Dread looked irked. “Your Supremacy …”
“You have to leave,” Elaine said. “The final defence line is not going to hold him for long.”
She settled back on the Golden Throne, holding Johan’s hand, as the palace’s remaining inhabitants were hurried out of the building. She’d taken the time to evacuate the prisoners over the last two days – most of the slaves had been freed – and the hostages had gone back to their families. The building felt oddly uneasy as soon as it was empty, save for Elaine and Johan. It might not be intelligent, in any recognisable sense, but it knew the Witch-King was approaching.
Johan squeezed her hand tightly. “I love you,” he said. “And thank you.”
Elaine smiled at him, feeling an unaccustomed warmth around her heart. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I’m glad I had the chance to meet you.”
She closed her eyes as the Witch-King pushed the final defence line aside. He must be desperate, part of her mind noted; the spells he’d unleashed, unseen for centuries, effectively ate magic. Given his limited power, it was a considerable risk to unleash such spells, although it looked as though he was having no trouble in controlling it. The books Elaine had absorbed had made it clear that only a handful of magicians had ever been powerful enough to risk using it.
Even an Inquisitor wouldn’t take the risk, she thought. Ironically, given some modification, the spell might be very useful indeed. She could have used it at the Peerless School … but back then, she couldn’t have hoped to learn it, let alone rewrite it to suit herself. It might be usable against the Witch-King.
She tensed, resting one arm against the throne, as the Witch-King stepped up to the edge of the wards and stopped. Elaine didn’t hesitate; she triggered the defences, throwing a wave of raw killing power right into his face. The Witch-King showed no reaction; she triggered a whole series of spells, attacking him on a dozen different levels at once. She sensed, at some level, the ground below the Witch-King shuddering, then rising up to crush him under a wave of molten stone. But his presence was still there … she gasped in pain as he launched a wave of magic upwards, reducing the stone to ash.
“Elaine,” Johan said. She sensed his arm, despite the overwhelming presence of the Golden Throne. “You’re bleeding!”
Elaine touched her nose. Blood was dripping from her nostrils and staining her shirt. She grimaced, then pushed it aside, refusing to allow it to distract her. The Witch-King’s presence was growing stronger, pushing against the wards; she felt a sudden surge of inhuman rage before a wave of pain slammed through her, almost throwing her off the Golden Throne. Johan caught her and steadied her, his thoughts flaring with alarm. The Witch-King had burnt through the wards …
Just like Johan did, she thought, as she took control of what was left of the defences and directed them right at the advancing Witch-King. Whatever he did undermined the spells completely, wiping them out.
She felt more blood dripping from her nose, but she did her best to ignore it. The once-proud network of defensive wards was in tatters, unless … other spells were activating now, a handful of heavy defences merged with a set of soothing spells. She puzzled over the latter, then realised that they were designed to make the target calm down. If the Witch-King had rendered Johan powerless by the simple expedient of drugging him to neutralise his emotions, there was no reason the defences couldn’t do the same. But had the Emperors anticipated a lich …?
He must have programmed himself to feel emotion, she thought, as the Witch-King continued his steady advance. But they’re not real. They can’t be soothed.
“He’s almost here,” she said, slowly. “If I tell you to run, I expect you to run.”
“I’m not going to leave you,” Johan said, firmly.
“I’ll catch up with you,” Elaine said. “If I tell you to run, then run.”
The door was already shaking; she opened it, quickly, to prevent the Witch-King turning it into a weapon. She fought down the urge to rise from the throne and kneel as the monster stepped into the Throne Room, its presence beating on the air like the wings of mighty dragons. Up close, the Witch-King looked no different … and yet, was there a faint decline in the blue fire? It was unlikely to matter.
“Run,” she ordered Johan. “Now!”
