Nods and nervous mutterings answered her. She’d never been much for speeches, but it had seemed like the right time to say something. Aidan gave her a nod, while at his side cel Rau looked relaxed, as if this sort of thing was routine for him. Caitlyn paced around them, crafted armor glinting. She’d healed well, but Felice knew there would be scars left behind, and not all of them physical.
The talon led them to a trapdoor in the depths of the cellars. When they opened it, dank air escaped, and stone steps descended into absolute blackness.
THE REDUCED GROUP scuttled along damp and spiderweb-encrusted tunnels, barely pausing. Sorcerous globes lit their passage. The talon ranged ahead of them, urging them to maintain a fast pace. Dust stirred, and things crunched and squelched underfoot. They passed pitch-black openings emitting the same musty, decaying stink as a moldy tomb. Muffled sounds from the battle above reached them.
It went on like that for some time, until finally they emerged into a circular chamber, walls lined with fired brick, floor covered with a white lichenlike growth. Far above them, a faint light shone from an opening. Against the wall opposite, the talon swayed back and forth. He recognized the creature from what Felice had told him about her unplanned journey to Riversedge. A soft crooning came from it, sending shivers up Caldan’s spine. He could sense sorcery building around the creature.
“What’s it doing?” he asked.
“I—” Felice broke off as the emperor pushed past her and strode up to the talon.
It didn’t indicate that it sensed his presence, merely kept swaying, humming.
The emperor reached up and placed a hand on the talon’s back. Then Caldan sensed more wells opening—five. Quiss and his sorcerers stirred, some frowning.
In front of the emperor and the talon, the sun burst forth from the bricks. Shafts of brilliance sprayed outward, and underneath them the brick glowed orange. Black and gray smoke poured upward, and with a sharp crack, bricks crumbled into dust and rubble. The talon continued, aided by the emperor, until layers of bricks were stripped away to reveal gray stone—and still they kept going. Rock heated to glowing fractured and disintegrated, piling at their feet.
A tunnel—they were tunneling through the rock.
More sorcery and dust and smoke. Shattering and cracking and sorcerous lights. A dozen heartbeats passed—ten feet in and still going. The talon started singing, a high-pitched warbling song in a language Caldan realized probably hadn’t been heard in thousands of years.
And the emperor joined it, his deeper voice underlying the talon’s chant.
The floor beneath them hummed.
Caldan found himself struggling to breathe, so powerful and controlled were the sorceries in front of him.
Stone chips sprayed from the opening amid billowing dust and smoke.
An almighty crack rent the air. The ancient song ceased. Out of the heaving cloud came the talon.
“Come,” it said.
They covered their mouths and noses with their sleeves and followed the creature, stumbling over debris. The end of the tunnel opened into another chamber. This one was lined with massive slabs of stone, and the air was tasteless, sterile.
To the left, great stone stairs descended into inky darkness. The emperor stood at their head, waiting.
“What is this place?” Aidan said.
Felice coughed and wiped gray dust from her face. “A buried city. Long forgotten.”
And now, rediscovered.
“Hurry,” the emperor said, gesturing for his warlocks to come to him. “Our sorcery might have been felt. Prepare yourselves.”
Caldan’s wolf loped down the stairs into the gloom.
“It can scout for us,” Caldan said to Felice, and she nodded.
“As long as it doesn’t give us away.”
And the company descended into the ancient ruins beneath Anasoma.
“THIS HAS THE makings of a disaster,” Aidan said to cel Rau. “You need to tell me what’s going on.”
Hammering drums sounded faintly above them, detonations so loud they could hear them even this far under the ground.
“You don’t need to know more,” Caitlyn said. “Other than what I tell you. We’re here to help the emperor kill Kelhak.”
Aidan ignored her. He glanced at cel Rau. “Are you a tool of the emperor?”
The tribesman’s eyes flashed. “I’m no one’s tool. I do what’s right.”
“And are paid handsomely for it, I’d wager,” said Aidan.
Cel Rau remained motionless, both hands resting on the hilts of his swords.
