All Spell Breaks Loose

Chapter 20

I wasn’t standing outside the temple looking in. No, I wasn’t anywhere near that lucky. I think Lady Luck was now sunning herself on the same beach as my magic. I was just inside the front doors, my guards prepared to get me into the temple and to the altar by any means possible: kicking, screaming, carried, or all of the above. I thought I’d just walk. I could see outside, but there was no way in a very hot place my guards were about to let me do anything except look.

Not that out there was much better than in here. The temple’s doors looked out over Execution Square. The Blood Moon was rising over the Mal’Salin palace, unless Sarad Nukpana had already ordered it renamed.

The enormity of what the goblin would begin tonight with Deidre Nathrach swept over me, bringing with it a wave of nausea. Innocent people were about to be slaughtered because they chose to fight rather than surrender to the whims of a madman. The men and women now filling the temple, the sheep following Sarad Nukpana, would live but only because he allowed it. For now. When he ran out of those who had the backbone to oppose him, those sheep would find themselves herded to the slaughter. Some of them had to know it; others were in blissful denial, no doubt thinking that agreeing with everything Nukpana said or did or ordered them to do would protect them. By the time they realized otherwise, everyone who could have saved them would already be dead.

At that point, no one anywhere would be safe from Sarad Nukpana once he eventually killed me and took control of the Saghred. His ego let him believe that he would be the one in charge. I’d had the Saghred living in my head for the past three months and knew differently. Nukpana and the scores who came before him were nothing but slaves to provide for the stone’s needs while believing the stone was there to serve them. The Saghred would make Nukpana its bond servant only because it knew he would feed and use it. The rock would latch onto him like the soul-sucking parasite it was, though it couldn’t steal his sanity. Not because Sarad Nukpana was strong enough to prevent it, but because the rock couldn’t take what had never been there to begin with.

No one else was coming up the temple steps from Execution Square. Everyone who was going to be allowed inside was already there. I still held out hope that Mychael, Tam, and company were somewhere among them.

Princess Mirabai was ahead of me and surrounded by eerily silent guards in immaculate formal armor. The bride would make the big entrance; I was just the flower girl. I glanced down at the manacles encircling my wrists—okay, maybe the ring bearer.

At an unspoken signal, the temple guards around me snapped to attention, and an armored hand in the middle of my back gave me a shove to get me moving. I guess Khrynsani never used words when a shove would do. I started forward, my guards spacing themselves so that they could get their hands or weapons on me, but still giving everyone we passed a clear view of their new king’s catch of the day.

I had once been inside a cathedral in southern Pengor. The only way I had been able to see the ceiling had been to tilt my head back as far as it would go. Until this moment, it had been the largest indoor space I’d ever been in. The Khrynsani temple was no cathedral; absolutely nothing was sacred about the acts committed here. The lighting was dim enough to be comfortable to goblin eyes, but bright enough that I’d be able to see everything that happened. Sarad Nukpana probably saw to that detail personally.

The floor beneath my feet was dark and polished; I was going to guess black marble, since that seemed to be an all-encompassing decorating theme in this place. Ten gigantic columns, each ringed with huge lightglobes like bands of blue stars, rose from the floor like ancient trees. I could just make out the faint outline of arches reaching like skeletal arms toward the vaulted ceiling.

The temple was completely packed with people. There had to have been thousands of them.

I had no idea Sarad Nukpana had that many friends, or that many people who were desperate that Nukpana think they were his friends. Even if my friends were still free, what could they do against thousands of goblins and probably hundreds of Khrynsani either in the temple itself or within call, all eager to prove how loyal they were to their new king? Our plan had depended on destroying the Saghred before Nukpana began his twisted ceremony, before the place was packed with Saghred-loving goblins. How the hell could we possibly pull this off now?

I didn’t realize I had stopped until I got another shove in the back. I growled over my shoulder. The goblins I could see were either in Khrynsani robes or uniforms, goblin army uniforms, or finery that only nobility could afford. No common people were to be seen. It sucked six ways from yesterday when your enemy’s support base consisted of a kingdom’s most powerful people.

