Nicci was mystified. With the stakes so high, why didn’t Richard just explain clearly? She had told him about the enormous threat of the reawakened army. She had counted on Richard, needed Richard’s wisdom and strength, and now she was upset that he hadn’t given her a plain answer.
Linden was smiling tentatively at her, hoping for good news. Distracted by the puzzle, she issued brusque orders for what she needed now. “I have to ignite a verification web to see what sort of constructed spell Richard created. I need space to work, an empty room where I won’t be disturbed.”
Linden jumped up from his desk and called soldiers. In only a few moments, they had pulled and scraped chairs from a meeting room down the hall. Nicci followed them into the empty chamber, preoccupied with her own investigation.
She knew she needed to do more than a standard verification web on this bone box, but rather an aspect analysis of a verification web from an interior perspective. That would allow her to examine the constructed spell down to its core element. She steeled herself, realizing that casting the web would require her to use Subtractive Magic. She had no other choice.
Nicci stood inside the large empty room in the garrison headquarters and looked around the whitewashed walls, the wooden floor. Linden and the soldiers waited eagerly just outside the door. “This place will do,” she said, looking down at the tiny box. “Make sure I am not disturbed as I work. Much depends on what I learn here.”
Fascinated by the enigma of the constructed spell, she paid no attention to the soldiers, who retreated farther from the door.
Using one of the daggers at her hip, she slashed her palm, interested only in the blood that welled up. She would need a lot of it.
Standing in the middle of the wooden floor, she used the dripping blood to draw a careful Grace across the boards. The Grace was a powerful device, and drawn in blood under only the rarest of circumstances, but Nicci needed that power now. An inner and outer circle represented the underworld and the world of the living, separated by a square, and then at the center an eight-pointed star indicated the Creator’s light, which radiated lines throughout the Grace. The entire process of drawing the complex symbol took her the better part of an hour.
When she was ready, Nicci stood in the center of the magic-infused emblem on the floor. Closing her eyes, she held the bone box in her intact palm, while she lifted the small lid with the other. Then she opened herself to her power.
Surrounded by her thoughts, keeping her eyes closed, Nicci felt nothing other than a kind of weightlessness. She drifted, searching, probing, and reached out with a verification web in search of answers.
Only when Nicci opened her eyes did she realize that she was floating upright and frozen in midair, drifting and slowly rotating several feet off the floor above the blood-drawn Grace. Through the open door to the room, she saw Linden and the curious soldiers watching her, astonished, but they were as still as statues. She heard not a whisper of air, couldn’t even hear her own heartbeat in her ears. As she floated, life itself seemed to be suspended.
Extending her sight further, she saw that she was surrounded by lines of glowing green light that formed an intricate geometric framework tangled around her. Nicci herself was the living core of a verification web for a constructed spell. Shifting her head, she also realized that one of her feet was suspended over the Grace’s outer circle that represented the underworld.
Still not understanding, Nicci used her gift to ignite the verification web, as she had planned. She stretched out, studying all the glowing lines in the air rising from the Grace, ensnaring her own body and the glowing pearl inside the bone box.
But the web offered no answers. No matter how hard Nicci tried, the magic gave her only a blank response, and the constructed spell’s mysterious purpose remained a complete cipher. Richard’s intent was no clearer than it was before.
Frustrated, she withdrew her power and shut down the web, extinguishing the lines of light. They retracted back into the glowing orb inside the bone box. Gently, she drifted back down to the floor and felt solid wood beneath her feet, but her mind still seemed disconnected. She stood still, regaining her balance for a frozen moment.
Out in the corridor, Linden and the soldiers were too hesitant to offer help. After wiping her bleeding palm on her black dress, Nicci snapped the box closed again and pocketed it. She was profoundly heartbroken that whatever Richard had sent seemed useless, or at least incomprehensible. She had hoped for a miracle. Now she had to solve it herself.
General Linden cleared his throat. “What did you discover, Sorceress? Do you understand the weapon Lord Rahl sent for us?”
