Behind her, the golden cages hung silent. All of Thora’s larks were dead, dozens of them. Her only audience was the petrified statue of the sorceress Lani. She looked at the white sculpture, the defiant woman frozen in place. Thora muttered, “If you could see me through those stone eyes, you would be gloating now, wouldn’t you?”
Quentin and Damon had been with her on top of the pyramid, facing the mob, but they had fled. She needed their power, their gift, and together they could make a last stand at her side. She was their sovrena; she deserved their loyalty. But she doubted she would have it.
She would be alone in her stand against a group of desperate lower-class hooligans. And Nicci. She had defeated the sorceress before, and now Thora had even more incentive to do it again, to crush Nicci into a smear of bone and flesh. But as she looked across the expansive ruling chamber, her gaze caught on the shattered blue marble tiles from where Maxim had fought her, and that focused her anger to a razor edge. Maxim—Mirrormask!—was the cause of this. Her husband had been building the unrest, riling up the easily duped mobs.
Cold air whistled in and out of her nostrils. Her heart pounded, and her body tingled with magic that demanded to be released, but she had no target. Yes, she hated how Nicci had defied her, but Maxim was her husband. Thora’s hatred for the man went deeper than any possible reckoning. He wanted Ildakar to fall. He had said so, and now that he’d ignited the political brushfire sweeping through the city, he would bring down the order Thora had worked so hard to create.
And he had simply fled. “I was done with the city anyway. I’ll leave now.”
She knew Maxim was a coward. He wouldn’t stay to see the repercussions of what he had caused. Now that the shroud was gone, he would run far away so he could watch the city topple from a safe distance. For his own amusement! How she hated him.
Soft, slow footsteps came up the stairs, and Thora saw a female figure enter the ruling chamber. For a moment she thought it was Nicci, come back to fight her again. But the muscular woman was clad in scant black leather, her skin covered with branded symbols.
Adessa.
The morazeth was bloodied, battered. She had a deep wound on her back, and she held one arm out, the wrist drooping at an unnatural angle, but she gripped a short sword in her other hand. Though she looked exhausted, a defiant sparkle remained in her eyes. “I’ve come to you, Sovrena. Ildakar has fallen, but I am here to defend you. I will die by your side.”
Thora walked down the dais. The woman smelled of sweat and dust and the sour metal tang of drying blood. For a moment her anger softened, her heart feeling a warm spark of hope because of Adessa’s unwavering loyalty, a loyalty that did not fade because of riots in the streets or the fall of the shroud. No, the morazeth were sworn to defend the city. More important, the morazeth were hers. Adessa was hers.
“I would have come sooner, but I was trapped at the bottom of the spiked pit … with this.” She lifted her broken wrist, refusing to show any sign of pain.
Thora frowned. “How did you get out? Did someone release you?”
“I climbed.”
“Of course you did.”
She thought of the folly of making a fruitless last stand here. Would anyone defend her? Anyone besides Adessa? For a strange unprovoked instant, she nearly reached out to embrace the warrior woman, but stopped herself. “I would be glad to have you at my side, but if you die with me, what would that accomplish?”
“It would be satisfactory in and of itself, Sovrena.”
“Maybe so, but I’d prefer to use you for something more important.”
“We are not dead yet,” Adessa said. “We have not lost.”
But Thora knew they had lost. Once, the wizards of Ildakar would have banded together, putting aside their petty differences for the sake of the city, for their people, and for their future. But not now. These treacherous people wanted only to tear down. Her lower lip curled at the thought. They didn’t deserve Ildakar.
Maxim was the cause of it, and now he was escaping from the city, thrilled with his stupid accomplishment. Even though Thora knew it would not help her, she would arrange one separate personal victory.
She reached out to take the other woman’s broken wrist. Adessa showed only the faintest flinch, but Thora held tightly, straightened the hand, the branded skin, the snapped bone. She let her gift glide into the other woman, bypassing the powerful defensive runes, and allowing healing magic to knit the wrist together again, making the bone as strong as new.
