What remained of Thagoth’s streets radiated out from two squares on either end of the Tabernacle, something like a double spider web. There were only two main thoroughfares that ran straight from those squares to the edges of the death lands: one north and one south. We were at the extreme eastern edge of what remained of the city.
I didn’t bother to keep to the streets. I led Holgren through broken buildings and over mounds of rubble, through smashed courtyards and roofless towers on a direct route to the Tabernacle. I’d learned those old stone bones better than the city of my birth during the half-year I’d spent there.
As we approached the Tabernacle’s high wall, I slowed and motioned Holgren to do the same. “Where is she?” I whispered, and he pointed dead at the Tabernacle.
“Damn her.” I moved to the edge of the wall and took a peek. The gates stood slightly ajar. There Ruiqi lay, half in the Tabernacle grounds. She was not moving. I pulled back and tried to think of what to do.
She might already be dead, but Athagos hadn’t gotten to her if she was. She wasn’t a deflated skin sack. I thought long and hard about leaving her there. If she was already dead, I would risk myself needlessly trying to save her. If she was alive, then saving was the last thing she wanted.
But I didn’t really care what she wanted. There was a chance she knew something that would help us destroy the Shadow King. Was it important enough to risk my life trying to save her, that chance? I looked over at Holgren and decided it was.
“Is there any way to make someone temporarily deaf?” I asked him.
His brow furrowed. “I’ve never tried. I suppose I might be able to, given time…”
“Time we don’t have. Listen to me. If something happens, don’t come after me. There’ll be nothing you can do. I mean it. You’ll be the only one left to oppose the Shadow King. Promise me. Promise, Holgren.”
I didn’t think he would. He was silent for so long. Finally, he nodded.
“Good.” I leaned over and kissed him. Then, before I could change my mind, I jumped up and sprinted for the Tabernacle gates.
As I ran toward her, I took in the situation as best I could. The gates were open outward into the square though they were only made to open inward. There was about a three-foot gap between the gates. The right-hand one hung at a slightly drunken angle. The massive bronze hinges had pulled away from the rotting wood of the gates when Athagos had hurled me through them. Ruiqi was on her side in the gap between them, one hand curled up near her face and the other stretched forward, into the Tabernacle grounds. Blood had begun to pool around the stumps of her legs. She had lost her bandages along the way, dragging them across loose cobbles. Twin trails of blood stretched back out of sight toward camp.
But she still seemed to be breathing. I had to give her credit; she was as stubborn in her way as I was in mine.
I didn’t want Athagos to even suspect we were there. She couldn’t leave the temple grounds, but she damn sure could draw us to her. I didn’t know what her range was and didn’t want to find out. I brushed aside the memory of Gnarri deflating like a speared puffer fish and Athagos’ mad smile. It wouldn’t be my fate. Not if I could help it.
I altered my route, angling away from the narrow opening in the gates just a bit so as not to present a target to anything inside. I was waiting for that bone-chilling shriek of Athagos’ to catch me in mid-stride, waiting for it to strike me down and take control of my body and deliver me to her so that I could be sucked dry. Some people say fear of the unknown is the worst. They haven’t seen anything truly worth fearing.
It wasn’t an eternity exactly, but that run across the square seemed to take a very long time indeed. When I reached the opened door, I was panting and sweating. I was a foot or so away from Ruiqi’s prone body. I took a second to steady my breath and listen for any sign of movement on the other side. I heard nothing.
The partially opened gate, while affording some extra cover, would also make it more difficult to pull her back from the grounds. The angle was wrong. I’d have to twist around the gate to get a solid grip on her. Moving to the other side would make it easier, but it would also, however briefly, present a silhouette, a moving target. I decided to risk it.
