“Back off!” I shouted, waving the amulet before me. “Back off! Or I’m going to have myself an anthrophage roast!”
The elder boomed its hideous gurgling laugh. “My children are many, and you are but one! Such a chase you have led us on, my prey! We shall feast upon you, and one day we shall feast upon all the mortal world!” The ring of anthrophages edged closer, and I spun in a circle, waving the amulet before me. That scared them off, but it wouldn’t last for long. One could rush would bury me, and that would be that.
“You want to take a bite of me?” I said. “Then come and get some, fat boy.” I shook the amulet at the elder. “I wonder if you’ll smell like bacon when you fry.”
Again the anthrophage elder laughed. “Delay will not aid you. The lord of the demesne will not come to save you, not this time. You have failed in your trial, human animal. All that remains is to perish.”
The anthrophages began edging closer, preparing to spring.
I blinked.
I had failed in my trial. But what did that mean? I assumed the trial had been surviving long enough to carry the amulet to Grayhold. But what if there was more to it? Rimethur had said the trial would determine if I was worthy to bear the amulet. I had assumed bearing the amulet simply meant carrying it.
What if bearing the amulet meant something else?
What if bearing the amulet meant using the amulet?
I lifted the Ringbyrne Amulet, its edge digging into my fingers, and focused my will upon it as I would a spell. As I did, I felt…something in my thoughts, a presence. The amulet’s magical aura, I assumed. It seemed to be calling to me, asking me for something.
The anthrophages charged at me, and I poured magical power into the amulet.
The silvery disc shuddered, and the crystal in its center blazed with cold blue light. The light fell over the charging anthrophages, and the ones nearest to me burst into white flames, screaming horribly. A score of the creatures perished in a single heartbeat. The rest of the anthrophages stumbled back, avoiding the dome of light shining from the amulet. The elder bounded back, and for an instant fear made its face even more grotesque.
I continued the flow of magical power into the amulet. It was about the same level of power needed for a Masking spell, and I could maintain that long enough to get to Grayhold.
“Get out of my way,” I said.
“You will not escape us!” screamed the elder. “We will follow you. We will hunt you to the ends of the Earth!” The creature laughed again. “You should thank us! When we devour you, it shall spare you from the grim fate that otherwise awaits you.”
“Get out of my way,” I ground out, “or burn. Up to you.”
I strode forward, and two of the anthrophages burned before they could get out of my way. The rest of them scattered, vanishing among the ruins and the hills. I glanced back and saw the elder staring at me, its yellow eyes glaring, its expression promising my death.
A promise it would keep, perhaps…but not today.
I kept walking, the glow from the Ringbyrne Amulet lighting my way.
Chapter 11: Knight Games
Sipad-Zid awaited me as I limped to the gates of Grayhold.
The gates, like everything else about the huge fortress, were a study in ruined grandeur. It looked like a combination of a Roman triumphal arch, the gates of Babylon, and something a pompous Art Deco designer would have thought up. The Seneschal of Grayhold stood in the center of the gate as I walked to him on aching feet, his lips tight with disapproval as I approached.
“Hi there,” I said. “I want to talk to your boss right now.”
Sipad-Zid sneered. “You will not address the Seneschal of Grayhold in such a tone…”
“Oh, shut up,” I said. My patience was gone. I was tired and frightened and angry, and I really wanted to hit somebody. “I’ve used the same tone with the Knight, and I’ll do it again. So be a good little Seneschal and take me to the Knight.”
The Seneschal sighed. “Little wonder my lord has taken a liking to you. Your impudence reminds me of…”
“Of what?”
Sipad-Zid was silent for a moment. “Of better times. Very well. The lord of Grayhold awaits you.” He snapped his fingers, and white light swallowed the world.
When it cleared, I found myself standing on a dais overlooking another vast, cavernous pillared hall. The hall seemed in better repair than the rest of Grayhold, and chunks of crystal hung from chains overhead, glowing with a gentle light. Hundreds of people moved through the hall, men and women in formal clothes from a variety of historical epochs, all of them dancing a slow, stately, formal dance as musicians played strange instruments in the corners.
