Blowing out a breath, Kate gazed around the room, trying to come up with a solution. Then her eyes fell on some of the drakes slumbering in their cages, and hope burst inside her.
“The drakes,” she said, struggling to maintain a whisper.
“What about them?” Bonner replied from where he leaned against the side of the cage, eyes closed.
“If you can get their cages open, I can make them attack the golds.”
His eyes flitted open, and she saw the wet redness in them. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. It’ll be just like at Thornewall.” She was certain of it.
“Very well,” he said, closing his eyes once more. “Come morning, we go. And never come back.”
Kate winced, wishing she had some way to ease his pain. “We should try to get some sleep now while we can.”
Bonner mumbled an acknowledgment, then fell silent. Kate scooted to the back of her cage and lay down. Despite her fatigue, sleep was slow to come. Her mind kept replaying the day’s events. She saw Bonner’s father cut down without a thought. She saw the vial of her father’s blood around Rendborne’s neck, and heard Vikas’s gleeful words at the memory of draining his life, and her boast of setting the trap in King Orwin’s mind. Hatred burned within Kate. Yet after a while her thoughts eased enough that she began to drift in and out of consciousness.
But as the hours slid by, she fell into a deeper sleep, only to be hurled out of it by the sound of an explosion. It was like lightning striking a cliff face. The walls of her cage shook, bits of stone and dirt showering her as she lurched upward from her prone position.
“What’s happening?” Kate crawled to the front of her cage.
In the cage next to her, she heard Signe laugh. “I imagine Rendborne just tested his black powder. If my calculations were correct, it didn’t go very well.”
Kate’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. “You lied about the mixture? To me?”
Signe shifted nearer the bars, her scarred, puffy face coming into view. “I told you. I would die before revealing the secret to anyone. Such is the power of Seerah.” She shrugged. “Besides, here is our diversion.”
Kate gaped at her in awe.
“Let’s go,” Bonner said, his hand already at the back of his collar, inserting the key. Several golds rushed by, on their way toward the explosion.
Once free of the collar, Bonner used his magic to pull apart the shackles at his wrists and feet. With another flick of his hand, he bent back the bars on his cage, making an opening. He climbed out, then did the same to Kate’s cage and undid her shackles and collar. She crawled through the bent bars and immediately turned to help Bonner with Signe.
“We need to get her on my back,” Bonner said, gently easing Signe toward Kate, who held out her arms to accept her. Signe sagged hard against Kate, one arm flung around her shoulders. Bonner turned his back to them and crouched low. Kate guided Signe forward, each step a painful shuffle. Then she helped Signe climb onto his back, pushing and shoving as best she could.
“Are you sure you can keep her up there?” Kate said. Signe’s injuries had robbed her of strength, if not will.
“I’ll manage.” Bonner hoisted her higher, his bruise-covered arms wrapped around her legs. “Hold on as best you can, Sig.”
Signe nodded, her face scrunched against the pain as she tightened her arms around his shoulders. Bending forward, Bonner raised his hand toward the nearest daydrake cages.
Another explosion sounded, making them all duck for cover. Only this one was different, coming from outside the structure. More explosions followed it, sending a fresh shower of rocks down on their heads.
“Get us out of here,” Signe cried, unable to protect herself while clinging to Bonner.
They rushed toward the nearest exit, the drakes forgotten. They didn’t need any more diversions. Whatever was hitting the fortress was enough. Already the golds were racing toward the exit, shouting about an attack.
Another explosion struck just as they reached the door to the corridor, this one closer and louder. Part of the ceiling came down behind them, sending up a cloud of dust and smashing a row of cages. The drakes inside them shrieked before being silenced by the crush of rock.
Bonner picked up the pace, jogging now. Signe gasped in pain with each step he took, but she held on. Kate followed after them, worried how they would get out with so many golds rushing for the only exit. But once in the corridor, she saw half a dozen giant holes had been blasted into the outer wall. Too many for the golds to defend or block. The sight of those holes sent a surge of hope through Kate. Only wilder magic could’ve done it.
