He frowned, his sword falling from limp fingers with a clang. “No,” he said.
“Yes,” replied Niklaus. “You always did talk too much.”
Bryn collapsed to the ground, his blood pooling in the Skanuric script carved into the pavers.
“Niklaus!” shouted Aldric. “Gannon is a demon. Your sword—it’s star-metal!”
The mercenary understood straight away, dropping his short sword and swinging his long sword from his back to his hip.
To Aldric’s surprise, Valeria suddenly stood between Niklaus and Gannon. Her robes were dusty and torn, her face and hands smeared with dirt.
“Wait!” she pleaded with Niklaus. “Whatever power is held here, we must be a part of it. You are her Chosen Sword, Niklaus. You hold greater sway with the priestesses than you realize. We can join with Gannon and—”
“You don’t even know what he wants!” shouted Niklaus. “And you have no idea what the Lady wants. You see his power, and you lust after it. The Lady sees you, Valeria, just as I do. You have strayed from her path.”
“We can join with Gannon,” Valeria repeated. “With the Tainted Cabal. It is all clear to me now. This is what our goddess wants. With our powers combined, we will rule the world. Whatever artifacts are hidden here, we can use them well. Kill Aldric and the rest of them.”
Niklaus lifted his chin and sneered at Valeria. “You don’t even know what’s here, and you want to kill everyone?”
“The Lady wants this!” screamed Valeria. “Haven’t you realized yet, Niklaus? Gannon wants power, dominion over humanity. The goddess has sent me here to be a part of this. She wants me to use this power. And you will obey me! You are nothing but a tool to her, an anvil that facilitates the real work. I am the hammer. I wield her true power. I shape what the goddess wants.”
Niklaus lunged and his sword plunged into Valeria’s heart. The tip burst from her back, the blade dripping blood. He grabbed her shoulder and pushed the sword deeper. Valeria coughed. Scarlet dribbled from her mouth like viscous wine. With a jerk, Niklaus yanked his blade free, and the high priestess collapsed to the ground, fingers scrabbling at the cold stone. Her chest heaved as she tried to breathe, and she coughed again, spraying red across the floor.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Niklaus said, standing over the dying priestess. “I am the hammer. And the anvil. And the blade. And you … You are a fool.”
Valeria’s mouth moved as she tried to speak, but no words could get past the blood in her chest and throat. Her eyes closed, and she coughed another stream of crimson.
Aldric sprang at Gannon, swinging his khopesh with all his might.
Gannon reacted with startling speed, leaning to the side to avoid the blow and hammering a fist into Aldric’s head. Aldric tumbled to the ground, khopesh jarring from his fingers. Another pummeling strike slammed into his chest and sent him rolling. A sharp pain in his ribs made it hard to breathe, and it took a few moments before he could stagger upright.
Gannon’s knee crashed into his head, sending him sprawling. Aldric’s vision dimmed, and his ears rang. He tried to move, but searing pain tore at his muscles. He shook his head to clear it, and a surge of nausea almost brought up the contents of his stomach.
Arms and legs trembling, he pushed against the pavers and managed to lever himself to his knees. Gannon stood over him, the tip of his blade inches from his throat.
Aldric looked around for his khopesh and saw it lying close to Valeria’s corpse, a dozen paces away. Too far …
“Time to meet your god,” Gannon told him.
Behind Gannon, Aldric saw Niklaus rushing toward them. In the dim light, his blade seemed to flicker with an unearthly glow. He was grinning like a madman.
A slight smile flickered on Gannon’s lips. He reversed his sword swiftly and jumped backward, thrusting his blade behind him—impaling Niklaus through the chest.
The swordsman gasped, a look of disbelief on his face.
With one swift movement, Gannon jerked his blade free and a gleam of satisfaction came into his eyes. Aldric watched in horror as Niklaus fell to his knees. The hole in his chest pumped scarlet across his shirt and onto the ground. He groped one hand against his chest, as if hoping to stop his life leaching away. Blood oozed between his fingers.
With a savage grunt, Gannon raised his blade high and cleaved into Niklaus’s shoulder.
