Bewitched & Betrayed

Chapter 19

The Conclave complex was the epicenter of all that was magical in the seven kingdoms. Magic—new, old, and ancient—virtually oozed from the granite walls. And then there were the mages, some of the most powerful and pompous, displaying their magic like peacocks with a full fan of tail feathers. The distortion was unbelievable. And unless we could clear hundreds of mages from a maze of buildings, that distortion was staying right where it was.

Piaras’s trail was defused, diluted, buried.

Gone.

Shit, shit, shit!

I didn’t spit the words, or scream them like I wanted to, but with our link, Mychael heard them loud and clear—as well as all the others I’d been using since we landed. At least something in this place was loud and clear.

“Raine, anger isn’t going to help us find anyone.”

“Neither is much of anything else,” I said. “Why do you think I’m cussing like one of Phaelan’s gunners with wet powder?”

There were fancy- robed mages freaking everywhere, though I noted with satisfaction that they were giving me a wide berth. I didn’t know if they sensed the Saghred on me or were just steering clear of a heavily armed—and clearly pissed to the point of killing someone—elven woman. I didn’t know if it was a man thing or a me thing, and right now I didn’t give a damn.

We’d found Kalinpar in a courtyard in the west end of the complex. No Tam.

We were presently standing in the middle of said courtyard, our own sentry dragons landed and secured where they were supposed to be—away from people and horses. Apparently under the right circumstances, both could be considered tasty. I thought about turning Kalinpar loose in the crowd. That’d clear the place of mages real quick.

Even with our umi’atsu bond, I couldn’t locate Tam. Hell, I couldn’t even tell which way he went. I’d probably have better luck asking the damned dragon. And the Saghred wasn’t helping matters at all. Kalinpar wasn’t the only thing that considered powerful mages potentially tasty. I could literally feel the rock’s hungry anticipation. I had no intention of feeding it anything, but either the rock was delusional with starvation or it knew something that I didn’t. Probably the latter, but I wasn’t going to think about it or the rock. I had enough problems to deal with right now other than having to worry about the Saghred looking forward to a future meal.

In the buildings around us were offices, conference rooms, commissaries, libraries, dormitories, apartments, auditoriums, and more courtyards—and underneath it all ran the transit tunnels.

Mychael had brought his best trackers; Sedge Rinker had sent his.

A roar split the air above our heads. I jumped and swore, then looked up with a fierce grin. A sleek, black sentry dragon was hovering above the courtyard, its massive claws extended for landing. Its rider had told the dragon where to land, and if there were any mages in its way, getting squashed was their problem, not his.

Archmagus Justinius Valerian could get away with that.

In about half a minute, we had the courtyard all to ourselves. While gratifying, it did nothing to get rid of the magical distortion. If anything, Justinius’s arrival had kicked it up a notch. But I was still glad to see the old man. As Guardian paladin, Mychael’s job was to coordinate and lead the search. Justinius was here to keep any of the aforementioned pompous mages from impeding that search.

The old man smoothly dismounted and strode over to where we were, his robes whipping out behind him as his dragon settled his wings. He was armed for ogre, with a massive sword on his hip and long daggers tucked in his belt. Though with Sarad Nukpana somewhere under the ground we were standing on, Justinius would have to make good use of his magical arsenal. I’d only seen the old man cut loose once, and dozens of demons had died ugly deaths. I’d love to be treated to that show one more time, this time with Sarad Nukpana as the star attraction.

“Anything?” Justinius’s blue eyes were as hard as agates. The old man was just as pissed as I was, and for much the same reasons.

“Nothing, sir,” Mychael told him. “Plenty of mages saw Tam land; no one knows where he went.”

Justinius scowled. “I recall he’s got himself a damned good veil.”

“One of the best.”

“Shit.”

I snorted. “Yeah, that’s my take on the situation, too.”

“What about Nukpana?” he asked me. “Is the Saghred telling you anything?”

“Just that it’s hungry.”

Mychael adjusted his sword on his hip. The blade was glowing through the scabbard. “Let’s go.”

Mychael had laid down the law for his men before they’d gone into the tunnels. Four men per search party, no one was to go anywhere alone, and each party was to check in every quarter hour with the Guardian contact wizards Mychael had stationed at five of the main tunnel intersections. Either the distortion was less in the tunnels, or Guardian contact wizards could work around it. Both would be fine by me. They were to alert Mychael the moment Tam, Piaras, Talon, or Sarad Nukpana were found. If they found Nukpana, they were not to attempt to kill, only contain. Mychael didn’t want to lose any of his men. Since Sarad Nukpana had eaten the souls of two mages over two thousand years old, plus Rudra Muralin, none of Mychael’s men could take down Nukpana if the goblin got the upper hand.

