Shroud of Eternity

CHAPTER 44

Bells tolled to alert the city. In a solemn procession, the members of the ruling council moved through the streets of the upper plateau, heading toward the great pyramid. Well-dressed nobles and upper-class merchants climbed the streets to the upper levels, gathering as if for a festival. The eager movement in the streets, accompanied by the closing of shops, inns, and restaurants, signified that this was a day of great importance.

“Whatever is happening, I don’t like this,” Nicci said, stepping out of the grand villa. “Not at all.” No one had called them, but she suspected it might have something to do with the ominous spell the duma had promised.

Nathan and Nicci left the grand villa, joining the crowds and looking for answers. “Where is that boy Bannon?” Nathan asked, looking around.

“Now that the Norukai are gone, maybe he’s with his so-called friends,” she said. The young man was far too open and trusting, and she had seen the half-hidden sneers on the faces of Amos, Jed, and Brock. Nicci recalled that she herself had had no friends when she was young. Her stern mother had forced her to work the streets in the name of the Imperial Order, following the teachings of Brother Narev, while scorning all the hard work and success that her father achieved. Nicci had not understood friendship, had not wanted it. Youthful friendship remained a foreign concept to her, but she had grown close to her companions.

She made a quiet comment, just loud enough for Nathan to hear. “He may not wish to be here, depending on what the wizards intend to do … and what we may have to do to stop them.”

The skies were overcast, but the smear of gray clouds carried only gloom, not rain. The clamor of tolling bells continued across the city, echoing from all the levels. Nicci felt a crackle of tension in the air, both excitement and dread.

“No one informed us,” Nathan said. “Maybe we aren’t invited.”

Nicci didn’t intend to let that stop her. “We’ll invite ourselves. Come with me, Wizard.”

Nathan’s azure eyes narrowed as he watched people ascending the steep streets to gather on the upper level of the plateau, crowding near the base of the pyramid. “I believe you’re right, my dear sorceress. I don’t need my gift to sense the brooding in the air.”

Nicci tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear and set off with a determined stride. “I do have my gift, but if I choose not to do anything with it, then what use is all that power?” Her throat was dry, her voice husky. “I can’t just stand and watch.”

“I understand how powerful your gift is,” Nathan said, “but if you do something rash, you will turn a whole city against us, and we’ll end up dead, or at the very least defeated. You know what the wizards of Ildakar can do. You saw Maxim petrify that rebel before our very eyes.”

Nicci did not slow her pace. “But they haven’t seen what I can do. The duma members and all these gifted nobles have never experienced anything like me before.”

“Indeed, no one has.” Nathan hurried to keep up with her. “I will help as much as I can.”

They joined the crowds of jostling people gathered at the top of the plateau. One well-dressed man carried a bowl of grapes tucked in the crook of his right arm, and he plucked one purple sphere after another, sucking it dry and spitting out the seeds.

Nicci smelled a wash of pungent sweat and stinging perfumes. The men had oiled, wavy hair and wore armbands that set off the color of their pantaloons and waist sashes. Strips of exotic furs adorned their half capes or the cuffs of their long robes. The women wore swirling gowns as if they were going to a grand gala. The tolling bells played a dissonant metallic tune that rang from a dozen high towers throughout the city.

Intent on her purpose, Nicci glided among the people who were in no hurry. Nathan stayed close to her side. “Dear spirits,” he muttered. They reached the wide base of the stair-stepped pyramid, sensed the excitement growing among the spectators. “It must be the blood magic, Sorceress. We knew the wizards were going to do something like this. I expect there will be killing. A lot of it.”

“I expect they might try,” Nicci said.

The crowds parted as the council members finished their slow procession and arrived at the pyramid. Thora and Maxim were in the lead. An icy wall seemed to separate the sovrena and the wizard commander, but they were partners in the powerful magic that protected the city. Thora wore a sapphire gown trimmed with lush gray fur, while Maxim had a long garnet-red cape lined with white fur spotted with gray, as if ashes had fallen onto pristine snow. The two did not look at each other, nor did they glance at Nathan or Nicci as they passed.

The members of the duma walked behind them, staring ahead with solemn expressions: the fleshmancer Andre, Chief Handler Ivan, matronly Elsa in her purple robes, dark-skinned Quentin wearing an ocher robe and a golden amulet on his chest, Damon with his shaggy black hair and long mustaches.

