Oathen (31 page)

Ahm smiled. “They had four more: another son
and three daughters. And three of them were blessed with magical
gifts. The Scions are strong because of them.”

Meena continued: Shanal was destabilizing due
to the work of the cult and their dark magics, and Queen Anzadi
felt that her agents were going to be entering a period of intense
danger while they strove to set things right. Her researchers
delved into many rumors of lost knowledge and unearthed an ancient
spell of protection among the crumbling scrolls in the catacombs
beneath the palace. Anzadi ordered it tested out on the Triserren
couple. Arisson was one of those rarest of gems in the Queen’
crown: a wielder of barrier-magic. The Queen didn’t want to lose
him.

Not knowing what they were getting into, but
willing to lay down their lives for their Queen, Jacasta and
Arisson accepted her will. The parchment fragments Anzadi’s men had
found described Oathbinding as giving protection, survival and
homing abilities to its recipients, but little else could be
deciphered from them. The spell was cast, and the two were
Oathbound.

Here, Meena paused. Sanych saw the smile that
graced her face, softening its hard lines, and felt a pang of
jealousy.
All the good men are long dead around here, it
seems
.

Meena continued, explaining how she had been
caught by the cult shortly afterward, and how Arisson had been able
to find her using their Oath.

“You were Oathbound at the time they tried to
kill you in the ritual?” Ahm interrupted, leaning forward from his
spot near the fire.

“Yes,” Meena said.

“Well, no wonder—” he began.

The spells surrounding the lodge began to
vibrate, giving off resonances that rose in pitch to uncomfortable
levels.

“What is it?” Salvor asked, getting to his
feet and looking around, a hand on his sword.

Ahm closed his eyes and put his fingertips on
his temples, a look of concentration on his face. When he opened
his eyes, his glance flew to Meena.

“Dzur i’Oth! A whole host
approaches.”

“Folly!” Geret cursed in Vinten.

An enormous, light-sucking implosion ate away
the wooden section of the hideout, and the stone rooms down the
hall were shredded to rubble. Only the stub of the broad stone
corridor remained between their den and the outside air. Moments
later, the splintered remains of the lodge’s beams and rock walls
blasted back into existence, showering the entire cliff with
toothpick-sized shavings and bits of gravel, as if an invisible
monster had bitten into the Red Cliff, chewed it up and spat it
back out. The spells around the lodge fizzled and failed, rippling
in the air with brief, multicolored flashes before dying
completely.

Many of the Scions stepped into the shattered
corridor, swords and magic at the ready. Geret, Ruel, Rhona and
Salvor drew their swords as well. Sanych gulped and slid toward the
back of the room. Meena stood by her, looking disgruntled, as if
the cult had personally offended her by attacking right
then.

Geret swore as he looked outside. “It’s him
again.”

Sanych didn’t need to guess who he meant; the
deep rage in the prince’s voice could only refer to one
man.

The bald man who had held them prisoner
bellowed, his voice echoing off the Red Cliff, and a roar of voices
followed. Dozens of footsteps crunched across the remains of the
hideout. The Scions braced for the onslaught in the narrow
corridor. The first cultist popped a translucent green shield into
existence around herself. Others brought enchanted weapons to bear,
or wielded balls or bolts of light and energy. Behind them, a horde
of Enforcers wielded their wicked-looking serrated swords and
howled with unholy glee.

The first clashes were loud and bright.
Screams echoed in the stone chamber. Several of the Scions were
thrown to the floor, skidding away, and the cultists advanced a few
steps closer.

So many…they’re going to kill us all!
Sanych thought, feeling her throat close with fear.

Ahm called to his people. “To the
pods!”

While those Scions in front kept firing magic
at the cultists, engaging and slowing them, several in back ran to
certain spots around the walls and pulled hidden switches. A stone
puzzle door twisted and folded open in the back of the tall
fireplace, and a cool wind whirled out, extinguishing the flames
and scattering embers into the fur rugs beside Sanych and
Meena.