And if he’d fully assimilated the strength and skill Rudra Muralin had absorbed from years of wielding the Saghred, there was only one person who could kill him now.

Me.

And I would have to use the Saghred to do it.

I wasn’t only here as a seeker; I was here as a weapon.

Yeah, “shit” definitely described how I felt.

The transit tunnels were well lit—for the most part. As with all ways to get from one place to another, whether be it alley, street, or tunnel, some were used more than others and kept in better repair. And when you were talking about a man-made tunnel, better repair often meant lighting that actually worked. There were long patches of dark down here, way too long, and way too dark. To make matters worse, it turned out that the magical distortion was just as bad down here as it was on the surface. Mages had been using these tunnels and working magic in the buildings above for centuries—and all that magical residue had seeped into the ground and the tunnel walls.

Mychael drew his sword, barked a word I didn’t recognize, and the glow from his blade cut through the dark for twenty yards in every direction. A few seconds later, it kept me from turning my dad or Vidor Kalta into pincushions when they came around the next corner.

I lowered my throwing daggers. “Why the hell aren’t you using a lightglobe?” My hands were shaking, so I gripped the knives harder.

Dad continued toward us like he and Kalta were just out for a stroll. “You’re more likely to find things that prefer the dark when you’re sharing the dark with them.”

“Logical, yet suicidal,” Vegard muttered from beside me.

“Can you work down here?” Dad asked me quietly.

“I’m getting nothing,” I spat.

“Mychael, we need to get out of the main tunnels,” Dad told him. “Sarad isn’t in any tunnel that a mage has walked recently.”

“My men are covering them all.”

“And they won’t find Sarad. Hopefully they will find the boys or Tam Nathrach—but they won’t find Sarad.”

I tried to see into the darkness behind him. “If you know where he is—”

“I know the only place he can be. What you saw when you touched the seat in that coach confirms it. You saw an open doorway with light coming from inside. The bunkers.”

Mychael frowned. “What?”

“In case the island ever came under attack, there were twenty bunkers built behind these tunnel walls. Each bunker could accommodate fifty men, not comfortably, but there’d be room.”

As if a hundred miles of tunnels weren’t enough. “Where are they?”

“Mid was never attacked, so they were never used,” Dad told me. “And for security purposes, only the Seat of Twelve knew where they were.”

I felt sick. “So Carnades knows, and we have to ask—”

“No, Raine. The Seat of Twelve from the time when the bunkers were built back in my cadet days.”

Over nine hundred years ago.

Mychael picked up my thoughts and scowled. “They’re not on the maps.”

Mychael and Justinius had looked at a map of the tunnels just before we’d come down here. An intersecting mess of granite walls.

“Nothing was written down,” Dad confirmed. “Only committed to memory. Since there was never an attack, the bunkers were never used, and the mages died and took the location to their graves with them.”

“And this helps us how?”

“Raine, no man down here can find Sarad’s bunker.”

I knew what he was saying and I didn’t like it. Not only did I not like it; it scared the crap out of me.

“I can find it, but only if I let the Saghred loose.”

“You can still feel the Saghred’s hunger, can’t you?”

Oh yeah, I could feel it, like I was being gnawed from the inside out. I didn’t have to say it; my dad knew. He’d been the Saghred’s bond servant for centuries; he knew the hunger.

The temptations.

“The Saghred wants what it has lost,” he said quietly. “Sarad has consumed two of the other mages who were imprisoned in the stone with him. The Saghred exists beyond magic; the distortions won’t affect it.” He hesitated. “If you let it go, it will lead you to Sarad.”

I didn’t want to let the rock go or run into Sarad Nukpana in the dark. If I let the Saghred go in tunnels full of Guardians seething with magic, the rock might try to take a pre- Nukpana snack, and it would start with the men around me: Mychael, Dad, Vegard, Vidor. And I might not get control over it again.

I might not get control over myself again.

The only sound was my ragged breathing echoing against the granite walls. I did not want to do this. I so did not want to do this.

“And you’re not going to.” Mychael’s voice said no argument. His mind knew there was no other way—and he still wasn’t going to let me risk myself.

