All Spell Breaks Loose

Chapter 10

Kesyn Badru clapped his hands once and rubbed them together gleefully. “So, who you going to murder?” he asked me.

I blinked. “Murder?”

He gave me a flat look. “I’ve been drunk; I’ve never been hard of hearing.” Badru jerked his head in Tam’s general direction. “When the boy was telling me the who, what, when, where, and why the hell of you all being here, he said that you have to wet that demon blade of yours with someone’s blood before it’ll cut into the Saghred. So, who’s the unlucky winner?”

I didn’t have to think about that one. “Whoever tries to keep me from getting to the rock.”

“Well, at least that part shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll have plenty of Khrynsani trying to get at you who need stabbing. When the time comes, don’t be shy about it. Puncture as many as you can; you want to make sure that blade is as wet as it needs to be.” Badru turned to Mychael. “Mind me asking who you’re taking with you to bust your way into that temple?”

“The four of us, yourself, possibly a few others.”

Badru raised one shaggy brow. “A few. Possibly.”

“Better for stealth.” Mychael flashed a smile. “Because we’re not busting in.”

The old goblin looked at us like we were all a fistful of arrows short of a quiver. “Uh-huh. I’m assuming you know that if this stealth of yours doesn’t work, you’re Saghred chow. And note that I said, ‘You’re Saghred chow.’ After everything I’ve been through, I’ve never once considered suicide.” He shot a pointed glance at Tam. “Homicide, I’ve thought about on many occasions, but never suicide, and I’m not about to start now. So unless you’ve got bigger guns than I know of, the chances of you getting that rock without getting dead are next to none, and you’ll be taking that chance without me.”

“Don’t count us out that easily, sir,” Mychael said. “I’ve spent the better part of my professional career perfecting glamours and veils. I’ve studied Sarad Nukpana for years. I know his voice, mannerisms, how he moves—”

The old goblin simply gaped at Mychael. “You’re going to glamour as that cretinous worm and just saunter up to the altar.”

Mychael grinned. “I imagine Sarad Nukpana won’t be challenged by anyone if he wants to commune with the Saghred. He would always have guards or a mage escort with him; and conveniently, Khrynsani have a fondness for hooded robes. There should be no problem acquiring robes for temporary use.”

“Paladin, in my long life, I’ve only said this to one other man—your balls drag the ground.”

“Thank you.”

“Either that or you’re stark raving nuts.”

“The next few hours will tell. Glamouring as Sarad is but one plan. Coming back alive from any mission means being flexible. Stay flexible. Stay alive.”

“Admit it, sir,” Tam said. “You have to appreciate the irony. Sarad used a thief glamouring as Mychael to steal the Saghred. I’d love to see Mychael glamoured as Sarad to destroy it.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Badru said. “I don’t care what parts any of you have dragging the ground. No answer from you, no help from me. How are you getting in?”

“We’re not walking in the front doors, sir, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Tam said. “Imala knows a passage that was created during the last renovation. I have a tunnel that was built during the original construction.”

Badru’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know if either one’s been compromised?”

Imala answered that one. “As of last month, neither one was known to anyone other than Tam and myself.”

“A lot of bad can happen in a month.”

Amen to that.

Badru smiled slyly. “I know a way in that you wouldn’t need to worry about any Khrynsani guards at all.”

Now Tam and Imala looked at the old mage like he was crazy. Mychael and I shared a blank stare.

“Is this an idea you’d like to share with us elves, too?” Mychael asked.

“There’s a cave about a mile from the harbor,” Badru told us. “It’s set into the cliffs just above sea level. The cave opens into tunnels which lead up into the temple.”

I glanced from Tam to Imala. “That sounds nice enough, but I take it there’s a reason why we don’t want to go that way.”

Tam answered me. “There are usually several reasons living in those caves at any given time.”

“Sea dragons,” Imala clarified.

That did it. Kesyn Badru had spent too much time in a possessed house.

I’d seen a full-grown sea dragon before just off the coast of Stiren. Lucky for us, it must have just eaten, and wasn’t interested in either Phaelan’s ship or crew. The only difference between sea dragons and Khrynsani was the way they’d kill us. Personally, I’d rather be stabbed than eaten. Sea dragons didn’t care if you were dead before they started eating you.

“In addition to guarding the sea cave entrance, the Khrynsani use the dragons for garbage disposal,” Badru told us. “Corpses of sacrifices, prisoners who outlive their usefulness, Khrynsani whose loyalties become questionable.” He hesitated. “The one unfortunate part is that the tunnels end near the temple dungeons, which I’d really rather not visit.”

