“I have thought. What if it’s what my god and your goddess want? Have you considered that?”
Niklaus flinched. “I stopped trying to second-guess the Lady long ago. And I don’t trust this Gannon. There’s something wrong about him.”
“Come on, you two,” Bryn said. “Time for chatting later. What do these pavers say? Soki? Priska?”
Soki’s gasp caused both Aldric and Niklaus to go to her. She was staring at one paver larger than the rest. Carved into its surface was a muscled manlike creature, with a spiked tail, leathery wings, and twisted horns. An image they’d seen before, on the doors of the ruin. Nysrog.
In its taloned hand, it held another demon’s severed head, drops of blood splattering from it to the ground.
“What is it?” said Priska. “What does it mean?”
Soki looked up, dread in her eyes. “Aldric, could you please confirm the translation? There are a few words with double meanings, and some that scholars disagree on.”
Aldric squatted to examine the Skanuric script, finger tracing some of the harder words. “This is ‘blood’. And this one’s definitely ‘demon’. Though, this word …” He hesitated. It had different meanings. The most common one was ‘lethargy’ or ‘not caring’. And the next word … to ‘pierce the veil’.
“I think,” he said slowly, “we need to kill a live demon as sacrifice.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Walking on Ice
DREAD DUG ITS COLD claws into Kurio. Her chest tightened, and her breath came in shallow wheezes. The grip of her crossbow began to slip from her sweaty hands, and she alternated wiping her palms on her pants.
No … it can’t mean me … I’m not a demon … I’m not!
She clung to Gannon’s arm, trying to ground herself and ward off her rising panic.
He stroked her hair. “Calm yourself, my sweet.”
“I …” she gasped, but couldn’t continue. Why am I here? I should leave. Run.
She had watched the demons die beneath Niklaus’s blades, their rabid savagery no match for his weaving steel. The muscled, slavering creatures had lunged at him, and he’d separated them from life quickly and efficiently, his swords blurring so fast they were shining curtains sending whips of blood arcing. Sokhelle and her protégée, Priska, had sent scintillating lines into the creatures, scouring their leathery, scaled skin, slicing and burning. And the sight of the demons being slaughtered had thrilled Kurio. She had rejoiced. She had wanted them all to die. But knew it wouldn’t alter anything, change the truth of what she was. She was one of them in some shape or form.
The demons had foul desires; she remembered their lustful looks and erect members. They were mindless horrors, lusting after flesh and blood. Hatred personified; depravity writ large. She wasn’t like those creatures. They repelled her. She’d gladly kill the foul things with no regrets.
She remembered the wraithe’s words: You demonstrate that your blood does not master you; you will not exult in degradation.
Gannon gripped her arm, breaking her out of her reverie. “Stay close to me,” he hissed softly. “Leave them to fight over what to do next. We’ll be safer together.”
She remembered the demons she’d seen at his house … He said they’d been killed by poison. Niklaus had killed the guardian of the ruin with poison.
“Gannon,” she said, “the demons at your house. Was Niklaus the one who killed them?”
He smiled at her, though his eyes were guarded. “He has to be. I don’t know who we’ve fallen in with, but we’d best be on our guard. Don’t trust any of them.”
He muttered a phrase under his breath, strange words in a language Kurio didn’t understand. Her mind swirled, and she lost her train of thought. She was so tired.
She saw the sorcerer Sokhelle talking with Aldric, the priest who had been kind to her. Their hands waved as they discussed the final veil and its requirement of demon blood.
Sokhelle turned to speak to the group. “My interpretation is that we need both demon and human blood.”
“There are dozens of demons out there, waiting for us,” Bryn said. “But I’m not going back out to capture one.” His pink tongue licked his lips. “We need a plan.”
Kurio kept her mouth shut. How much demon blood did they need? Aldric had said the demon would die … What if they found out that demon blood coursed through her veins? But it didn’t. Despite what Zarina and Mellish had said, and the wraithe too, she still couldn’t believe it.
Stop it, she chided herself. Stop being foolish. It’s true.
And if they found out, they’d sacrifice her. Everyone wanted to use her. How much blood did they need? Aldric had said the demon would die.