“Fighting retreat!” Ahm called, waving the
others ahead of him with one hand, while he directed his magic with
the other. Sanych saw metal blocks appearing in midair and falling
onto Dzur i’Oth spellcasters. Many were blocked, but some hit their
targets, leaving them unconscious or worse.

Sanych stared, wide-eyed, at the ease and
competence with which Ahm killed his enemies. Faintly, she heard
Meena barking her name. Before she could tear her eyes from the
invading enemies, Geret grabbed her hand and tugged her through the
puzzle door.

The chamber beyond the common room was broad
and dim. It echoed with dozens of footsteps. The ceiling was
indistinguishable from the pitch blackness overhead. A single
yellow light glowed on a metal stand in the lonely center of the
room, turning the floor a blazing orange. Several small round
chambers lined the room’s walls, each with slender central pillars
of intricately carved stone rising from floor to
ceiling.

“Ahm,” Meena called urgently, taking Sanych’s
hand from Geret. The silver-haired patriarch had slipped into the
larger chamber, and was marshalling the fighting Scions just
outside the puzzle door. “Sanych needs to get to the Emerald for
training.”

Ahm squinted, distracted from the impending
battle. “I’ll spread the word; we’ll all meet there.” He turned
back to the Scions and began organizing them into battle
lines.

Blasts of sound and bolts of fire shook the
den. A pair of screams made Sanych look back, then wish she hadn’t:
two scorched bodies skidded and tumbled across the floor toward
her. She gasped and stumbled back, feeling a burst of healing run
up her arm from Meena’s hand.

Rhona joined them, short swords out. The
pirate wore a look of eager anticipation. “This’ll be
fun.”

Narjin’s blue fire blasted four men into the
wall. Salvor and Geret fought side by side against a knot of
Enforcers who had slipped into the chamber. Ruel danced around
them, using them for cover and slicing forward with quick thrusts
at the enemy’s unprotected areas: hamstrings, groins,
throats.

Ahm stood behind the front line and dropped
more blocks of metal onto distracted cultists. The blocks vanished,
only to appear over someone else’s head a moment later.

Sanych caught a momentary glimpse of Kemsil as
he darted around behind one of the foremost cultists. He raised a
dagger to strike, and Meena tugged Sanych further toward one of the
smaller chambers. The edge of the Circuit’s barrier—safe to use now
that the refuge’s spells had failed—rippled through Sanych, and
Kemsil was lost to view.

“Pull back!” Ahm called hoarsely. He backed
through the jostling Scions and directed Meena and Sanych into a
chamber with him.

The cultists closed in, pressing the Scions
toward the podlike chambers. Rhona slid over next to Ruel, Salvor
and Geret just in front of Sanych’s pod, swords at the
ready.

Seeing her fighting next to Geret made
Sanych’s stomach churn.
Any good advisor would tell her prince
to get his arse out of danger
. “Geret!” she called. “Get in
here!”

“Go,” Salvor urged his prince. Geret began to
back away from the battle.

Then Kemsil screamed nearby. Geret paused,
looked over and swore. “Go without me!” he shouted, running to
toward Kemsil’s voice. Sanych leaned over to see what had happened
to the Jualan.

“Hands!” called Ahm. He slapped his palm onto
the pillar. Sanych, wide-eyed, felt Meena grasp her palm and slap
it against the cool stone. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from
Kemsil’s writhing form—visible because his left arm was
missing.

Then the screaming faded, and all went
white.

~~~

“Giril, don’t do this.” Count Aponden stood,
torn, as the other man fetched a small vial from a secret
compartment along the molding in his office. “We all agreed this
sort of action should never be necessary.”

N’Hara looked at him, depositing the vial in
an inner pocket of his vest, then tugging the fabric smooth. “Such
absolutes are ultimately a waste of time, Stam, and will be for as
long as man is unable to read the future. The situation has
decidedly changed. If we do not act now, before the meeting with
this stranger, our hand will be forced, and we will lose control of
years of planning. The most likely outcome will be one of her
choosing. This is our land, not hers, and whatever she promises,
she has to keep her own interests closest to her heart. As do
we.”

He brushed past, opening the door to the
hallway. “I’ll see you after last bell.”

Aponden watched him go.
I could have
stopped him. Folly curse me, I can’t tell whether I should have!
Despite the barbaric nature of his plan…it might be our only hope
for success.