Piaras and Talon were down here somewhere, maybe captive in that bunker with Sarad Nukpana and Janos Ghalfari.

Tam was down here.

I had no choice. Time to let the monster off its leash.

Dad said Sarad Nukpana would keep to the dark, but that didn’t mean we had to. Mychael and Vegard lit any dark stretch of tunnel bright as day. Their light came from behind me.

Way behind me.

Following the Saghred’s lead was one thing; ignoring the sheer collective power of the men behind me was quite another. And quite impossible. In addition to his power, I felt Mychael’s need to protect me just as strongly as his magic. Both were interfering with what I needed to do through the Saghred.

Touch, hear, see, smell, and taste evil.

My senses were running wide-open. The Saghred was telling me which way to go, when to turn, when to pause and let the air flow over me, and then change direction. The rock was like a tiger by my side, stalking its prey in complete silence, quietly confident that it would soon feed. It didn’t try to take over and make me go on a killing spree. It wanted a killing spree of one goblin.

For now.

I walked on the very edge of the light, close enough that Mychael could still see me, far enough that in front of me was nothing but dark emptiness with an occasional dim blue glow of a lightglobe set into the ceiling. Twice, a quartet of Guardians saw me and started to approach, then quickly changed direction. I didn’t need to be told why. I wasn’t the only one who could sense the Saghred on the prowl. No doubt to them, I was the Saghred and I was hunting. They didn’t want to cross my path. I didn’t blame them.

I was scared of me, too.

I kept moving toward the next intersection, tempted to walk faster to get there quicker. This intersection was well lit, the lightglobes actually working like they were supposed to. Well, at least the tunnel to the left was lit, flooding its light in the other three directions. I already knew I hated tunnels. But I really liked light; I never realized how much I liked light. The Saghred told me to turn left. About damned time the rock told me to do something I wanted to do.

Except I didn’t do it, not yet. I stopped in the middle of the intersection, facing left, just standing there looking down the tunnel. It was long, straight, well lit, and completely clear. Inviting even. No evil goblins down here, it seemed to say. I wasn’t buying it. I held up a hand, telling Mychael and the others to stop. Yes, that was where the Saghred wanted me to go, and yes, it was so well lit it was downright cheerful. But “listen before you leap” had never been a bad rule for me. Paranoia was even better. You might even say they were words to live by—or stay alive by.

I wanted to find Sarad Nukpana.

I didn’t want Sarad Nukpana to find me first.

I didn’t smell or sense the goblin, and the Saghred wasn’t all aquiver.

“Ma’am, stop,” Vegard said.

I jumped and my sword was halfway out of its scabbard.

“Ma’am, it’s okay,” he quickly added. “The boss is getting reports from the contact wizards. He needs for you to wait.”

I relaxed. A little. At least enough to let my goblin blade slide back into its scabbard across my back.

It wouldn’t hurt to wait. The happy tunnel would still be there, and if one of Mychael’s patrols had found something, my search might be over, or at least focused in another direction.

Dad walked toward me and stopped about twenty feet away. “Is it okay if I talk to you?”

I nodded once. My breath trembled a little when I let it out. I tried a smile; I didn’t think it quite made it. “My nerves are shot. A little small talk might keep me from crawling out of my own skin. Or is this one of those father/daughter talks where you tell me not to play in dark corners with goblin boys?”

He came to stand by my side. “I wish you didn’t have to.”

“It’s not my idea of a fun date.”

“Raine, your job is to locate Sarad Nukpana. Please promise me that you’ll only confront him directly as a last resort.”

“Isn’t that what I’m down here for?” I snapped. “Confront and kill?” I glanced up at the stone ceiling and tried to force myself to relax. “Sorry. That came out sharp, didn’t it?”

A hint of a smile curled his lips. “It did, but you’re entitled.” What little smile there was vanished. “Sarad Nukpana has the souls of Rudra Muralin and two other goblin black mages inside of him now.” He paused and swallowed. “Raine, inside the Saghred’s like the inside of a prison; you hear things about other inmates. Sarad cultivated those two as allies because of their skill and strength, and their sadistic eagerness to use both. If you and the Saghred had been working together for years—”

“Like it did with Rudra Muralin,” I said, my tone flat.

“Yes, like Rudra. If you were that close to the stone, bonded so tightly that your will was instantly its command—then you might stand a chance of surviving an encounter with Sarad Nukpana as he is now.”

