by Lisa Shearin
Having set up the crystal ball for us, Ben turned to leave.
Justinius stopped him with a raised hand. “Hold on a minute, Ben. If we end up shutting down mirror travel on this island or anywhere else, you and your boys are going to be busy. You have every right to see what we’re dealing with.”
Ben gave a solemn nod. “Whatever I see won’t leave this room until you tell me otherwise.”
“Good man.”
“I try, sir.”
Mychael set the spy gem next to the crystal ball and murmured a few words.
A nightmare unfolded before our eyes.
“I didn’t see any of this when I was in there,” Tam breathed in disbelief.
“That does it,” I said. “I’m never setting foot in a mirror again.”
I’d seen masses of cobwebs and spiders before. Those had been spiders you could crush under your boot heel.
I swallowed with an audible gulp. “Are all those the same size as Gargantua down in the containment room?”
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t be,” Tam replied. “All of the Rak’kari I’ve ever heard of being conjured have been the same size.”
The wall of the mirror tunnel Tam had been inside of was virtually translucent. It was as if the Rak’kari wanted to show off their building skills.
We could see out into the Void. I had no idea how far it extended, though I imagine it was called the Void for a reason. Regardless, as far as our eyes could see were webs and Rak’kari, scuttling back and forth into the distance on what we knew to be rope-sized strands of web like a highway.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a problem,” Justinius said.
“There must be hundreds,” Imala managed. “There aren’t that many mirrors on the island.”
“No, ma’am, there aren’t,” Cuinn replied.
We watched in the crystal ball as a mass of web shot toward Tam like a net, engulfing him, yanking him violently forward.
Toward a mass of glistening, sticky black web.
Almost immediately, Tam was pulled again, this time from behind. That would have been Mychael and his Guardians trying to get him out.
The Rak’kari wasn’t giving up its prize that easily.
Another round of tug-of-war followed, ending with the cable snapping and Tam falling out of the citadel mirror.
The spy gem continued playing what had happened when we’d gotten Tam back. It stopped when Tam’s chestplate had been ripped off and had landed on the floor.
The room filled with stunned silence.
Mychael stepped up to the crystal ball, murmured a few words, and the action went in reverse as Tam was being captured and pulled forward by a Rak’kari web. Mychael held the tips of his fingers close together, then slowly spread them out, zooming in on what was blocking the goblin mirror’s exit in Regor.
“Cuinn, is that…cocoon, for lack of a better word, being built where the mirrors are?”
The young elf stood utterly still. “Yes, sir.”
“They’re elementals,” I said. “Conjured from magic. Can they reproduce?”
“I’ve never heard of elementals reproducing, but…” Tam’s words trailed off as Mychael moved his index finger to the next cocoon, repeating the same motion to zoom in on it.
Cuinn made a strangled sound.
There was a foot and part of an arm sticking out of the cocoon. From the color of the skin, it was human or elf.
Mychael froze. “I think I know what happened to that Caesolian merchant.”
I spat my favorite four-letter word, the one I reserved for life-or-death situations I couldn’t do a thing to prevent.
Mychael zeroed in on three more cocoons. One was empty—at least of a dead body. The other two had a body each, and one of those bodies was goblin.
Mychael hadn’t wanted to cause a needless panic by telling the delegates what had happened to Markus until we had more facts.
What we’d just witnessed was about as factual as it got.
Now it was time to panic.
Chapter 16
Every telepath in the citadel’s communication room was working overtime. There was already a list of contacts and procedures in place for relaying vital messages during catastrophic emergencies.
What we had on our hands qualified on every level.
Justinius and Mychael composed a message to be sent out immediately to every ruler, government agency, merchant guild, and higher academic institution in the Seven Kingdoms. The message included the order to continue spreading it, via messenger on horseback, if necessary.
Stop all mirror travel immediately. Lock, cover, and secure all mirrors now.
The message included what was infesting the Void, the fact that it was indestructible, and what would happen to anyone attempting to travel through a mirror. It also promised that we were doing everything in our power to come up with a solution.
Somehow I didn’t think that was going to make anyone feel better. I knew it wasn’t doing much for me, considering that I was one of the people trying to find that solution.