Heart in my throat, I moved as quickly and quietly as I could to the other side of Ruiqi. No unearthly wail turned my bones to porridge. I bent down, grabbed a double handful of her robe, and yanked her back away from the entrance. She was surprisingly heavy for someone missing as much of their body as she was. I didn’t get her clear of the entrance on the first pull. I mouthed a silent curse and yanked again, more forcefully. This time, all but her hand cleared the threshold. A final tug and she was completely in the square. I gave a quiet sigh of relief. Too soon as it turned out.
You have returned, Amra, sooner than I had hoped. And with a companion or two.
Tha-Agoth. My heart skipped a beat then started thumping madly. I hadn’t thought he could make contact with me so far away from his prison.
“Just a little visit,” I whispered as I hoisted Ruiqi on my back. “I’m not staying long.”
You have reconsidered my offer?
I shifted the unconscious mage around until I got her arms flopped over my shoulders. Then, I got a good grip on her lower arms and teetered to my feet.
“I’m entertaining the possibility of helping you.” I said. “Don’t pressure me, and stay out of my mind, and maybe we can work a deal.” I staggered across the square toward Holgren.
As you wish.
“Swear you’ll stay out of my mind, Tha-Agoth. You know I hate it.”
I will not tamper with your mind, Amra, nor go digging through your memories. That I swear. But I cannot communicate with you without making contact with your mind.
“I suppose that will just have to be good enough.”
Return to the square when you are prepared to talk. I will be waiting.
“I know you will be. Now go away.”
Silence. I prayed Tha-Agoth wouldn’t go hunting around in my mind. His sister may have betrayed him, but I was willing to bet he wouldn’t look kindly on us sending her off to the Shadow King. If he saw in my thoughts what I intended to do—I didn’t know what he was capable of, and I didn’t want to find out. Not under those circumstances.
Holgren met me a few yards away from the edge of the square. Together, we hauled Ruiqi out of sight of the Tabernacle, and I let her drop to the street more roughly than I intended. I didn’t feel much guilt. She had put us in stupid, unnecessary danger. I sat down, put my hands on my knees, and took deep breaths, resting and trying to regain some calm.
“I sensed something,” said Holgren, “some power there when you were bringing her back.”
“Tha-Agoth. I’ll tell you about it. Not here.”
He nodded, gestured toward Ruiqi. “Ready?”
“I suppose.” I hauled myself to my feet.
“Remarkable, the kind of willpower it must have taken to crawl so far.” He grabbed her under her arms. I got a backward grip on her legs, and we heaved her up and started back toward camp.
“Sure,” I panted, “give me the messy end.”
“We can switch if you’d like.”
“No. This end is lighter. I’ll take the tradeoff.”
We toted her back to camp and treated her wounds again as well as we could. They would probably become infected. It would be a terrible way to die. After we’d done what we could, I secured her to the tree with a length of rope salvaged from the Duke’s camp. I didn’t want her wandering off again. If she decided to use magic—well, Holgren was more than a match for her now though that kind of pissing contest would only benefit the Shadow King in the end.
I decided to worry only about the things I could do something about. Magic wasn’t one of them. Breakfast was. I looked up at the sky; the sun had barely risen two fingers from the time we’d woken. Had it only been an hour or so? It seemed much longer.
“Wel
l, partner,” I said. “I guess it’s time you sampled the fine cuisine Thagoth has to offer.”
“Lovely,” he said. “Do you need help?”
“No, you keep an eye on her. This won’t take long. Not much of a menu.”
“Tell me about Tha-Agoth when you come back.”
“I will, but I want to talk to Ruiqi first.”
#
“I owe you six months’ worth of meals,” he said over a breakfast of dates that were well past their prime. I’d decided not to bother digging up any grubs. He wasn’t hungry enough yet, and I was in no hurry to reacquaint myself with their taste or texture. I’d passed on breakfast entirely, in fact. My last encounter with dates had left a vivid, lasting impression on memory and body. When I got hungry enough, I knew where the grubs congregated. I was willing to put that off pretty much indefinitely. The bitter nuts I’d been harvesting when the Duke showed up, I was holding in reserve. What was left of them might have to last a while.
“Six months of good meals.”