“My lord,” said the Seneschal, “the woman has returned.”
“And with the Ringbyrne Amulet, no less,” said the Knight’s voice. “Well, Irina Novoranya, not many things can still surprise me, but you just did.”
I turned as the Knight of Grayhold stepped towards me. Gone were the boots and jeans and camouflage jacket. Now he wore something that looked like the formal garb of a bygone era, black trousers, gleaming black boots, a crisp white shirt, a black coat that hung to his knees, and a piece of cloth too thick to be a proper tie wound around his collar. A cravat, maybe? Fashion isn’t exactly my area of expertise.
“Well, that’s me,” I said. “I’m just full of surprises.”
The Knight smiled a little at that. “Clearly.”
“You’ll keep your word?” I said. “You’ll let Alexandra go? You’ll let me take the amulet?”
“I am the Knight of Grayhold, and the Knight of Grayhold keeps his word,” said the Knight. “Seneschal. Please retrieve Mrs. Ross from the Hall of Attainder. She will be departing soon with Miss Novoranya.” The Seneschal bowed and vanished in a flash of white light.
“So,” I said. “This is nice. Weird little ball in a ruined castle. Very ominous.”
“I am the lord of Grayhold, and that includes obligations,” said the Knight. “It would surprise you to know that there are towns in the shadow of my towers. Exiles come to the Shadowlands from time to time, and gather in the demesne of one lord or another in hopes of protection.”
“I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion,” I said.
“As you said, your jewelry doesn’t quite match your shoes,” he said, holding out a hand. “I will need the bracelet back, I’m afraid.”
I slid the sengejarme off my wrist and handed it to him. “Technically, it’s called a sengejarme, you know.”
“Ah,” said the Knight, taking the bracelet. “I see you had a chat with Rimethur.”
“Charming fellow,” I said. “Since we’re waiting for Alexandra, let me ask you a question.” The Knight inclined his head, rolling the bracelet between his fingers. “I didn’t have to listen to you. I didn’t have to come back to Grayhold. Rimethur might have set it up that way, but I could have eventually found a way around it. So what would you have done if I had run off with your bracelet and never come back?”
The Knight’s smile held no humor. “Watch.”
He lifted the bracelet, and it shivered in his hand. Part of the metal stabbed out in a three-inch long spike. I flinched. Had I been wearing the bracelet, the spike would have bisected my wrist.
“The poison upon the blade would have killed you quickly, if not quite painlessly,” said the Knight, tucking the bracelet into a pocket of his coat. “Had you decided not to return for Mrs. Ross, the spell would have activated and slain you.”
“Why?” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I had come close, so close, to abandoning Alexandra, little realizing that I held my life in my hands.
“A test,” said the Knight. “I have no use for faithlessness. I told you this was an audition.”
“For what?” I said.
“To see if you are worthy to live to repay the favor you owe me,” said the Knight. “That was our agreement. You owe me a favor, and one day I shall collect. Not today. Not tomorrow. Bu
t someday.”
I snorted. “You better do it soon, then. I might not live that long.”
The Knight considered me for a long moment. “You should beware of Morvilind.”
“I know that better than you ever could,” I said.
“He will kill you,” said the Knight.
“He has certainly threatened to,” I said, trying to make my words breezy.
“No,” said the Knight. “He will kill you. Once you have accomplished whatever task he has set out for you. Once he no longer has any need of you, he will kill you without hesitation.”
“I know,” I said.
Six more years. I had to survive for six more years. I had no doubt that Morvilind was just as ruthless as the Knight said, but like the Knight, Morvilind kept his word. He had said he would cure Russell, and once Russell was cured, he would turn on me.
I just had to be ready.
“Dance with me,” said the Knight.
The change of topic threw me. “What?”
The Knight held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
“My clothes are a mess and I don’t have any shoes,” I said.