Those familiar with dark magic elementals would be able to do the math and determine that the Khrynsani were responsible, but until we knew that for a fact, Justinius didn’t want to include it, at least not yet.
We all knew why.
The peace talks.
Or what would be left of them, once the delegates were told what had happened.
Justinius was making arrangements to tell them within the hour. In person. And once he did, the peace talks would go straight down the crapper before they had a chance to make any progress, and any hope we might have had of getting the delegates’ signatures on a nonaggression treaty would be gone. The goal of the talks wasn’t just peace, it was getting agreement that magical objects of power like the Saghred shouldn’t and wouldn’t be sought out and used against another kingdom. We’d known that the main objection would be self-defense and protection, whether they intended to use whatever they found for that reason or not.
But now, with swarms of indestructible Rak’kari infesting the Void, if I was a ruler, I’d want whatever I could get my hands on to protect my people, and damn the consequences.
The blame for those swarms would fall squarely on the goblins—any and all goblins. The delegates would claim that the goblins had declared war on the Seven Kingdoms by sending their monsters to shut down all mirror travel, thus paralyzing commerce and government, sending them back to the dark ages of traveling by horse.
The Mal’Salin family had a history of being linked to the Khrynsani, and no one would believe that any monarch with the last name Mal’Salin would have broken with tradition now. Chigaru had been on the goblin throne for less than a month. He was unknown and untried. Yes, he had ordered the Khrynsani disbanded, hunted down, and either arrested or killed if they resisted. Chigaru could claim that he despised everything they stood for until he was blue in the face. No one would believe a Mal’Salin wanted to live in peace.
But right here and right now, Tam and Imala would take the brunt of the blame. Considering Tam’s death-curse reputation, those accusations probably wouldn’t be said within his hearing, but the damage would be done regardless.
“Some people are going to step through a mirror anyway,” I said.
“Those are the people no one’s really going to miss,” Justinius said. “A little less stupid in the world right now would be nice. Cutting themselves from the herd would do the rest of us a favor.”
“If filling the Void with Rak’kari is the Khrynsani’s doing, what are they trying to accomplish?” I asked. “The attack on the elven delegation’s ship and Ambassador Eldor’s murder was timed close to the Rak’kari attack on Markus. Mal’Salin gold was used to pay the pirates. Now the Rak’kari are killing anything that steps through a mirror. What do the Khrynsani want, other than to stop the peace talks by essentially holding the Seven Kingdoms hostage? I mean, is there going to be a ransom note at some point? Or was it some kind of accident?”
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“That’s a big accident,” Cuinn muttered.
“There were less than three hundred Khrynsani in the temple at any given time,” Imala said. “Perhaps that could have been increased by another hundred once Sarad Nukpana had the Saghred to protect. We arrested one hundred and forty-two.”
“That leaves a lot unaccounted for,” Mychael said.
“The sea dragons ate some,” I reminded them.
“True, but what could a hundred Khrynsani do?”
“Set a plan in motion that had been put in place when the Khrynsani were at full strength,” Tam said quietly.
Justinius sat up straighter. “You’ve got my attention.”
“Sarad was building that massive Gate outside of Regor to instantly deploy hundreds of troops at a time to anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms,” Tam said. “To simultaneously unleash a worldwide Rak’kari infestation and render every mirror unusable would be the most effective way to isolate the kingdoms from each other, then they could launch attacks through that Gate using the goblin army. Communication would be limited to telepaths—and then only the very best ones who could keep their emotions in check would be able to function. Even that wouldn’t do them any good if there wasn’t a telepath at the other end still alive to receive a message.” He indicated the frozen tableau shown in the crystal ball. “To set up sabotage on this scale would take the Khrynsani at their full power. To conjure even a single Rak’kari takes a level of skill that only Sarad Nukpana’s inner circle would have possessed. What we’re seeing here is the result of years of work.”
“Why haven’t we seen any until now?” I asked.
“A Rak’kari can easily survive without air. As I’ve said, when they’re created, they’re immediately contained. Their digestive systems don’t finish developing until they’ve fed for the first time, so they can be stored for a couple of years in containers and survive perfectly well.”
