All Spell Breaks Loose (32 page)

Lightning cackled and killed, the floor shook, and mundane bolts and blades flew and clashed around me.

I ignored it all. Yes, my hand was attached to the Saghred, but I had really long legs. Best of all, I was barefooted. I dropped to my knees, which had the dual benefit of getting me closer to the floor, and out of a lot of people’s line of sight and fire. I twisted my forearm in the manacle as far as I could, pushing the pain aside. A broken arm would heal, too. I stretched out the leg closest to the Scythe as far as I could, reaching out with my bare feet, and wishing I had longer toes. I stretched and squirmed and swore. I blew all of my breath out in the vain hope that maybe it’d make me a fraction taller.

My big toe touched cool silver.

Yes!

I’d never been so glad to be barefooted in my life. It was amazing what your toes could do when you were motivated enough, and right now my motivation knew no bounds.

But touching wasn’t having, and having wasn’t stabbing the Saghred. Kesyn was still chained with magic-sapping manacles and still couldn’t summon any Reapers.

One problem at a time, Raine.

Sarad Nukpana didn’t see me do any of this.

But his mother did.

There I was, stretched out like the perfect—and perfectly stupid—sacrifice.

Sandrina Ghalfari’s eyes lit with homicidal glee as she drew a pair of stilettos from her jeweled belt. The blades glistened wetly with what had to be poison.

Crap in a bucket.

I was stretched out like the catch of the day just waiting to be filleted.

Sandrina Ghalfari’s dark, glittering eyes told me that I wasn’t the only one having that image, but unlike me, she was enjoying it. At least if she decided to indulge herself, I wouldn’t be around for it, at least not for long; a single nick from one of those poisoned blades and I’d be gone. Though with Sandrina’s sadistic history, more than likely the poison would paralyze me first, giving Sarad Nukpana’s mom plenty of time to relish my agonizing death.

Nothing like impending torment to give you a positive outlook.

My feet and legs were free, so I could have the satisfaction of at least kicking the bitch first, but they were also bare.

See above concerning one nick equaling painful death or paralysis.

Sandrina glanced at the Scythe of Nen and kicked it
down the stairs and into the carnage-filled chaos the temple floor had become. I didn’t have a Plan C, but if I did, it would have involved my unfettered fists and Sandrina’s face.

“My only regret is that I won’t have the time to inflict the agonies on you that you inflicted on my son.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a vulpine smile. “Sarad has forbidden you to be killed, so to repay you for all that you’ve done, I will go to great pains to ensure that your loved ones linger for as long as possible.” Her voice dropped to a purr. “Rest easy and know that I will take
very
good care of them.”

A banshee shriek shook the air as a broken pike came down on Sandrina’s head, dropping Nukpana’s mom like a rock.

Princess Mirabai stood over Sandrina’s crumpled form, clutching a blood-spattered pike from one of her guards. Guards that were now nowhere in sight, though the floor where they’d been standing was nowhere in sight, either. The hooked blade had been broken off; the wood was split and splintered on one end, making a half-respectable spear. Mirabai held it with a practiced grip; her feet spread shoulder-width apart in a solid stance. It looked like a certain princess had had quarterstaff training.

“Plan B is back on the table!” I crowed.

If only we could find the damned dagger.

As I scrambled to my feet, a shadow fell over us and Mirabai gasped.

It was Mychael. And he was armed with a huge battle-ax that would have been the envy of Vegard and homicidal berserkers everywhere. Now, that was what I called sexy.

“I want you now,” I told him.

Mychael gathered me to him with his free arm, and for the next few moments, I was out of breath for all the right reasons.

“He’s on our side,” I told Mirabai once Mychael’s lips let me speak.

The little princess had lowered her pike. “I assumed as much. Your fiancé?”

“Not exactly.”

Mychael’s eyes gleamed. “At least not yet.”

I jerked my head toward the temple floor. “The Scythe is down there, somewhere around the foot of the steps.”

Mychael looked where I’d indicated, noted the location, then ignored it, whipping out a picklock to open the manacle binding me to the Saghred’s pedestal.

There was blood on his hand.

“No!” I screamed.

“What is—”

“Your hand’s bloody!”

“It’s not my blood.”

“It doesn’t care!”

