Magic Lost, Trouble Found

Chapter 23

The mausoleum was more crowded than it had been when we had left.

We had used one light globe so as not to attract attention. The Khrynsani had torches, a lot of them. They didn’t need to sneak. They belonged there.

They also outnumbered us at least five to one.

Vegard lay unmoving on the ground, his scalp bloody, his ax still in his hand. More than a few motionless goblins shared the ground with him. The bloodied ones were probably Vegard’s work, those with no visible marks of violence were probably the result of Garadin and Primari Nuru’s attentions.

I saw why Garadin had called a ceasefire. A pair of Khrynsani temple guards held scythelike blades less than an inch from Piaras’s throat. It looked like Piaras had made a magical contribution of his own, or tried to. I glanced at Mychael. His face was completely impassive. No clues there.

Sarad Nukpana held out his hand to me. I didn’t have to ask what he wanted. I looked to Mychael. The Guardian didn’t hesitate. He nodded once, tightly.

I did hesitate, and I certainly expressed my disbelief. “What?”

“Give it to him.” Mychael’s voice was perfectly level, utterly controlled.

There were two ways I could interpret that statement. One would be a lot more enjoyable. Unfortunately, I didn’t think that was the one he meant.

“I am gratified to see you are being reasonable, Paladin Eiliesor,” Nukpana said, his tone equally flat. He didn’t know what Mychael was up to either. That made two of us. Garadin looked baffled, too. Apparently it was contagious.

I did a quick search for another option. It didn’t take long, since there wasn’t one. Give Nukpana the Saghred and I had nothing to bargain with. But if I refused, things would get ugly in short order, with more bloodshed a virtual guarantee.

So what I said was, “I’ll make you a deal.”

Nukpana sighed. “Another deal, Mistress Benares? This grows tiresome.” He gestured and the two blades made contact with Piaras’s throat. Contact, but no blood. They had been told to be careful. Nukpana wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Prince Chigaru move. If there was any chance I was going to give the Saghred to anyone, the goblin prince wanted it to be him. Primari Nuru’s hand on his arm stopped him before the Khrynsani guards’ blades could. From the look in their eyes, they wanted him to try it again. From Chigaru’s expression, they’d probably get their wish.

“The lives of my friends,” I told Nukpana. “I give you the Saghred, and you let them leave here. Alive.”

He glanced at Chigaru with a half smile. “Does this assurance include the Mal’Salin in your company?”

“It does.”

Prince Chigaru stiffened at Primari Nuru’s side. Either he was surprised I didn’t want Nukpana to kill him, or I’d just insulted him and committed yet another goblin social gaffe. I didn’t have time to sort it out.

“Tell me why I should do this,” Nukpana said.

I didn’t expect the goblin shaman to keep his word, regardless of what he agreed to. But if I couldn’t buy my friends’ freedom, I could at least buy some time. I didn’t dare risk a glance at Mychael, but I thought he’d agree that buying time was a good investment.

“From what I understand, you still need me,” I told him. “The Saghred’s not going to jump through hoops for you without me giving the word. Seeing my friends walk away from here would make me happy—and a lot more willing to cooperate.”

Nukpana went through the motions of thinking it over. I knew he wasn’t seriously considering agreeing to anything, he was just prolonging the game. The paladin of the Conclave Guardians, a Mal’Salin prince, a primari of the highest order, a former Conclave mage—these were prisoners the Khrynsani could only dream of. And then there was Piaras.

“No deals, Mistress Benares,” Nukpana said. “But you may keep the Saghred. It is a lovely night and but a short distance to where we need to go.” His dark eyes were shining. “A stroll in the forest with a beautiful lady. I cannot imagine a better way to end my trip to your city.” He glanced at Mychael, a slow smile forming, fangs visible. “That is if the count does not mind me borrowing his new bride. I promise to keep her undamaged for as long as possible.”

Sarad Nukpana could have meant any number of things by that, and I knew I didn’t want to know about any of them.

Mychael didn’t respond, at least not with words. He was utterly still, a dangerous stillness, so still that the only movement was the pulse in his neck. I felt the power he barely managed to hold in check. It was primal, and what it would have done to Sarad Nukpana would not have been pretty. Mychael didn’t need his voice to fight Nukpana and the goblin knew it. The goblin also knew that Mychael couldn’t risk it—at least not yet.

