Shroud of Eternity

CHAPTER 72

When the clamor and shouts erupted through the fighting pits, Bannon guessed what was happening, and hope surged within him. The uproar seemed even greater than the previous time. It sounded like more than just a skirmish. This was outright war.

Bannon went to the bars of his cell and peered out, seeing the brown-robed figures hurrying into the fighters’ area. This time, they wore their hoods down, defiantly showing their features. Yelling, the rebels drove the unleashed animals ahead of them.

Two black spiny wolves loped forward, snapping their jaws, but more intent on escape than savagery. Three leopards sprang down the tunnels, dodging fallen bodies, paying no attention to the large swamp dragons that scuttled forward on powerful scaled legs.

Bannon shook the barred door of his cell, desperate to break free. He wanted to run loose like the animals, to burst from this prison. He was shirtless, sore and bruised, wearing only a fighter’s loincloth. But after his vigorous training, he was more lean and muscular than he had ever been before.

He was trapped, held captive as a toy to be thrown out into the combat arena for the amusement of the people of Ildakar.

He hammered on the bars. “Let me loose!”

The other fighters took up the chant, pounding on their bars as well. “Set us free!”

And the hooded rebels did exactly that.

Mirrormask’s followers had seized keys, and they spread out in the tunnels, rushing from one cell to the next. The caged fighters stared grimly in anticipation, waiting for the doors to open. Their shouts grew louder. “Free me. Free me!”

The rebels worked the locks and threw open the barred doors. Muscular young trainees as well as seasoned warriors stalked out, blinking and confused as if they didn’t know what to do.

From his cell, Bannon yelled, “You can still fight. Get your weapons! We can all battle our way free.” He rattled the bars again, then muttered, “If I ever get out of here.”

A female rebel raced up to Bannon’s cell, meeting his eyes through the bars. She had a flinty gaze and she looked like an old woman, but Bannon realized she could not have been more than forty years old. A life of slavery had drained her vitality away like an old rag wrung dry. She fumbled with the key, inserting it in the lock, and turning it. She grimaced, trying harder, but the key didn’t work.

“It’s a different one,” Bannon said. He had seen Lila use it numerous times. “The brass one.” The woman shifted to another key.

Out in the gallery, the freed fighters rushed to the weapons stockpile. Ignoring the racks of dulled blades and wooden practice rods, they snatched up the short swords they used in the combat arena.

The rebels gave them the name to cheer. “For Mirrormask!” The fighters took up the name, and one of the brown-robed figures added, “And for Nicci!”

“For Nicci!” they all echoed.

Bannon’s heart leaped. Nicci! Nicci was here! The woman on the other side of the gate fumbled with the brass key and inserted it into the lock. She looked at Bannon and smiled.

Before she could turn it in the keyhole, though, a hissing swamp dragon raced forward and snapped its jaws around her legs. It yanked backward, and though she grabbed at the bars, the reptile broke her grip and tore her body away from the cell door.

Bannon reached through the bars, trying to grab her, but the lizard thing flung her to the stone floor. She pounded with her fists, and blood gushed from her mangled legs. The reptile snapped its jaws and bit her hand off all the way to the elbow, crunching down on her bones.

The key fell out of the lock, struck the stone floor, clinked, and bounced away.

Bannon pounded on the door, desperate to break free so he could help her.

When the swamp dragon bit through her throat and killed her, the immolation rune on her amulet ignited, and the rebel’s body burst into a crackle of searing flame. The fire flared up and also engulfed the big reptile. The monster hissed and rolled away, but its scales were blackened, its stomach bloated as the intense fire boiled its internal organs.

Bannon dropped to his knees, but the cell door wasn’t open yet. He reached through the gap, jamming his shoulder against the bars as he strained to reach the key. It lay just out of reach near the smoldering remnants of the woman who had tried to help him. He stretched his fingers and rammed his shoulder against the bars to get an extra hairsbreadth of reach. Finally, the tip of his index finger brushed the metal end of the key. He stroked it, made it move barely toward him, then again, and the key edged just close enough for him to snag it with his fingertip. He clutched it in his cupped palm like the greatest treasure he’d ever held.

Working through the bars, he inserted the key, fumbled to turn it, and heard the click. A wash of weakness and relief turned his blood to water. Bannon shook his head, trembling, and pushed open the barred door.