Mychael saw my hand fused to the rock and his expression darkened to the blackest murder. If Tam wanted to take out Sarad Nukpana, he’d better hurry up and do it, because Mychael was about to cut in line.

“Yeah, I feel the same way,” I said, taking the picklock. “Free the others, then go find that dagger.”

“Put your chains flat on the floor,” Mychael told Mirabai, “and close your eyes.”

Without a trace of fear, Mirabai quickly knelt on the floor, bowed her head so her face was protectively tucked against her knees, and put her chained wrists out as far from her body as she could. Mychael brought the ax down, the blade biting through the chains with a single stroke, then went to do the same for Kesyn and the Nathrachs.

I got to work on my manacle. If I got it open, my hand would still be fused to the rock, but at least I’d be able to straighten my arm. Small improvement, but I’d take it. The manacle opened with a sharp click, revealing my cut and bloody wrist.

Oh no.

Before I could stop it, a single drop of blood fell from
my wrist to sizzle on the Saghred’s fiery surface. I froze and held my breath.

Nothing.

The stone simply absorbed the blood and didn’t do the same to me. Nukpana had said the rock had agreed not to eat me; it wanted me to suffer as much it had. I tried to flex my fingers and the Saghred vibrated, almost like a growl.

“Okay, okay. You’re the boss.” I clenched my teeth. “For now.”

“Give me the ax; I’ll take care of these,” came Tam’s voice from behind me. “Go find the Scythe.” I tried to turn to see, but the Saghred would let me move only so far.

Mychael emerged from the back of the dais with a curved goblin sword, and ran down what was left of the stairs to the temple floor.

“Save yourself the trouble,” Deidre was telling Tam. “See that weasel of a guard cowering over there?”

“I see more than one.”

“The one trying to push himself into the corner. He has the keys on his belt.”

I couldn’t see Tam, but I could see that Khrynsani guard just fine. He went wide-eyed with panic, presumably at having the complete and undivided attention of the chief mage for the House of Mal’Salin holding a big ax. The guard did what most people in his predicament would—he ran; at least he tried to. There was a loop of keys on his belt one moment, then the keys went flying through the air back toward Tam, and the guard was jerked forward to smack face-first into the marble floor. Magic could be both useful and fun.

Seconds later, Mirabai ran back to Sandrina’s still unconscious form and cuffed her hands behind her back with what I assumed were Deidre’s manacles.

“Tam, stop playing and go help Mychael find that dagger,” Kesyn ordered.

The temple had gone insane, scenes from a hundred nightmares playing out in horrific reality. The goblins of the
Resistance were fighting with a desperation that came from struggling not only for their lives, but for the future of their entire race. The sea dragons had broken through the floor only a minute or two ago. The female had clawed her way free of the shattered marble and with tail, claws, and teeth was tearing into any goblin flesh she could reach. Her only slightly smaller mate soon joined her in the carnage.

Jash Masloc snatched a pair of Resistance mages out of range just as one of the dragon’s claws slashed through the air where they had stood. The goblin mage then punched the air before the dragon’s face and a blazing white shield blocked an incoming snap of teeth the length of his forearm.

Piaras’s voice was ringing with a battlefield sleepsong aimed at two large groups of Khrynsani guards. They were locked in combat with what appeared to be goblin army officers led by Imala Kalis. The Khrynsani struck by Piaras’s song were dropping to the ground where they stood. They were dropping and the dragons were eating, for the most part without pausing to chew, merely tossing back their huge heads to swallow entire sections of bodies whole. It was gruesome as hell, but Piaras was doing what had to be done. It was us or them, and while the dragons were busy eating Khrynsani they couldn’t do the same to the Resistance fighters. He was buying time for all of us.

A flash of bright light came from just beyond the temple doors instantly followed by two deafening explosions, one right after the other. An orange glow filled the doorway. What the hell? Execution Square had been completely empty when I’d been brought in, and there hadn’t been anything combustible or flammable already there. Even the dragons were startled enough to stop feeding for all of two seconds. Sarad Nukpana’s allies, who had been stampeding out of the temple, screamed and ran back in—until they saw the dragons again. They’d come here to see a wedding and enjoy a nice evening of sacrifices. Now they had to choose which way to die: dragon or whatever hell had broken loose outside
in the square. Most of them wisely decided to take their chances outside.

“Raine, we have a situation,” Kesyn said.