Perhaps she could slip away unnoticed … It might be the only way to save herself. Her hand reached up to touch Mellish’s amulet—hers now—through her shirt. Somehow, it calmed her. Whatever properties it had, she wished it could spirit her away from here.
The only person who’d been truthful with her and treated her as she deserved was Gannon. He’d even chased after Mellish when he’d learned she’d been kidnapped. If that didn’t prove he had feelings for her, she didn’t know what would.
“There’s more writing,” Niklaus said, scuffing the floor with his toe. “Here. It mentions blood again.”
Aldric peered at the script. “The demon and human blood must be bound somehow. I cannot fathom the true meaning—it’s unclear.”
A gasp escaped Kurio’s lips before she could stop it. She felt the blood drain from her face, leaving it cold. “Let’s leave,” she said, voice trembling. “Nothing good can come of this.”
“Now, now,” said Gannon. “They’ve brought down three of the barriers. We can’t just leave with only one remaining. Then any half-baked treasure hunter could lay their hands on the cache inside.”
Kurio just wanted to be gone from this cursed place. From whatever was playing out in this godforsaken tomb. Caronath was where she should be, safe and snug in one of her boltholes. Not in a sorcery-riddled ruin in the middle of the wilderness, where she was completely out of her depth. Give me a dark night and cobbled streets, she thought. With buildings all around, places to run and hide.
She closed her eyes and calmed her breathing, which had grown rapid and shallow. Then she did the only thing she could think of: she tried to use her talent. She emptied her mind and thought of clouds, then nothing.
Abruptly, to her surprise and dismay, a feeling of danger swamped her, far stronger than anything she’d ever sensed before. She felt as if she were falling, but when she opened her eyes, she remained upright, though her vision had a reddish cast, as if she looked through colored glass.
This is new …
The forms of the people around her were indistinct, their outlines blurred, and their voices were muffled, as if they came from far away. Where she knew Aldric stood was a shape that glowed golden, with an intense pearly curved slash at his hip. Sokhelle was both white and dark, swirling together; as was Priska. Niklaus shone silver, but his sword was as black as pitch. Bryn was red, Valeria a churning violet, and Gannon was a lurid green.
Her attention was caught by the coffer on the other side of the final veil: it bubbled with the faces of the damned. Leering and screaming, mouths open in wordless cries of agony.
Danger, her talent yelled at her. But it was more than that. Danger was too timid a word.
“Stop,” she gasped hoarsely before she could help herself. Why was she seeing this? Had her talent grown stronger somehow?
Run! The thought was an old friend. She’d run from her tormentors as a child, had run from her family when their abuse became too much. And since then, she’d run from everyone who’d tried to get close to her—apart from Gannon. She’d been drawn to him.
What am I doing here? Kurio asked herself. Ever since acquiring the metal cube for Willas, her life had been driven by external forces. And now here she was, trapped inside a ruin protected by ancient sorcery, with a group of
people who wanted her blood, even if they didn’t know it yet.
Someone was laughing at her. A god or goddess—maybe all of them.
“We’re so close. We can’t stop now!” shouted Bryn. He stood in front of the final veil, his back to it. “Look how far we’ve come! There’s treasure in that coffer. I can smell it!”
“He’s right,” Gannon whispered in Kurio’s ear. “But what type of treasure, eh?”
Something smashed into Kurio’s head, and her vision swam. She stumbled and felt the floor slam into her knees and hands. She tried to push the pain away—couldn’t. She couldn’t speak either—her throat wouldn’t obey her. What was happening? Who had hit her? Gannon?
She reached up to grab his arm, but her own was leaden. Her whole body felt numb and lifeless, as if she were a wooden doll. She felt she was in the audience of a play, watching the actors perform their parts.
Gannon bent and stroked her hair before lifting her in his arms. Kurio still couldn’t move.
No, she thought. What’s this about? Why is he doing this? She willed her hands to bring up her crossbow. To no avail. He’s going to … he’s …
Kurio threw everything she had into her struggle to move, to break Gannon’s grasp. The only effect was that her breathing became faster, causing her head to spin.
“Human and demon blood intermingled,” Gannon said. “That will breach the final barrier.”
With an almighty heave, he threw Kurio at the veil.
