“No,” she sobbed. “Jaden—he can’t be dead.”
“His corpse is lying there on the sand,” Naga snarled. “The traitorous Dai’Shi-en has gone to the underworld. But your soul will not join him there, Nerya. It is mine to command!”
Sarin could barely breathe, anguish overwhelming him. Naga pulled the dark blue stone from its setting and slammed it against Nerya’s chest. Sarin stiffened, as did those around him, when he felt the sudden rush of swirling power emanating from the stone. The air around Naga seemed to shimmer for a second then turn inky black as the stone worked its evil magic—sucking out every vestige of Nerya’s soul. She gave a faint gasp of agony, and her head fell back on the altar. Naga had destroyed her forever, his evil stone stealing all that she was, and had ever been.
They’d lost, Sarin thought in despair. He glanced over at Tarn, whose arms still appeared to be chained. Why wasn’t he free? This wasn’t what had been planned. It had all gone horribly wrong the moment the mage had touched Nerya. Yet he couldn’t blame Jaden for acting so rashly. How could he have just stood there and watched Naga harm the woman he loved?
Still, Sarin had no intention of letting Naga control the ruler of Percheron. The guard still pressed the sword blade to his neck. If he jerked his head forward fast enough, it would sever his windpipe and kill him.
Sarin wasn’t even aware of the slight movement beside him until he felt the painful bite of the keitan surge through every vein and artery in his body. With a faint groan, he slumped to the sand, unconscious.
Tarn swore under his breath. Ever since Jaden had attacked Naga, he’d been trying to get the damn key in the lock, but it didn’t seem to fit the manacles. Senshu had told him Jaden would lift his hand and touch his hair, and that would be the signal to free himself, but Sarin was supposed to be close enough to use the keitan on Naga at the time. He’d thought he had plenty of time to free himself until Jaden, quite understandably, had acted to save Nerya. In his haste to go to Jaden’s aid, he’d become clumsy. He’d been prepared, he’d been holding the key in his sweaty hand, but it was tiny, and he hadn’t been able to fit it in the lock.
As he’d struggled to free himself, he’d been forced to watch Jaden fight for his life. Tarn had never seen a man fight like that before. It had been awesome to behold. Yet even a warrior as skilled with the sword as Jaden couldn’t have survived forever when he was so completely outnumbered.
Tarn’s guts twisted. Jaden was dead. He had to free himself now and kill as many of Naga’s men as he could. He had no wish to surrender his soul to the mage. Anger fogged his brain, making his big hands even more awkward, as he saw Naga take Nerya’s soul. Then, to his relief, he at last felt the key start to slide into the lock. One twist and he’d be free!
At that precise moment, the tip of a keitan brushed the back of his hand. His muscles froze in agony and the key slipped from his rigid fingers.
The mercenary at Tarn’s side bent and picked up the key. He grinned and shook his head reprovingly as he slipped it in his pocket. “You’ll not escape what Lord Naga has planned for you,” he said with soft menace as he tucked the keitan back in his belt.
Sarin lay motionless on the ground, apparently unconscious. How this had happened, he had no idea. Filled with unimaginable anguish, Tarn forced himself to glance at Senshu. Why he bothered, he didn’t really know. What could she do to help him? He hated the woman and certainly didn’t trust her. All her bravado about destroying Naga had disappeared. Her face crumpled in terror as she watched the mercenaries Jaden had slaughtered being dragged to the sides of the cavern and heaped in a pile as if they were nothing more than useless detritus.
Jaden’s corpse had already been carried away. There wasn’t anything left of him now. Even the blood he’d shed wasn’t visible on the coal-black sand. Nerya was now one of the soulless ones, and it pained Tarn to even look at her naked body lying nearly lifeless on the black marble altar. Soon, he too could be in the same terrible position: an obedient slave to Lord Naga’s commands.
A man dressed like the other mercenaries, but with strange, slash-like scars on his cheeks, picked up Nerya and carried her out of the cavern. Tarn’s heart twisted in pain. Jaden was dead. Nerya was destroyed and, because of his failures, his beloved Rianna had lost both husband and son.