At the mention of the temple dungeons, Tam’s eyes lit up, and suddenly Kesyn Badru wasn’t the craziest person in the room anymore. I knew exactly what he was thinking, and I wasn’t any happier about that idea than I was with playing hide-and-seek with hungry sea dragons.

“Tam, we can’t risk—” I began.

“Our most powerful mages and top military minds—all imprisoned by Sarad because they refused to bow to him.” Tam looked at Mychael. “We’d have an army that’s on our side.”

“And your father.”

“Yes, and my father. It won’t make up for everything I’ve done, but it’d be a start.”

“I like even odds,” Mychael said. “But if evening the odds risks the mission, it’s not worth the attempt.”

I bit my bottom lip. “Though…”

“Not you, too?”

I raised both of my hands defensively. “Hey, just trying to do that ‘stay flexible, stay alive’ thing you were talking about. As little as we need something else to do while under Sarad Nukpana’s nose, this might be just the thing we need to buy us some time. Sometimes chaos is a good thing. A bunch of vindictive battle-hardened mages and warriors loose in the temple on the eve of Sarad Nukpana’s greatest triumph. Yes, Nukpana will have to leave guards around the Saghred, but he’ll have no other choice than to send the rest of them to stop that prison break.”

Tam spoke. “Mychael, with their help, we might just be able to destroy the Saghred and Sarad’s Gate. Mother said the team that’s trained and ready to destroy that Gate are in those dungeons. At the very least, we’d be giving these men and women the dignity of dying while fighting instead of waiting to be slaughtered like animals. To me, that’s a chance worth taking.”

Mychael frowned. “I know they won’t take orders from me, and you didn’t exactly leave a clean record when you had to get out of town.”

“Imala, would they listen to you?” I asked. “Or would they think you were still working for Sathrik?”

“Shit,” she swore mildly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Part of why Imala Kalis had been able to gather so much inside information on King Sathrik’s plans was that, technically, she still worked for the guy. For goblins, maintaining dual alliances came as naturally as breathing. But this wasn’t a game for the men and woman Sarad Nukpana had imprisoned in those dungeons, and Imala telling them she was one of the good guys might not go over well.

“Think you could convince them that you wouldn’t set them free just to turn around and set them up?” I asked.

“They would listen to you,” Tam said quietly.

I blinked. “Me? You know I’m an elf, and I think that’s going to be fairly obvious to them, too.”

“You’re also the Saghred’s bond servant.”

Imala nodded. “Our people know who you are, and that includes what you look like.”

“But I don’t have any magic.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tam said. “They know what you’ve done to thwart Sarad Nukpana, and they know that he wants—and needs—you dead. You’re here to destroy the Saghred. Mychael is the paladin of the Conclave Guardians, the keepers of the Saghred for the past thousand years.” He flashed a grin. “The two of you have the hero credentials; we’ll just be there as your trusty sidekicks.”

I snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“That we’re trusty or sidekicks?”

I gave him a crooked smile. “Either one.”

“I haven’t spent all of my time in this house,” Badru said. “I’ve been out, and there are some people I still trust to talk to. From what I’ve heard, Sarad’s keeping those prisoners healthy and well fed. Apparently that rock doesn’t like weak food. I’m sure those boys and girls would like nothing better than to pay Sarad back with interest for fattening them up for the slaughter.”

“Okay,” Mychael began. “I’m not saying we’re going to do this thing, but how many cells are there and how do they open?”

“A dozen cells on two levels,” Tam said. “All but a few of them open with the same key. The chief guard and his senior officers each have one.”

“How many officers?”

“Usually four.”

“Think we can get our hands on one?” Mychael shot Tam a meaningful look. “Quietly?”

Tam’s grin was slow and borderline evil. In that moment, he looked entirely too much like Talon. “He’ll never know what happened.”

Kesyn Badru’s instructions for getting out of the house were simple: run like hell and don’t look back. Throughout my professional career, I’d successfully used that strategy many times. I was glad to be able to say that it worked this time, too.

It was full dark once we got outside. The streets would be busier, and the odds for getting stopped and/or captured would be greater. We were still cloaked and hooded, and Kesyn Badru was sporting a battered, wide-brim hat. Since we were headed for the harbor, then the sea cave, the most direct route would have us going under a place I’d heard a lot about, and had absolutely no desire to visit.

Execution Square.