Out in the gallery, the rebels and the unleashed fighters ran loose, confused but exhilarated. They battled a fearsome speckled boar, herding it down one of the larger tunnels and out into the city, where it could cause more havoc.

A big, bald veteran fighter emerged from his cage and looked around angrily. One of the rebels handed him a sword. “Fight! Fight for your freedom.” The veteran fighter grasped the sword, sneered, and thrust it into the heart of the rebel. The astonished robed man collapsed to his knees and fell on his face before bursting into a self-contained funeral pyre.

“We fight for Ildakar,” growled the veteran, “not for Mirrormask!” He strode forward, holding up his bloody blade in defiance. The brown-robed rebels were stunned that one of the slaves would turn against them.

Four of the newly freed fighters ran toward the veteran, raising their swords. “No! We fight for ourselves, and we fight for the future,” one shouted.

The bald veteran was taken aback and defended himself as the four young fighters fell upon him. One stabbed into the meat of his shoulder. “We don’t fight for Adessa!”

“We do not fight for the sovrena,” shouted the second man as he plunged his blade into the veteran’s belly.

“We fight for Mirrormask and for Nicci!” they cried as they stabbed again and again. The seasoned veteran did not have a chance.

With the door of his cell finally open, Bannon bolted out to join the others. “For Nicci!” he yelled, hoping she was here, hoping she could hear him. He jumped over the greasy smoke and the smoldering pile in front of his cell. He needed a weapon—not just any weapon, but his weapon.

The other fighters had taken the familiar short swords with which they had trained, but Bannon knew where Lila kept his own blade, wrapped in a cloth and stored in a high alcove. He ran to it, paying no heed to the fighting all around him. He grabbed his sword, pulled it down from the notch in the sandstone wall. Sturdy fell into his arms, and he yanked away the cloth covering. His hand curled around the leather-wrapped hilt.

“Sweet Sea Mother!” Tears stung his eyes. He swung the blade from side to side, feeling energy build within him. He no longer felt his aches, his bruises. He was free, and he would fight out in the city. He would find his friends. “Nicci!” he shouted.

With the shroud in place, they could no longer just leave Ildakar, but they could remake the city. That was his focus now. He didn’t know how many days he had spent down here in the training pits and barred cells, but it seemed like an eternity.

Armored trainers ran into the fray, holding shields, wielding their own swords. These were not as skilled as the morazeth, but they had fought and pummeled the trainees during many practice sessions, including Bannon. He spun to face them, holding up Sturdy. It felt good in his hand, but he knew this would not be another practice session.

“Back to your cages, slaves!” roared one of the trainers. Sneering and overconfident, he lunged forward, swinging his shield at Bannon. The young man did not back away, and the trainer faltered for an instant, surprised at Bannon’s reaction. With a yell, he smashed the trainer’s shield with the long sword, hammering hard, then swinging again with both hands and all his might. The blow was enough to crack the trainer’s wrist, and he reeled. Bannon reacted like lightning, responding with his instincts, and he swung the sword again and chopped deep into the other man’s neck.

As the man fell onto the bloody stone floor, Bannon stared at what he had done. Yes, he’d been taught well, and the morazeth had warned him to show no mercy. He shuddered, but refused to allow himself to feel shock or guilt. He would be doing much more killing before the night was done.

He knew the most important thing he had to do. Dodging deadly animals, scattered rebels, and freed warriors, Bannon sprinted toward Ian’s cell. The champion, his friend—the embittered man who had been held prisoner for so long—remained inside, staring out at the turmoil, his steely eyes drinking in the details.

Bannon arrived at the barred door. “You know it’s not locked, Ian. Why didn’t you get away?”

His friend considered for a long moment. “Because this is where I belong.”

Bannon worked the latch and swung open the gate. “No it isn’t! You belong with me. You belong back home. You never should have been taken from Chiriya Island. I never should have been a coward, but that’s all behind us. I can’t do anything about the past, but I can save you now. Come with me. I beg you. You must be free.”

“I am already free.” Ian squared his broad shoulders and stared at the open door. “I’m a warrior. I am Ildakar’s champion.”

“Ildakar will be different after tonight,” Bannon said. “Come, we have to get out into the streets.”

Ian shook his head, staring at his friend grimly from his open cell. His face looked old, scarred, a stranger’s face … a killer’s face. “All I know how to do is fight. I cannot run away with you.”