The mercenary cried out in agony and reached up with one arm, as if imploring his goddess to save him. But it wasn’t to be. Niklaus collapsed to the ground, hugging his sword to his chest, blood spilling from his wounds.
Aldric couldn’t heal himself, but he could use his god’s power on Niklaus. Staggering to his feet, he reached for Menselas’s gift.
Immediately, Gannon jerked around to face him, and his fist slammed into Aldric’s head. Aldric reeled on wobbly legs, tripped, and sprawled across the floor. When he regained his senses enough to look up, Gannon was standing next to his khopesh. He kicked the curved blade, and it skidded across the floor, coming to rest against Valeria’s corpse. Gannon stood between the blade and the three who remained alive: Priska, Soki, and Aldric.
“Your god may have thought you’d be able to stop this,” he told Aldric. “But he is wrong. You are weak, stunted by your Church and their fears. I knew that when I saw you in Etia’s temple. If it hadn’t been for your god’s intervention, I’d have killed both of you then.”
Darya was Gannon, realized Aldric. Disguised by sorcery to appear as a darker version of Soki, a smoldering, sensual portrayal, manipulating his reaction. She had been beautiful, as Gannon was handsome.
“Idmoni,” breathed Aldric. Gannon had manipulated them all from the beginning.
“Just so,” said Gannon. “Niklaus’s interference wasn’t foreseen, but it is a sign the gods and goddesses fear what is coming. And well they should.”
Aldric shifted closer to Soki and winced in pain at the movement. A couple of cracked ribs and a severely bruised face, he surmised. He wouldn’t be much good if it came to more fighting, but he’d do his best. That was what his god expected from him.
Priska seemed to have folded in on herself, lost to despair. There was a wild look in her eyes, and she’d settled on her knees, staring at Gannon. She thought they were all going to die. She was probably right.
Soki looked exhausted and defeated, but drew herself up straight. “What is it you want from us?” she asked Gannon. “The blood of a sorcerer this time?”
“No. Only Kurio’s death was necessary. What I require from you, Sokhelle, is to deal with the sorcery entombed in the coffer. I should warn you: it’s quite virulent.” He raised his sword and smiled. “Aldric and Priska, come over here.”
“Don’t,” Soki snapped, and reached out to grab Aldric’s arm.
“I wasn’t planning to,” Priska said.
“Come now,” said Gannon. “There’s no need to make this any harder. It can go smoothly, or slowly and painfully.”
“I won’t let you kill them,” said Soki.
Gannon laughed and took a step forward. “You don’t have a choice.”
Soki let go of Aldric’s arm and backed away a few steps, closer to the edge of the platform. “You need me. If I don’t do what you want, your plan fails.”
“But you will do what I want.”
Soki shook her head and took another backward step. “What would happen if I threw myself over the edge into whatever’s below? I mightn’t even need to. My sorcery won’t work on you, but it’ll work on me. One sharp burst, and I could kill myself.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me. What are my options if I don’t? You’ll get what you want and then kill us all anyway. And what’s the point of that? We’re of no use to you after. Let us all go free.”
Gannon stood motionless and silent. Eventually, he said, “Maybe you’re right. And maybe not. Perhaps I should just take my chances.”
“Soki …” Aldric warned.
She turne
d to him and said warmly, though with an edge of weariness, “I’m not going to die here, and neither are you. Gannon gets what he wants, and we go free.” She regarded Gannon. “Agreed?”
A nod. “Agreed.”
Aldric knew what Soki thought—they could survive to fight Gannon another day, something Gannon himself must suspect. But the man had manipulated them all so far, so he had reason to believe he was untouchable. He must have his claws into Aldric’s Church and Niklaus’s too. Whether by corruption or simple persuasion was something Aldric would need to find out. If they made it out of the ruin alive.
And would he and Soki be able to stop Gannon once he had what he wanted? He was a member of the Tainted Cabal, and his purpose was the downfall of mankind and the resurgence of demons and their lord, Nysrog. What was Aldric’s life weighed against the devastation that could follow?
“No,” he said firmly, meeting Gannon’s eyes. “We won’t do it.”