Uneasy, Elsa flicked a glance over at Nathan, gave him a brief smile, then turned to mutter to Quentin, “It isn’t right to do this without Renn. We should wait for him to come back from his expedition.”

“He might never come back,” Quentin mumbled, as they walked past. “The duma can do without him. Renn’s too unreliable. I’ve never been totally convinced of his loyalty since Lani made her bid for power.”

Elsa looked shocked. “Renn has always been a faithful member of the ruling council!”

“As you say,” Quentin replied, just as they were walking out of earshot. “But once the shroud goes up, he will have to remain outside until we let him back in. And I hope the blood magic buys us a good deal of time.”

Thora and Maxim had ascended the stone steps to the top of the pyramid, and turned to face the crowds from their high vantage. The five duma members climbed up to join them among the components of the strange apparatus on the top platform, the gleaming half sphere mounted in its armature cradle, the quartz prisms standing tall on metal rods.

Wizard Commander Maxim extended his arms and gazed across the people. Even from the bottom of the pyramid, Nicci could see the sparkle in his eyes. “Ildakar has stood for thousands of years.” The wizard commander’s voice sounded tinny and resonant, but she had no doubt even the slaves and tradesmen in the lowest levels of the city could hear him.

Thora spoke next. “Ildakar is protected because we protect it. Our perfect way of life is sacred, but such perfection comes at a cost.” Her voice was hard, but she did not seem saddened by what she had to do. “The cost of blood.”

Down below, ten members of the city guard marched forward, their steel-shod boots making a sound like drumbeats on the flagstones. They led a group of twelve slaves bound by ropes around their wrists. Some of them struggled and pulled back, but the guards did not cuff them. They simply marched along, implacable, forcing the slaves to follow.

Nicci recognized faces from the slave market, the “walking meat” delivered by the Norukai. The guards herded them single-file up the worn stone steps, five women and seven men. Two of them were old, three were young, and the others of varying ages. A thin man and woman, both with brown hair and dusky skin, walked close to each other, moving fatalistically. From their dress and facial features they looked to have come from the same village. The woman went up the stairs first, one step after another. She extended a hand back and the man reached forward to brush his fingers against hers. Nicci could tell they knew each other, cared for each other. Several slaves wore blank expressions as if they had been drugged, perhaps by the red wisterias. One woman stumbled and sobbed, trying to keep up with the rest in spite of sore joints. Tears ran through the wrinkles on her face. A muscular man twisted and tugged on his rope, but the others kept moving forward, ascending to the fenced platform below the top of the pyramid.

Thora turned to the crowded slaves. “Stand before Ildakar!”

The captives moved restlessly, looking confused, and the sovrena stamped her foot, sending a flicker of power through the structure. The magic jolted the captive slaves, seized their muscles, and forced them to stand rigid like puppets.

The crowd muttered. The merchants and nobles in the finest clothes looked eager as they watched, but those in drab clothes were less excited.

“Stop!” Nicci called out from below, eliciting a gasp from the crowd. “If there is such a price, Sovrena, why don’t you pay it with your own blood?”

Thora scoffed down at her. “Because my blood is worth too much.”

Nicci felt the angry magic coiling within her, like eels swimming through a muddy canal. She felt warm vibrations like hidden strands throughout the city, a spiderweb of magic centered on the pyramid. “So you kill captives instead? For entertainment?”

“For necessity. These slaves will pay the cost. That’s what they are for.” The twelve captives were fixed into place one level below the complex apparatus on the upper platform. Some of the slaves shuddered. The old woman continued to weep, even though she could barely move, held in place by the magic.

Thora stared intensely down at them. “They will save us.”

Some glared at her in defiance; others turned away, quivering.

At the base of the pyramid, Nicci stepped away from Nathan and used a nudge of her gift to push the crowds aside as she reached the steps. She was going to stop this. “No, Thora.” She could summon a storm of lightning from above, using both Additive and Subtractive Magic. Had the wizards of Ildakar ever seen Subtractive Magic? Nicci doubted it. “If you don’t stop this madness, I will make you sorry.”

Nicci could take them by surprise, incinerate the top of the pyramid and disrupt this ceremony. She also knew that Mirrormask and his rebels were a tinderbox just waiting for a spark to ignite them. Would they rise up and assist her if she provided that spark? Maybe this was the time.