“Defeating evil is its own reward.” Caitlyn met Aidan’s eye. “Though there are always casualties. Great causes require sacrifice. As I have suffered, and been born anew. The emperor has faith in me, as should you. Keep an eye on that Caldan, as well, both of you. The emperor has plans for him.”
“What plans?” Aidan asked.
“That’s not for you to worry about.”
Nothing good, then, thought Aidan. But what did he expect? People like Caitlyn, cel Rau, and the emperor were blind to their own evil.
Aidan bent down and brushed at the dust covering the ends of his britches in an effort to hide his expression, though they were all cast of shadows down here in the darkness with only a few sorcerous globes for light. Ahead strode the emperor and Felice, while behind them, Caldan followed, along with Quiss, Mazoet, and their sorcerers. Aidan caught occasional glimpses of metal glinting in the darkness—Caldan’s strange wolf as it roamed ahead of them.
“Vasile told me,” he began, speaking to cel Rau, “that everyone wants one thing: to destroy Kelhak. So you needn’t worry on that score. But you should worry about yourselves. Think of what we know now about forbidden sorcery. The best way to keep a secret is if only dead people know it.”
With a cough, cel Rau frowned at Aidan. “The emperor wouldn’t do that.”
Even without Vasile, Aidan could tell cel Rau was lying. If they survived Kelhak, some people wouldn’t leave here alive.
“You dare voice words against the emperor?” hissed Caitlyn with venom. “After he spared you? After he offered redemption?”
“Secrets must be kept,” he said. “For the good of the empire. If a few people die for the greater good, then the cost is worth it. You taught me that.”
Aidan kept his gaze on the people around them and the hoary surroundings. Some of the stones composing the walls revealed dust-covered carvings, as though the makers had taken it upon themselves to imbue decoration or life into this grim place. As they passed another carved block of stone, Aidan trailed his fingers over it, trying to hide his anxiety. An image of cel Rau’s sword dripping blood appeared in his mind, with Chalayan’s head neatly separated from his shoulders. A murder Aidan had condoned. Vasile had told him cel Rau carried out the act as soon as he was able. It had been done with eagerness . . . Cel Rau hadn’t given the benefit of the doubt, given the sorcerer time to show whether he was truly corrupted by his newfound power. Instead, he’d killed Chalayan as soon as he’d seen they were relatively safe from the jukari and vormag. He’d been wanting to kill Chalayan . . . waiting to do the deed.
“ . . . and the worst sorcerers are the ones who have let themselves be corrupted,” Caitlyn was saying to cel Rau. “The Protectors do an adequate job of policing the cities and major towns, but there are innumerable out-of-the-way places that harbor evil.”
“We will need to return to our role,” cel Rau said, “and support the emperor outside the cities.”
“Rogue behavior cannot be tolerated,” Caitlyn said. “This Caldan, for instance.” She lowered her voice. “He must be . . . contained. The emperor has decreed it.”
“The emperor is wise and all-knowing, may he live forever,” cel Rau said.
Aidan coughed as he realized cel Rau believed what he’d said. He turned. “Tell me, cel Rau, what do you make of our newfound friends here?” He waved a hand at Quiss’s sorcerers.
The tribesman scowled
and increased his pace for a few moments, until he walked ahead of him. Behind Aidan was Caitlyn, and an itch formed between his shoulder blades. No, she won’t kill me yet. But I suspect it’s only a matter of time.
“Well?” Aidan prompted.
“It’s for the emperor to decide what to do with them.”
“But will he kill them?”
“I don’t know,” cel Rau said. “The emperor’s ways are beyond me, may he live forever.” He glanced back at Aidan for an instant before returning to watch where he was going.
Cel Rau really did want the emperor to live forever. The thought was . . . disturbing. The swordsman knew more of the emperor than he let on.
Aidan watched cel Rau from behind, the sun-dark skin of his muscled arms, the rough leather and cloth of his hauberk. A mysterious and troubled man.