Adessa gave her a small, grateful nod. She shifted her sword back to her dominant hand. “Now I can fight better.”
But Thora shook her head. “I am sending you away, Adessa. There is something you must do. An important quest.”
The morazeth stood ramrod straight, refusing to move. “No, I will protect you.”
“I will protect myself—this is my battle. You have something more important to do. When triumph escapes our grasp, all we have left is revenge.”
Adessa tensed. “In what manner, Sovrena?”
“My husband caused this. Maxim ignited the fires of this revolt. He must pay for the damage he’s done.”
The other woman blinked. “How can that be true? He is the wizard commander.”
“He is Mirrormask!”
Adessa took a step backward. “How … how is that possible?”
“I know it for a fact.” She explained what had occurred, indicated the shattered blue marble floor tiles. “Maxim has fled the city. He thinks he has won. He mocks all of Ildakar—and he cannot be allowed to get away with it.”
From the fire in her deep brown eyes, Thora could see that Adessa was just as outraged. “What do you wish me to do, Sovrena? Command me, and I will not rest until I have succeeded in the mission.”
“Kill him. Leave the city, now, and hunt him down. I don’t care if you have to track him across the Old World itself, but bring his head back to Ildakar. No matter what else happens here, the people of this city must see that the wizard commander has met justice.”
She gave a curt nod. “I will not fail in this. If you truly command me to leave, now, then I will go out this night. I will find him.”
“And kill him,” Thora added.
“And kill him. I will cut off his head and bring it back to Ildakar.”
Thora began to feel calmer, more resigned. This, at least, was satisfying. She knew that Adessa would do exactly as she promised. “Do not underestimate his powers. Your spell brands will protect you, but he has other tricks. You will need great strength.”
“I have another source of power,” said Adessa. “It is unexpected, but useful now.” She looked Thora squarely in the eye. “You know that the champion was my lover? I allowed him to plant his seed in me, and I am now carrying a child. It grows within me even now.”
Thora let out a long slow sigh, feeling a shiver. She knew what had to be done, the secret power the morazeth possessed. “Yes, Adessa, I am fully aware why your women let themselves become pregnant. It is an unparalleled source of energy. Against Maxim, you will need it. I command you to work your special magic. Let it be done.”
The morazeth nodded. “It is a dark sacrifice, but I will become stronger—strong enough to find and kill the wizard commander.”
A sense of urgency scattered her satisfaction. Thora swallowed. “You’d better hurry. The others will be coming soon.”
Adessa closed her dark eyes in deep concentration. She stood with her arms at her sides, then brought her hands to her abdomen, covering her navel, touching the skin over her stomach.
While the morazeth were branded and protected with spell runes on their skin, each woman retained a special kind of blood magic, one fueled by the blood of an absolute innocent, an unborn child growing in her womb. Blood magic sprang from the taking of life, and a morazeth’s blood magic came from taking the life of one growing inside her.
Adessa breathed faster. Sweat sparkled on her skin, and a flush came to her cheeks. As she touc
hed and kneaded her abdomen, her fingers glowed. She directed her magic inward, and her womb drank deeply of the unborn child, reabsorbing it, taking that life and pulling it back inside her body.
Adessa’s skin crackled and shimmered with increasing energy. As Thora watched, the warrior woman throbbed with power.
When she opened her eyes and let out a long sigh, Adessa said, “It is done. I now have the strength of two lives within me. I am powerful enough to defeat even the wizard commander.”
For the first time that night, Thora let herself smile. Adessa seemed so confident, so swollen with unnatural energy, that she nearly reconsidered. Maybe she should keep the morazeth at her side. With a fighter like that, just the two of them could defend against a whole city of rebels. Perhaps they could drive them back.
But it would be a short-lived victory, Thora knew. Even though magical attacks would bounce off of Adessa, the hundreds of ravening mob members would still tear her apart.
No, even in defeat Thora wanted to accomplish something. She wanted her revenge. She wanted Maxim’s head.
“Go,” she said.
Adessa sprinted away, and in a moment, she was gone from the tower, leaving the sovrena alone in the ruling chamber.