Nukpana half turned to an ornately armored guard. He wasn’t about to turn his back on Mychael, hostages or not. “Zubari, if you and your guards will take the paladin and mage to the compound. Mistress Benares, the witch, the prince, and the nightingale will be coming with me.”

Where we were going wasn’t anywhere I wanted to be.

The Ruins was my least favorite place in Mermeia, and for the second time in as many nights, here I was again. I wasn’t familiar with this section, but seeing that it jutted against the Goblin District, there was a perfectly good reason why I had never made it a point to visit. It was darker and even scarier than the rest of The Ruins, if that was possible. Or maybe it was just the company.

The Mal’Salin family controlled the embassy compound, and I had assumed that for security’s sake, Sarad Nukpana would want to stay there. It looked like he favored privacy over protection. But with the small Mal’Salin army surrounding us, I didn’t think Nukpana considered security much of an issue.

A distraction or two would be good, but I wasn’t going to count on any happening. I hoped we were being followed by some of Mychael’s Guardians, but I’ve always tried to avoid counting on help I couldn’t see. No doubt there were plenty of plans being formulated in many heads, but since I had no way of knowing if any stood a chance of going beyond the planning stage, I wasn’t going to depend on any for help. This one was all mine.

Nukpana offered me his arm. “The footing ahead is uncertain.”

Ordinarily I would have seen it as a gallant gesture of a distinguished gentleman. Tonight I would have rather taken the arm, or whatever, of a Magh’Sceadu.

“I’ll take my chances.”

He suddenly had my wrist. I hadn’t seen him move. His grip wasn’t painful, but I wasn’t going anywhere, either. Never taking those black eyes from mine, Nukpana linked my arm through his. “I would rather you didn’t.” His voice was low and dark; apparently disobedience wasn’t a familiar concept.

The trees around us were dark and silent. No shrieks, calls, or growls. No flickering lights. The first time I had been taken into The Ruins by Mal’Salin guards, I had deemed the creatures living there to be the greater of two evils until my captors proved otherwise. Tonight I knew better. The evil in The Ruins hadn’t taken the night off. It was walking next to me.

Though walking into The Ruins gave me time to think. Not that I needed time, I knew what I wanted to do, which was more than I could say for the beacon or the Saghred. From the stone there was no sound at all. The beacon, on the other hand, was making the same happy, perky sounds that had been annoying me since we arrived at the embassy. I wasn’t annoyed anymore. Now I just felt betrayed. Either the beacon knew something I didn’t, or it didn’t care who reunited it with its long-lost buddy, just as long as it happened.

From what I’d found out over the past two days, the Saghred would probably like nothing better than to demonstrate how it had gotten its nickname. I had a sneaking suspicion that was exactly what Nukpana had in mind. No doubt he’d like a little demonstration from the object he’d gone to so much trouble to get. And there was nothing like a spilled life to buy the life-long friendship of a soul-stealing rock. Spilled lifeblood to open it, and a soul sacrifice to tap its power, Prince Chigaru had said. I experienced an image of my father and the wraiths caught inside the stone. Nukpana needed me alive. He wanted Piaras alive. That left A’Zahra Nuru and the goblin prince. I didn’t know which one he planned for the instant death or the prolonged one, but it didn’t matter. Neither choice was acceptable to me.

I saw a gathering of stones ahead through the trees. It looked sickeningly similar to another rock altar in another part of The Ruins. Now I knew where we were going, but I still didn’t know what I was going to do when we got there in a few minutes. Sarad Nukpana held all the cards, and I was left with a bad hand and an even less promising chance at a bluff.

I wouldn’t bet on me, but plenty of others were.

Suddenly, I had an idea. And since the beacon was busy being happy, I knew I had come up with it all by my lonesome. As far as plans went, it was simple, and simple was often best. In theory. Problem was, theories that didn’t work had a bad habit of blowing up in your face. My plan also involved a couple of things I’d rather not do, like getting close to Sarad Nukpana—and even closer to the Saghred.

The first part of my plan was painless enough. It was a question. A question I now knew the answer to, thanks to my father. But Nukpana didn’t know I’d met my father.

“Why me?” I asked Nukpana.

If I couldn’t get a distraction, I’d take a delay. I didn’t care about getting Nukpana to reveal the vast scope and sordid details of his evil plan; I just wanted to keep him talking. As long as he was talking, he couldn’t start sacrificing. Tarsilia had always said, get a man talking about his favorite subject, and he’d forget just about everything else. I hoped she was right.