She grabbed for the remaining wards and took control, ripping the floor open and throwing it right at the Witch-King. Physical impacts seemed more useful than magic, she reasoned; the Witch-King had actually been slowed by the earlier chunks of debris. The Witch-King stumbled, seemingly shocked that she would burn so much power in a direct attempt to kill him, then staggered as her will grew stronger, slamming the upper floors into him. He raised a shield of his own, then thrust upwards. Elaine recoiled in pain as the Imperial Palace shuddered and started to disintegrate. But it wasn’t important. The only important thing within the palace was the Golden Throne.
And I don’t care about keeping myself in power, Elaine thought. All that I want to do is stop him.
She stood as the Witch-King stepped towards her, sending one final command to the Golden Throne. The Witch-King looked at her, his face twisted into what might have been a cold smile, then crooked a finger. An invisible force picked her up and threw her right across the room, her wards threatening to break as she slammed right into the wall. Johan – she thought she’d told him to run – caught hold of her as the Witch-King touched the throne …
… And stumbled backwards as golden light flared around him.
Work, Elaine thought, as she felt the wards dying, piece by piece. Please work.
Johan helped her to walk towards the remains of the wall as the magic grew stronger. It had been simple enough; she’d rekeyed the Golden Throne to project all of its remaining power into the Witch-King, tuned enough to be completely unusable. It would be like drinking poisoned water; he needed the water to survive, but if he drank it the poison would kill him. And he wasn’t of the Emperor’s bloodline. There was no way he could undo the commands she’d given the throne.
The entire palace shook, pieces of debris crashing down in the distance. A painting of some ugly woman fell from the wall, hitting the ground with an almighty crash. Elaine wanted to raise a ward, but she couldn’t focus her mind. It felt very much as if part of her were dying too. The surges of power behind her were getting stronger …
“Run,” Johan shouted. The roof caved in, just ahead of them. “Hurry!”
Elaine tried, but she couldn’t muster the energy. Johan grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder and carried her rapidly towards the nearest hole in the walls. Elaine’s mind was spinning in all directions; the last traces of the Golden Throne were fading from her mind, leaving her just … Elaine. It was a relief, yet … part of her had almost enjoyed the two days of absolute power.
A thousand years of history just died, she thought. And yet, it didn’t feel like her thoughts, or Johan’s. And …
The Imperial Palace disintegrated. Johan’s power flared, shielding them both as he stumbled through the debris and out into the garden. It was tiny, compared to the great estates outside the Golden City, but a symbol of wealth and power. Johan put her down and helped her to stand upright, her head spinning from the sudden loss of the wards. The Golden Throne had practically overwhelmed her while she’d sat on it, steering her into being more of an Empress.
Maybe that’s why Deferens chose to leave the Golden City so quickly, she thought. He knew the dangers of remaining on the throne …
“No,” Johan said, dully. Raw shock suffused his thoughts. “Elaine …”
Elaine looked up. The dust was clearing, revealing a figure standing in the exact centre of where the palace had been. She stared, unwilling to believe that the Witch-King had survived. It seemed impossible that anything could survive. And yet, there could be no mistaking the glowing figure. She’d burnt away the Golden Throne – her birthright – and vast reserves of magic, for nothing.
But it wasn’t over yet.
“W
e need to get to the library,” she said, as the Witch-King turned to look at them. “We’ll make our stand there.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Johan helped Elaine to stumble through the remains of the rear wall as blue light flared behind them. The ground shook violently a moment later, the Witch-King’s anger manifesting as small earthquakes. Johan remembered everything he’d done and shuddered in horror. If the Witch-King chose to be angry, he could devastate the remains of the entire city.
Not that it matters, he thought, numbly. He’d never really cared about the Golden Throne, or the Imperial Palace, but he knew what their loss meant. The Empire was well and truly dead. There’s no way the Golden City can survive without it.
“We need to get to the library,” Elaine said. Blood was still dripping from her nose, even though she’d separated herself from the Golden Throne before its death. “We’re going to need the wards.”