Outside, Thora could hear the fires, shouts, and screams as the revolt continued. Even after destroying the pyramid and dissolving the shroud, they were not done.
Thora knew they were coming for her.
CHAPTER 79
Standing at the rubble of the pyramid, Nicci looked up into the night sky to see the strange constellations. Now the stars shone clearly without the hazy bubble that had sealed Ildakar away from time.
Mrra paced back and forth near Nicci, satisfied but still restless. Still hungry.
Exuberant crowds gathered in the highest levels of the city, with more groups streaming up from the streets below. Nathan stood next to Nicci, his eyes shining, his long white hair flowing elegantly. His chest was full, his chin held high; he exuded the true presence of a wizard.
Nicci pointed toward the ruling tower. “That is where we have to go. We erased the shroud and stopped the bloodworking, but Sovrena Thora still must pay for her crimes.”
“Indeed.” Nathan stroked his smooth chin. He sounded more than pleased to have his gift back. “It is the best way to wipe the slate clean so that Ildakar can make a new legend for itself.”
The crowds of slaves cheered, calling out her name. “Nicci! Nicci!”
Bannon raised his sword and started another cheer, and others took up the chant. “For Ildakar! For Ildakar!” Mrra let out a roar.
Many gifted nobles had fled down into the city, away from the upper plateau. None of them could match the power of Nicci or Nathan, nor could they withstand the anger of the crowds. In the coming days, Nicci assumed many of them would insist they had always resented Sovrena Thora’s repressive ways, and it would readily become apparent which ones had been kind masters who treated their servants fairly as human beings.
As they marched together toward the ruling tower, Nathan glanced at her and cocked his eyebrows. “Sorceress, I believe you have a smile on your face. It looks quite unusual. What are you thinking?”
Nicci flicked her blue eyes toward him. “I was imagining what kind of reception the Norukai slavers will receive the next time their serpent ships come to Ildakar. We might have an interesting welcome for their King Grieve.”
Bannon let out a hard laugh. “Sweet Sea Mother, they’ll be in for a surprise.”
Nicci stalked forward, her black dress flowing around her. “For now, we have business to complete. The sovrena will have gone there.”
The crowd roared, hundreds of them following her. Nicci worried what Thora would do when she was cornered like a tortured rat, but Nicci felt confident her magic would be more than a match for the sovrena’s.
Elsa accompanied them, refusing to leave Nathan’s side. “I am a proud member of the duma. We are sworn to do what’s right for Ildakar. I think we’ve forgotten that.”
“Will we have to fight Quentin and Damon as well?” Nicci asked, trying to plan her strategy. “And what about Wizard Commander Maxim? If they all join the sovrena, they will pose a substantial threat against us.”
Elsa tucked a gray-brown strand of hair behind her ear. “Quentin and Damon are powerful, but not ambitious. They have no wish to be as important as the sovrena.”
“But are they loyal to her?” Nicci asked. “Will they fight for her?”
“I don’t believe so.” Elsa looked at Nathan, then back at Nicci. “For many years they were unwilling to challenge her, as you did.”
“What about Maxim?” Nathan asked. “He might be the biggest threat we face.”
“He was nowhere to be found all night,” Elsa said.
“Maxim hates his wife, and I doubt he would die at her side. If need be, we will fight and defeat him as well,” Nicci said. “Let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”
As the crowd marched toward the tower, Nicci saw the other two wizards standing at the tower doorway looking nervous. Damon stroked his long mustaches. Quentin looked dusty in his deep blue robes. Stone powder smeared his dark skin, but his eyes looked anxious. They didn’t flinch as Nicci, Nathan, and Elsa strode toward them, leading the large crowd of followers.
“Our business is with Sovrena Thora,” Nicci said. “Will you join us, or will you get in our way?” Mrra remained at her side, muscles rippling under her tawny fur.
Bannon lifted Sturdy. “You’d better not get in our way.”
Sounding contrite, Damon said, “Like trees, we bend with the wind. And we can feel which way the wind blows.”