The goblin paused at the question. He didn’t seem baffled by it, merely interested. “You are your father’s daughter,” he said, as if that explained everything.

I swallowed. “And blood links are the best kind for this sort of thing.”

“Precisely.”

“How did you know him?”

“Let us say we shared similar interests.” He smiled. It could have been for any reason. “What interests me now is you.”

Nothing called for a subject change quicker than having a psychopath interested in you. I forced back the lump that had taken up residence in my throat. “You didn’t have the beacon. Nigel did. So how did you know the Saghred was in Mermeia?” If Nukpana wanted to chat like old friends, I could play along.

“Nachtmagus Nigel Nicabar should have chosen his words with more care—and been more selective to whom he spoke them. He acted unwisely. His indiscretion was his undoing.”

Indiscretion and a certain goblin grand shaman. Neighborhood gossips didn’t tie a rock around Nigel’s ankles for a midnight swim, or kick that crate from underneath Simon Stocken’s feet. But I didn’t imagine Nukpana saw either as his problem or fault.

The goblin smiled. “And just before dawn this morning I ran into Ocnus Rancil. Apparently he was about to leave on an extended vacation.” His smile broadened. “I persuaded him to stay.”

I suddenly didn’t feel so good. I’d never liked Ocnus, but I wouldn’t wish Nukpana’s persuasion on anyone.

“He mentioned that he had spoken with you and the paladin earlier,” the goblin continued. “He also mentioned a name that I had not heard in quite some time—Tamnais Nathrach.”

Now I really felt sick.

“Master Rancil told me everything I needed to know. In fact, he talked until he could talk no more. I have told His Majesty all about you. The Conclave Guardian’s daughter who will be helping us. He is most eager to make your acquaintance.”

Nukpana stopped at the edge of the clearing. The moonlight was just enough to see the trees on the far side, and more than enough to see the stone altar at the center. A quartet of Khrynsani temple guards stood at each of the altar’s corners. When they saw their grand shaman, they came to attention.

Nukpana admired his guards’ handiwork. “Good. All is prepared for us.” He released my arm but not my hand, half dragging me into the clearing.

“I will take the Saghred now, Raine.”

I made no move to hand it over. “Not until you let Piaras go.”

“Very well.” Nukpana spoke without turning, and without taking his onyx eyes from mine. “Kafele?”

“Your will, my lord?” asked one of Piaras’s guards.

“Unless the Saghred is in my hands in the next five seconds, cut out the nightingale’s throat.”

Blades were drawn. Nukpana held out his hand. I gave him the Saghred.

His other hand released mine and closed over the top of the casket. “Was that so difficult?”

Not difficult for him, but breathing had suddenly become a challenge for me.

The moment Nukpana’s hands touched the Saghred’s casket I felt a power that had nothing to do with Sarad Nukpana. My father was talking to me. Not in the normal way two people talk to each other. There were no words spoken, no thoughts passed. It was more of a confirmation, an assurance that all of the Saghred’s power was now mine for the taking. The box surrounding it contained those energies only as long as I wished it. I wasn’t the only one who thought the world would be a better place without Sarad Nukpana.

That the goblin held it didn’t matter. The Saghred—and my father inside—reached out to me, offering me the power I needed to destroy Nukpana, his Khrynsani, and anyone else I chose, in The Ruins, the embassy grounds, the gardens, and the house beyond if I felt like it. The stone’s power seethed just below its surface. Waiting. Eager.

The air was charged with it. I was charged with it. Nukpana still held my hand. He felt and he knew.

His grip lightened into a caress. “By all means, Mistress Benares, show me your power,” he whispered. “I have waited all my life to witness the Saghred’s strength.”

I certainly felt like destroying. The power was mine. I trembled with it. I could destroy Nukpana now, before he could hurt anyone else I loved. I knew it. So did he.

The power was also wrong, wrong in every way I had ever been taught. The Saghred would make me into what I wasn’t. I wasn’t like Sarad Nukpana.

“Learn patience,” I hissed.

Nukpana acknowledged my choice with a bare nod. “As you wish. Bring the witch.”