A thousand red-hot needles pierced her flesh—the collar’s torture multiplied tenfold. It seemed to go on forever as she thrashed wildly—until her seared nerves and wounded psyche couldn’t take any more pain, and for an instant she thought she saw a woman’s hand reaching out.
Darkness embraced her and spirited her awareness away.
~ ~ ~
Kurio stuck in the arcane curtain like a fly caught in a spiderweb. Coruscating filaments arced across the veil, crackling and sizzling. Kurio screamed like the damned—an agonized wail torn from the back of her throat. Her limbs spasmed violently, and her spine arched so torturously Aldric thought it must snap. Smoke billowed from her clothes as they charred to ash, then the sorcerous tendrils went to work on her flesh, scoring deep red welts across her skin. Mercifully, Kurio blacked out, her head lolling on her limp neck.
How could Gannon sacrifice Kurio so cruelly? He recalled the strangeness he had sensed in her when he healed her hands—she must be part demon—which meant Gannon was Tainted Cabal.
“Bryn, your assistance, please,” Gannon said, brandishing his sword.
Bryn drew his blade and moved to Gannon’s side.
Niklaus cursed and stepped back, his short sword appearing in his hand as if by sorcery. Aldric drew his curved blade and prepared a cant on his lips, knowing Soki, and even Priska, would be doing the same. Valeria moved to the side and backed away.
“What is the meaning of this?” Aldric said. “Drop your weapons!”
“No,” said Gannon flatly. “I don’t think so.”
“Drop your sword, Bryn,” said Niklaus. “Or I swear by the Lady, I’ll slice you open.”
Bryn shook his head. “Not today, Niklaus. You’re good, but so am I. And you’re wounded.”
“What do you want?” asked Soki.
Gannon raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “I would have thought that was obvious. To get through the final barrier.”
A moment of silence followed his remark.
Then Soki uttered a cant, and hearing her, Aldric spoke one of his own to activate his wards.
But something was wrong. Instead of forming itself to his will and the calculations held firmly in his consciousness, his dawn-tide power lashed back at him, scourging his mind. His stomach churned, and gorge rose to his throat. He spat thick saliva from his mouth and shut his cant down, bottling his dawn-tide power. His sorcery had turned against him. It was … impossible.
Soki was on the ground, head in her hands, mouth open as she screamed soundlessly. She’d drawn far more than him and suffered the worse for it. Aldric stumbled over to her and cradled her head in his lap. He felt a sudden, drowning fear that she might die.
Soki closed her mouth, swallowed, then moaned. She stared at Aldric, eyes wide with dismay. He shared her concern. Nothing he knew could do such a thing. Nowhere in his training had it been mentioned, nor in all the sorcerous tomes he’d read. Perhaps a relic taken from another ruin might have such power … He shook his head. He needed to focus, or they were all dead.
He helped Soki to her feet. Then, taking his khopesh in two hands, his palms damp with apprehension, Aldric raised its crescent blade and stepped between her and Gannon. Without her sorcery, she was helpless. He would defend her even if it cost him his life.
Abruptly, the crackling sorcerous barrier winked out, and Kurio’s inert form dropped to the floor with a thud. No one so much as glanced at her.
Niklaus moved to Aldric’s side.
Priska edged sideways toward the edge of the platform. Valeria, to Aldric’s surprise, stood where she was, staring daggers at Gannon and Bryn.
“That’s right,” Gannon said menacingly. “Your sorcery has been inhibited. You think I didn’t plan for this? Breaching these wards is the culmination of centuries of research and planning. We cannot fail now.”
Aldric could hear Soki whispering curse after curse, still hoping they might affect Gannon. She was deathly afraid, he realized. They all were.
“You’re Tainted Cabal,” said Niklaus, then turned to regard Bryn. “But you, Bryn … you’re just his tool. He’ll kill you when he’s done with you.”
Bryn laughed mockingly. “That’s where you’re wrong. I know your secret, Niklaus, and I’ve been promised the same gift. I’ll work for the Cabal for a great many years to come. And I’ll take your prized sword for good measure.”
“Try it,” growled Niklaus. He sheathed his short sword and stood there weaponless. “A duel.”
