The Complete Twilight Reign Ebook Collection (202 page)

Kiallas didn’t share the humour, but it seemed to do the trick nonetheless. Javelin still at the ready, the Litse knelt and placed the stiletto at the appropriate spot, while still contriving to keep his spine as upright as possible. Styrax walked to the other side and took up position. He took a moment to identify the correct runes, then placed the knife-points at the centre of each, one on a horizontal bar across the rune, the other vertical.

‘On the count of three, push the stiletto into the stone,’ he said.

Kiallas peered around the monument at him. ‘In?’

‘It will go easily enough. One, two, three.’

The two men slid the stilettos forward in unison, and both felt something inside give way under the pressure. The thin-bladed knives pushed smoothly into the rock until their hilts met the column.

‘Now we will turn the whole column to the right,’ he said, ‘using the handles.’ Kiallas, now intrigued, did as he was told and they found it turned with oiled ease until it came to an abrupt halt. Styrax smiled. ‘At this point, if it hadn’t been for Major Amber, I might have looked a little silly.’ He drew one of the stilettos halfway out and turned the column an eighth of a circle back the way it had come. ‘Impatience will do that, I suppose,’ he added, watching the column rise very slightly as the base moved onto what looked like a sloped track.

Kiallas didn’t reply. He was still staring in wonder at the column which had never moved an inch throughout his entire life. Styrax didn’t take the lack of conversation to heart; that would be churlish under the circumstances.

Instead, he was still smiling amiably when he whipped one of the stilettos out of the column and into Kiallas’s neck.

The razor-sharp blade slid into flesh and bone even more easily than it had into the stone. Kiallas continued to look surprised as his fingers loosened from the knife hilt and his corpse overbalanced. He sprawled untidily on the floor, trapping one elegant wing under his body.

‘Interested yet, dear?’ Styrax said quietly to the elderly scholar.

Her head remained bent over a parchment; she appeared to have noticed none of the drama being acted out ten yards from where she sat.

‘No? Well, I shall not be deterred,’ he said and crouched a little lower. He placed his hands on either side of the column and tensed his massive shoulders. With one smooth movement he lifted the column up a good eight inches and let it fall to one side. The solid block hit the tiled floor with an enormous crash, shattering the tiles underneath and - finally - causing the old woman to shriek in alarm.

Styrax respectfully inclined his head to her before looking down into the hole in the ground. There, nestled in a close-fitting depression and surrounded by markings in the same script as those on the column, was a Crystal Skull.

‘The Skull of Blood,’ he said to himself. ‘Three down, nine to go.’ He paused. ‘Two of which are about to be delivered to me.’

He reached down and pulled the Skull free. He felt a shudder run through the building, followed by a sudden rushing sound that he sensed as much as heard. He stood, taking a deep breath and filling his lungs, and a gasp of pleasure grew into a great laugh as he felt magic flood through his body.

The cool air shimmered all around him as the spell was broken and magic returned to the valley, rolling down from the heavens to fill the parched ground with tang and fire, swirling around Styrax like a lightning-filled storm-cloud.

He blinked as the colours of the Fearen House blazed brighter and more brilliant, while the weight of his armour disappeared. In the grim winter light, tinted in Styrax’s eyes by the aching absence of magic, the Fearen House had looked impressive, but soulless. Now he took a moment to admire the building anew, wondering at the glorious grandeur of the high walls and their vibrant, gold-edged flags, staring up at the intricate carvings on the dome’s supporting beams.

A soft sound beyond normal hearing drifted through the room and broke his concentration. His quivering senses immediately snapped to attention as he became aware of a slow sense of vastness coming awake: a mind, huge and ancient, but not yet aware.

‘Ah yes, the guardian,’ he said, looking down at the discarded stone column. With magic coursing through his body the gold looked dull, insignificant. ‘The threat that has stayed countless hands. Zhia Vukotic, let this be an object lesson; I am not like the rest of humanity.’

Styrax pushed the Crystal Skull to his chest and held it there until the object melted into the black whorled metal. That done, he headed for the doorway, collecting his helm as he passed and giving the old woman another respectful nod. ‘You might want to stay there and keep quiet,’ he advised cheerily. ‘The librarian is in something of a mood.’