“Bonner!” Kate called. “Through there.” She pointed to the largest of the holes, one big enough to pass through. Pale morning light shone just beyond. Bonner headed through it first, ducking into a crouch to give Signe clearance. Kate hurried after, sucking in a breath of cool, fresh air.
They emerged inside the bailey of the Hellgate, surrounded by the crumbling battlements—and chaos. A battle raged before them, golds and wilders. The Rising was here.
So was Corwin.
Kate’s heart lurched into her throat when she spotted him in the midst of the fray. He came for me. And he was fighting with the Rising, arm in arm with wilders. He had a sword in one hand and a buckler in the other. The small, round shield glowed with magist magic. Kate watched as he used it to deflect a spell. Then he turned toward his attacker and cut him down with the swipe of his sword.
Next to him, Raith let fly a spell at a gold while behind him a hydrist sent out huge blasts of water. Other wilders hurled fireballs and lightning while still others fought with wind or the very earth itself. This latter was the source of the explosions, massive rocks being uprooted from the ground and hurled at the battlements. The golds were fighting back, tossing spells or moving in for hand-to-hand combat, mace to sword or spear.
Watching the fight, Kate saw again that what Raith had once told her about wilder and magist magic was true. Whenever a stream of lightning or wind or fire met a mage spell, the two powers dissipated, fading into nothing. Only indirect attacks stood any chance at working. As it was, most of the fighters were switching to hand-to-hand combat.
“Kate!” Corwin shouted, spotting her at last. He started toward her, Dal following half a moment later, his gaze fixed on Signe.
A gold rushed toward Corwin, mace raised. Realizing he didn’t see it, Kate raised her hand and stretched out with her sway, seizing the gold’s mind. Sleep, she thought, and he slumped to the ground as if struck dead.
Reaching her, Corwin turned and called for a retreat. The other wilders heard the order and passed it along, shouting it to one another. To her shock, Kate saw that many of them were young, barely more than children. She tried not to look at the ones who had fallen. Not all of the dead and dying on the field were golds.
Dal took Signe from Bonner, hoisting her into his arms while Bonner, Kate, and Corwin formed a circle around her. Then they began to slowly edge toward the battlements where Kate could sense the horses waiting. They were almost there, but the golds were moving to surround them. They were so many and the wilders too few. We’ll never make it.
A wrongness filled Kate’s mind, a warning sounding inside her. Daydrakes. No sooner had she thought it than a stream of them came rushing through the broken fortress wall onto the field. For a moment she couldn’t think from the fear, but then reason broke through and she reached out toward the nearest drakes with her sway. The message she gave them was simple—attack anything gold that moved. The drakes heard and obeyed. A moment later, the golds’ press on the wilders slackened as they were forced to deal with this new threat.
Kate stopped in the retreat long enough to pick up a fallen sword. Like Corwin’s buckler, its blade glowed with magist magic. She held it crossways in front of her, ready to deflect any incoming attacks. She ran her gaze over the golds, focused on shielding Dal and Signe. The golds were distracted, but they were cutting down the daydra
kes far too quickly. It seemed they had spells designed to fell the beasts.
Hurry, Kate thought, wishing she could run. Then the urge to flee died inside her as she caught sight of Maestra Vikas fighting off a drake just a few feet away. Around the maestra’s neck hung the crystal with Kate’s father’s blood inside it. All reason fled from Kate, all worry and concern about her friends rendered meaningless. All she could see and feel was blind hate, as red as the crystal’s contents.
“Kate!” Corwin shouted behind her. “What are you doing?”
She could hear his words, but they were like the shadow of a memory, nothing compared with what she was feeling. With her eyes fixed on Vikas, Kate charged forward. Vikas saw her coming and raised her mace. She let fly a spell, and Kate swiped at it with the sword. The spell fizzled and died as it struck the blade, but so did some of the magic on the sword. She wouldn’t be able to defend herself with it for long.
Kate reached out and touched the mind of the nearest daydrake. Its oily, infectious nature made her want to recoil as she summoned the drake to her. It and all the others left alive obeyed, nearly a dozen swarming in front of her like a pack of well-trained guard dogs.
