really meant what you said about not taking the legion if it was coerced from us?”
Sadira nodded. “And what I said about leaving Tyr before I would be part of betraying Agis.”
The sorceress started to turn toward the exit, but Charl caught her by the arm. “Wait a minute. Tyr can’t afford to lose a citizen like you,” he said. “If we let you take the legion to fulfill the boy’s destiny, can you really keep the giants away from the city?”
The Cerulean Storm Page 5