Tarn wasn’t a man to give up easily, but he could see no way out. All hope was lost. Helpless distress consumed him as he watched Sarin being hauled to his feet by two men. He still appeared to be unconscious, and his body hung limply between two mercenaries as they dragged him toward the altar. Sarin had no chance—he’d be Naga’s next victim. Tarn prayed to the gods to help him find a way to die rather than surrender all that he was to Naga.
Tarn, consumed by his own misery, was only barely conscious of the guard on his left letting go of his arm and stepping away from him. The guard who’d left was replaced by another as the two mercenaries struggled to lift Sarin’s dead weight onto the altar. Suddenly, Tarn felt a hand brush against his wrists. His manacles fell open and were pulled away before they could fall to the ground. Tarn glanced to his left. Beside him stood the strange man who’d carried Nerya from the cavern a few moments ago. Was this the person he’d been told would help him when the time was right? If it was, he was too damned late.
Something pressed into Tarn’s hand. His fingers instinctively tightened around the leather-bound hilt of a sword.
“Not yet,” the man whispered. “You’ll know. It will happen soon.”
The man spoke in riddles—what would happen? They’d lost. Nothing could save them now. Jaden was dead, and Sarin lay unconscious on the altar, about to become Naga’s pawn. Even so, it felt good to have a weapon in his hands again. A warrior should always die with a sword in his hand. Tarn vowed to kill as many of Naga’s men as he could before he too was cut down like Jaden. His gut churned. He’d be deserting Brion. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t just surrender to Naga.
“I will take Brion back to Rianna.”
Tarn snapped his head ’round. Had the scarred man just spoken again, or had he imagined it? “What?”
The man smiled inscrutably. “Believe me,” he replied very softly. “And remember—stone against stone.”
Nothing made sense. How would he know when the time was right? He was desperate to do something as Naga’s little assistant tied the silk rope to one of Sarin’s limp wrists. The man went to move to the other side of the altar to bind Sarin’s other arm, but all of a sudden he froze.
A tall, dark figure had appeared in the centre of the cavern. Tarn blinked, certain it hadn’t been there a moment ago. Judging by the awed expressions of the mercenaries close to him, they probably thought this apparition had been conjured up by the mage. Tarn wasn’t so gullible. It was just a man in a long, black cloak, the hood pulled forward to conceal his features.
“Release Lord Sarin,” the figure called out to Naga in a deep, booming voice. “Or you die!”
For a split second, Naga appeared terrified. “Kill the intruder,” he screamed in a high-pitched voice.
A number of mercenaries advanced toward the tall figure, weapons drawn at the ready. When the cloak was tossed aside, they faltered and stopped dead in their tracks, staring at the apparition in horrified amazement. Jaden, bare-chested, blood still covering his face and body, stood with a sword clasped in each hand.
Tarn knew he wasn’t imagining this. It wasn’t a ghost or some spirit from the underworld—it was a living, breathing man. Jaden had somehow miraculously risen from the dead. Blood covered him, yet Tarn could see no signs of any wounds on his body. Hope rose within him again. Tarn didn’t care if it was the magic of the Dai’Shi-en or even the Dragon Lords. Jaden was alive!
Jaden agilely spun the two swords, the torchlight flickering menacingly on the deadly blades. None of the mercenaries went to attack him. They stayed frozen to the spot, staring fearfully at the man who had returned from the underworld to face them again.
“He’s no spirit,” Naga screamed. “Don’t just stand there—kill him!”
No one moved. They were all too afraid of the seemingly immortal Dai’Shi-en. Tarn glanced to his left. The scarred man had disappeared as silently as he’d come. Taking advantage of the fact that everyone’s attention was fastened on Jaden, Tarn reached under his top and pulled out the small dagger Senshu had given him. It would be more useful than his sword in these close quarters. Stepping back a pace, he thrust the blade deep into the back of the guard standing closest to him. The man crumpled silently to the ground.
All eyes were still intently focused on Jaden, so Tarn backed away, disappearing into the gloomy shadows at the sides of the cavern. He almost stumbled over a pile of dead mercenaries. This was just what he needed—his white garments made him stand out in the darkness. The metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils as he removed a slit-sided garment from one corpse and slipped it on.