“Enough!” shouted Valeria. “This is nonsense. Gannon, you might have disarmed the sorcerers, but my power is still my own. The wrath of the Lady will crack your bones and flay the flesh from them.”
She spoke liquid words, flung a hand out, and pointed at Gannon. Cords stood out in the man’s neck, and his mouth twisted in a pained grimace. But his knees didn’t buckle, and soon the grimace transformed into a smile. Whatever power Valeria had flung at Gannon, he had obviously weathered it.
“You think you know pain?” he snarled at Valeria. “I can endure anything you throw at me, scion of a failed goddess. Years spent in the hells teaches a man many things, a familiarity with pain being one of them.”
A profanity escaped Valeria’s lips. “Pain is but one of the goddess’s dominions. If you—”
Gannon barked a guttural word, and Valeria folded in two and tumbled across the floor as if struck by a charging horse. She came to a rest ten paces away and lay unmoving.
Holy Menselas. Aldric hadn’t felt any arcane surge from Gannon. If he wasn’t a sorcerer, he must be using artifacts for his power.
There was only Aldric and Niklaus standing now between Gannon and Bryn and whatever resided in the metal coffer. This was why Menselas wanted Aldric here, in this moment. And why Niklaus’s goddess had sent him too. Together, they were supposed to stop Gannon, but already he had them reeling.
Bryn sheathed his sword to match Niklaus and stepped forward with swaggering bravado. “Your pet priestess can’t protect you now, Niklaus. It’s blade against blade, and you’re already wounded. I’ll cut you open and watch your entrails spill to the dirt.”
Niklaus glided a step toward him. “Bryn, if you’re going to draw, do it now.”
“Kill him, Bryn,” Gannon said. “You told me you could.” His voice carried a note of warning.
Why all this posturing? Aldric thought. Because he’s not a sorcerer and can only turn sorcery back on the user. There are limits to what Gannon can do. We only have to find them, and quickly.
Bryn licked his lips, hand now crossed over his waist, grasping the hilt of his sword. But he seemed to think better of it as he saw Niklaus’s right hand remained clear of his short sword’s hilt. Bryn moved his hand back.
Niklaus sighed and hooked his right thumb into his belt in a show of nonchalance. Aldric thought his movements were slow and deliberate, as if his wounds pained him.
“He lied to you,” said Niklaus. “Poor Bryn. Always seeking to be the best, but falling short.”
The two swordsmen were closer than ever, barely three feet apart, hardly room to fight if it came to drawn blades.
Aldric knew he would have to try for Gannon. He edged away from Niklaus and Bryn as surreptitiously as he could, but Gannon wasn’t fooled.
“I wouldn’t,” he warned Aldric. “Or you’ll end up like Valeria.”
If he could, wouldn’t he have subdued us all by now? Aldric thought. What’s stopping him?
Gannon’s eyes flicked to Aldric’s khopesh, then back to the mounting tension between Bryn and Niklaus. The epiphany hit Aldric like a hammer. His blade. Star-metal. Gannon’s own words: years spent in the hells … Gannon wasn’t just a member of the Tainted Cabal; he was a demon or the spawn of one. And star-metal was anathema to demons and perhaps to their sorcery as well.
Niklaus’s sword … it was star-metal too. He should forget about Bryn and aim for Gannon.
Aldric searched for a way to let Niklaus know of his revelation, but the mercenary’s focus was purely on Bryn.
“Niklaus!” he hissed.
“Not now,” Niklaus said.
And in that instant, Bryn moved to draw. A twitch of his shoulders. His right hand darted as swift as a striking snake.
But Niklaus was faster. As Bryn grasped his hilt, Niklaus drew his short sword with his left hand. Before Bryn’s blade was half out of its sheath, Niklaus’s sword sliced an upward arc, his right hand pushing the back of the blade for strength. Steel sheared through Bryn’s side. Blood sprayed, and the swordsman staggered. For an instant, both men stood there, motionless. Niklaus, one foot forward, short sword grasped in his left hand, extended to the side of Bryn’s torso. Bryn staggered, a disbelieving look on his face, scarlet flowing down his right side to splash on the ground.
Revenant Winds (The Tainted Cabal Book 1) Page 46