She turned her cold blue eyes toward him. “I fear we are doomed.”
CHAPTER 55
The wave of rock was like a petrified tide that buried his front ranks, all those loyal fighters who had continued to follow him even though they had lost everything else. Utros stared at the fresh uneven rock that covered the canyon floor, searching for words. Finally, he said, “Our destiny is permanently wrapped in stone.”
Ruva raged beside him, a roiling mass of barely constrained magic. “Those men gave their lives for you, beloved Utros. They know you will not falter. They know you will conquer the world, as you swore to do.” She looked at the bodies partially imprisoned in stone. “And their sacrifice will help you achieve that goal.”
“How?” Utros snarled at her. “How does this help me?” He looked at the devastation, the massacre.
The fallen canyon wall had hardened like a mudslide baked in the hot sun, studded with thousands of corpses like insects caught in pitch. His soldiers had worn the best armor; their swords were sharp, their training was excellent, and they could fight against any enemy—but how could they prepare for this? Arms thrust upward still clutching swords, gauntlets and booted feet protruding in the air with the rest of the bodies drowned under rock.
One man’s head, his helmet askew, grimaced and gasped. The rest of his body was submerged in the stone; though he could still breathe, he was trapped, crushed. His mouth opened and closed, and his eyes bulged as he tried to sip air. The dying soldier couldn’t even form words; he had no room left in his chest. His gaunt face turned blue as he suffocated, little by little.
Utros leaned over him. “I can do nothing to help you.” His heart wrenched with vengeance and sadness. “I am grateful for your service and sorry for your sacrifice.” He drew his sword. “This is all I can offer.” He struck off the man’s head, leaving a stump that spouted blood from the rim of stone.
He would order his soldiers to do the same to any other hopelessly trapped warriors. It was the right thing to do, but it made him sick.
Only by a miracle was he still alive. When the canyon first began to melt, Ruva and Ava had saved him, blocked him. After the defenders made their stand at the bottleneck, the general’s soldiers had still pushed past the swarm of poisonous scorpions, the spike-filled pits, the camouflage curtain that hid the canyon itself. Nathan and the other gifted fighters had battled and retreated, battled and retreated, luring them farther inside.
Utros had been fooled, thinking that the rebels had only that one last line of defense. His army had believed in their victory as soon as they saw the cliff alcove filled with archive buildings, and Ruva had hissed with anticipation of all the powerful knowledge stored here.
His army had charged forward in a frenzy, and Utros could not have stopped them if he’d tried. They surged into the hidden canyon, like a rider giving free rein to a spirited horse. Though he wanted to be at the front of the troops, Ruva forced him to stay back. The starving soldiers fell upon the orchards and fields. They ran down the flocks of terrified sheep and tore them to pieces, eating the creatures raw. Before he could revel in his victory, Ruva sensed the resonance of an incredibly powerful spell . . . and then the cliffs flowed in a molten avalanche.
Ava’s shimmering spirit had swooped in front of him, frantic. “Away! It is not safe! A massive spell! I tried to stop her, Genera
l!”
Ruva mirrored her twin’s motions and used her gift to bowl Utros back against the rocks of the bottleneck as the wave of stone roared down on the front ranks of his army. Killing so many!
Now as he viewed the stark aftermath, the general tried to guess how many more of his soldiers were dead, additional numbers to add to the tally. Fortunately, the bulk of the ancient army had not even entered the hidden canyon and milled outside in the high desert, ninety thousand or more.
First Commander Enoch rode up, his face ashen as he stared across the rippled stone, countless embedded bodies, grasping hands, horrorstruck dead faces. He cleared his throat as if to spit out the harsh words he needed to say. “The Keeper claimed many more, sir. He knows us, and he wants us all.”
“The Keeper will have to be satisfied for now,” Utros said. “This is enough!”
Ava shimmered in front of them, her expression distraught. “He tugs me with greater strength. He wants my sister. He wants me!”
