Shroud of Eternity

CHAPTER 78

Carried along by rage as well as adrenaline, Thora fled the destruction of the pyramid and took refuge in the ruling tower, her last bastion of strength. Not only had the bloodworking been disrupted, but the shroud that protected and preserved Ildakar was gone.

The sovrena’s heart was as broken as the great structure had been. Her perfect society was crumbling. Her power was shattered, her grip on the city failing.

It was already too late—she knew—but she refused to accept defeat. Marching across the broken blue tiles, she climbed the dais and flung herself into her throne. She squeezed the wooden armrests so tightly, unconsciously releasing a trickle of her gift, that the chair itself cracked. “I am the sovrena!” she shouted to the empty room.

Her words echoed back at her, mocking.

Behind her, the golden cages hung silent. All of Thora’s larks were dead, dozens of them. Her only audience was the petrified statue of the sorceress Lani. She looked at the white sculpture, the defiant woman frozen in place. Thora muttered, “If you could see me through those stone eyes, you would be gloating now, wouldn’t you?”

Quentin and Damon had been with her on top of the pyramid, facing the mob, but they had fled. She needed their power, their gift, and together they could make a last stand at her side. She was their sovrena; she deserved their loyalty. But she doubted she would have it.

She would be alone in her stand against a group of desperate lower-class hooligans. And Nicci. She had defeated the sorceress before, and now Thora had even more incentive to do it again, to crush Nicci into a smear of bone and flesh. But as she looked across the expansive ruling chamber, her gaze caught on the shattered blue marble tiles from where Maxim had fought her, and that focused her anger to a razor edge. Maxim—Mirrormask!—was the cause of this. Her husband had been building the unrest, riling up the easily duped mobs.

Cold air whistled in and out of her nostrils. Her heart pounded, and her body tingled with magic that demanded to be released, but she had no target. Yes, she hated how Nicci had defied her, but Maxim was her husband. Thora’s hatred for the man went deeper than any possible reckoning. He wanted Ildakar to fall. He had said so, and now that he’d ignited the political brushfire sweeping through the city, he would bring down the order Thora had worked so hard to create.

And he had simply fled. “I was done with the city anyway. I’ll leave now.”

She knew Maxim was a coward. He wouldn’t stay to see the repercussions of what he had caused. Now that the shroud was gone, he would run far away so he could watch the city topple from a safe distance. For his own amusement! How she hated him.

Soft, slow footsteps came up the stairs, and Thora saw a female figure enter the ruling chamber. For a moment she thought it was Nicci, come back to fight her again. But the muscular woman was clad in scant black leather, her skin covered with branded symbols.

Adessa.

The morazeth was bloodied, battered. She had a deep wound on her back, and she held one arm out, the wrist drooping at an unnatural angle, but she gripped a short sword in her other hand. Though she looked exhausted, a defiant sparkle remained in her eyes. “I’ve come to you, Sovrena. Ildakar has fallen, but I am here to defend you. I will die by your side.”

Thora walked down the dais. The woman smelled of sweat and dust and the sour metal tang of drying blood. For a moment her anger softened, her heart feeling a warm spark of hope because of Adessa’s unwavering loyalty, a loyalty that did not fade because of riots in the streets or the fall of the shroud. No, the morazeth were sworn to defend the city. More important, the morazeth were hers. Adessa was hers.

“I would have come sooner, but I was trapped at the bottom of the spiked pit … with this.” She lifted her broken wrist, refusing to show any sign of pain.

Thora frowned. “How did you get out? Did someone release you?”

“I climbed.”

“Of course you did.”

She thought of the folly of making a fruitless last stand here. Would anyone defend her? Anyone besides Adessa? For a strange unprovoked instant, she nearly reached out to embrace the warrior woman, but stopped herself. “I would be glad to have you at my side, but if you die with me, what would that accomplish?”

“It would be satisfactory in and of itself, Sovrena.”

“Maybe so, but I’d prefer to use you for something more important.”

“We are not dead yet,” Adessa said. “We have not lost.”

But Thora knew they had lost. Once, the wizards of Ildakar would have banded together, putting aside their petty differences for the sake of the city, for their people, and for their future. But not now. These treacherous people wanted only to tear down. Her lower lip curled at the thought. They didn’t deserve Ildakar.

Maxim was the cause of it, and now he was escaping from the city, thrilled with his stupid accomplishment. Even though Thora knew it would not help her, she would arrange one separate personal victory.