Princess Mirabai’s passing had caused a ripple. I caused something just short of a tidal wave. Gasps rolled through the crowd, and the goblins I passed drew back in fear as I walked down the aisle. I was chained and still Sarad Nukpana’s allies feared me.

Apparently Nukpana hadn’t told his new subjects that I didn’t have access to the Saghred’s magic. In a way, that made sense; it was even a good call on his part. After all, it wouldn’t be impressive to force a chained mundane to come to the altar and endure eternal torture. Nukpana was having me paraded before his subjects to show how he could defeat and control even one with powers as great as mine. That would have these people thinking that if he could do that to someone like me, someone like them would be smart to shake in their handmade boots. Though what was good for the gander might be even better for the goose. If the chance came to make a break for it, I’d much rather have people too terrified to get anywhere near me, let alone try to take me on.

If you’ve got a reputation, put it to work for you.

I held my head high, met the eyes of anyone who looked at me, and stared them down. I tossed in a contemptuous smile for good measure, a smile that said loud and clear that I was only wearing these chains because it amused me. However, I could become unamused at any moment.

With a phalanx of Khrynsani guards both in front of and behind me, I had no choice but to walk at the pace they set. These guys didn’t walk as much as process. Sarad Nukpana wanted to give his new subjects plenty of time to see what he’d caught. For the first and probably the last time, his motivation perfectly matched mine. I was in no hurry to get to where I was going.

Up ahead, Princess Mirabai stopped and turned toward a goblin couple seated in the front row. She carefully raised her veil, which wasn’t easy to do with her jeweled manacles and chain. The man stood and smiled, extending his hands to her. With the same care and precision, Mirabai spit in his face.

He must have been the father of the bride.

Mirabai calmly lowered her veil and continued her procession.

I had to admit, the girl had class.

I didn’t want to see the Saghred, especially not like this—chained, a prisoner, soon to be tortured with the deaths of those I loved until I lost my mind, my worst nightmares come to life.

The altar rose before me as we ascended the final steps.

It was empty.

My knees went weak with relief. If Mychael or Piaras had been captured, Sarad Nukpana would have had one of them chained there. The bastard had been bluffing. It was all I could do to keep from looking up and all around me for some sign that the cavalry was about to make their entrance. If they were, I didn’t want to give them away. If they weren’t, my already shaky morale could do without being kicked.

Trumpets sounded a fanfare from a gallery somewhere above our heads.

Two of my guards each put an armored hand on my shoulders, and forced me to my knees on the final step before the dais. I glanced over at Princess Mirabai. She had been permitted to remain standing but, like me, was one step below the dais.

King Sarad Nukpana entered the temple through a door to the side of the altar. I was surprised he didn’t come up the aisle to let everyone get a good look at him. I’d gotten an all-too-good look at him two hours ago, but judging from what I could see at knee level, Nukpana had added a few kingly touches to his ensemble. He was still sumptuously attired in purple and black with a scarlet sash, but had added black chest armor intricately embossed with a silver scorpion. Naturally, he now wore a crown, a silvery ring of scorpions with their tails intertwining. I wondered if he had added the armor in case some of his allies weren’t feeling as friendly as they professed to be.

Sarad Nukpana was in black; the door he came in through was black; the bloody temple was black marble—it was no wonder he needed those tin horns to let everyone know he’d arrived.

Sandrina Ghalfari followed at a stately pace in her son’s wake, similarly gowned and arrayed—and, of course, crowned. Since she was standing behind her son, she’d opted not to wear chest armor in favor of several strands of diamonds that looked like they would be just as effective in stopping an assassin’s bolt. Her position relative to her son bore a remarkable resemblance to Nukpana’s position in relation to Sathrik before he’d begun his speech. If Sandrina started moving off to the side, I was going to dive for the floor.

Tam had once told me that the scorpion was the Nukpana/Ghalfari heraldic beastie. Scorpions equated nicely with poison, an obvious choice for a family that had Sandrina Ghalfari as its matriarch.