It had another fancy-sounding name, but over the centuries, it’d been used to make public examples of anyone unlucky or stupid enough to piss off a Mal’Salin monarch. If we managed to get Chigaru on the throne and he started pulling that all-powerful crap, he’d be getting another visit from yours truly. Only I’d have the family fleet backing me up. Phaelan and Uncle Ryn would happily blast his butt off of that throne. If I risked my life to help put someone on a throne, they damned sure better behave when they got there.

To get to Execution Square, Badru led us through parts of the city where you hoped you were carrying more steel than the thugs waiting around the corner, in the next doorway, and down the alley you just passed. Between the five of us, we must have been packing enough, because no one jumped us. While it didn’t exactly give me the warm fuzzies, it did lessen the white-knuckled death grip I had on my dagger.

Badru stopped at a narrow stair that ran against the side of a building. The stairs went down to somewhere. The first four I could see; the rest disappeared into the dark.

He readjusted the brim of his hat. “There’s twenty steps with a door at the bottom,” he said. “We’ll make some light once we get inside. Watch your step.”

A storage room led to the sewers, which led to a cobweb-filled tunnel. Before we’d left the house, Badru had filled a small knapsack with odds and ends he said would come in handy. He’d given us each a ball not much larger than a die, an invention of his. You shook it and the liquid inside made almost as much light as a lightglobe. Plenty of light, no heat, and, best of all, no magic. If you needed to put it out quickly, you just stuck it in your pocket.

Fire of any kind would have been bad walking through cobwebs. But the nice thing about them being here was that it meant no one else had been. I briefly wondered if Magh’Sceadu could flow through cobwebs. We moved fast and in complete silence. We had a destination and we wanted to get there as quickly as possible.

I estimated we’d been walking for nearly an hour, when Kesyn Badru stopped and we did likewise. I couldn’t see much in the dim light, but I could hear plenty. Voices, footsteps, a lot of both—and all coming from directly over our heads. Quick glances darted between Badru, Tam, and Imala. Though this time, I didn’t need anyone to tell me that something was happening in Execution Square and crowds were gathering to watch. I didn’t see any way that this could be good.

Tam and Imala extinguished their lights and ran in absolute silence down the dark tunnel toward the square. While we waited, Badru fished around inside his knapsack and pulled out a square of cheese. I’d thought the old goblin’s breath had smelled bad enough from drinking, but that stink couldn’t begin to compare with that cheese. I was more than grateful when Tam and Imala came back soon after.

“Sathrik’s about to give a speech from the palace balcony,” Tam said.

Mychael blew out his breath. “We might need to hear this, but at the same time, I don’t want to waste the opportunity of having everyone’s attention focused on the king.”

“Sathrik’s usually good at getting to the point quickly,” Imala said. “An orator he’s not.”

“Where’s the closest and safest place to listen?” Mychael asked.

Imala started back into the dark. “Follow me.”

The voices got louder and more numerous, and I tried my best not to think about hundreds, maybe thousands, of goblins standing just a few feet above our heads. Imala glided silently to a storm grate set in the roof of the tunnel. Light from torches or lightglobes in the square above flickered down to the dirt floor. She stood just beyond their glow, perfectly still, listening. Elven eyes were no match for goblin night vision, but our ears were just as good. So what she heard, we all heard.

“The outer perimeter is secure, sir,” said a voice from above.

“And the streets beyond?”

“Closely watched.”

“Good. Assume your post, Captain.”

Palace guards or Khrynsani. Either wasn’t good if we were found, but we weren’t going to be found. We were here to listen and leave. As far as I was concerned, we couldn’t get to the leaving part soon enough.

Imala turned toward Tam and flicked her index finger under her nose.

“Khrynsani,” Tam barely whispered.

I raised a questioning brow.

Tam’s grin flashed in the shadows. “Imala’s always claimed she can smell the stench. The incense they burn in the temple could choke a horse.”

I gave Imala a smile of my own as my pulse sped up at the thought of Khrynsani directly above me.

Imala motioned us forward. Another ten minutes or so passed as the sound of the crowd in the square above grew even louder. Usually in a crowd gathering to hear a speech, there were snide comments and jokes about the dignitary about to speak, laughter and idle chatter. I didn’t hear any of those things.

“How many?” I mouthed silently to Tam, pointing up.

He bent his head to my ear. “The square can hold five thousand.”

My heart suddenly tried to flip in my chest. I tried taking a deep breath, then another. There wasn’t enough air. I broke out in a cold sweat and my breath came shallow and fast.

Sarad Nukpana.

He was here.

He was up there now, on the balcony that couldn’t be more than twenty feet away. The goblin was gazing out over the crowd, looking, searching for us.