“I will,” Soki said.
Aldric flinched as her words hit him like a physical blow. She gave him a brief smile. Trust me, she mouthed.
Menselas, Aldric’s god, had placed him here. Did he want Aldric to die trying to keep this unknown sorcery confined? Or did he merely want him to witness what occurred? Was Aldric’s only role here to open the ruin? He recoiled from the thought. No, that was not a task his god would assign to him. Evil such as the Tainted Cabal wouldn’t be allowed to flourish. Aldric had faith there were unseen currents he could not discern. He didn’t understand the gods, maybe he never would, but Menselas worked for the greater good.
History and legends were full of heroes favored by gods and goddesses. But Aldric wasn’t a hero. He was a shunned priest and an unexceptional sorcerer. What use was he if he couldn’t even save those he cared about? He set his jaw and drew himself up straight despite the pain of his ribs. If Menselas required a last, mortal duty of him, then he would have it.
“I cannot,” Aldric said, his words utterly at odds with the confusion in his soul.
Soki’s expression turned to disappointment. He cast his eyes down, not daring to meet hers.
“You don’t have a choice,” said Gannon.
He produced an object from his pocket: a shiny metal cube covered with script. From the shape of the writing, Aldric could tell it was Skanuric. Gannon grinned, placed his metal cube on the ground in front of him, then moved to the side.
He was getting closer—perhaps Aldric could … No, it was too risky. Though if he came within a few paces, Aldric might have a chance at subduing him.
“Bind the sorcery into this artifact,” Gannon told Soki. “Then we’re done.”
Before Aldric could so much as blink, Gannon lunged at Priska and tangled a hand in her hair. She screamed, and he twisted her scalp, eliciting more cries of pain from her.
Aldric started forward, but Gannon placed the edge of his blade against Priska’s neck, daring Aldric to intervene, then dragged the young woman back a few steps. Priska’s hands clawed at Gannon’s, scoring bloody welts into his skin as her legs kicked and flailed uselessly against the pavers.
Aldric swallowed against a sudden twinge in his chest. “If you hurt her …”
Gannon grinned ferally. “You’ll do what? I’ll slit her throat before you can so much as move a finger. Shut your mouth, stupid priest, and do what I tell you.”
Soki’s hand rested on Aldric’s shoulder. “Calm,” she whispered to him. And then to Gannon, “I’m ready. What would you have me do?”
“Open the coffer,” he said. “Corral the sorcery, and inter it in this artifact. Simple, really.”
Soki strode to the orichalcum coffer and with a grunt of exertion heaved the lid off. It fell to the ground with a tumultuous clang. She peered inside. “There’s nothing … ah.”
She made a show of fumbling around inside, turning slightly to shield her actions from Gannon. She drew out a bejeweled necklace and slipped it into her pocket, but not before Aldric caught a glimpse. An orichalcum chain with green cat’s-eye cabochons—Aldric recognized it from his dreams, and his heart raced. The last time he’d seen the necklace, it was around the neck of Shalmara, Grandmaster of the Evokers. There was a chilling sensation to it, discernible with his sorcerous sight. But his expertise was lacking. He had no idea what it could do, but he did know what it was …
The Chain of Eyes, a relic from the war against Nysrog.
If Gannon saw it, he was sure to kill them. He wouldn’t leave them alive with the knowledge that such a powerful artifact had been discovered and was now in the Tainted Cabal’s hands.
“There’s a vambrace in here,” Soki said loudly, bringing it out.
The armor’s metal glinted briefly in the light before becoming as black as pitch. Not a spot of rust marred its surface, which was worked into a pattern of tiny scales. A faint buzz reached Aldric’s ears—a weird droning of insects.
“Put it back,” he breathed fearfully.
Soki ignored him and, after one last glance inside the coffer, approached Aldric.
“Soki, put it back,” Aldric repeated.
“I’ll take that,” Gannon said. “Toss it over here. Now.”
Soki glanced at Aldric, then did as she was told. The black vambrace clattered at Gannon’s feet. He gave Priska’s hair a savage twist, and she cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks. Gannon forced her to the floor, grinding her face into the pavers and pressing a knee into her back. With her properly subdued, he picked the object up.