He looked up at me and smiled. Then, he turned his attention back to the rotten dates. His smile faltered as he looked down at his less than appetizing breakfast. I think one had a worm in it.
“It helps if you close your eyes and try not to breathe through your nose,” I suggested.
“Does it?”
“Not much but some. It could be worse. At least dates don’t squirm.”
“This one here does.”
“Think of it as a two-course meal then.”
I caught motion out of the corner of my eye. Ruiqi was stirring.
“I’ll just go have a chat with her. Enjoy your breakfast.” I rose and gave his shoulder a brief touch. He grunted noncommittally and poked at one of the dates with a forefinger. I don’t believe I’d ever actually seen him look glum before that. I couldn’t help but smile. Many’s the time I’d wished he was alive and suffering what I was suffering during my first stay in Thagoth. Sometimes, wishes come true.
Would Ruiqi’s? I sat down next to her on the cold grass, just looking at her for a time. Her hair was in her face but did not obscure the distant, pained expression there. She was lost in some internal hell. I don’t think she even noticed me until I brushed the hair away from her face. Then, she jerked away and cringed.
“How did you end up with the Shadow King?” I asked.
“I have a right to die,” she spat.
“I agree. No one should have to live forever if they don’t want to. Especially not as a slave.”
“Then why don’t you let me die?”
“Because I need you. I need your knowledge. You had a hand in setting all this in motion, and now, you have a responsibility to help us stop it.”
“I didn’t do anything to you. Or him.”
“You didn’t try to stop it from happening either.”
“I would have been punished.”
“That doesn’t free you of the responsibility.”
She began to tremble. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I will never be free of responsibility. Never. Until I die. Duty. Oh, gods.” She dissolved into tears then and a sort of keening. I was fairly certain she was losing her mind. It wasn’t pleasant to witness.
“Amra,” said Holgren, “leave her be for now.”
“I will if she answers just a few more questions.” If I waited, I was afraid she might be too far gone to answer.
“Ruiqi. Tell me something that will help me defeat the Shadow King.”
“It is impossible.”
“I refuse to believe that. He has to have some sort of weakness. We know he has trouble operating during the day. We know he is confined somehow to the area he called Shadowfall. How can we use that to our advantage? Give me something, Ruiqi. Tell me where he and his creatures go during the day.”
“The umbrals bury themselves. Shemrang has many hiding places—anywhere the sun cannot touch. The mountains to the east of Shadowfall are riddled with caves.”
“What about the Shadow King? Where does he go when the sun comes up?”
“He doesn’t go anywhere. He cannot. Not until he subdues Athagos. He can only command his creatures and send his will out into the world to affect events indirectly.”
“What do you mean?”
“He manipulates events, actions. Subtly, so subtly that you think it is your own idea, to go one way and not another. To take a ship to the Wild Shore instead of trekking across wilderness. To take a mountain trail instead of a forest path. All the while, you believe you’re on a trail of your choosing. And then you’re standing in front of his altar, and he is offering you refreshment and rest from your journey. He’s offering you power to destroy your enemies. Immortality. A chance to remake the world. You see your hand reaching out to touch his black prison. You think it is your own will moving your hand, but is it? Is it really? Ask your lover if it was his choice to be snared.”
“It was not my choice.” Holgren had come up behind me. I’d been concentrating on her tale. I hadn’t noticed. He sat down beside me.
“No one would choose to become part of a khordun, especially not with such a beast,” he continued. “Not the renegade apprentice of a murdered master and certainly not an adept of the Order of the Dawn. That’s what you are, aren’t you?”
Even I had heard of the Order. Powerful mages bound to serve the throne of Chagul. Aridhall Flamehand had decimated them centuries before in open battle, but that was Aridhall Flamehand. The stuff that legends were made of.
Ruiqi shook her head. “What I was makes no difference. Now, I am a slave. You say no one would choose such a fate, but you are wrong. The Duke of Viborg did. The fool actually believed he could pit his will against the Shadow King. Use him to gain power. He was allowed to think they were equals, as he had great skill in fashioning artifacts.”