A hush fell over the crowd, as moans rippled through the twelve slaves. They struggled but could not move, locked in place by Thora’s magic. They all faced the reflective trough in front of them, and Nicci knew exactly what it was for. “Sovrena, let me speak on their behalf!”

In unison, as if they had rehearsed this many times before, all five members of the wizards’ duma reached into their robes and pulled out long, ceremonial knives with jeweled hilts and curved blades.

Thora gestured with one hand, and magic forced the gathered slaves to raise their chins high, exposing their throats. Somehow fighting against the puppet control, the dusky-skinned couple reached sideways, touching each other’s hands, drawing strength and comfort in their last moment. Tears streamed from the corners of their eyes, running down the sides of their upturned faces.

Standing with their sacrificial knives in hand, the council members hesitated, looking down at Nicci. She strode up the steep steps, gathering her magic. She could see that several of the wizards were intimidated by her boldness. The crowd had fallen silent, awed that she would stand up to Thora.

Nicci felt magic boiling within her ready to be unleashed.

Elsa and Damon both lowered their knives, uncertain. Maxim appeared to be amused. The rest of the wizards didn’t seem to know what to do.

On top of the pyramid, Maxim said out of the corner of his mouth, “Just get it over with, Thora. No need for such a dramatic flair.”

The sovrena scoffed at the hesitation of the others. In an impatient, offhand gesture, she twitched her finger and gestured down at the line of slaves fifteen feet below her. With a cruel smile on her thin lips, she drew her sharp, lacquered fingernail across the air in a quick, casual slash.

Nicci lunged, building up a swirl of solidified air to knock back the wizards, but before she could release it, Thora’s knife of magic, sharper than the sharpest razor, ripped across the throats of the twelve shocked slaves. All at once, their eyes bulged, and they jerked and twitched, and the puppet hold was released.

The slaves collapsed forward as their knees buckled. Their heads had nearly been severed by Thora’s invisible blade. The slaves pitched into the trough, spilling gouts of blood into the channels in front of them.

Maxim and the five duma members held their ceremonial knives, looking perplexed and surprised. None of them had moved.

Nicci staggered on the steps, astonished. “Dear spirits!”

Blood flowed, and magic built in a rush around the pyramid.

A wind of increasing whispers crossed the crowd. They stood motionless.

Nicci struck out with her wall of air, but Thora responded and knocked her back with a similar blow, throwing her off balance. She tumbled back onto the steep stone staircase. From below, Nathan rushed up to catch her.

As the blood from the slaves filled the mirrorized trough, Maxim raised his hands high and made sweeping gestures. The red river flowed through the gutters, defying gravity as it rolled uphill to the top platform, where it spread out and filled the engraved patterns of the spell-form.

All seven ruling council members gathered around the hemispherical bowl. They grasped the silver edges, turned it so that it was aligned directly upward. When the blood of the slaves had filled the pattern engraved in the platform, the crimson current fountained up in a single stream and poured into the mirrored cauldron.

The sovrena and wizard commander stood in place while the other five wizards retreated. The half sphere vibrated, shimmered, and a column of twisted magic rocketed upward, like a geyser. The swirl rose higher and higher until it reached its zenith far overhead and spread out like falling water, rippling through the air. It curled down to create a transparent dome that covered all of Ildakar, flowing past the outer walls to the river bluffs.

The crowd cheered,

Too late. Nicci felt sick, defeated, as the wizard picked her up from where she had fallen on the steep stone stairs. She groaned to Nathan, “I should have stopped it.” She was angry at herself, but more furious with the sovrena.

At the top of the pyramid, Thora seemed pleased, standing beside her husband as they reveled in their handiwork. The sovrena didn’t even show anger toward Nicci for her defiance, because it had amounted to nothing.

“You didn’t know what was going to happen, Sorceress,” Nathan said, his voice thin and sickened.

“We knew. We both knew. And now we’re imprisoned under the shroud.” Her head pounded. “We can’t stay in Ildakar. We have a mission.”

Nathan squared his shoulders. “Perhaps this confirms that our mission is here. Even if we can’t escape, we have plenty of work to do.” He sniffed. “They will wish we had left when we had the chance.”

Nicci recalled that time passed differently inside the shroud. She forcibly opened her clenched fists. “Even if it takes eternity,” she said quietly.