And Aidan realized he despised the tribesman. Though they’d traveled together for years. Though cel Rau had saved Vasile from the jukari as they’d approached Riversedge. Though they’d exchanged bread across an open fire. The merciless slaughter of Chalayan stood above all other acts. A defining moment. Cel Rau had always been an executioner, realized Aidan.
“You’re here to kill them, aren’t you?” Aidan said to cel Rau.
The swordsman kept walking, as if he hadn’t heard.
“Answer me!” hissed Aidan. Behind him, Caitlyn laughed softly.
Cel Rau stopped, ancient dust swirling around his ankles. He turned to face Aidan and met his eye. “No,” he said simply. “If you die, if I die, so be it.”
“It’s someone specific, isn’t it?”
Cel Rau flashed him a sidelong glance.
“Quiss?”
No reaction from cel Rau.
“Lady Felicienne?”
Still nothing.
“Caldan?”
Cel Rau chuckled and shook his head.
IN HIS THIRST for knowledge, for all things related to crafting and sorcery, Caldan had read many tomes, from the brittle and dusty books and scrolls left to molder at the back of the monastery’s libraries to newly penned theories detailing the time before the Shattering. What he hadn’t realized, though, was that the old cities from that time might still exist. Not as cities in their own right, but as crumbling ruins. After all, it was thousands of years ago. Whatever was left had to have been destroyed by nature, after the bones were picked over by scavengers and treasure hunters. He was astounded to realize that it was possible semi-intact buildings, or even whole cities, might exist in places where nature and weather were less active: deserts, arid lands, the purified lands . . . or, as this one was, underground. Buried . . . forgotten.
Much like the talon that was leading them. At some point in the past, there must have been knowledge about this creature, but it had clearly been lost to time. It was here now, though, and with a turn of its head, the shadowed hood regarded him. Deep inside, Caldan thought he saw a faint reflection of light: eyes staring out at him.
“What is it?” he asked.
It loomed at his side. Frayed rags rustled. Caldan could smell something underneath its now-familiar stale scent: blood and urine. As if the creature exuded them or had encountered them recently. The stench of recent death.
“Walk with me,” the talon said, drawing Caldan by the elbow away from the others.
The talon had birdlike fingers ending in . . . talons. Caldan had seen their like before, lying dead in Amerdan’s tent. Amerdan had killed one of these creatures—had he absorbed something from it, which was now a part of Caldan?
Bony fingers dug into his arm, and Caldan glanced back at Felice, who watched as the talon drew him away. Her face was inscrutable. And the emperor . . . the emperor watched them like a hawk, but he didn’t intervene.
The talon’s well was jagged and fierce, a rupture that tugged at Caldan’s awareness. It was uncomfortable to stand so close to this creature. A made thing, carrying the power of a long-dead sorcerer. His hands balled into fists, his nerves bristling in alarm, as if expecting violence.
“What is it?” Caldan said again. “We’ve no time for this.”
The talon paused, brought the dark opening of its cowl to face him. “Why are you here?” it said.
Caldan held his breath, knowing he was on the precipice of something important but not yet understanding what it could be. From a few paces behind the talon, he could see Felice regarding them both, and behind her, the emperor and his warlocks.
“The lich must be stopped,” Caldan said.
The hood bent toward the stone beneath their feet. “Ancient blood flows within you.”
Ah, the ancestors’ blood. “Weakly,” admitted Caldan. How the talon knew about it wasn’t clear.
“Your kind is lost. Your purpose . . . astray. But there is more. I sense a kinship in you, and that is impossible. I was created a long time ago.”
Was the creature implying Caldan was now part talon? After all, he’d absorbed essences from Amerdan, who’d killed the other talon . . . “What do you mean?” Caldan wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. He had enough weighing him down, and he feared another burden might break him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Felice take a few steps closer.
The talon placed a large hand on Caldan’s shoulder. Its weight pressed down, but Caldan remained unmoved. This close, he could see tiny details in the clawlike appendage: hard skin covered with lines and cracks. The creature looked particularly disturbing, limned in flickering torchlight overlaid with the sterile glow of sorcerous globes.