“Yes, you can! If we can bring down the shroud, there’s the rest of the world. I have so much to show you, but first we have to get away. Fight with me for what is right, for what is noble and true.”

Ian shook his head. “What would I do if I just got away? That isn’t me. I am the champion.”

Bannon caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a tawny sand panther lope into the torch-lit gallery chamber. Mrra! Nicci was with the sand panther, wearing her black dress and holding a bloody dagger in each hand.

“Bannon Farmer!” she called out. “Bannon, where are you?”

He gave Ian a pleading look, then whirled. “Sorceress, I’m here!” His heart swelled with joy despite the screams and growls around him mixed with the clash of blades. With one more quick look back at Ian, he said, “Come with me, Ian! Give yourself a chance at a new life.”

But his friend stepped farther back into his spacious cell.

Vowing to return for him this time, Bannon bounded over to Nicci. The spell-branded panther prowled along beside her. Blood covered Mrra’s fangs, muzzle, and paws.

“I didn’t know what had happened to you, Sorceress!” Bannon babbled, and he clumsily attempted to hug her. “They captured me, dragged me down here, forced me to fight. Where’s Nathan? What’s happened to you? I heard you were dead.”

“You have too many questions,” she said in a low, hard voice. “I see you have your sword. That is all you need right now, not more answers. Fight with us. We must release these people, then move against the ruling council. Sovrena Thora intends to slaughter three hundred victims tonight and make the shroud permanent.”

Bannon’s heart sank. “Then we have to stop it. And now we have an army.”

“Yes,” Nicci said, “now we have an army.”

The fighting had moved into the main gallery, the open area with several deep fighting pits dug out of the floor. Bannon had sweated and bled in those pits.

The freed fighters ran forward, waving their swords, but they suddenly hesitated, backing away as four robed rebels were killed in short order, their bodies bursting into flame. Five deadly morazeth strode into the gallery, each one carrying her weapon of choice. “Back, all of you! Back to your cages.”

Lila was among them. Bannon’s heart skipped a beat. He flinched and stepped back toward Nicci and the sand panther, squeezing his grip on Sturdy’s hilt.

Nicci, Bannon, and Mrra strode ahead, their steps in tandem. Nicci’s blond hair crackled with magic, flowing like a comet’s tail behind her head. She spoke to the morazeth. “The cages will not hold them, and you no longer control these people.”

Bannon stepped up beside Nicci, facing the group of morazeth and forcing a brave tone that he didn’t necessarily feel. “All of us will fight you, and we will win—you trained us well enough.”

Lila sneered at him and came forward, selecting her obvious target. “I’ve just been playing with you, boy. The real training is about to begin.” She wielded a sword with her right hand, a dagger with her left, and an even sharper smile on her face.

But he had Sturdy.

While Bannon defended himself against his opponent, Nicci and Mrra threw themselves against the other morazeth, who seemed surprised by the furious resistance. Mrra slashed with her claws, bit down hard with her curved fangs, and tore one of the attackers to a bloody mess.

More female fighters swarmed in, clattering their blades. They fought around the edges of the various circular pits, some shallow and empty, some connected to a lower network of tunnels. The pit nearest Bannon had curved iron spikes on the walls, like the spines of a giant thistle, to prevent any subjects from escaping.

Facing Lila, Bannon stayed several steps from the edge, not wanting to fall in. He would fight her out in the open. Free. Once he defeated Lila, once he battered her the way she had battered him, he would escape into the city with all these other fighters.

And, he desperately hoped, with Ian.

In black sandals laced up to the knees and the short leather wrap, Lila did not appear imposing, but Bannon knew full well how deadly she could be. She gripped her sword, carving hypnotic patterns in the air with its tip. She jabbed the point in the air, trying to distract him—which convinced Bannon that her real attack would come from her dagger. That was how she intended to kill him.

Yes, Lila had taught him, but perhaps his morazeth trainer didn’t know exactly how much he had learned from her.

She thrust fiercely with the short sword at the same time as she slipped her dagger up in a stealthy arc, intending to plunge it into his ribs. Bannon dodged the feint and swung Sturdy sideways to deflect the much smaller knife. The discolored blade smashed into the dagger, twisting Lila’s wrist. She gasped in pain and jerked her hand away. The dagger clattered to the floor, bounced, and fell into the deep spike-walled pit beside them.