Ruva chimed in, “Thanks to our loyalty to you, beloved Utros, we have the strength to resist him. Loyalty is stronger than love.” She narrowed her eyes. “Loyalty is stronger than death.”
Getting down to business, Enoch said, “We killed a sheep, sir, and we will roast it to feed all the prominent commanders, but the other soldiers still feel as if they’re starving.”
“Because they are starving,” Utros said. “Even if they still move and march.”
Ruva sounded defensive. “No! Our spell maintains them. They keep going even with the hunger inside. They will live until they are nothing more than walking bones!”
Utros watched in disgust as his soldiers spread out like scuttling beetles. They stripped the leaves and tender branches from the orchards, gobbling any fruit they found, ransacking gardens, breaking into the cliffside dwellings to scrounge even the smallest crumbs.
Far worse, though it did not surprise him knowing how desperate the preservation spell was, he watched the gaunt warriors race across the hardened stone, finding dead or dying soldiers that had been trapped. They did not try to rescue their comrades, did not look for survivors. Rather, they seized any hand or leg or face protruding from the rock and tore away strips of flesh, ripping the meat clean as they ate whatever remained of the bodies. They cracked the bones and sucked the marrow, lapped at the blood and gnawed any scrap of skin, muscle, or tendon, and moved on in search of more.
Ava shimmered before them and watched. “They need the nourishment. They will sustain themselves in any way they can. And they will continue to be your fighters.”
Ruva explained that the preservation spell could hold the army for only so long. “Any food they find—” She paused and said in a harder voice to emphasize her point, “Any food will provide energy to keep them going.”
Thinking of his legend, his honor, Utros felt sick. “What is becoming of my army? What is becoming of me?” He summoned his resolve, focused on the end goal, his reason for existence after so many centuries. “We will pay any price. We made that decision long ago, and it is too late to change now.” He strode past the mangled remnants of his lost soldiers to look up at the sheer cliff that was now an impenetrable barrier. The Cliffwall archive was completely gone.
“They destroyed all that lore.” He looked to the spirit of Ava. “Can you salvage anything? Pass through the rock in your spectral form and find a single scroll, a lone volume? Anything at all?”
Her intangible spirit flickered. “It is not possible. The books themselves are encased in stone. The scrolls are petrified.” As she folded herself on top of Ruva, both twins said, “They eradicated the knowledge rather than let us have it.”
Enoch said, “Such desperation shows how much they must fear us.”
Utros nodded. “It was a wise tactical move. I would have liked for Ruva to have that magic as a powerful weapon for my cause, but we do not need it.” He raised his voice so the other soldiers could hear him. “Don’t ever believe we need a crutch like that! My army is sufficient.”
A few vengeful soldiers picked their way to the far end of the canyon in hopes of catching the defenders who had fled into the highland wilderness, but Utros knew that Nathan and the others would be long gone.
“Tonight we feast on what we have,” he said, “but we dare not rest for long. We must keep the army moving. Our goal is to reach the western sea and conquer any cities in between. The Norukai will already be ransacking the coast. King Grieve is engaged in the war.” He turned so that the sunlight flashed on his golden half mask. “My war.”
CHAPTER 56
The following day, the Bastion rang with excitement, and the Norukai rushed down to the sheltered harbor. “The war fleet has returned!” a guard shouted through the halls, causing the raiders to celebrate. The slaves received the news without enthusiasm.
From the upper tower, Bannon and Lila looked through an open window to see dozens of serpent ships sailing in. Bannon lost count after fifty.
Lila realized what they were. “They are the rest of the damaged raiding vessels from the river below Ildakar. The construction crews finished repairing them.”
Bannon had not forgotten the battered vessels. The Norukai shipwrights would have worked the slaves day and night, until they were ready to set sail. Now in addition to Lars’s raiding fleet and the hundred new serpent ships that had been constructed in King Grieve’s absence, these vessels swelled the Norukai navy to an unstoppable force. They would ravage the entire coast.
“Sweet Sea Mother! We have to get away! It’s more important than ever,” Bannon said. “We’ve got to warn people that these attacks are coming. How will they be able to defend themselves?”