My guards jerked me to my feet and lifted me up onto the dais, half dragging me toward the altar.

The thing was a monstrosity.

I would have thought that a sacrificial altar would be large enough to hold a body. If that was true, the Khrynsani temple altar was at least twice the size it needed to be.

Someone was compensating.

A pair of silver magic-sapping manacles lay at the head and foot of the altar, both attached to the black stone slab by chains that vanished into it. The manacles had been polished until they gleamed, then placed with care at either end. Waiting for the first victim.

The altar itself was scrubbed clean, leaving no trace of blood. Then I saw why there probably had never been much blood spilt on most of the altar to begin with. The Khrynsani weren’t wasteful. The Saghred wanted blood, so they had made certain that the victims’ blood, like the victims themselves, could not escape. The slab was pitted and grooved, though not from careless stabbing, though no doubt some of the gouges had been created that way. There was a scooped-out section like a small bowl at what would be chest height on the victim chained to the table. One side of the bowl was deeper than the other. Radiating off from the deepest part of the bowl was a pair of grooves carved with care, beginning shallow and growing deeper as they reached the front side of the altar.

I knew what it had to be. A bowl carved into the altar for catching the heart blood, and a pair of grooves for funneling it to the front of the altar to…

My eyes followed the groves forward to where they ended—to the place I’d been desperate to avoid seeing.

The Saghred.

An orb the size of a fist, the Saghred was usually black, but I had seen it turn red right before it was about to feed. It was red now, the bright red of the blood it was about to receive, and glowing in what could only be described as eager anticipation.

The grooves went on either side of the Saghred’s low, clear pedestal of carved crystal, its center hollow. The path the blood would take was obvious. It would flow around the base of the pedestal and merge, and when the altar grooves had been completely filled, the blood would flow up through the hollow pedestal beneath the Saghred where the stone rested in a shallow crystal bowl. As more blood was released from sacrifices, the pedestal would fill, then the bowl, and the Saghred would all but float in blood. Deidre and Nath’s blood would bathe the Saghred and I would be standing next to them, watching—and feeling—them die. If enough people were slaughtered on that altar, the Saghred’s bowl would eventually overflow. I looked down at my feet. A metal grate completely encircled the pedestal and altar.

A drain for the excess blood from an endless procession of victims.

Sudden dizziness and nausea made the pedestal and altar waver before my eyes. My guards grabbed my chains and, before I had my feet back underneath me, jerked me to a post in front of the altar. One of the guards roughly seized my wrist. There was a click, then my wrist was held immobile in something even tighter than my manacles had been. Before my vision could clear, Sarad Nukpana was beside me, gripping my manacled hand.

I focused my eyes. My right wrist was chained to an iron post that had been mounted directly behind the Saghred’s pedestal, between it and the front of the altar. I was manacled so that I was forced to face the head of the altar. Not only would I feel all of the deaths; I would have to watch them die. My hand and fingers were suspended above the Saghred, held in the goblin’s iron grip.

He smiled down at me. “Don’t worry, Raine. The Saghred has promised not to take you. I’m not the only one who wants you to suffer.”

Sarad Nukpana forced my hand down onto the Saghred and I screamed.

I didn’t think I could have stopped that scream tearing its way out of my throat if I’d tried. Nukpana had forced my hand down, but the Saghred had grabbed it, holding it fast against its pulsating surface. My palm and fingers were fused to the stone; even if I hadn’t been manacled, I couldn’t have pulled away. The Saghred didn’t budge from the pedestal; it was as if the rock had become a part of it. Suddenly the stone sent a charge spiking through my body, forcing me to my knees.

I saw the Saghred, truly saw it. The stone filled my vision, then my entire being. The thing I thought I could destroy, what puny and insignificant mortals had pitted themselves against down through the ages and had failed, every last one of them. Even my own father had failed; the best he could do was to keep the rock as far away from himself as possible. It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d still had my magic. The vast majority of it had been given, granted, and bestowed by the Saghred. As I had found out the hard way, what had been given could be taken away or denied.