Mirabai looked at the floor around the altar and jumped back, stifling a scream.

A numbing coldness lapped against my legs. A churning black mist was up past my knees and climbing fast. Admittedly, I’d been a little preoccupied, but I should have noticed
that
. I was fused to the Saghred and couldn’t escape, but Kesyn could.

“Kesyn, run!” I screamed.

The old goblin mage had seen it before I had, and not only did he not run; he stayed right where he was. I grabbed his arm and, with my free hand, tried with everything I had to drag him off of the altar.

“I’m not leaving you,” Kesyn told me. “I can help.”

“By getting yourself killed?”

In the next two seconds, the wall of mist was almost up to my waist. Parts of it broke off from the rest and rapidly spiraled upward even farther to form bars. I reached out with one finger and barely touched a single bar of mist. My hand instantly went numb to the wrist.

Kesyn was actually grinning. “Don’t worry. Getting killed is not going to happen.”

No.
This
was not happening. I didn’t nearly get the Scythe only to lose the Scythe, only to almost get the Scythe again, to be imprisoned in freaking mist bars, with a lunatic old goblin sitting behind me who wasn’t going to do a damned thing about any of it.

“It’s a Level Thirteen ward,” Kesyn continued, seemingly unconcerned. “We can’t get out and no one else can get in.”

The crazy coot. “Wards only go to twelve,” I snarled.

Kesyn shrugged. “These pricks are real go-getters. This level of work is beyond what I’ve ever seen.”

Not only was he crazy; he was hallucinating. “What pricks?”

“Remember those five black mages who were standing over there with Carnades?” Kesyn asked mildly. “Well, apparently they never left. I could kick myself for not noticing until now. Must be getting feebleminded in my old age. Though they do have the best damned veils I’ve ever seen.”

I looked into the shadows behind the altar. There had been several Khrynsani black mages standing with Carnades. They weren’t there now. I hadn’t seen them go anywhere, and with their fancy robes, I would have noticed that.

I stopped and sniffed. Spices and incense. Dammit, I could still smell them. With all the blood and smoke and dragon breath flying around here, I hadn’t noticed that the spicy smell hadn’t gone away, even though there was no incense burning. The bastards were still here, and obviously they weren’t just standing around anymore. They were veiled and working hard. If I hadn’t already been hurt enough, I would have smacked myself in the head for being so stupid. Sarad Nukpana would have been prepared for anything. He wasn’t depending on mere guards to keep the Saghred safe. The Khrynsani had been trying to get the Saghred back for nearly a thousand years. They would never leave it unguarded.

And it wasn’t unguarded now.

Why did Nukpana’s best black mages wait until now to encase the altar and Saghred in a ward? Maybe it had taken them that long to get the ward started. Carnades had said that he couldn’t activate a mirror in less than fifteen minutes; maybe this was similar. I didn’t know and it didn’t matter. That Kesyn and I were stuck in a ward with five of Nukpana’s biggest and baddest did. Even if Mychael or Tam found the Scythe, it wouldn’t do us a damned bit of good if they couldn’t get it to me.

The black mages hadn’t dropped their veils, but the mist flowed around them, outlining their shapes. One of the bastards was standing less than three feet away and I’d been completely clueless. The ward spinning and solidifying
around us looked like black mist swirling with motes of bright red light like thousands of demonic eyes.

Kesyn shook his head in disgust. “These are Sarad’s top spellslingers; and the grandstanding sons of bitches can’t resist showing off.” He snorted. “Spells with sparklies. Why didn’t they just tie a bow around it?”

“Do something!” I hissed to Kesyn.

“I can’t use magic in here,” he said. “We’d fry. They wouldn’t.”

“There’s nothing you can do? Because there sure as hell isn’t anything I can do.”

“I didn’t say that. It’s taking all the strength and concentration this bunch has to hold the ward together. They can’t even risk letting their concentration waver to lower their veils, and I doubt they can even spare the thought to listen to us. They’ve positioned themselves between two layers of wards, so they’re shielded from the outside and inside against magic, weapons, and sound. So spellsongs won’t work, either.” The old goblin leaned back and twisted from side to side, cracking his back. “So we’re waiting on your lover boy to get back with that dagger. Though I do wish he’d hurry. I wouldn’t want this happening prematurely.”