Quentin nodded. “And a tree that is too old and too rigid will break in a storm. Mirrormask certainly unleashed a storm.” Both of the wizards looked down and away. Quentin glanced at Elsa. “Is this the future?”
“With the shroud gone, Ildakar must become different,” Elsa said. “We can help make it different, or we will break it further.”
“This is still my home,” Damon said.
“Ildakar is home to all of us!” shouted one of the freed slaves behind Bannon.
“You can all live together,” Nicci said, then hardened her voice. “Or you can die.”
The two wizards spread their hands. “Then why don’t we all live? Let us go see the sovrena.”
They entered the ruling tower with Nicci and the others following. The angry crowd noise continued to grow louder as the flood of people entered the immense tower. Nicci moved with a deliberate pace, building her magic, feeling the strength within her. She still had the daggers at her hips, but she wouldn’t need them. She had her gift, and she had herself.
The big cat walked at her side as they climbed the wide waterfall of stairs, ascending higher and higher until Nicci, Nathan, and the other three wizards spilled into the large ruling chamber, followed by countless others. Glowing lights hung on the walls, illuminating the expansive, empty room.
Thora sat by herself on her throne in front of two cages full of dead birds. She said in an icy voice, “So, you have brought your foolish followers here to destroy what remains of the glory of Ildakar? This does not surprise me.”
Nicci walked across the broken blue marble floor, her eyes locked on the sovrena’s. “Your own rule is what destroyed the majesty of Ildakar. You have no one to blame but yourself.”
“I blame who I choose,” the sovrena snapped; then her voice faltered as her gaze flicked away. “I blame my husband. I blame Mirrormask.”
The crowds swelling behind Nicci muttered. She frowned. “What are you saying? Where is the wizard commander?”
“Maxim is Mirrormask! He betrayed me. He betrayed the city.” Then her eyes flashed past them to skewer Elsa, Quentin, and Damon. “And I blame you! You were members of the duma. You were supposed to protect Ildakar.”
“That is what we’re doing,” Elsa said. “We must reconstitute the council—without you.”
“Yes,” Damon said, ste
pping forward next to Elsa. “We will remove you from your position, Sovrena.”
“Her name is just Thora now,” said Quentin.
Nicci faced the woman and spoke so that the crowd behind her could hear. The hubbub fell quiet as her voice grew louder. “Now that the shroud is gone forever, this city has opened itself to the rest of the world. Ildakar will always be free.” Her lips formed a smile as cheering erupted in the chamber. “Each of these people thought they were weak, that they were alone, but they fought together—just as the ancient wizards of Ildakar did to protect this city. Now the battle is different, and you are the enemy, Thora.”
“You are all fools!” Thora hissed.
Nicci continued, “One person can change the city and bring it down.” She spread her hands to indicate the crowd behind her. More and more people continued to climb the stairs, filling the ruling chamber. “And we are one.”
As she spoke, Nicci could imagine Richard rallying his armies against an unstoppable enemy. She knew this was what he would have wanted for Ildakar. She had followed his instructions. She had done her best.
Nicci remembered the words the witch woman had written in Nathan’s life book. And the Sorceress shall save the world. Maybe that prediction had proven true after all. Maybe she indeed had saved the world … or at least this small part of it.
As Thora rose from her chair, threads of magic curled around her body like the webs of some energized silkworms. “Do you all wish to fight me? I can bring this tower down around us.”
Nicci raised her hand, summoning her gift. “Is that how you want this to end, Thora? I can defeat you. Now. Myself.”
“No,” Elsa said, taking a step in front of Nicci. “You are from the outside, Nicci. You said again and again that you intend to leave Ildakar as soon as your business is finished here. And Nathan has reclaimed his gift.” She looked sadly at the old wizard, who frowned. “So he will be going, too.”
The older woman glanced at Quentin and Damon on either side of her. “This is a matter for the true rulers of Ildakar, for the remaining duma members—and that is the three of us. We know the punishment that must be meted out. It has been well established.” Elsa raised her hands, curling her fingers. So did Damon and Quentin.
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