Part 50 (1/2)

The numbers of her army waxed and waned with each spiral. Painted warriors fell in battle and brown-robed citizens emerged from houses to take up their swords. Kath led a wild-eyed swarm of tattooed warriors and starving urchins bent on vengeance. Her makes.h.i.+ft army stormed ever upward like a force of nature refusing to be denied. They showed no mercy. Even if she wanted to, Kath could not have stopped them. Every priest was doomed to death, torn to shreds by the mob, their grisly heads mounted on pikes like war trophies. Kath a.s.sumed they'd earned their fate, that evil begat evil, but the gory heads seemed like an ill omen, a barbarous act mocking the goodwill of the G.o.ds. She sent a swift prayer to Valin, hoping she never lost his favor.

Dawn streaked the eastern sky and still they fought.

Weariness a.s.saulted her. Exhaustion became a second enemy, yet they dared not stop lest the soldiers regroup. Tired beyond the telling, Kath rounded the final bend, shocked to realize they'd reached the last gate. ”Of course it's gold.” Tall and imposing, the golden gates portrayed scenes of evil, cities destroyed, people enslaved, a fitting entrance to the palace of the Mordant.

Beside her, Blaine leaned on his blue sword, blood spatters marring his silver surcoat. ”Can you?”

Kath shook her head. Countless pa.s.sages through the dark walls had taken their toll. ”I dare not, not without rest. My magic is spent. If I enter the wall I will not leave it.”

Blaine nodded. ”Then we'll do it the old fas.h.i.+oned way.” He raised his voice in command. ”Bring the ram!”

A dozen burly warriors carried the crossbeam from the last gate. The ma.s.sive beam served as a makes.h.i.+ft ram. Her painted warriors raised scavenged s.h.i.+elds above the ram, forming a protective sh.e.l.l of gold and black. Like an armored turtle, the ram bore down on the golden gate. Spears and crossbow bolts rained death from the wall but they could not slow the turtle. Bristling with feathered bolts, the ram barreled toward the gate.

Beside her, Blaine whispered, ”Almost there!”

But the sense of victory eluded her.

Once, twice, thrice, the ram knocked against the golden gates. A great boom echoed through the street. And then the ram broke through. The golden doors buckled and broke. The way was open. They'd breached the last tier, reaching the palace of the Mordant.

A great cheer swept through her army. With a roar, they rushed forward, eager to claim the ultimate prize, but Kath entered with dread, all of her nightmares crowding close.

The gates opened onto a vast circular courtyard. A royal palace dominated the far side, like nothing Kath had ever seen. Gilded steps led to a great crescent-shaped palace adorned with golden columns and black marble. Grand and imposing, it reeked of power and opulence. Kath wondered what horrors lurked within.

Steel clanged against steel. Small battles raged across the courtyard, pockets of guards making a desperate stand, but they were soon cut down. Her army swept across the yard like a tidal wave, an unstoppable force bent on victory.

Kath followed at a measured pace, her sword in her hand, Bear and Boar at her back. And then she noticed the detail beneath her feet. Dark runes marred the silvery granite. Carved from black marble and inset in gray granite, the runes spiraled inward toward the courtyard's heart, like a trail of dark magic, a curse writ in stone. The runes seemed to writhe with evil, daring her to read them, a dark incantation waiting to be woken. She followed the runes, drawn toward the center. At the heart of the runic spiral, the peak of a dark monolith thrust up through the courtyard like a primal force. And on the side of that monolith was a doorway, a dark cleft in the stone.

Kath shuddered in fear. She'd seen that doorway in the worst of her nightmares. It called to her like a fate that could not be escaped.

She crossed the courtyard, oblivious to the fighting.

A wounded soldier reared up in her path, a sword in his hand, an ugly leer on his face. ”You're mine, witch.”

”Svala!” Bear leaped in front, crossing swords with the soldier.

A hand grabbed her ankle, but Boar attacked, severing the grip.

Swords clashed across the courtyard, yet she did not care. Kath walked pa.s.sed, drawn toward the doorway. She entered the cleft, a chill spearing her soul. Steep stairs spiraled down, torches lining the rough-hewn walls. The very air reeked of evil.

Blaine called to her, but she did not answer.