“This is an unexpected bonus,” he said. “Can you sense its power? You must be able to.” He examined the piece of armor, seeming engrossed in its details.
Soki’s eyes met Aldric’s, and her words were barely a whisper. “If I fail, you must keep the necklace safe. Can you feel it?”
He did sense something … a sweet, incense-like fog lifting around them.
He recalled the mist deep below the platform and staggered to peer over the side. The membranous substance had changed from a churning, seething fog to placid calm. But the occasional flashes of diamond he’d seen had multiplied and coalesced into large groups, looking like schools of silver fish darting beneath the surface. It was a reservoir of dawn-tide and dusk-tide sorcery—Aldric could feel it. So massive, so extraordinary, that he couldn’t comprehend the skill required to manipulate it, let alone imprison it here. And for what purpose?
Was this Gannon’s ultimate goal? Did he and the Tainted Cabal plan to use the power to bring Nysrog back?
He cast a glance back at Gannon, who now held the Skanuric-inscribed cube in front of him. His lips moved silently, and with a thin silver rod he made complex movements. It was sorcery of a sort Aldric had never seen before. Gannon’s eyes remained fixed on the cube, which he was no doubt preparing somehow for what was to come.
Soki’s eyes were filled with pain and regret. Tears ran down her cheeks. She clasped Aldric’s head in her hands, pulled him toward her, and kissed him on the lips. He could taste her salty tears mingling with their breath.
She broke their embrace and wiped her eyes. “I’ll do my best. If you survive, take the necklace.”
“Soki, we have to—”
She placed a finger against his lips. “It’s too late. Opening the coffer was a trigger. The sorcery has been unleashed—you must sense it. And it’s … I’m afraid, Aldric. I don’t want to die.”
“You won’t. I’m here for a reason. My god—”
“Your god sent you as an assassin, as did Niklaus’s goddess. Only they failed to tell you what they wanted of you. There was ample opportunity to kill Gannon before this, if you’d known of his intention. Now, I have to wrangle a snake.” She paused and gave a slight shake of her head. “If I fail, you must take my catalyst and return it to my Covenant, the Sanguine Legion.”
Soki and her gaze were like a lodestone to Aldric. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, although he knew Gannon was near. He nodded that he understood.
“Promise me,” she said fiercely.r />
“I promise.”
But he knew that as soon as Gannon got what he wanted, they would all die.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw flickers of brilliance crystalize in the dark. Shoals of sparkles rose from the membrane below and floated past the platform, coalescing into a greater mass above them to become one shining accumulation.
“What is it?” Aldric asked.
“Sentient sorceries that could cause another cataclysm. And I have to stop it.”
Soki backed away until she pressed against the coffer, as if using it for support. Her dark hair curled about her slender shoulders, and Aldric cursed himself for not being able to help her in her task. He wished he was more skilled with sorcery so he could share her burden, or even take it from her. His weakness angered him to the point of heartbreak. All this time, he had railed against his circumstance, made a badge of his disgrace. All this time he had confused his weakness for strength. His ceding of control to his Church was his undoing. And he hated himself for it.
He wondered now if his god had chosen him for this very task. And he had failed.
Cants flowed from Soki, fluid and flawless. Words of power underwritten by complex calculations. Aldric’s tears flowed down his cheeks as he listened to peerless sorcery stream from her blood-red lips. Her dawn-tide and dusk-tide energies answered, and Soki uttered more ancient words. Aldric gasped at their power. Grandmaster cants that he’d studied, but had never thought to see attempted lest they crack the world.
Sizzling lines appeared from thin air, violet and blue. A complex weave of dawn- and dusk-tide emanations.
Aldric did the only thing he could: he reached for his own repositories and sent a thread to Soki, hoping he didn’t disrupt her concentration. A request for a consort; a sharing of power. He couldn’t add much to Soki’s reserves, but if this battle came down to a knife edge, his support might mean the difference between success and failure.
Revenant Winds (The Tainted Cabal Book 1) Page 47