The Witch-King’s presence grew stronger. Johan risked a look behind and saw the monstrous figure striding through the wreckage of the palace, kicking pieces of stone and glass out of the way. He looked unstoppable and yet … his fires seemed to be lighter somehow. It could have been a trick of the light, Johan thought, but it was just possible the Witch-King was reaching the end of the line.
“There’s no other potential target now, but us,” Elaine croaked. He held her upright as they staggered towards the library. She felt absurdly light, as if something had gone out of her when the Golden Throne had died. “He has to come after us.”
“There’s the Peerless School’s wards,” Johan said. The ground quivered as the Witch-King stepped into the garden. Johan looked back just in time to see flames licking around his feet, incinerating a garden renowned for its beauty. And just for existing in the heart of the Golden City. “And the Great Houses …”
“Not enough power to keep him going for long,” Elaine muttered. She leant on him for a long moment, then forced herself to stand up. “He needs you now, Johan. It’s his only hope of survival.”
Johan gritted his teeth, fighting down a wave of anger that threatened to burst loose. “Am I always to be something, not a person in my own right?”
Elaine laughed, harshly. “Now you know how I felt after … well, you know.”
Johan gripped her arm as they hurried towards the Great Library, understanding precisely what she meant. Her knowledge made her a target; everyone, from the Grand Sorcerer to the merest of Hedge Wizards, would have wanted her, if only to learn how to cast low-power spells. He was surprised that Light Spinner hadn’t killed Elaine on the spot – or Dread, even before Elaine’s brush with wild magic. Her mere existence was a threat to the status quo.
But there’s nothing left of the status quo, he thought. Whatever happens today, the world will never be the same again.
He pushed the thought aside as Elaine pulled him forward. The Witch-King was closing in, his magic reaching out to touch them. He should be capable of just snapping them up, Johan thought; it took him several minutes to realise that the Witch-King was using wild magic to hold himself in place. The sheer tenacity surprised him, although it shouldn’t have done. A person who had managed to live for over a thousand years would know precisely how to prolong their life as long as possible.
And he may believe that death is truly the end, Johan thought. His father had told them that they would go to the Household Gods when they died – Jamal had sneered that the gods would turn their backs on powerless Johan – but the Witch-King might think differently. If he’d been a god, or an immensely powerful being, he might genuinely believe there was no life after death. He thinks there are no real gods to take his soul.
“Nearly there,” Elaine said. The Great Library rose up in front of them. Despite himself, Johan felt a pang at the thought of destroying it. The Great Library was the first place he’d ever felt welcome. “The wards are already reaching for me.”
“Good,” Johan said. Elaine straightened up as she drew on the wards, allowing them to heal her. It wasn’t a serious expenditure of magic – and besides, it was power the Witch-King wouldn’t be able to use. “What now?”
Elaine squeezed his hand. “We make our last stand.”
Johan looked at her, feeling a surge of love and tenderness that surprised him. Elaine wasn’t as pretty as Charity or Jayne, the girl he’d thought he could court before his father had ruined everything – again. And yet, she had character and a grim determination to do what she had to do that outshone him. She’d taken him into her home and into her heart, risking everything she had to protect him and study his magic … he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, but there was no time. Instead, he merely squeezed her hand tighter.
“I’m ready,” he said, as he turned to face the Witch-King. The Great Library’s wards flared between them, but he knew they wouldn’t stop the lich for longer than a few seconds. “And I love you.”
Elaine smiled at him, tiredly. “I love you too.”
***
The Witch-King paused on the far side of the wards. Elaine suspected it didn’t bode well, but she was almost grateful for the brief hesitation. Doing two things at once was hard enough when she wasn’t under a staggering amount of pressure; now, with the Witch-King’s sheer presence bearing down on her, it was nearly impossible to balance the wards with Johan’s power. If they hadn’t been bonded so closely, if he hadn’t trusted her completely, it would have been almost impossible.