Justinius spoke. “The Khrynsani have been making and stockpiling those things until they needed them.”
“That appears to be the case, sir.”
“Sons of bitches.”
“Another true statement, especially when it comes to Sarad Nukpana and his inner circle. Sarad has never taken defeat well. He referred to it as a ‘temporary inconvenience.’ He always had a backup plan.”
“He’s in Hell,” I reminded Tam.
“That doesn’t mean that there wasn’t a plan in place, just that he wouldn’t be there to execute it. There were survivors, highly placed and magically talented survivors—like Sandrina Ghalfari. Only half of his inner circle perished the night the Saghred was destroyed…” Tam winced. “Sorry, Raine.”
“Quite all right. As far as I’m concerned, you can keep right on saying that. The Saghred was destroyed. That’s the story we’re going to be sticking with, so let’s get good at telling it.”
“We captured two of Sarad’s inner circle that night,” Imala said, smiling. “I think Grandmother should have a chat with them.”
A’Zahra Nuru was Imala’s grandmother. She had also been Tam’s teacher and black magic rehabilitator, and was presently Chigaru’s moral compass. In my opinion, she was also an all-around nice lady. So her having what Imala as the director of the goblin secret service would call a successful “chat” to obtain information was a startling revelation.
“Your grandmother tortures people?”
“She can question a person and read their thoughts, see their memories. The more specific the questioning, the better chance to bypass any thought defenses they may have.” She glanced at the crystal ball with its image of a Void full of monster spiders. “Even if neither of those two men were directly involved in conjuring the Rak’kari, chances are they would at least know about the plan, which would give us confirmation that the Khrynsani are behind it. Ben, would you contact my grandmother and tell her what we need?”
Ben looked to Justinius. “Sir?”
“Move it to the top of your list. We need that information. As soon as we’re finished here, contact her.”
“Consider it done, sir.”
“I think I’m seeing a bigger picture here,” Tam mused. “The Khrynsani no longer have the goblin king and army backing them up, there’s no Saghred to speak of, and Sarad is gone. There can be only about a hundred Khrynsani left. And they’re setting up the new goblin government to take the blame.” He shrugged. “No one’s ever trusted the goblins anyway. The elves are the only kingdom equipped to go to war over it—and from what I understand, after the fallout from Carnades’s treason, their government is in nearly as much disarray as ours. That would only leave the Conclave and Guardians capable of doing anything about it.”
Justinius snorted.
“I take it that means you’re not going to be declaring war on us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. The Khrynsani don’t waste resources, so what they’ve done in the Void can’t be just a monumental waste of perfectly good monsters—”
Mychael blinked. “Perfectly good?”
“Sorry, but you know what I mean. You have to admit they couldn’t have picked a better way to stop mirror travel—Rak’kari get the job done and they’re terrifying while they’re at it. If all the Khrynsani wanted to achieve was no peace treaty and no trust for goblins…We’ve never had either one. A few Rak’kari in the Void would have sufficed to stop mirror travel, or at least slowed it down.” He tilted his head toward the crystal ball. “That nightmare ensures no one’s going to travel by mirror anytime soon.”
“If ever,” Cuinn added. “They’re indestructible, right?”
“If they can be destroyed, the Khrynsani never found out how.”
Mychael leaned forward thoughtfully. “The governments of the two strongest kingdoms can barely field armies, and the other five don’t trust either one enough to sign a peace treaty. And when the delegates learn about the Void, what little trust there might have been will be gone.” He paused meaningfully. “The Seven Kingdoms have never been more vulnerable to attack than they are right now.”
“But from who?”
“Unknown. If we’re lucky, it’s only a few desperate and spiteful Khrynsani.”
Chapter 17
Being a believer that a picture was worth a thousand words, Justinius hauled the crystal ball and spy gem into the room where the delegates had been asked to gather, set them on a table, activated them, and told the delegates to watch.
When the recording had finished playing, he told the horrified assemblage what they’d seen. Then to ensure they understood the seriousness of the situation, he backed up the recording and zoomed in on the remains of the poor unfortunates who had made the life-ending choice to travel by mirror in the last day or two.