She reached out to take the other woman’s broken wrist. Adessa showed only the faintest flinch, but Thora held tightly, straightened the hand, the branded skin, the snapped bone. She let her gift glide into the other woman, bypassing the powerful defensive runes, and allowing healing magic to knit the wrist together again, making the bone as strong as new.

Adessa gave her a small, grateful nod. She shifted her sword back to her dominant hand. “Now I can fight better.”

But Thora shook her head. “I am sending you away, Adessa. There is something you must do. An important quest.”

The morazeth stood ramrod straight, refusing to move. “No, I will protect you.”

“I will protect myself—this is my battle. You have something more important to do. When triumph escapes our grasp, all we have left is revenge.”

Adessa tensed. “In what manner, Sovrena?”

“My husband caused this. Maxim ignited the fires of this revolt. He must pay for the damage he’s done.”

The other woman blinked. “How can that be true? He is the wizard commander.”

“He is Mirrormask!”

Adessa took a step backward. “How … how is that possible?”

“I know it for a fact.” She explained what had occurred, indicated the shattered blue marble floor tiles. “Maxim has fled the city. He thinks he has won. He mocks all of Ildakar—and he cannot be allowed to get away with it.”

From the fire in her deep brown eyes, Thora could see that Adessa was just as outraged. “What do you wish me to do, Sovrena? Command me, and I will not rest until I have succeeded in the mission.”

“Kill him. Leave the city, now, and hunt him down. I don’t care if you have to track him across the Old World itself, but bring his head back to Ildakar. No matter what else happens here, the people of this city must see that the wizard commander has met justice.”

She gave a curt nod. “I will not fail in this. If you truly command me to leave, now, then I will go out this night. I will find him.”

“And kill him,” Thora added.

“And kill him. I will cut off his head and bring it back to Ildakar.”

Thora began to feel calmer, more resigned. This, at least, was satisfying. She knew that Adessa would do exactly as she promised. “Do not underestimate his powers. Your spell brands will protect you, but he has other tricks. You will need great strength.”

“I have another source of power,” said Adessa. “It is unexpected, but useful now.” She looked Thora squarely in the eye. “You know that the champion was my lover? I allowed him to plant his seed in me, and I am now carrying a child. It grows within me even now.”

Thora let out a long slow sigh, feeling a shiver. She knew what had to be done, the secret power the morazeth possessed. “Yes, Adessa, I am fully aware why your women let themselves become pregnant. It is an unparalleled source of energy. Against Maxim, you will need it. I command you to work your special magic. Let it be done.”

The morazeth nodded. “It is a dark sacrifice, but I will become stronger—strong enough to find and kill the wizard commander.”

A sense of urgency scattered her satisfaction. Thora swallowed. “You’d better hurry. The others will be coming soon.”

Adessa closed her dark eyes in deep concentration. She stood with her arms at her sides, then brought her hands to her abdomen, covering her navel, touching the skin over her stomach.

While the morazeth were branded and protected with spell runes on their skin, each woman retained a special kind of blood magic, one fueled by the blood of an absolute innocent, an unborn child growing in her womb. Blood magic sprang from the taking of life, and a morazeth’s blood magic came from taking the life of one growing inside her.

Adessa breathed faster. Sweat sparkled on her skin, and a flush came to her cheeks. As she touched and kneaded her abdomen, her fingers glowed. She directed her magic inward, and her womb drank deeply of the unborn child, reabsorbing it, taking that life and pulling it back inside her body.

Adessa’s skin crackled and shimmered with increasing energy. As Thora watched, the warrior woman throbbed with power.

When she opened her eyes and let out a long sigh, Adessa said, “It is done. I now have the strength of two lives within me. I am powerful enough to defeat even the wizard commander.”

For the first time that night, Thora let herself smile. Adessa seemed so confident, so swollen with unnatural energy, that she nearly reconsidered. Maybe she should keep the morazeth at her side. With a fighter like that, just the two of them could defend against a whole city of rebels. Perhaps they could drive them back.

But it would be a short-lived victory, Thora knew. Even though magical attacks would bounce off of Adessa, the hundreds of ravening mob members would still tear her apart.

No, even in defeat Thora wanted to accomplish something. She wanted her revenge. She wanted Maxim’s head.

“Go,” she said.

Adessa sprinted away, and in a moment, she was gone from the tower, leaving the sovrena alone in the ruling chamber.

Outside, Thora could hear the fires, shouts, and screams as the revolt continued. Even after destroying the pyramid and dissolving the shroud, they were not done.

Thora knew they were coming for her.