Anger flashed in Lila’s eyes, and then she laughed. “A good trick! I see you’ve been learning, boy.”

“You’ve taught me a lot. I’ll put it to practice right now.”

“I have much more to show you.” She slashed with her sword, trying to intimidate him. “If you survive today.”

“Maybe you won’t survive to teach me.”

“Then you would miss me,” she taunted. She swung the blade, but he parried with his longer sword.

On the other side of the pit, Nicci and Mrra fought two of the morazeth. Long red lines marred the sand panther’s tawny hide, but she lunged forward and snapped the neck of one of the warrior women, while Nicci used both of her daggers and unleashed a surge of magic into the wooden knout her morazeth opponent used. The knout turned into a torch in the woman’s hands, and she thrashed the blazing end in Nicci’s face.

Letting one dagger drop, Nicci caught the flaming end in her bare hand, extinguished it with her gift, then plunged her second dagger into the morazeth’s throat. With a grunt, she tossed the dead body down into the pit beside her. The morazeth didn’t fall all the way down. Her body was impaled on the curved iron spikes and hung there like an insect thrust onto a tree thorn by a shrike bird.

Lila had been lulling Bannon, teasing him, but now she flung herself at him with full fury. She was a fierce dervish of attack, her white teeth clenched. Bannon quickly found himself on the defensive. He could barely keep his balance. She hammered at him, made him stagger. His foot brushed the edge of the spike-walled pit, and he nearly slipped. He caught his balance by propping the tip of Sturdy on the ground and swinging his other hand. Lila drove in for the kill.

She stopped as if she had been yanked back by a leash. Her head lolled; her gaze reeled. Her face turned chalky pale as she collapsed, falling forward onto the floor, the back of her head bloodied.

Ian stood behind her, holding a sword. He had struck her with the flat of the blade to render her unconscious.

Panting and shuddering, Bannon looked at the limp form of his lovely morazeth trainer. Ian stood over her, unsettled and uncertain. “You needed help. I saved you again.”

“Thank you, Ian,” he nearly sobbed. His friend had come back! “This time we’ll both get away.”

The fighters kept battling as more black-clad morazeth dashed into the fray, coming through from the arena tunnels. Adessa arrived, a brooding knot of energy, her dark eyes glittering. “You will all die this night—if I have to kill you myself.”

Bannon’s heart froze.

Ian turned to Adessa, stony and determined. The champion braced himself, crouched into a well-practiced fighting stance. He rippled with precisely calibrated energy. Bannon had seen him fight in the arena, but he knew this battle would be greater than any of Ian’s other challenges. The scarred young man extended his free hand and shoved Bannon in the chest, forcing him backward and away from the fight. “Go! You said it yourself—get away.”

“I won’t leave you! I left you once before.”

Ian flashed a quick glance at him. “And because of that, I’m now the best fighter in all of Ildakar. Let me prove it.” Warm sincerity infused his eyes. “This time it’s my choice, Bannon. You need have no guilt about it.”

Adessa locked her eyes on the defiant man and bounded forward on lithe, spell-branded legs, holding up her blade, clenching her gauntleted fist. “Come then, lover.” She curled her lips in a dark smile. “I can’t get enough of your flesh against mine.”

Ian braced himself, facing her with his sword. Adessa held her own blade just within striking distance, murder in her eyes, prepared to kill the young man who stood in front of her.

Bannon retreated toward Nicci and Mrra as they turned.

Ian was ready to fight, but there was something strange about his stance. Bannon saw it for just an instant. Ian’s short sword drooped; his muscles tensed; his empty hand curved outward. As Adessa fell upon him, he reached up to grab her gauntleted arm, swept out with his right foot, caught her behind the ankles, and knocked her legs out from under her. In the same flow, he drove forward using her own momentum, spinning the two of them off balance. He pushed off sideways, launching them both over the edge of the deep fighting pit.

Bannon screamed, “Ian, no!”

After a long fall, the two landed hard on the sand and ashes, miraculously avoiding the sharp spines on the walls. The sword was knocked out of Adessa’s grip. She lay stunned for only a moment before she scrambled away from Ian just as he got to his feet. Shaking his head, he fumbled on the ground and retrieved his own sword. He could have killed Adessa right then if he’d struck quickly enough. The morazeth leader was disoriented by the fall, disarmed. Suddenly her attention snapped back. She tensed like a snake.