Naga gaped in disbelief at Jaden, the amulet clutched in his hand as, unchallenged, the Dai’Shi-en strode toward him. Naga scrabbled for the magical powder and threw it. A sheet of blue flame flashed toward Jaden, splattering on the sand in front of his feet. Jaden didn’t pause or slow his pace. Naga threw the flame again. This time his aim was truer and the blue fire seared Jaden’s side. Where it touched, his skin blackened and bubbled. He slowed for a moment, then moved relentlessly onward, displaying no visible sign of discomfort. In the blink of an eye, the blackened flesh on Jaden’s body disappeared and he was whole again.
“He’s just a man,” Naga screamed, grabbing more powder to send sheets of searing blue flames across the cavern, eventually forcing Jaden to stop and dodge sideways to avoid the angry blasts. “Cut off his head and he’s dead for all time,” Naga yelled as Jaden began advancing toward him again.
When he threw the powder again, Naga’s aim went totally awry, and a searing blue flare engulfed one of his own men. The mercenary screamed and fell writhing onto the sand as the sickening smell of burned flesh drifted through the cavern.
“If you don’t follow orders and attack the Dai’Shi-en, I’ll incinerate you all,” Naga yelled in desperation.
Some of the mercenaries, as fearful now of being burned alive as they were of this Dai’Shi-en who had risen from the dead, at last obeyed their master. As they charged toward Jaden uttering a loud war cry, other men instinctively followed them. Jaden spun round, both swords raised, responding without hesitation, no doubt fully aware he was nigh-on invincible now.
Tarn watched the two swords flash as Jaden moved with an elegant grace performing a sweeping, slashing dance that brought death to every man who drew near him. Their screams of pain echoed through the caverns, bringing fear to every man here who had yet to face the Dai’Shi-en.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Tarn crept closer to the back of the altar, swiftly dispatching the couple of mercenaries who had spotted him in the gloom and moved to challenge him. Jaden, the harbinger of death, swung his weapons again and again. No man who got near him had a chance of survival.
“I said cut off his head,” Naga screeched. No one could hear him above the clanging of metal and the howls of agony that filled the cavern.
Naga, his weasely face twisted in terror, glanced toward the door of the cavern. Tarn could see he had only a few paltry grains of the magic powder left. Judging by his inaction, Tarn deduced Naga couldn’t produce the searing blue flames by his magic alone. He needed the powder to somehow ignite the magic.
Naga had not yet noticed that Sarin, still lying on the altar, had regained consciousness. Sarin’s hand slid surreptitiously down his side, reaching for the keitan he’d hidden beneath his clothing. All Naga’s terrified attention was directed toward Jaden, who ruthlessly cut down every mercenary who dared move toward him.
Tarn edged closer to the altar, certain the mage wouldn’t flee before he’d taken Sarin’s soul. He was right. All of a sudden Naga ripped open Sarin’s shirt and went to slam the amulet against his chest. Tarn lunged forward, but Sarin got there first, thrusting the tip of the keitan against Naga’s arm. Naga gave one drawn-out high-pitched scream. The stone fell onto the altar as he crumpled to the ground.
Sarin tugged at the rope binding his other wrist.
“Let me.” Tarn slashed through Sarin’s bonds. “Deal with Naga.” He thrust the dagger in Sarin’s hand. “I’m off to help Jaden.”
“Destroy this first.” Sarin winced as his fingers closed around the magical stone. “Here—take it.”
As Sarin dropped the stone into his hand, Tarn shuddered, almost overwhelmed by the sudden rush of anguished power it contained. He glanced down, seeing a multitude of dark swirling objects trapped in its blue crystalline depths.
He stepped away from the stone, placed the magical stone on the ground and hit it as hard as he could, but his blade merely glanced off The Stealer of Souls and slithered across the paving slabs, only just missing his bare feet. A fraction closer and it would have sliced off a couple of his toes. Tarn frowned in frustration. It was a fine blade, but the surface of the stone wasn’t even scratched. Swearing under his breath, Tarn tried once again, hitting it with the pommel of the sword, but to no avail. The stone remained frustratingly unmarked. Then he heard the voice in his head saying “stone against stone”.