For me.

I didn’t need to see him to know. I could feel him.

I curled my nails into my palms and clenched my fists until my fingers ached. I could do this. I would do this. I wouldn’t be terrified into paralysis simply by the bastard’s presence. He could only do this to me if I let him.

I wasn’t going to let him.

Mychael was looking down at me, concern in his eyes.

“Nukpana’s here,” I mouthed.

We should go. Now. Sarad Nukpana wasn’t in the temple. And if he was here, out in public, he had brought enough Khrynsani mages and guards with him for protection. More protection for him meant less protection for the Saghred. We weren’t going to get a better chance at the rock.

Mychael’s jaw clenched, and I could virtually hear his thoughts—consisting almost entirely of four-letter words. He agreed with me.

The crowd above us fell silent.

I seriously doubted Sathrik was going to announce the details of his dark, evil, and insane plan to his people, but you never knew. Sometimes you got lucky and insane included stupid.

It didn’t take Sathrik long to get to the topics he really wanted to rub everyone’s collective nose in. “You all know that Princess Mirabai has granted me the honor of her hand in marriage. She wanted me to inform you, our loyal subjects, that she is eager to assume the duties and responsibilities of being your queen. Please join us in celebrating our marriage tomorrow night in our most revered temple.”

Good thing Prince Chigaru wasn’t here to get that happy news. He’d have clawed his way through the grate above our heads in a frothing rage to get his hands around his brother’s throat. Princess Mirabai and Chigaru had been engaged; that is, before he was forced to run for his life. Looked like Sathrik was intent on taking everything Chigaru had left—beginning with his woman and ending with his life. Though the whole setup smelled like something Sarad Nukpana would have cooked up to lure Chigaru out into the open.

“The fear that has gripped our kingdom and especially our capital is all but over,” Sathrik continued. “Four nights ago, our police led a raid on a known terrorist headquarters and captured many high-level operatives. We interrogated them to discover the location of the last few terrorist cells. Our efforts have been fruitful, and tonight we will begin cleansing our city of their poisonous influence before our wedding day, so that our nuptials may truly be the celebration it should be.”

I felt sick to my stomach.

Tam’s house. The Resistance fighters. Piaras, Talon, and Chigaru.

“Adding to our joy, the Saghred, the ancient heart of our people, has been returned to us,” Sathrik continued. “Our brave Khrynsani brethren, led by my dear friend Sarad Nukpana, have risked much, and some have made the ultimate sacrifice and have given their lives so that the heartstone of our people could be returned to us. The power of the goblin people will grow, and all shall know our strength.” Sathrik paused, long enough to let the silence turn to tension. “And those who have betrayed our kingdom and its people shall pay dearly for their treason. Your new queen and I will celebrate the joy of our union with all of our loyal goblin subjects. Immediately following our union in royal matrimony, the Saghred’s full power shall be reborn and realized with the souls of those who have betrayed us—all of us.”

Sathrik continued speaking while Tam had moved to stand farther down the tunnel, where there was another grate. He was staring up, utterly frozen, his eyes wide with fury—and fear. Imala was by his side, her hand on his arm. Kesyn Badru was two steps behind them. All were looking up at who- or whatever was just beyond that grate. Mychael quickly closed the distance between them. When he saw what they did, the word he mouthed left no doubt that we had a problem. Correction. Another problem.

I went and looked and agreed. No one had to tell me who the man was on the left side of the balcony, positioned so everyone could see him. As an example, a warning in chains.

Tam’s father.

It was as if I were looking at Tam twenty years from now.

Cyran Nathrach stood tall and proud, wearing his shackles like badges of honor. He looked straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the presence of his captors on the balcony with him. He knew why they had brought him here, to serve as an example, a deterrent. His defiant posture said loud and clear that he served no one, bowed his head to no man.

Tam hadn’t moved a muscle, but his pulse was pounding in his throat. I knew what he wanted. Tam wanted to rip that grate off, cut his way through the Khrynsani guards ringing the balcony, and do the same to anyone who made the fatal mistake of getting between him and his father.

Sarad Nukpana was standing behind Cyran Nathrach and Sathrik Mal’Salin, but close enough to Tam’s father to be seen by most of the crowd as claiming Tam’s father as his personal captive, displaying him to the crowd. To the Resistance.

To Tam.

Sarad Nukpana had changed even in the two days since I’d last seen him, when he’d tried to drag me along with the Saghred through that Gate he’d torn into a basement in Mid. Only weeks ago, Sarad Nukpana had been a bodiless specter, newly escaped from the Saghred. His rotten soul had ultimately ended up in the just-dead corpse of his uncle, Janos Ghalfari.