“The Duke is dead, and no one is mourning his loss. You two are still alive. I intend to keep it that way. Tell me something I can use. He has to have some sort of weakness. What about that stone block? Is that what he is tied to?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do. Is that why you were punished—because you tried to destroy him? Did you try to destroy that block?”
“Leave me alone!” She curled up into a ball, face buried in her hands. I had pushed her too far. I looked at Holgren, and he shook his head. I sighed.
“I wish I knew more about how the original ceremony was supposed to work,” he said quietly. “What is the stone’s significance? Why is the Shadow King tied to that particular area?”
“It was where the Sorcerer King was supposed to be resurrected. Or so he said.”
“That’s odd. Not in the Flame’s halls?”
“Not from what I was told.”
“Let’s try to reconstruct the events. The Sorcerer King convinces Athagos to slay her brother somehow—”
“By piercing him through his heart with a sixty-foot rod made of sky-metal, to be exact. But he says it was her idea, not his.”
“Be that as it may, it was somehow supposed to supply the Sorcerer King with the element necessary to transform him into an immortal, all-powerful being. The ceremony takes place in his sanctum and involves the members of his khordun committing ritual suicide. He is expecting to be reborn on the other side of the lake, miles away from his sanctum. In that spot is an obsidian block or altar.”
“Well, the husk didn’t have a mark on him. He wasn’t killing himself. Maybe he intended to go to the block later to complete the ceremony.”
“Perhaps.” He picked at the grass as he spoke, brow furrowed. “Athagos fails to kill her brother, pinning him to his own altar for an age instead. He is unable to break free of the rod that pierces him. Athagos is driven insane—though not necessarily by the act. The Sorcerer King’s ceremony is botched, and instead of being transformed into some sort of god, he is split into three separate entities: the Flame, the Shadow King, and the physical husk.”
“Well, you’ve summed it up nicely, but how does it help us?”
“You said the Flame told you he was the part that was discarded in the attempt, correct?” I nodded.
“Somehow, the old sorcerer was trying to mirror effects. A sort of grand scale sympathetic magic. Tha-Agoth was to die; what was to become the Flame was to be discarded. The deaths of his khordun would supply an enormous surge in raw power to work with for a brief few moments. But was it more than that? Was it somehow meant to attract or mesh with Athagos’ need to kill?”
“Death stead,” said Ruiqi, voice raw, much to our astonishment. She turned to look at Holgren.
“What?”
“The death stead. An ancient ritual. No one of the Order has performed it in centuries. No one has had the power. It is a way for a mage to send his spirit out, to draw back the spirit of one who has just died. It kills the mage.”
“You think the old sorcerer killed his khordun to work a version of this ‘death stead’ ritual?” I asked. “What for?”
“To guide Tha-Agoth’s soul to the block!” said Holgren. “He was going to trap it there and use it somehow to further his ends. You’re right, Ruiqi. I believe we’re on to something.”
“Tha-Agoth didn’t die though.” I’m good at pointing out the obvious.
“Exactly. The ceremony must have required a soul to inhabit the block. The Sorcerer King had already laid the groundwork of the transformation—he was going to forfeit one part of his soul anyway, the part that became the Flame. What was left was what became the Shadow King, and it was sucked into the prison prepared for Tha-Agoth.”
“So we need to destroy that black block.”
Ruiqi made a rasping, choking sound that I recognized after a second as laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I asked her.
“Ask him.” I turned to look at Holgren.
“That block isn’t just stone. Layer upon layer of protective spells have been placed on it. I know of no force in the world that could even mar its surface.”
“How do you know this?”
“I tried when the Shadow King took me. I hurled every scrap of power I had at it. It was like throwing a twig at Havak’s Wall. If destroying that block is the answer, then there is no answer.”
Thief Who Spat in Luck's Good Eye Page 14