At that moment, the Saghred allowed me to truly see it, to know the breadth of its existence, the extent of its power.

Since the beginning of time, before life walked on this world, it had existed—and it had hungered. Elves, goblins, and humans were born and multiplied, built cities, forged civilizations. As they thrived, so had the Saghred. The stone grew in power and cunning, making itself known to those who desired its power for their own, tricking them into believing such a thing was possible, that mortals could truly possess and control it. The stone granted a select few the strength they desired, gave them the power they craved—in return for their offerings.

And the Saghred had fed and increased in power and influence and worshipers.

I’d never felt so small, so vulnerable, so completely and utterly insignificant.

I thought I could destroy it, to shatter what had existed before time was measured, and would be here long after the last of us were dust. I thought I could destroy that.

I came back to myself only to discover that not only was I on my knees before the Saghred’s pedestal, but my head was bowed, my forehead resting reverently against the cool crystal of its base—and standing beside the pedestal was a smiling Sarad Nukpana.

Oh. Hell. No.

With a snarl, I staggered to my feet. It took nearly everything I had, but I would not bow my head or bend my knee to either rock or goblin.

“Bravo, Raine,” Nukpana murmured. “You can see the festivities so much better if you’re standing.” He then turned and swept to the center of the dais.

Out of the shadows at the foot of the altar came a figure in white, flanked by a pair of Khrynsani black mages, and followed by temple guards.

Kesyn Badru grinned and gave me as much of a wave as he could with chained hands. One of the mages pushed him to the altar.

“You look like hell, girl.”

I drew a ragged breath. “Feel like hell, sir.”

The old mage saw my hand locked to the Saghred, and his eyes narrowed to black pinpoints of rage. “Death is too good for him.”

“Tell me about it.”

Kesyn looked from the Khrynsani mages to the altar and back again, gave a derisive bark of a laugh, and sat right down on the floor. “You want me on that butcher’s slab, do it yourself.” Kesyn’s words carried to the last goblin ears on the last row. Ever the showman, he leisurely crossed his legs and with a contented sigh, leaned back against the altar. “I hope you bust a gut.”

A couple of snorts and a few chuckles came up from the goblins assembled in the darkness. I smiled; I couldn’t help it. Kesyn saw and gave me a roguish wink. If I had to share what was happening to the souls trapped inside the Saghred, at least I could count on Kesyn’s spirit to be there with me to make jokes about it.

If you’re going to die, first make sure the man who’ll be wielding the knife looks ridiculous. Mirabai had class, but the old man had style.

Sarad Nukpana’s imperious gaze swept over both of us. He’d heard Kesyn and he was going to ignore him. But I had a feeling that while the old man might die from a single dagger to the heart, his corpse was going to be on the receiving end of multiple stab wounds.

And I’d feel every last one of them.

It took six Khrynsani, but they managed to heave Kesyn onto the altar and chain him to make sure he stayed there. Once they moved away, Kesyn started squirming, not like he was trying to escape, but like he was trying to work the lumps out of a really bad mattress.

“Sarad said he needs the first sacrifice to be a mage of power,” he told me. “I guess you don’t qualify right now. Sorry about that. Though I suppose I shouldn’t complain, at least I finally get to lie down.”

I wasn’t believing this. I thought I’d be the first one to lose my mind. “Old man, you’ve lost it.”

“Some have said so,” he mused thoughtfully. “But here, at this moment, I can assure you I am in full command of my faculties.”

That did it. He was nuts.

The temple guards who had brought Kesyn in had left the dais and returned with Deidre and Nath Nathrach, and Tam’s elderly butler, Barrett. Deidre and Barrett were the personification of elegance and poise. Nath looked like he’d had several accidents involving falling on half a dozen temple guards’ fists. Tam’s little brother had fought back. Hard. Good for him. The guards chained them to posts spaced at equal distances from the foot of the altar. Deidre gave me an encouraging nod.