“Irrelevant,” said the Knight. “Dance with me.”
I gave him a suspicious look. “Why?”
“Because we need to kill some time before Sipad-Zid releases Mrs. Ross,” said the Knight. “Because I will tell you a secret and give you a gift.” He grinned. “Because you are a pretty girl and I want to dance with you.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said, but I took his hand. It felt hard and warm and very strong. “I lost my shoes in your damned swamp. If you step on my feet, I’m going to be angry.”
“I am a very good dancer,” said the Knight.
He was. We moved quickly along the dais, circling each other in time to the music. His armored hand rested against my hip, the chill of the metal soaking through my wet skirt.
“We’re not going to do anything but dancing, though,” I said. “Just so we’re clear on that.”
“Of course not,” said the Knight, affronted. “I am a gentleman. You should beware of the Rebels.”
“Is that your secret?” I said. “Rimethur already told me that you worked with him to screw over the Rebels.”
“Did he tell you why?” said the Knight. His hand briefly rested on the small of my back, and he spun me, my bare feet sliding over the smooth stone floor.
“Dark Ones,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I was getting a bit flushed. He really was a good dancer. “He said you were an enemy of the Dark Ones.”
“I am,” said the Knight. “Once there were thirteen Knights in Earth’s umbra, each one ruling over a demesne. Our task was to guard the Earth from the creatures of the Void. All the other Knights have been destroyed or have fallen away, but I keep to my task.”
“The Knight of Grayhold keeps his word,” I said.
“He does,” said the Knight.
“Is that your secret?” I said.
“I have many secrets,” said the Knight, “but this is the one I shall tell you. You should beware the Rebels, for they have chosen to serve the Dark Ones.”
I blinked. “What?”
I remembered the purple-black fire that had danced around Rogomil’s fingers.
“Not all of them,” said the Knight. “Not yet. But enough. In the Dark Ones the Rebels see a weapon that can overthrow the High Queen and bring their twisted vision of the world to pass. The High Queen is a tyrant, but the Rebels dream of a far darker kind of tyranny. Beware of them, Miss Novoranya. You’ve escaped the Dark Ones several times, and they will not forget it.”
His warning chilled me, but I made myself smile. “Then I won’t be alive to give you that favor, right?”
“To help with that,” said the Knight, “here is a gift.”
He tapped one finger against my forehead.
A shiver went through me, followed by a surge of magical power. Symbols and diagrams flashed through my mind, and suddenly the knowledge of a new spell burned before my thoughts. Corvus had done something similar, teaching me the lightning globe spell that had saved my life several times over the last day.
“A spell?” I said.
The Knight nodded, released my hand, and stepped back. “A ward to resist elemental magic. It duplicates some of the powers of the sengejarme. With the spell, you have a measure of protection from attacks of elemental magic.”
“Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. I could think of times such a spell would have been useful.
Sipad-Zid returned with Alexandra, who still held her torn blazer clutched shut. She looked tired and wan, but otherwise uninjured. She looked around the hall with confusion, and her blue eyes widened when she saw me.
“Irina,” she said. “What happened?”
“Nothing good,” I said, “but we’re getting out of here.”
She blinked at me. “What happened to your shoes?”
“Long story.”
“Mrs. Ross,” said the Knight. “Please forgive the brief confinement. Rest assured that it was for your own safety, and that you will take no harm from it. I shall now return you to Madison.”
“Um,” I said. “Don’t put us near the Capitol.” If Rogomil and his men had not fled yet, they wouldn’t be very happy to see me.
“Indeed not,” said the Knight, gray mist swirling around his gauntleted hand as he started a spell. “Goodbye, Mrs. Ross. Until we met again, Miss Novoranya. For we shall.”
He gestured, and the white haze of a rift way swallowed me.
When it cleared I found myself standing next to Alexandra in the lobby of Duke Carothrace’s offices. The power was out, and the front windows had been smashed, likely from the shock wave of an explosion.