“It’s now more important than ever, but our chances of escape are even worse,” Lila said. “There will be twice as many Norukai in the Bastion, watching us every moment.”
Bannon saw the newly repaired ships approach like a pack of wolves closing in on a wounded stag. Some vessels anchored at the outlying islands in the archipelago, while others docked directly below the Bastion. Those crews would be ready for wild revels and war preparations.
As he thought about it, he smiled slowly. “I disagree, Lila. Our chances just got better! Think of the drunken celebrations. The Bastion will be in complete chaos, and the slaves will be ordered about on countless tasks. Who will keep track of it all? Who will be watching us, in particular? Would even Atta bother harassing you?”
Frowning, Lila winced from her swollen bruises, the healing burn on her shoulder. “We might have our opportunity, but we don’t have the resources. Where would we go?”
“If we could slip out of the Bastion, we will hide somewhere.”
Lila was not convinced. “Then what? We would still be trapped on the island and surrounded by serpent ships.”
“Emmett has to help us.” Bannon knew it was the only answer.
As new arrivals piled into the Bastion, the old kitchen servant was paralyzed with the responsibility and fear of reprisal if the banquet wasn’t perfect. The returning captains barged into the great fortress, filling the reception hall and throne chamber where Grieve received their reports.
The king remained sullen after the loss of Chalk, but his rage had galvanized him. When the repaired ships returned from Ildakar, he was convinced that the only way to purge his sorrow was to devastate the Old World.
In the midst of the clamor in the kitchen, all ovens were stoked to bake bread, loaf after loaf that filled wooden handcarts. The larders were nearly emptied, but fortunately Lars had brought back supplies from his raids.
Emmett and his staff still had to prepare the food. Slaves hurried about, and the limping old veteran did his best to manage them. The well-trained slaves did their duties, but the newer recruits often dropped platters or spilled tureens.
With Lila beside him, Bannon cornered Emmett just outside the kitchen. “This is our chance. The Norukai will be drunk, loud, and unruly. You can help us escape.”
The old man’s bl
ank stare melted into surprise, then horror. “You can’t escape. They’ll kill you!” He stuttered, “I-I can’t lose two slaves. The Norukai need to be served. King Grieve has commanded it.”
“King Grieve should not be your master,” Lila said. “You saw the warships that just arrived, and you know the fleet he is building. We must get away to sound the alarm up and down the coast, and this may be our last chance.”
“It isn’t only so we can save ourselves,” Bannon said. “Just get us a boat, even a small one, and we will sail away. We’ll find the mainland, get the cities and villages to prepare their defenses. The people have to know that a war is coming their way. Think of how many innocents will be slaughtered.”
Emmett looked distraught. “I know what King Grieve intends to do. I’ve been here for a decade. Alas, I may be the only person from my village who remains alive.”
“There will be countless villages like yours once those raids launch,” Bannon said. “We can save some of them, but only if you help us get away.”
“I . . . I don’t know how. If I knew, I would have left here long ago.” His thin voice cracked.
“Are you sure about that?” Lila said in a low voice. “Would you have been brave enough to escape on your own?”
Emmett fumbled with his ponytail, wrapping his fingers around the gray hair. “No, I-I don’t think so.”
“But you can help us!” Bannon insisted, then dropped his voice to a hush again. “It will be days before they realize we’re gone, if they notice at all. King Grieve could never connect you to our escape. Sweet Sea Mother, please!”
Emmett struggled with his conscience, flexing and unflexing his fingers. His wrinkled face was seamed with sorrow, and as Bannon silently pleaded, he saw something break inside the old man. “I-I do know of a way down to the waterline. It’s steep and rarely used, a small rock jetty, but I think you’ll find a boat there. Some of the Norukai spearfish in the narrow coves.”
“That’s a start,” Bannon said without thinking.
Heart of Black Ice (Sister of Darkness: The Nicci Chronicles Book 4) Page 33