Though she no longer had her sword, she snatched the small black handle of the agile knife at her hip. She held it up, as if to remind him of all the pain it signified. “Is that how you like to play, lover? Think of all the pleasures I’ve given you. You are my special one, my champion.”

“I’ve received much from you … and not all of it was pleasure.”

She prowled around him, and he held up his sword, which was much longer than her agile knife. She could not get close enough to strike him with the short needle point. They circled each other warily; then she spotted her short sword, which had fallen to the ground. Adessa bounded across the sand, grabbed it in her gauntleted hand, and now faced him with two weapons.

Bannon could only watch. Those two were far out of reach below. In the main gallery, the fighting continued around them. He wanted to shout support for Ian, or even jump down and fight at his friend’s side, but he didn’t dare distract him. Adessa could kill in an instant.

Ian and the morazeth leader continued their deadly duel, blade against blade, and Adessa slashed with her needle-pointed agile knife like the stinger of a scorpion. But Ian was the champion, and he fought as well as his mistress and trainer.

She threw herself at him, ferociously swinging her short sword and slashing a long wound down his left arm, but Ian punched her with his empty fist and sent her stumbling on the loose sand. Adessa fell backward, twisting her body, and struck the wall. One of the iron spikes dug a deep red gouge along her shoulder blade.

Adessa didn’t seem to feel any pain, did not pause to recover. She threw herself forward, driving hard with her sword. Ian fought magnificently, but he hesitated. Bannon suddenly realized that his friend didn’t want to kill her.

Adessa jeered, “What’s the matter? Are you afraid of me, Champion?”

He responded as he had been trained to do, as he had been provoked to do. With a roar, he drove harder, battering her with his sword, smashing her blade away, hitting harder and harder, until he broke her wrist, knocking the sword away from her. The blade dropped to the arena floor, and he pounded the pommel of his sword against the side of her head. With an additional shove from his empty hand, he sent her sprawling onto the ground near the iron spikes. “I am not afraid of you.”

She was disarmed, propped on her elbows, shuddering and bleeding from the gash in her shoulder. Her sword arm hung limp with the broken bone. Ian stood over her, his sword raised for the deathblow.

“I am your lover,” she said. “Don’t you remember all the pleasure I gave you?”

Ian’s face was stony. He pointed his blade down, ready to plunge it through her heart. He hesitated, as she seemed to know he would.

“You can’t kill me, because there’s something you don’t know.” Her face twisted in a smile. “For these last four weeks I have been carrying your child.”

Ian was taken completely by surprise. He froze for just part of a second.

In that moment, Adessa snatched the object she had been covering with her body, the weapon she had found in the sand at the base of the pit. Lila’s dagger, which Bannon had knocked down there.

The morazeth woman grabbed the knife in her good hand and lunged like a cobra striking. She swept up with the blade, using all of her momentum as she drove her body upward with her legs. She thrust the dagger into the center of Ian’s chest, shoving it deep and twisting it in his heart.

He gasped, coughed blood, and hung like a dead yaxen on a hook.

“Ian!” Bannon screamed. “Ian!”

But his friend was already dead, and Adessa was too far below.

“Now you have made me angry, boy,” said another razor-edged feminine voice. Bannon turned just in time to see Lila, recovered now. She had picked herself up from the ground and charged toward him, her blade raised to kill him.

Though sickened and stunned by the death of Ian, Bannon spun to defend himself.

Nicci stepped in just behind Lila and slammed the pommel of one of her daggers down hard, bashing the morazeth woman on the already bloodied back of her skull. Lila dropped like a felled tree, crashing to the sandstone floor above the arena pits. Next to her, Mrra roared.

Bannon felt frozen, horrified. He stared down at Ian’s bloody form as Adessa cast the body aside, but she was too far down in the pit. He couldn’t get to her.

Lila lay unconscious next to him, blood matting her short light brown hair.

Beside him, Nicci scowled at Adessa. They both wished to be down there to tear the woman apart, but Nicci had a determined sheen in her eyes. Mrra thrashed her tail.

“We can fight here all night, Bannon, but we have a more important battle out in the city. We have to stop the bloodworking at the pyramid. Come with me. First, we need to find Nathan.”