She took the stairs two at a time. Cold and dank, the shadows flitted around her like swarms of bats. Sensing steel would be of little use; she sheathed her sword and reached for the amber pyramid. Light glowed in her mind like a s.h.i.+eld. Down and around, the stairs delved deep, as if she descended to the very pits of h.e.l.l. Even the air tried to strangle her, so thick with evil she nearly choked. Fighting her own dread, she raced down the steps, desperate to prove her nightmares wrong.

Footsteps followed behind, a fading echo. Friend or foe she did not know, but she could not wait. A bonfire of urgency burned through her blood. Kath raced the darkness into the depths.

Down and around she followed the last spiral, and then the stairs opened to a small chamber. A ma.s.sive copper door blocked the way. Two guards startled alert. Bristling with spears, they leaped toward her. But Kath never slowed. She reached for her axes, two whirls of death. The guards died where they stood, clattering to the stone floor.

Kath stood before the Door.

Incised with runes, the great copper door was green with age. Round like a portal, it reeked of time and death and evil, a prelude to nightmares. Kath gripped the amber pyramid, wondering if she dared even touch the rune-covered copper.

The Door shuddered open.

Moving of its own accord, it gaped like an invitation...or the maw of a trap. A rotting stench poured out, the smell of sulphur and blood and death, a taunt of fear. Kath whispered a prayer to Valin and then plunged through the Door.

She entered a cavern carved from nightmares. Red stalact.i.tes hung from the vaulted ceiling like drops of frozen blood. Braziers belched flames, tongues of fire licking the ceiling. Shadows capered across the cavern walls. And there, at the heart of the chamber, chained to the floor like an offering...Duncan!

”No!” The scream tore from her heart. ”Not you!”

He lifted his head. ”Kath?”

She raced toward him, kneeling by his side, overcome by the sight of his broken body. ”What have they done to you?”

Fear s.h.i.+mmered in his eyes. ”Are you real or an illusion come to tempt me?”

She touched his face, covering his mouth with a kiss. ”I'm real, beloved.”

He gasped, staring up at her, as if drinking in her face. ”I knew you'd come.” Love shown from his eyes, tearing at her heart.

She longed to take him in her arms and hold him close, to feel his heart beating against hers, but oh the daggers. Pierced by a hundred silver knives, they'd ruined his magnificent body. She shuddered to think of the pain, wondering that he still lived. ”We need to get you out of here.”

Words tumbled out of him, full of urgency. ”I never told him about you. He does not know what you carry. Your secret is safe and so is Danya.”

”Later, tell me later, but first your chains.”

Fear flickered across his face. He threw a glance toward the ceiling. ”Beware, the shadows listen.”

She followed his gaze and saw it was true. Shadows broiled across the ceiling, taking sinister shapes. Horns and tails, claws and faces, the shadows took the form of demons, staring down at her like a ravenous horde of nightmares. A sibilant hiss whispered through the cavern. ”Give us the Quickner! The power is ours!” Shadowy claws stretched towards her.

Kath ducked away.

Duncan convulsed in pain. ”It's a trap! You must go!”

”Not without you!” She tugged on his chains, desperate to free him, but he was bound tight. Drawing her sword, she attacked his shackles. Steel clanged against steel, drawing sparks, but the shackles did not break. Desperation lent her strength. Again and again, she struck with all her might, but the sword did no damage, as if the dark metal was spelled against harm. Kath sobbed, ”It won't break!” She clawed at the chain, frantic to win his freedom.

The shadows grew bold, darting toward her. ”Give us the Quickner!”

Huddled on the floor, she slashed at them with her sword, but steel could not pierce shadows. Her hand crept to the crystal dagger, but a sixth sense warned her to keep it hidden.

Emboldened, the shadows grew close.

Duncan yelled, ”Run! You must run!”

And then Blaine appeared in the doorway. Like a hero of old, his silver surcoat s.h.i.+mmered in the torchlight, his sapphire sword in his hand.

The shadows shrieked, retreating to the stalact.i.tes.

”Blaine! Your sword!”

Her command conquered his shock. Blaine rushed forward, lifting his sword in a two handed grip. He struck at Duncan's shackles. Sparks flew and metal screamed. Blue steel blazed bright like a sword of legend. Once, twice, and the dark metal shattered, releasing the first shackle.