Heart of Black Ice

CHAPTER 82

Tanimura had already fallen. General Utros knew he had won.

From his high vantage above the city, he could watch the ebb and flow of the fighting. He had encountered setbacks, as in every war. One entire division led by Second Commander Halders had entered the thick forest in a flanking move, and had never emerged. Something in that dark woods had defeated them.

But Utros had more soldiers, many more. King Grieve’s Norukai had caused great carnage in the harbor and on the waterfront, but they were mostly broken. He had never relied on those brutish allies for this conquest, though he was happy to let them bear the brunt of so many casualties. He would mop up the rest of them as soon as he quelled the other fighting, but that wouldn’t take long.

First Commander Enoch had taken five thousand men in a central prong straight into Tanimura. Second Commander Arros drove another division of five thousand along the western hills and into the rich nobles’ district. More of his soldiers, tens of thousands, were still on the outskirts waiting to surge in and plunder. Tanimura could do nothing to stop his victory.

But he couldn’t understand what Nicci was up to. What did her brash message mean? She was in no position to make demands.

As Utros stood pondering, the pale young captive struggled in his grip. He squeezed his gauntleted hand around the girl’s throat and lifted her off the ground. Her small feet jittered and twitched, trying to touch the dirt, but Utros raised her higher, squeezed tighter. With minimal effort he could crush her larynx and snap her neck, but he needed the girl to speak first. “Tell me again what Nicci said. Every word.”

“Meet her,” the captive gurgled. “Nicci demands it. On Halsband Island.” The girl flailed her hand toward the barren island connected to the main city by new, rickety bridges.

Ruva chuckled. “Each of the messengers said the same words.”

“Why? What does she want?” Utros pressed his face closer to the dying girl, who showed no fear. Her mouth gaped like that of a fish left to bake in the sun, but she couldn’t speak any words. He paused, furrowing his brow. “I recognize your garments, your pale skin. You are one of the worms hiding in our sacred capital of Orogang. You attacked my men.”

The young woman clutched uselessly at his hand, trying to draw a breath. “You attacked us! Orogang has always been ours.”

“Orogang is mine—my capital.” Utros squeezed tighter, and her eyes bulged. “Why does Nicci want me to come to that island? Why?” Forgetting himself, he squeezed too hard, and her neck cracked. The girl fell limp.

Disgusted, Utros tossed her body to the ground, discarding her beside the other four Hidden People who had delivered exactly the same message. Through his golden half mask, he frowned at all the broken corpses, turned to Ruva, then to the open island. “Is it a trap?”

Ruva’s eyes carried an edge of madness. “It may be a trap, but it will not work. Never! We are stronger!” The sorceress had grown more violent, more volatile than he had seen her before. She claimed that the Keeper called to both her and her sister through the veil, but Utros would not release them to the underworld. Not yet.

Ruva suddenly calmed, considered, then shrugged. “How could Nicci possibly lay an ambush there? It is open, indefensible.” She smiled. “No, she wants to surrender, beloved Utros. There is no other explanation.”

Utros shook his head in consternation. “Why would she do that? Even if we come to terms, Nicci thinks that I can snap my fingers and stop the army? They’re starving, and now at last they have their victory. I can’t control them, nor would I want to. After today they will all eat well even if they have to pick Tanimura clean.” He swelled his chest. “Afterward, my army will be strong and ready to march again, the way they were meant to be.”

“If Nicci wants to surrender, let her do it,” Ruva said, sounding hungry. “Then we can kill her.”

Ava’s spirit shimmered before them, pale and insubstantial, more diluted than he had ever seen her. “Kill Nicci the way she killed me!” Ava folded herself on top of her twin sister, and they both laughed. “You must confront her. She creates her own doom.”

“Yes, beloved Utros. You must do this. We want her, my sister and I. And you want her. Nicci opens her arms to embrace death, and we will kill her.” Ruva was ready to explode with eagerness.

Utros remained wary, but he allowed himself to be convinced. He also wanted to crush the sorceress who had taken his precious Ava from him. “Yes, you deserve your revenge, and I will grant it. I wanted to face Nicci on the battleground, but this saves me the trouble of finding her.” He turned away from the dead messengers, thinking no more of them. “Bring a hundred troops as an escort. We will meet her on the island and put an end to this.” He bunched his fists. “She is a fool.”

The joy in Thorn’s voice was palpable, and she showed her exuberance by decapitating her opponent. “That’s seventy for me, sister.” The ancient warrior’s neck stump spouted blood, and the lumbering body took two staggering steps before it slumped forward. “Seventy! Can you beat that?”

“Only sixty-five for me,” Lyesse said. With greater intensity, she spun about and dove into two armored soldiers who closed in on her. She stabbed one in the stomach, whirled and kicked the other back, knocking him off balance so that the edge of his sword missed her. She withdrew her blade from the already dying man, stabbed again to kill him, and turned to dispatch the first man she had knocked off balance. “Sixty-six and sixty-seven! I will catch up with you.”

Thorn laughed. “You may try.” She turned, determined, leaping forward—

And ran directly into a serrated spear point.

A broad-shouldered man gritted his teeth and shoved the spear harder. He grinned as he skewered the lean morazeth on his weapon, pushing the spear all the way through her abdomen and out her back.

Thorn coughed blood. Her knees went weak, and she could barely stand, but the spear itself held her up. She grabbed the shaft, tried to hold on.

Lyesse screamed and hacked at another warrior in her way, wounding him. She didn’t bother to follow through as she leaped toward her sister morazeth.

The spear wielder wrenched his weapon, tried to yank the blade back so he could defend himself against Lyesse’s furious attack, but Thorn clutched the shaft and refused to let it go, even as she died. She prevented him from having his weapon back.

Lyesse screamed again and struck down with such fury that she amputated both of the warrior’s hands that gripped the weapon. Her blade splintered the shaft itself. The spear wielder stared in horror at his bleeding wrists, and she stabbed him in the throat. He had killed her companion, her sister morazeth!

Without the spear to hold her up, Thorn crumpled to the ground.

Lyesse was deaf to all of the battlefield sounds. Thorn was breathing heavily. Her words came out in liquid, bubbly chokes. “Seventy killed in one day,” she gasped. “Seventy.” She reached out to clasp the hand of her sister.

Lyesse cradled the dying woman. “A good number, one that any morazeth would admire.”

Thorn gripped her with red, wet fingers. “My score … is yours. I grant you all my kills.”

“I accept them, and I will add many more in your name.”

Lyesse sensed the instant when the Keeper claimed Thorn’s spirit. Though time seemed to stop for an infinitely long moment, she held the other morazeth while the battle continued to rage. Lyesse gently set her sister’s body aside.

As she saw countless soldiers continuing to crash into Tanimura, she knew that she had more than enough targets to reach the greatest score any morazeth had ever achieved.