She studied the Witch-King carefully through the wards, considering the spells that he’d woven into his wild magic. It was a fascinating piece of work, all the more so because he’d lacked the comprehensive knowledge he’d granted her. Even now, after stealing her knowledge from her mother, he hadn’t had the time to sit down and improve his work. But it barely mattered. His spellwork had lasted for over a thousand years without falling apart.
But it has glitches, she thought, as she readied herself. It can be broken.
“Fallen Empress,” the Witch-King said. Or thought; she wasn’t sure if he was speaking normally or through a form of telepathy. “You will die today.”
Elaine ignored him. There was no time to do anything but muster the spells she needed, the spells she had to put together at terrifying speed. It would have been completely impossible without the library … it struck her, suddenly, that the Witch-King had outsmarted himself. If he’d been a little less of a planner, if he’d been a little less willing to adapt circumstances to suit himself, he would have won by now. Or merely taken her, then launched his bid to place his tool on the Golden Throne. Trying to do it too quickly, in the end, had crippled him.
“You know this,” the Witch-King said. “I have an offer for you.”
“No,” Elaine said. It was hard to slip her attention from the wards, but she had no choice. “I don’t want your offers.”
“If Johan comes to me, you will live,” the Witch-King said. There was an awful sincerity in his words that tore at her mind. “I will swear an oath, if you wish; you will survive.”
Elaine didn’t need the bond to sense Johan’s horror. She didn’t blame him, either. There would be nothing left of him after the Witch-King subsumed his mentality. And it was quite possible that snapping his neck, afterwards, would be futile. The Witch-King might well manage to turn Johan’s body into another lich, then keep himself going long enough to find a third wild magician. And even if he didn’t, it was quite possible that the bond would kill her as well as Johan …
… And she couldn’t betray him.
“No,” she said, coldly. Beside her, she felt Johan’s horror becoming anger. Had the Witch-King thought he’d surrender himself to save Elaine? Her survival would come at an immense cost, paid by the remainder of the Empire. “Give up. Your long life is over.”
“The Empire will die without me,” the Witch-King said. She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or Johan. “Countless kings will snatch power for themselves, killing thousands as they build their armies and ravish
the neighbouring kingdoms. Millions of lives will be destroyed. Centuries of tradition will be obliterated. If you truly wish to preserve the Empire, you will surrender yourself to me.”
“It’s already happening,” Johan said. His anger was pulsing beside his words. “The Empire is dying!”
“Then let me save it,” the Witch-King hissed.
“You won’t,” Elaine said. “You’ll round up every magic-user you can find and butcher them to power yourself. Then you’ll start everyone worshipping you as a reborn god. And then you’ll start sacrificing thousands of people every year to summon monsters as your madness grows worse. You’ll become an evil ruler who can never be removed.”
The Witch-King sneered. “Do you really believe the Emperors were that much better?”
“I think they were right to turn on you,” Elaine countered. “You’re not even remotely human any longer. The worst blood-crazed vampire is more human than you.”
The Witch-King’s face didn’t change, but she felt his rage. She gritted her teeth as the wards melted, fragments of spellwork scattering everywhere. Thankfully, some of her earlier work – after Johan had damaged the wards a couple of months ago – held firm, starting the task of regenerating the wards. Beside her, Johan held her arm tighter as the Witch-King stepped forward. The wards fell back …
… And there was nothing standing between them and the monster.
***
Johan felt his anger burning through his mind, demanding release. It wasn’t just that the Witch-King wanted his body in the worst possible way, it wasn’t just that he’d thought that Elaine would roll over and throw Johan to the monster, it was the sheer certitude in the Witch-King’s emotions that they’d surrender for the sake of the Empire. Johan hadn’t taken as much interest in political affairs as his father, not since it had become clear that he wouldn’t be claiming any power of his own, but the Witch-King’s arrogance shocked him to the core. It was the Witch-King who had been responsible for the string of atrocities Deferens had committed: the sacking of a dozen cities and towns, the slaughter of countless men, the rape of thousands of women …
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