A pair of Khrynsani guards brought Primari A’Zahra Nuru forward. Her patrician features were expressionless, and even dwarfed as she was by the armored guards on either side of her, her bearing remained regal. No doubt she’d die the same way. My free hand closed on the dagger in the hidden pocket of my gown. No one was dying. Not on my watch.

Prince Chigaru shared my opinion, but not for long. The struggle was quick and fatal—quick for Chigaru, fatal for one of the guards. Three more sprang to take his place, and a vicious blow to the back of the prince’s head ended the discussion.

Sarad Nukpana’s eyes narrowed, the Khrynsani guard who struck Chigaru the new object of his disaffection. “If he is dead, you will take his place.”

The guard dropped to his knees, desperately checking the prince for signs of life.

“He lives.”

“Good. See that it remains so.”

I pushed the Saghred’s power down, then took a deep breath and slowly released it. I knew it wouldn’t stay there for long.

Nukpana sensed it. “You are strong, Raine. Like your father.”

The bastard actually sounded happy about that.

“I won’t be your puppet,” I told him.

“I don’t want a puppet; I want a partner.”

“Life’s full of disappointments.”

Nukpana held up his hand and the guards stopped. “Apparently you require a more personal incentive. Release the witch,” he told the guards. His smile was slow and horrible. “Bring the nightingale.”

I screamed and lunged for Nukpana. I was fast, but the guards behind me were faster.

Four big goblins grabbed Piaras. He tried to fight them, but there were too many. As they lifted him onto the altar, Piaras’s voice dropped desperately to a dark, low register.

“Gag him,” Nukpana snapped. “Quickly.”

One guard gagged Piaras, while the other three held him down and shackled him to the altar.

My heart pounded, blood ran cold, mouth went dry. Anything and everything you’d expect to feel when you saw someone you loved about to be slaughtered. None of those things were going to get Piaras off of that slab, so I made myself stop doing them, every last one. If I panicked, I couldn’t think, and if I couldn’t think, a lot of people were going to die or worse—starting with Piaras.

“Don’t.” It took everything I had not to make that one word sound like begging. I would not beg. Nukpana would like it and I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“What I do—or do not do—is for you to decide.” Any pretense of civility was gone from his voice. He wasn’t playing anymore. “You know what I require.”

“I can’t. I don’t know how.”

“But you do. In these very woods you destroyed six Magh’Sceadu, merely because they threatened your precious nightingale. I’m asking for a similar demonstration.”

“Do I get to pick the target?” The words came out through clenched teeth.

The goblin laughed. “I could hardly enjoy the performance if I were vaporized.”

“Scared?”

“Merely prudent.” I felt his personal shields go up. He might as well have erected a fortress around himself.

“We all make sacrifices, Raine. I don’t wish the nightingale’s death either. Merely show me the Saghred. Show me the power, and we both get what we want.” He looked over at where Prince Chigaru lay unmoving on the ground. “I think the prince and the witch will work nicely for your first demonstration.”

I didn’t move.

Tiny, pale lights appeared and flickered in the trees on the opposite side of the clearing. Each flicker brought them closer to us. Fire pixies. No doubt they considered the stone altar one big buffet. My job tonight was to make sure every last one of them went to bed without supper. The guards had probably rung the dinner bell the moment they chained Piaras to that altar.

“I am but a student, Mistress Benares,” Sarad Nukpana was saying. “There is much to learn, and much to be accomplished. You will assist me in my work.”

He placed the casket on the altar and opened it. Piaras seemed to stop breathing. So did I.

Nothing happened. The Saghred didn’t steal anyone’s soul. My father’s ghostly hands didn’t shoot out and wrap themselves around the goblin’s throat. Absolutely nothing.

I expected something. From Nukpana’s expression, nothing was precisely what he expected.

He lightly caressed the stone’s surface. “Such a simple thing, is it not, Mistress Benares?”

My breath caught and my heart hammered in my chest. I actually felt the lightness of his touch, the warmth of him as if his fingertips had touched me, not the stone. I wondered if by controlling the Saghred, he could control me. That wasn’t about to happen, not if I had anything to say about it. I tried not to think that I might not have any say.

“You still do not understand, do you?” he asked when I didn’t respond.

His hand remained on the stone, and I felt a warm pressure heavy on the back of my neck. I didn’t know if he was aware of the connection. I felt a shudder coming on and stopped it.

“You fear what the Saghred would give,” he continued, “because you do not know the extent of its gift.”