The delegates did exactly what we thought they’d do—panic and adamantly refuse to give up anything they thought might give them an advantage in what they believed was an imminent goblin/Khrynsani attack.
The claim that the present goblin government wasn’t involved was met with derision from the Nebian ambassador and wide-eyed terror from the Caesolian contingency, who had steadfastly refused to accept that all goblins had ever wanted from the Caesolians was their wine. Justinius wisely hadn’t mentioned that Sarad Nukpana always had a backup plan. All we had now were monster spiders and no mirror travel. While it was starting to look like the first step of a colossal and evil master plan, until it was known and confirmed, any discussion was mere speculation.
“Well, at least the delegates are predictable,” I murmured to Mychael.
“I think I can do something to change their minds.”
“Good luck.”
“Hopefully I won’t need it.”
He stepped forward with what looked like another spy gem. “Ladies and gentlemen, Chancellor Nathrach risked his life to obtain what you just watched. As you saw, even armor provided minimal protection against these creatures.” He held up the orb in his hand. “One of these is mounted above t
he door to the citadel mirror room at all times to record everything that happens whenever a mirror is activated. You need to see it.” Mychael didn’t direct that last part to the Nebian ambassador; he didn’t need to, we all knew.
Mychael looked to Tam. “With your permission?”
Why would he ask? Oh yeah, the naked part.
Next to me, Imala bit her bottom lip against a smile.
Next to her, Tam sighed and waved his hand in acquiescence.
It played and the delegates watched. No one looked away, no one could. And like any good story, it had a surprise ending. No one expected full frontal nudity.
I’d bet the delegates would talk to Tam now—at least the ladies would.
I leaned toward Imala. “If that’s not an icebreaker, I don’t know what is.”
I didn’t know which had made more of an impression: monster spiders or naked Tam.
Not only did Tam not slink down in his chair, he cast an arch glance at the Nebian ambassador, Aeron Corantine. The Nebian pretended not to notice.
Point Tam.
“Well, I guess we know who won that competition,” Imala noted dryly.
Dakarai Enric stood, raised his palsied hand for silence, and surprisingly got it.
Dakarai was a goblin, but he looked like a kindly grandfather, which was quite an achievement, considering his fangs. His long hair was white against his dark blue robes, and his eyes a warm dark brown instead of the usual goblin black.
“Honored colleagues, may I speak?” It was a question, but the goblin elder statesman wasn’t asking for permission. He had something to say, and no one was going to stop him from saying it.
“The histories of each of our kingdoms contain individuals who had a twisted desire for absolute power. They found others who shared their ideology and established organizations whose goal was to force the societies that they contaminated to accept and adopt their distorted vision.” He paused meaningfully. “I need not name the organizations or their infamous leaders. Each of our kingdoms has had them, dark and shameful times in our respective histories. Yet none of us has ever failed to struggle against them; and eventually, we have all prevailed and gained our freedom. What permitted such groups to grow and even flourish were our own base—and baseless—fears and prejudices. Racial differences bred fear, which twisted into distrust, then turned into hatred. Others gained holds with religious persecution, or a need to subvert, conquer, and enslave. The causes were many. Unfortunately, our defenses against them were far fewer. Once these sects gained sufficient power, to defy them was death—but defy them we did, fighting them secretly, then resisting openly, many paying with their lives. The Khrynsani were nothing less than a cancer on goblin society. The events of the past few months—of which you are all aware—have cut that cancer from us. The wounds are still fresh, but the healing has begun. There is no longer a foothold for the Khrynsani in Rheskilia. Their temple has been destroyed, their leaders have either perished or been arrested. Yes, some have escaped, and what we have just seen is a final, desperate effort to incite terror and prevent what we are here to accomplish—peace through unity, cooperation, and nonaggression. Chigaru Mal’Salin may share Sathrik’s name, but he could not be more different from his late brother. Our new king has no intention or desire to attack or declare war on anyone. I have known Director Kalis and Chancellor Nathrach since they were children. Tamnais—”