Now Sarad Nukpana looked like himself.

He’d briefly had access to the Saghred’s power, and in just those few hours of contact had absorbed enough magic to restore his face and body. His hair was again a youthful blue-black shimmer. His face unlined and beautiful. And his hands bore only white scars where the Gate’s magic had essentially cooked them inside the steel gauntlets he had worn. Hands he was obsessed with getting on me.

Sarad Nukpana had taken the Saghred, but he hadn’t taken me. If he had, there was no doubt in my mind that I’d be standing beside Cyran Nathrach, in magic-sapping manacles, on display to the goblin people. Next to the Saghred, I’d be Nukpana’s most prized trophy. He’d display me and then he would sacrifice me, exactly as he would be doing to Tam’s father.

In an instant, I saw me standing beside him, looking out at the thousands of goblins gathered in Execution Square, chained, my body unable to move, but my eyes spotting Mychael and Tam through the grate, so close, yet far enough that they couldn’t come any closer, helpless to do anything. But I knew better—they wouldn’t be helpless; they would do whatever they had to do to free us, even if it meant their capture and death.

Sarad Nukpana knew this.

Tam wouldn’t stand by and do nothing while his father was tortured and killed. He would rescue him, and as Tam’s friends, we wouldn’t let him risk his life alone.

Sarad Nukpana knew. All he had to do was wait.

That wouldn’t stop Tam. Sarad Nukpana knew that, too.

Sathrik continued speaking. “Earlier this evening I named Lord Chancellor Sarad Nukpana as my heir until such time as my new bride and I celebrate the birth of our first child. He has been my friend and steadfast ally during this difficult time in my rule when some of my subjects, your fellow citizens, blasphemed against you, me, and the kingdom we all revere. The stability of the throne and your safety and prosperity are—”

“The king isn’t shielded,” Mychael said in the barest whisper.

Tam’s head snapped toward Sarad Nukpana. The goblin black mage’s lips were curled in a half smile and he had moved a few steps closer to Cyran—and away from the king. The people in the crowd probably thought his smile was polite attention to his king’s speech, and his movement away from Sathrik as deferring to the king’s presence.

“—our only concern,” Sathrik continued. “Like myself, Lord Chancellor Nukpana has sworn to uphold and protect the sanctity of the goblin throne and…” Sathrik gestured to where Sarad Nukpana was supposed to be standing. The king froze as annoyance, confusion, then wide-eyed realization and terror passed in a wave over his face.

Sarad Nukpana’s smile broadened, and he regally inclined his head.

For all to see, he was acknowledging his lord and king’s compliment.

He had removed Sathrik’s shields, and had just given someone a clear shot at the king.

The assassin took it.

A bolt took King Sathrik Mal’Salin square in the chest and passed completely through, exiting his back and slamming up to the fletching in a royal guard standing directly behind his king.

His dead king.

A second bolt caught Sarad Nukpana in the upper chest, spinning him to the ground.

“Mortekal!” more than one voice shouted.

Deidre?

Oh, unholy hell.

“No!” Cyran Nathrach screamed, as guards quickly surrounded and dragged him off the balcony.

Tam’s head snapped around as if he could somehow see through the crowd to his mother’s killing perch.

“Protect the king! Protect the king!” Khrynsani guards surrounded Sarad Nukpana, lifted him from the ground, shielding his body with their own.

Deidre’s bolt was sticking out of his shoulder.

He wasn’t dead. The bastard was still alive.

“That monster has more lives than a cat!” Imala snarled.

Tam turned and started to run toward the last turn we’d taken to get under the square, the place where he could get to the street—and his mother. Mychael grabbed his arm and almost got his own ripped off in the process. There was some deadly serious wrestling, but Mychael got Tam pinned, their faces inches apart.

“Not now!” Mychael growled. “Everything your parents did will have been for nothing! Is that what you want?”

Tam’s fangs were bared and his eyes were blazing. One sharp twist of his head and he could rip out Mychael’s throat. They both knew it. Mychael could have moved out of range without releasing his grip on Tam. He didn’t. Instead he relaxed his hold.

“Tam, we strike when we can win.” Mychael’s voice was low and intense. “We will win; we will get them back. I swear it.”

Though until that time, Sarad Nukpana was the goblin king. He’d always been the one pulling Sathrik’s strings. Now it was official.

The king is dead. Long live the king.

Like hell.