“Dad, if this is your idea of a pep talk, you need to work on your delivery.”

“Just promise me that you will not take him on alone. Mychael and I are down here, so are his best Guardians, and Justinius Valerian contacted Mychael not long ago.” He flashed a boyish smile. A boy’s body with a nine- hundred-year-old soul. I just couldn’t get used to it. “Apparently the archmagus thinks he’ll be more useful down here. He’s on his way.”

I breathed a small, harsh laugh. “The old man just wants to get his bony hands around Nukpana’s neck.”

“He doesn’t want to sit this one out. Said it’s his duty to be down here with his men.”

I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. Lean and wiry. My centuries-old father in a teenage body still had some growing and filling out to do. “It’s my duty, too, Dad,” I said quietly. “The Saghred tricked me into taking it. It did it for survival. I sure as hell can’t imagine why it’d want a second-rate seeker as its bond servant; the thing was clearly desperate. Regardless of its reasons, it did choose me. I don’t like it, I want to get rid of it, but for right now I’m stuck with it—and the responsibility that goes with it. Sarad Nukpana has to be stopped, and thanks to the Saghred, I’ve got the biggest fist.”

Mychael approached us.

“What’s the word?” I asked.

He scowled. “No Tam, Piaras, or Talon.”

“And no Nukpana.”

“That, too.”

I readjusted my grip on my daggers, and looked down the tunnel. “Let’s see if we can change that.” I swallowed. “Wait here. I’ll wave when there’s enough distance between us for the rock to track him.”

I walked into the tunnel, lightglobes working at full capacity humming steadily around me like bees in a hive. The walls were smooth with no sign of a seam or crack that would indicate a bunker behind the wall. Great. I reminded myself that these tunnels were mage- made. All they would have needed to hide the entrances would have been a decent veil or illusion spell, a damned long- lasting one to keep working for nearly a millennium. Normally I could sense that sort of thing, but with all the magical distortion, normal didn’t exist down here.

The air shifted above me.

“Raine!” Dad screamed.

I whirled to see him running toward me, Mychael right behind him—and a massive metal door slicing through the air like a guillotine between us. Everything went into slow motion, the door, me running toward it before it closed. The only thing not moving slowly was Dad. He dived and rolled as the door slammed into the granite floor, cracking the stone with its force and weight. The metal erupted with glowing green wards, like a net woven with living snakes, hissing and spitting sparks.

Dad landed in a groaning heap by the wall, close to the wards. Too close.

“Dad! Move—”

I frantically tried to reach him. Light exploded in my eyes as the ward flung me like a doll, sending me flying ass over elbows through the air. I slammed into the floor, flat on my back, mouth gaping like a beached fish. I dimly heard my dad scrabbling away from the wards.

Taking even the tiniest breath made the muscles in my back seize up in agony. Just my luck I’d probably broken some ribs. I blinked and breathed, waiting for my eyes to focus. I slowly turned my head. Dad was sitting up against the wall, his eyes blazing with fury at the ward that’d just kicked my ass. I dragged air in and out of my lungs and pulled myself up against the opposite wall. I’d never seen a ward like that in my life. The Saghred constricted inside me; even the rock didn’t want anything to do with it.

“You . . . all right?” I rasped.

Dad breathed and nodded.

“What the hell was th—”

He swallowed and breathed some more. “Safety gates.”

I blinked. “Safety?”

“For the mages.”

“Why didn’t . . . you tell us abo—”

Dad actually looked sheepish. “I forgot.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “You forgot about that?”

“It’s been nine hundred years.”

I couldn’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday, so I couldn’t throw much blame at him.

It took a lot of wincing and gasping, but I pulled myself to my feet. I didn’t think anything was broken, but plenty was bruised. “So how do we open it?”

“We don’t.”

I froze. “We what?”

“They’re meant to protect mages from invading mages. They can’t be opened, at least not by any way that I know of.”

“Would Mychael or Justinius know a way?”

Dad shook his head. “The more power they throw at those wards, the stronger they’d get.”

I looked down the hall and asked an unpleasant question. “Why did the door pick now to close?”

“These doors don’t fall unless triggered.”

“Someone told it to.”

“Yes.”

I didn’t need any extra time or three guesses to know who was playing with the switches. And to Sarad Nukpana it was exactly that—play.

The lightglobes in the ceiling above us flickered, dimmed, and died.

I hated tunnels.