Sarad Nukpana faced his new subjects. It was speech time or, in Nukpana’s case, gloat time. The lighting on the dais dimmed slightly, leaving Nukpana in a pool of light, while casting the rest of us into shadow, ensuring that all eyes would be on the new goblin king. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a short speech. Since none of his guests of honor had been captured yet, the goblin would want to stall for time. Either way, it’d give me a chance to catch my breath. In the next few minutes, I was going to need it.

There were now several Khrynsani black mages standing to the right of the altar who hadn’t been there before I’d been manacled to the rock. Judging from the ornateness of their robes, these must have been Sarad Nukpana’s heavy hitters. I caught a scent of spices and smoke. I took a big sniff. It was coming from the black mages. Imala was right; you could smell them.

Carnades Silvanus was with them, standing less than ten feet away. I let out a little relieved burst of air. For the first and last time, I was actually glad to see him. Sarad Nukpana had promised him Mychael, but with Mychael still free, there’d been the possibility that Carnades wouldn’t be on the dais. I needed him to be here.

The elf mage was far enough from the altar that the goblins in the temple wouldn’t mistake him for a sacrifice, but close enough so that he’d be able to enjoy the killings. Mychael’s not having been captured had to be a big disappointment to him; he’d only get to watch, not participate.

Carnades went with a solemn expression, but considering how many goblins were in the audience, and especially the large number of old-blood aristocrats in the front rows, Carnades had to have been shaking in his borrowed Khrynsani robes. The elf mage never got into a fight unless he knew he could win either fairly or by cheating. I could tell he was having serious doubts now about what he’d gotten himself into. If there was anything old-blood goblins hated worse than an old-blood elf, it was an old-blood elf traitor.

No one was about to confuse Carnades with a Khrynsani, unless one had taken a dip recently in a vat of bleach. Wearing black robes and standing next to those goblin mages, Carnades virtually glowed with his white-blond hair and skin so pale he was damned near translucent. The only thing keeping one or more of those goblin nobles from plugging Carnades with a crossbow pistol was Sarad Nukpana’s protection.

Protection I was about to remove.

I caught his eye. Carnades’s facial expression didn’t change, but his pale eyes glittered in utter triumph. No doubt he’d heard me scream and seen me fall to my knees. It was all he could do not to come over to me and do some gloating of his own. I would like nothing more. He’d ask Sarad Nukpana for a few minutes with me before the sacrifices began. I knew he would, and Nukpana would grant it, if only to make me suffer more. Carnades couldn’t bear not being able to whisper sadistic nothings in my ear before Nukpana and the Saghred got hold of me.

My right hand was locked against the Saghred, but my left was still free, at least for now. I wasn’t as nimble with my left hand, but with literally everything at stake, I’d make do. Part of my concern had been being able to get close to the Saghred. I looked at the rock and blew out a shaky breath. Well, I couldn’t get any closer than I was right now.

Whether I died tonight, managed by some miracle to escape, or began a never-ending torture session, I’d at least go to my death or go insane secure in the knowledge that I’d done everything I could to prevent Carnades’s genocide of the elven people. If this worked, I might still die, but I’d take the Saghred with me. If it didn’t work, I’d get to feel Carnades die and hear his soul screaming from inside the Saghred. Though, while initially enjoyable, it could become tedious after a while. But if Carnades Silvanus’s soul was dragged through me tonight, I fully planned to laugh the entire time. It’d probably be crazy-lady maniacal laughter, but to end Carnades’s miserable life would make it all worthwhile.

Suddenly Sarad Nukpana paused in his speech, looked directly at Carnades, and graciously gestured toward me. I just stood there stupefied. I couldn’t believe this. Nukpana was giving Carnades his royal blessing and personal permission to come over to me to gloat right now—or he had something else up his embroidered sleeve.

Either way, Lady Luck had just tossed me a bone, and I wasn’t about to turn my nose up at it.

“I have never beheld such a vision of loveliness,” Carnades purred just above a whisper once he was next to me. “I’m sure His Majesty would agree with me. You on your knees before him and the Saghred… Jealousy nearly overcame me.”