Be careful! an inner voice warned.
Rags rustled as the talon turned the void of his hood to regard Felice, then back to Caldan. “Everything . . . has reason.”
“That’s . . . true,” Caldan said.
“They will try to kill you,” the talon said.
Why was it telling him this? What did it want? Caldan twisted his elbow from its wiry grasp. “I know. How can I not?”
“I am of the Old Ones, but not one of them.”
The sorcerers before the Shattering. Its masters. “They are all dead, except one,” Caldan said. “They will not return.”
“Perhaps you are wrong.”
“You seek,” Caldan said, “to bring them back? How?”
“To create anew.”
Caldan trembled at the conviction in the talon’s voice. Him. It was talking about him. The talon wanted a return to the time before the Shattering. First Gazija, and now this creature. Each had some plan for him, a design of their own making. None of them considered Caldan’s own desires.
“We have other concerns at the moment. We don’t even know if we’ll survive this.”
“The emperor must have a balance. A counterweight. He fears any of his kind. For thousands of years, he’s suppressed sorcery. And when a test of his power came, his empire was shattered.”
“I don’t care,” Caldan said, but he could feel the false note in his voice. Inwardly, he cursed himself. When Kelhak was gone, he wanted to be done with them all. There was no stable ground anymore. Not here. Not for Caldan. He’d been turned into a lich against his will. Wasn’t that enough? Couldn’t they leave him be?
“My name was . . . is . . . Inchariel. Seek me out.”
Despite himself, Caldan’s curiosity was piqued. He thought about it for a moment. What knowledge did the talon have? Perhaps far more than the warlocks, even as much as the emperor. Maybe he should find out what it wanted. But that was a decision for another time.
Caldan nodded, turned away from the unnerving creature.
The talon moved to the front of their group. Rag ends trailed in the dust. Mercenaries parted to let it through, fear and disgust writ large on their faces.
CHAPTER 54
Caldan’s group stopped in a tight-knit bunch when an opening appeared. The emperor was in the lead, surrounded by warlocks, followed by cel Rau and Felice, then Mold and two Protectors. Selbourne and his mercenaries enclosed Caldan, along with Aidan, Caitlyn, Quiss, and
the portly Mazoet, with the other stork-thin sorcerers bringing up the rear.
The entrance to the old city was open, a square of blackness bounded by blocks of stone. Patterned alloy edged the doorway, etched with indecipherable writing. Words as small as ants tracked across the ageless surface, and curled lines of metal spread across the stone walls, as if they had grown roots.
They stared into the impenetrable blackness, and while their reactions varied somewhat, it was apparent on most faces that they were all facing a horror none of them wanted to contemplate. And when they finally pulled their gazes away and turned back to the talon, it was gone. Vanished without a sound.
There were angry mutterings from the mercenaries, quickly hushed by Felice and Selbourne.
“Let it go,” the emperor said. “It is far more useful than you know. And uneasy, around your kind.”
Your kind, thought Caldan. So the emperor doesn’t consider himself one of us. But maybe I’m not either, now.
Caldan lifted his sorcerous crafted globe and strode forward. Although he was surrounded by potent sorcerers and hard-bitten mercenaries, and he himself possessed multiple wells, he felt small and frail before the dark opening. And though his wolf was beside him, he hesitated to send it through, as if anything entering that maw would never return.
But there was no going back. He turned to regard the assembly behind him, his sorcerous globe banishing shadows. Felice regarded him with faint concern, her hand reaching up to toy with an earring. Quiss, his expression tinged with sorrow, looked all the more thin and frail in the meager yellow light. Selbourne, eyes squinted in scrutiny, remained hard-faced and unyielding. They’d stepped to the fore, their people behind them, as if they should be the first ones through the opening into the unknown. A show of leadership, of strength.
Skin prickling, Caldan met each of their eyes in turn as the silence grew. What lay beyond, they didn’t know, but each of them was certain they wouldn’t come out of this alive.
The emperor spoke softly. His voice seemed to reach all of them, even those at the rear, who looked up as he did so.
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