Tarn picked up the magical stone and ran across the cavern toward one of the strange, smooth boulders that sparkled as if covered by a multitude of tiny lights. Using every bit of strength he possessed, he slammed The Stealer of Souls against the boulder.
This time he succeeded. The stone shattered into a thousand pieces. A loud boom, like a massive thunderclap, reverberated around the cavern. Lightning forked from the pieces of the stone as they scattered across the coal-black sand, flooding the huge cave with a white hot searing light.
The air around Tarn started to spin, ’round and ’round like a whirlwind. He felt as if he stood in the eye of a tornado as gray ghostly shapes swirled around him. He could actually feel all their fear and their pain and all the terrible anguish they’d endured while being trapped inside the stone as the whirling shapes spun around him in an ever widening stream.
Tarn fell to his knees, gripped by an exquisite surge of joy. All the poor trapped souls were free at last. Above his head more ghostly shapes materialized from the darkness, slipping through the roof of the cavern and sliding through the sides as if stone was no barrier to them at all.
There was another bright flash of light and the air went still, the cavern turning blacker than night as all the flaming torches were extinguished. Tarn rose unsteadily to his feet, desperate to know what had happened to Jaden and Sarin, but it was so dark he could see nothing at all. To his amazement all the torches reignited of their own accord.
He felt Sarin’s hand on his shoulder. “Thank the gods that’s over, Tarn.”
“Is it?” Tarn asked unsteadily.
“It is.” Sarin grinned. “I used the keitan on Naga again, but the poor fool screamed in such agony that I took pity on him and slit his throat.” He pulled at Tarn’s arm. “Get up, you lazy slug. You can’t kneel there all day. We’re not out of danger yet. Jaden has slaughtered all the mercenaries in here—either that or they’ve fled. But there are still Naga’s guards in the citadel to contend with.”
“I never thought we’d do it,” Tarn said, his voice shaking as he stood.
“Neither did I.” Surprisingly and quite out of character, Sarin pulled Tarn into a bear hug. As he stepped back, he gave an awkward, rather embarrassed laugh. “Don’t read anything into that.”
Tarn grimaced in amusement and shook his head. “I know you too damn well, Sarin.”
Jaden, his expression blank, his arms hanging limply by his side, stood in the centre of the cavern—surrounded by a multitude of dead mercenaries. Everyone else had disappeared, including Senshu.
“Jaden.” Sarin went to his side and touched his arm. “Are you all right?”
The swords slid from Jaden’s h
ands. “She’s gone,” he said bleakly as he fell to his knees and put his face in his bloodstained hands.
Chapter Eighteen
The sudden powerful, painful jolt was like nothing she’d ever experienced. It surprised her. Only a moment ago, she’d been flying high in a dark, star-spattered sky, filled with an incredible sense of joy. Now that exquisite sensation had left her, and she was earthbound again. Yet those brief, moments of euphoria were not all she remembered. Before that, she’d been trapped in a place of never-ending blackness, surrounded by an agonizing array of pain and hopelessness too terrible for her to even think of now.
She pushed these feelings aside as she cautiously opened her eyes. She knew for certain she was no longer free, and she felt almost disappointed to find herself confined in her mortal body once more.
“Nerya.” The dark-haired, pretty woman stroked Nerya’s face. “Just relax. You’ll be fine in a moment.”
“Who are you?” she asked, trying to remember who she was. The woman had called her Nerya. Was that her name?
“She doesn’t recognize me.” The woman sounded tearful as she turned to speak to the man standing behind her.
“Give her a moment,” he said.
All of a sudden, it came back to her. The most important person in the world was dead. He was lost to her, and life was no longer worth living. Why couldn’t she have remained free, flying in the endless ether of bliss, totally unaware of all she’d lost? All she could see was the terrible vision of his blood-soaked body lying on the coal-black sand.
“Jaden!” Nerya sat bolt upright. “He’s gone.” Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Her heart felt torn in two. “I saw him die.”
“No. He’s not dead,” the woman said.
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