As he walked outside and saw the first shocked faces, Styrax felt the awakening mind growing stronger and more distinct. Looking over towards the gate he saw more Litse guardians milling in disarray, their panicked voices lost on the wind. Through them raced his wyvern, its powerful legs driving it forward in leaping strides until it had the space to unfurl its wings and push up into the sky. It drove forward thirty yards towards its master, but instead of landing in front of him, the creature hung uncertainly in the air, sensing that strange mind.

‘Come here,’ Styrax growled, letting a shred of magic roll out with his words, redoubling the charm placed on the creature many months ago. It obeyed without a second thought, darting forward so quickly the beastmaster on its back yelped in surprise.

It landed and dipped its head so low it ran its throat over the grass at Styrax’s feet. He reached down and patted it, and the wyvern turned its sinuous neck to watch him mount while the beastmaster scrambled off the other side.

‘Run,’ Styrax ordered the man, ‘run for the gate and try to catch up with Lord Larim. Everyone else is panicking, so don’t worry about being stopped, just make sure you’re not here in a minute’s time.’

‘What’s happening, my Lord?’ the man yelled, and as though in reply the ground trembled and shuddered like an earthquake.

‘Something even a lifetime in your profession could not hope to control,’ Styrax replied. ‘Now run, you damn fool!’

The man didn’t wait any longer and scrambled back the way he had come, towards the gate leading to Ismess. Styrax checked his saddle and found Elements and Destruction, the two Skulls he had been made to leave in the guardhouse before he entered the library, along with Kobra, his massive fanged broadsword. Its black surface was dull and faded, for it had been starved of both blood and magic for weeks, but some of the lustre returned when he slipped Destruction over the sword’s guard. The other he added to his chest as he clipped his dragon belt onto the wyvern’s saddle. Above the valley, the air began to shimmer and tremble as the mountain itself heaved underfoot.

Styrax looked around at the library and gave a grunt of acknowledgement. ‘It appears everything has gone to plan,’ he commented to the wyvern as he gathered the reins that had been tied to the horn of the saddle.

A shadowy blur flashed past his eyes and his sword was drawn and raised in an instant - but the blur continued past him and stopped beside the monument to Leitah a dozen yards away. His mouth filled with the bitter, coppery tang of magic, but even as he drew on the Skulls fixed to his armour, the dark swirls evaporated to reveal a figure in armour very like his own. The ground shook once again, even harder than before, accompanied by the groan of tortured rock.

The figure turned to look at him. Styrax knew immediately who it was, and why the black whorl-patterned armour completely enclosed the body, hiding it from the weak sun. He looked back and saw another figure on the cliff behind. The distance was too great to make out much more than a black silhouette against the sky, but he did not need to guess its identity.

‘Surely not here for revenge?’ he murmured, readying his defences.

As though in response the armoured figure turned appraisingly to the great crescent-shaped mound of earth that sheltered the monument.

So, Zhia, what do you do now? Nai wasn’t wrong when he said the face on the monument looked familiar, was he? You brought your father’s corpse here for a final resting place and set a terrible guard - Styrax stopped dead. Gods. Unless I’ve underestimated you…

‘Leave now,’ Zhia called over the sound of a mountain trembling, her voice rolling like thunder around the valley. ‘Leave, or we will kill you.’

Styrax looked back at the other figure, who drew his sword to add weight to the point. Both with Skulls, two immortals together? Not the best odds.

Zhia did not wait for a reply but kicked the stone monument. The solid block tipped onto its side as easily as an upturned chair, but Styrax felt the heavy thump reverberate up through the wyvern’s body as tonnes of stone were smashed asunder.

‘Leave!’ she commanded with bone-shaking volume. Styrax knew he wouldn’t get another warning. He gave the reins a tug, but the wyvern had no wish to linger in the presence of these alarmingly powerful creatures and hurriedly began flexing its pale blue wings before leaping up into the sky. Three strong strokes took them to cliff level and into a rising thermal before Styrax wheeled the beast around so he could watch events unfold beneath him.