Leaning to one side, Kate could just see around one of the drakes’ shoulders. Vikas’s expression had changed, the cold confidence of a moment before sliding away. Yes, be afraid, Kate thought. I am coming for you. Then, touching the drakes’ mind once more, she commanded they kill the maestra.
The drakes obeyed, surging forward, their wails like lightning cracking in the air around them.
“Golds to me!” Vikas screamed as she killed the nearest drake with a spell. The golds converged around her, killing more drakes as they went.
But then Kate sensed the others pressing in behind her, coming to help. The golds turned to confront this threat while Kate continued on to Vikas. He gave me every last drop before he died, Kate heard her saying once more. She remembered the pleasure, the pride the maestra took in it. Your precious Lord Ascender isn’t here to save you, Kate thought. There’d been no sign of Rendborne anywhere. She supposed a god couldn’t be bothered with such trivial things as a battle. Or maybe he’d been hurt in the explosion. She could only hope.
Vikas cast another spell, and once again Kate deflected it with the sword. The glow was gone completely, but it didn’t matter. In another step she would be in striking range. All the hours she’d spent training at the Relay, all the years spent honing her body, came back to her now. To this one fight: to avenge her father’s torturer, the woman who had set the trap for him, who had harnessed his blood, enslaving him even in death.
Once Kate was close enough, Vikas didn’t have room for her magic anymore and was forced to wield her mace like a true weapon. Kate raised her sword and stabbed for Vikas’s belly. The maestra swiped the strike aside, then countered with an upward blow. Kate caught it and thrust down, sparks flying as the metal of their weapons met. Kate had never fought an opponent wielding a mace, but it didn’t matter. The objective was the same—kill or be killed. She stabbed again, higher this time, and the tip of the blade pricked Vikas in the shoulder before the magist could counter. Shrieking, the woman leaped backward, out of striking range. Red bloomed through the gold of her robe.
Kate charged forward, swinging her blade from the left this time. But it was just a feint, and as Vikas moved to block, Kate whipped back to the right and struck the maestra in the side. Screaming, the woman fell sideways, but she swung back at Kate, catching her arm with the head of the mace. Pain tore through Kate, blinding her for a moment. She nearly dropped the sword in her need to grab her injured arm. Then she saw the crystal at Vikas’s neck again, and the pain retreated in the wake of her fury. She raised the sword once more and swung at Vikas in a sloppy, chopping motion. Vikas rolled out of the way, then scrambled back to her feet, one hand clutched to her bleeding side.
Kate swung at her again, first left, then right, then from underneath and above. Relentlessly she pursued the maestra, hatred lending her strength and foresight. Vikas fought back, sweat matting her pale hair to her face, her cheeks flushed. But she was weakening, blood ebbing from her side and shoulder, her muscles tiring. Kate knew she should be feeling the same, and yet she felt stronger than before, renewed with each blow. She could do this forever. Whatever it took.
With a scream of fury, Kate swung again, putting all her strength behind it. The blow landed across Vikas’s wrist, just above where her hand held the mace. The blade sliced through skin and bone both, lopping off the maestra’s hand entirely. Vikas fell to her knees, soundless, her remaining hand clamped around the stump of her other arm.
Kate bent toward the maestra and grasped the blood crystal around her neck by its leather cord. She yanked, pulling it free. Then without thinking, without even knowing what she planned to do, Kate plunged into Vikas’s mind. Panic, pain, and terror enveloped her. For a second it was so much, Kate almost lost herself in it. She fought back the emotion, gleaning memories in the process, glimpses into this woman’s life, the way Vikas’s lust for knowledge had been there from the start, driving her to do unspeakable things. She’d tortured animals first, both ordinary creatures and nightdrakes. She studied the power in their blood and then turned her aims on humans, experimenting on wilders. All the while she justified her actions by the value of the knowledge she gained. Long before Rendborne, Vikas had pushed boundaries no moral person would ever dare.