“What…what should we do now?” said Alexandra, looking around.
“Go to your office,” I said, “close the door and the blinds, and hide under your desk. When Homeland Security questions you, tell them you ran here after the bombs started going off. If the power’s out, there won’t be any camera footage to contradict you, and both Homeland Security and the Inquisition have bigger fish to fry just now.”
“What about you?” said Alexandra.
“I have to go,” I said. “I need to get out of here right now.” The Ringbyrne Amulet felt heavy in the pocket of my tattered jacket. “Tell no one about me.”
I turned to go.
“Irina,” said Alexandra, catching my sleeve.
I hesitated.
“Thank you for saving my life,” she said. “I would have died today. I don’t know who or what you are, and I’m not going to ask. But thank you for my life.”
I stared at her, a wave of guilt going through me. I had almost abandoned her, more than once. Of course, if I had abandoned her, then the Knight would have killed me, and Russell would have died of frostfever within a year.
“You saved my life, too,” I said in a quiet voice.
“How?” said Alexandra.
“Goodbye,” I said. “I’ll be in touch in a few days to make sure everything is all right.”
I left, hurrying through the streets to the parking garage. The streets were deserted, and I saw no signs of pedestrians or vehicle traffic. The explosions must have scared everyone off, and with the Madison branch of Homeland Security compromised, the Duke and the Inquisition must not have had time to put assemble a counter force yet.
I reached my van, paused only long enough to change to dry underwear, jeans, and a T-shirt, and I got the hell out of Madison. I expected to run into barricades as I left the city, but the roads were not closed. After puzzling over it, I realized why. I had sent the Inquisition everything Rogomil’s phone had contained, and likely the Inquisition had sent that information to Carothrace. The Duke’s troops must have swept the Capitol and killed or seized the Rebels by now.
I hoped that Sergei Rogomil was dead.
I drove back to Milwaukee, making sure to keep well below the speed limit. Three times I had to pull over as
caravans of Homeland Security vehicles roared down the road, making for Madison, and twice I saw helicopter gunships flying overhead. None of them pulled me over, or showed the slightest interest in me.
When I reached the outskirts of Milwaukee, I pulled over long enough to send a text to Rusk, informing him that I had been successful. Morvilind had to have learned that there had been a Rebel attack in Milwaukee, and I didn’t want him to kill me in order to cover his tracks. It would be a bad joke if I had stolen the amulet and escaped only for Morvilind to kill me in a burst of paranoia.
I stashed my van in the storage unit, retrieved my motorcycle, and rode back to my apartment. It was nearly midnight by the time I got home, and I let myself in with a sigh of relief, dumping my helmet and jacket and the amulet upon the floor. I stripped out of my clothes, turned on the shower, and sat huddled beneath the hot water, my face pressed between my knees.
I sat like that and cried for maybe half an hour.
It had been a really bad day.
Eventually, I calmed down enough to turn off the water, towel off, and crawl into bed. It had been a bad day, but I was still alive. I had the Ringbyrne Amulet, and Morvilind would continue his cure spells upon Russell.
Sometimes survival was its own kind of victory.
I sank into a black and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 12: Favors Owed
The next morning I swung off my motorcycle in front of Morvilind’s mansion, the Ringbyrne Amulet secured in a new courier bag. Mr. Rusk awaited me on the front steps, scowling with disapproval as I approached.
“I’m here to see his lordship,” I said. I felt tired, but I rehearsed my story in my head over and over again. If Morvilind realized that I had met the Knight, he might kill me on the spot. Or if he knew that I had spoken with Rimethur about the Dark Ones, for that matter.
“Miss Moran,” said Rusk. “How unsurprising. After seeing all the mayhem in Madison, I could not help but wonder if you were…”
I remembered the dead women and children I had seen, and my temper snapped.
“Shut up,” I said. “Just shut up. Take me to see his lordship, and then get the hell out of my sight. Another word out of you, and I’ll show you some of the things Lord Morvilind taught me.”
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