~~~

Salvor watched Geret bolt away from the safety
of the pod to help Kemsil. He bared his teeth as an Enforcer
brought his sword back for a passing swing at Geret’s torso. Salvor
flicked his own sword upward, then caught its blade in his bare
hand. He threw it hard. It spun through the air, flashing in the
yellow light. The sword came to a stop embedded in the Enforcer’s
skull just as Geret ran past the man. The prince waved a hand in
acknowledgement without even looking over.

“Now who’s arrogant?” Salvor
growled.

“Geret, down!” Narjin called, just as Geret
reached Kemsil. The prince sprawled over Kemsil, while protecting
his own head. Salvor watched the Scion woman unleash a wave of blue
heat on the Enforcer who had attacked Kemsil. Even at his distance,
Salvor’s nose rebelled at the scorched stench.

Geret grabbed handfuls of Kemsil’s shirt and
pants, hefting the groaning man onto his shoulders. He and Narjin
ran for an empty chamber. Salvor retrieved his sword, then angled
to meet them there, and together they laid Kemsil down.

“What about the Circuit?” he asked
Geret.

“That Enforcer had picked it up. I think
Narjin broke it. The orange glass was cracked.”

“Folly,” Salvor muttered, as Narjin tried to
stop Kemsil from bleeding to death by wrapping her detached sleeve
tightly around his stump.

“You can’t sear it with your fire?” Geret
asked, hands bloody as he assisted her.

“No, I’m only trained for offense. I’d blow
what’s left of his arm all over the walls,” she
muttered.

Salvor looked up at a growing crackling noise.
The bald man who had tortured him had just stepped through the
puzzle door. From his spread fingertips, crackling black energy
sucked the light from around him, cloaking him in an ominous shadow
that began creeping across the room. “Folly! We’re out of
time.”

Seeing Ruel mere steps away, he grabbed the
pirate and pressed him into the pod. “Narjin, get these three out
of here. I’ll get Rhona.”

Narjin nodded. With a flash of light, its
occupants vanished.

Over half the Scions had retreated and
vanished, leaving a dozen or so on their feet. Rhona was at the
other end of the line, in a pocket of heavy fighting, clearly
enjoying herself.

Salvor grabbed the nearest Scion by the collar
and shouted into his ear, “Meena’s grand-daughter is under attack;
help me get her to safety!”

Nohm nodded, putting a hand on Salvor’s
shoulder. “I’ll give us the illusion of Enforcers to our enemy’s
eyes, but we must hurry.” he said into the man’s ear, letting
Salvor lead the way to Rhona.

They reached Rhona, who was whirling a blade
in each hand. Salvor grabbed her shoulder and jerked her away from
her dying opponent.

“Rhona! Quit showing off!”

She flashed a dimple at him. “You’re no fun at
all!”

He glowered at her and pointed across the
chamber. “You see the deathstorm our old friend is bringing?” The
black lightning sparked across the ceiling and wove between the
Enforcers and cultists; even they seemed afraid to touch
it.

Rhona paled. “Him again. Like a bad
gipp.”

“We must hurry!” Nohm urged. “The Scion line
is about to disappear, and the room’s spelled to implode in
self-defense.”

“With us in it?” Salvor asked.

A sonorous voice boomed through the room.
“Your doom is upon you, Scions,” Bailik intoned. The yellow light
in the center of the room began flashing.

Nohm pointed at it. “If we don’t get out,
yes.”

The Scion line broke, and everyone rushed
toward the pods. Only a short while had passed since they’d entered
this enormous room, yet the floor was littered with bodies, most of
them wearing black. The cultists and Enforcers still standing began
to pull back toward the puzzle door, avoiding the thick, crackling
tendrils of lightning that filled the room. A few of the slowest
Scions fell shrieking to the floor as lightning struck them from
behind.