“I never considered madness a gift.”

“Madness, or an unfettered mind?” His voice was soft and coaxing. “A mind without limits, free to do, to accomplish anything it can imagine. To be without boundaries. As the daughter of Eamaliel Anguis, you will have the honor of experiencing power beyond that of every mage on the Isle of Mid combined. Power the Conclave and their Guardian pets want for their own. Your powers will continue to grow. They fear that. I do not.”

The stone gleamed in the moonlight and waited. Waited for the decision I didn’t want to make.

A fire pixie glowed and fluttered near the altar. Either it was the same pixie that had bitten Piaras two nights ago, or it was her twin sister. Or maybe all fire pixies looked alike. I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

The grand shaman drew a dagger out of his robes. I’d seen its twin last night. A foot-long triangular blade, jewel-encrusted grip, pommel topped with a ruby the size of a child’s fist. That one had been used to tack Nukpana’s letter to me to the embassy gates. I was right; the crazies always carried spares. He put it on the altar next to the casket.

Piaras’s dark eyes met mine, wide with panic and terror—and hope. A muffled sound came from behind his gag. He hadn’t given up, not yet. He had no idea what I was going to do to keep him from taking that dagger through his heart, but he was hoping I knew.

I did.

The goblin grand shaman lifted the Saghred out of the casket and set it on the altar next to the dagger.

A male pixie clothed in blue flame darted in front of my face, then dove for my neck. I swatted at him, and he fled. Only after he had gone did I feel the sting. I touched my neck and my fingertips came back wet with blood.

The smell of blood, and the promise of more lured in more fire pixies. They were being cautious—all except Piaras’s pixie. She fluttered around Sarad Nukpana and Piaras, glowing bright orange, eager to feed. Beauty, but no brains. She’d be better off taking her fluttering elsewhere. Piaras struggled in vain against the shackles that bound his wrists over his head.

Nukpana struck, one-handedly catching the pixie in midair, and crushing her the same way. He wiped the remains on the altar with no more regard than a swatted fly. The Saghred pulsed once with a nearly imperceptible glow. If I had blinked, I’d have missed it. Someone was awake—and hungry.

Sarad Nukpana’s shields shimmered as he enhanced their power even more. He was being careful. Nothing was getting through those shields unless he allowed it. I was familiar with what he was using—a circle to protect himself against the awakening Saghred, as well as spells, people, and weapons.

A small silver amulet wasn’t a weapon—but I knew a way to turn it into one.

The goblin rested one hand lightly on the Saghred, and gestured me to him with the other, still bloody one.

“Release her,” he told my guards.

“Sir, are you—?”

“I said release her.”

“Your will, my primaru.”

He gestured me to him again. “If you and the beacon would join me.”

From what Mychael had told me, I should be close enough to the Saghred to remove the beacon without my usual brush with death. I pulled the diamond chain with the beacon over my head. I could still breathe and stand at the same time. Good. Mychael had been right.

I hoped my father was right, too.

Power makes you blind to your own greed—and its consequences. I didn’t know if it would work. I didn’t know if the backlash from Sarad Nukpana’s shields would kill me. But with the goblin’s breath close enough to fog the Saghred’s surface, and Piaras about to be murdered for the sake of a sick experiment, it didn’t matter.

I tossed the beacon to the goblin. “Catch.”

The beacon passed through Sarad Nukpana’s shields and into his waiting and bloody hand—shields that ceased to exist when he reached out to grab the beacon. The goblin’s obsidian eyes widened in realization at what he had just done.

The Saghred, Sarad Nukpana, and blood to bind them—and no shields between them.

I didn’t know if any of the blood on his hand was his, or if it was all from the dead fire pixie. The Saghred didn’t care. A sacrifice was a sacrifice. And it was hungry.

A little sacrificial blood and a broken magical circle. The simplest magic was the best kind.

And greed will make you stupid. Without exception.

Tendrils of white light wrapped around the goblin’s wrist like steel vines, anchoring him where he stood, engulfing his hand that still gripped the beacon, shooting up his arm to the shoulder, the light coiling and constricting, racing hungrily to consume his body. A high-pitched, strangled shriek came from inside the column of white flame that was Sarad Nukpana.

Then he was gone.

The Saghred’s glow diminished to a single pinpoint of light. It winked out, leaving the stone cold and dark on the altar.