“Don’t stand next to me; I’m not going to protect you,” I purred right back, keeping my voice for Carnades’s ears only and barely moving my lips. “Every goblin in this place would love to see you chained to that altar. You’re not just an elf; you’re a traitor.”

“It’s merely a word.”

“Everyone hates a traitor. It doesn’t matter that you’re betraying your own people for goblins. If spit would fly that far—and if Sarad Nukpana wouldn’t strike them dead for trying it—you’d be taking a shower right now. You’re up here because Nukpana wants you to know that the only thing keeping you from being torn limb from limb is his royal goodwill.”

Sarad Nukpana was stepping carefully now. He was explaining to his subjects why an elf was wearing the sacred robes of a Khrynsani. Nukpana told his people exactly what Carnades had done: revealed to him the Conclave’s evacuation routes, as well as all of the elven defenses and their locations. As a result of Carnades’s strategic and magnanimous generosity, the elves would be the first to be attacked when the Saghred reached full power and the Gate was activated.

“Hated traitor,” I said in a singsong voice out of the corner of my mouth.

“And as his reward,” Sarad Nukpana was saying. “Magus Silvanus will be the representative of our new government in the elven capital until such time as I can appoint a regency there.”

Carnades kept the smile on his face, but sucked in his breath through his clenched teeth.

I bit my bottom lip against a smile. You know, it was downright enjoyable when Sarad Nukpana did his sadistic bit with someone I hated. “He didn’t mention anything about you being king, did he? You think that’s just an oversight?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that two Khrynsani black mages were closely watching Carnades. They had been standing on either side of the elf mage before Nukpana gestured him over to me.

“Those two are sticking close enough to you to qualify as a second skin. They must be a recent acquisition. I don’t believe they were with you when you confiscated the Scythe of Nen from me, were they? You can’t risk hiding it anywhere in the temple, so you’ve got it on you.”

Carnades’s left eyelid twitched once.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You shared the evacuation routes and elven defenses with Nukpana, but you didn’t share your shiny, new dagger. Best friends should share everything.”

Carnades’s upper lip was beading with nervous sweat. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, you bet your baby blues I would. Give me that dagger, put it in my hand, or I’ll share you with Nukpana.”

“You’re bluffing. If you tell him I have the dagger, he’ll take it and you will still have nothing.”

“Wrong. I’ll be taking you down with me. Either way I win.”

“What’s to stop me from giving it to you and then telling Sarad that you have it?”

“I’ll say you gave it to me to destroy the Saghred, traitor. You wanted to be king of the elves. Nukpana just screwed you over in front of everyone, so you’re trying to use me to take your revenge.”

Carnades turned smug. “He’ll never believe you.”

“Think not? I’m naked under this gown; I’m not even wearing shoes. Nukpana’s mom personally oversaw my undressing and dressing to make sure I didn’t pick up any sharp trinkets. You’re the one who searched me when we were caught, and I know the guards with you recall you finding and pocketing a certain silver dagger.”

“Filthy bitch.”

“I’ll have you know I just had a bath.” I put my free hand at my side and beside Carnades’s robes. “I either get to destroy the Saghred, or I will destroy you. I win either way.” I gave his robe a sharp tug. “I know you’ve got it where you can get to it. Put that dagger in my hand now, and both of us might just make it out of here alive.”

Carnades’s breath came in a hiss, but two seconds later, he slipped the Scythe of Nen into my waiting hand.

Yes.

I closed my hand around the small scabbard, my fingers quickly working to free the blade. Suddenly, the temple went completely silent.

Sarad Nukpana had stopped talking and was looking at us.

Carnades’s voice rang out. “Raine Benares has the Scythe of Nen!”

Asshole.

An unseen hand snatched the dagger free of the scabbard, slicing my fingers as it was pulled away from me.

The Scythe of Nen now glittered in Sarad Nukpana’s upraised hand.

My hand was bleeding, and the Saghred blazed red.

Oh, crap.