For a second, Kate almost withdrew in disgust, but then she forced herself deeper, drawing strength from the maestra’s fear. Kate amplified those feelings with her magic, pushing them to their extremes. Vikas trembled, eyes wide and jaw slack at the onslaught.
In full control now, Kate searched for Vikas’s center, that glowing, vibrant flame, the essence of who she was, her very life force. Kate found it and seized it with her magic. This is for Signe and Bonner. For everyone you’ve ever hurt. This is for my father. Kate sent the words directly into Vikas’s mind so that she would understand, taking the judgment with her as she crossed over into death. Then with all Kate had inside her, she extinguished Vikas’s glow like blowing out a candle. Vikas made a single noise, a gasp of surprise almost, then fell and lay there silent and still.
Trembling, Kate stood, unable to think or feel from the shock of what she’d done and the heady power coursing through her. She felt like a storm, a force of nature ready to sweep in and destroy anything that dared step into her path.
A cry of fury filled the air around her. Kate turned in time to see Rendborne rushing toward her. Anger twisted his features, his gold eyes flashing in the sun. As before, Kate felt caught by his presence, enthralled. Her own sense of power, of purpose, fled from her. There was nothing she could do but yield to the man, this god made flesh. Helpless, she sank to her knees.
Vaguely, she was aware that the fighting had stopped, the golds retreating at the appearance of their master. Corwin, Bonner, Raith, and the wilders still left alive crowded in around Kate as if they meant to defend her from this man.
Seeing them, Rendborne raised his right arm and swung it right, then left. Magic exploded from his fingertips, the force of it knocking down everyone still standing. Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Corwin go flying backward, landing hard on his back with a groan of pain.
“What have you done?” Rendborne said, reaching Kate. She could see burns on his hands and face, marks of Signe’s deception, but it brought her no satisfaction.
Rendborne stared down at Vikas’s dead face, something like sorrow in his eyes. It seemed the monster was capable of love, whatever that meant to him. Kate was glad to see it, glad to know she had caused him pain, this man responsible for so much death and suffering. Around his neck, the blood crystal seemed to mock her, but there was nothing she could do about it. Rendborne was an unstoppable force.
As if to prove it, some of the wilders who had been farthest away attacked him now. He caught each attempt with a simple wave of his hand, as if he were swatting flie
s. Then he returned the magic in kind. The pyrist who dared cast fire at him, he set ablaze. The hydrist who tried to pull the water from his blood, he drowned in a gush of water he sent streaming over her head from out of his hands. The aerist suffocated inside a vortex of wind.
When it was done, Rendborne turned to Kate. “I see now how your friends love you, Kate Brighton. They are willing to die for you,” Rendborne said. “And now they shall. All of them.”
Rendborne retreated a few steps, bringing all his victims into reach. Then he raised his hands, cupping the right with the left. Kate saw the glow between his fingers, magic building around his uror mark. Then he raised his hand and unleashed the full force of his abilities, right at her. Right at them all.
37
Corwin
CORWIN LOOKED UP FROM WHERE he’d fallen to the ground, his eyes still disbelieving the sight of the man before him. Rendborne. A Tormane. Yet as he looked, he could see a hint of it in the man’s features, a vague familiarity. This is the Nameless One. God made flesh. For a moment Corwin believed it might be true. Never before had he seen such power. With a single flick of his wrist this man could level armies. There seemed no stopping him. Nothing to do but lie still and wait for the end to come.
No. One look at Kate was all he needed to know he couldn’t be still. Couldn’t let this happen. Corwin raised his head, seeing the magic building inside Rendborne’s cupped hands. The man’s right palm still bore an uror mark. Corwin couldn’t see it, but he felt it. Felt it in the burning in his own palm, as if like called to like.
Rendborne raised his right hand. Corwin lurched to his feet and leaped, arm outstretched as if he meant to catch the spell like a thrown spear. Magic, white and bright as the sun, burst out from Rendborne’s palm, his uror mark ablaze. With an instinct that didn’t belong to him, Corwin reached toward the magic and caught it with his own hand, his own mark.
Onyx & Ivory Page 40