The sour taste of having been bested filled his mouth. He watched as Zhia looked once more at the mound of earth beside her, then she punched the underside of the monument with her mailed fist. The stone shattered under the impact and Styrax saw a momentary blaze of white light burst out.

If her father’s grave was underneath the monument, she paid it no attention - but that hardly surprised Styrax as he realised what she was doing. She hit the underside of the stone again, and again, and as the shards of stone fell to the ground a massive pulse of energy was expelled.

Even up in the sky Styrax felt a wave of dizziness envelop him, but he still saw as Zhia collected a shining object.

She quickly wrapped it in a length of cloth, binding it tightly, before drawing her sword and stowing the wrapped object on her back instead. There was a strange ripping sound and she turned back as the ground split open like a gigantic chrysalis, ripping further and further along the spine of the mound as something pushed forward from underneath.

A massive soil-coated shape, still indistinct, lifted itself up, one foot, then two, three feet, before dropping again, and Styrax saw a gleam of emerald appear further along the mound as the earth fell away…

Then the mound burst open as the dragon inside drove up and twisted its body to free itself from the constricting earth. Its wings were tightly furled and coated in dirt still, but he could tell the beast was huge, even by the standards of dragons. Its movements were lazy, as to be expected after a magically induced sleep, but with every passing second Styrax felt its presence swell.

Unbidden, the wyvern climbed further up into the sky, desperate to be away from its vastly larger cousin. This time Styrax did not stop it. He was dazed by what he had just witnessed, but after a moment the instinct for self-preservation kicked in and he turned his creature west, towards his army. The puzzle of the heart had been clear: it kept a dragon sleeping, and that beast, if ever awakened, would turn on the one who solved it. There had been no mention of the Crystal Skull, but Styrax had guessed at the mechanism for keeping the dragon asleep and knew perfectly well a dragon’s preference for mages. That was why he kept Lord Larim back; experience with the Skulls had shown Styrax they were almost impossible to sense when not being used so it was likely the dragon would go after the nearest powerful mage.

Now, with the Farlan army so close at hand, he had a distraction to serve several purposes.

Yet she fooled me still, he thought with growing wonder and disbelief. He was scarcely able to believe what he had seen - and he was relieved he had not thought to stay and fight Zhia. He had made that decision thinking two immortal vampires bearing Crystal Skulls would probably have proved too much, even for him. But with one of them wielding Aenaris, the Key of Life itself? Not even the Gods could stop them!

The cavalry smashed into the Menin lines and men and horses screamed and roared and fell. Amber found himself beside Captain Hain, huddled behind their shields which were resting on the boundary wall. Behind him infantrymen filled the small patch of ground. The wall was little more than rubble for half of its length now, but that had been enough to blunt the worst of the Farlan charge and now the Menin crossbowmen were making their shots count.

Amber felt a spear bite into his shield and nearly rip it from his grasp. He lunged blindly forward and caught the horse in the throat. The beast reared and threw itself backwards, shrieking as it fell, trying to avoid its rider. The scimitar was torn from his grip, so Amber wrenched the spear out and brandished it at the next man who came for them. Behind him he heard the frantic shouts of the officer commanding the bowmen, and the heavy stamp of another infantry company moving up.

Half of the Farlan were now on foot, charging with remarkable fervour. Amber could see his men were easily getting the better of the ragged mercenaries, but among them were men of an entirely different calibre. A knot of knights smashed their way through the line where the wall had fallen, hacking their way through as their warhorses kicked and stamped a bloody path. Red and white ribbons fixed to their armour danced furiously in the breeze.

‘Take them down!’ Amber yelled to the arriving infantry. The men leveled spears and charged into the half-dozen knights. The nearest was impaled, but he protected the rest, who turned straight into the company, driving into the ranks to get past the reach of their spears before chopping down on every available target. Two crossbow bolts slammed into the rearmost knight, throwing him from his saddle, but the others ignored him, intent on causing as much damage as possible. At last, enough of the pressing infantry managed to bring the knights down one by one, though taking heavy casualties right to the last moment.

Amber and Haim led the charge to close the gap, running forward with a squad close behind. More troops were running for the breach, led by an unnaturally tall figure swathed in shadows and carrying a pair of long scimitars.