Rau took in her shocked expression with a grin. “He has a pathetically weak
mind.”
“He is not Shraal. The curse is ours alone. How can you blame him for not
being able to bear it?”
“What is this fascination of yours with the weak and pitiful? Where does it
come from?”
“Yet another useless concept.”
Rau smiled, and for a moment she thought she might have won him over.
“Let him go.” The words were barely a whisper, a wish.
The Prince's head came up sharply. “Oh no, Your Majesty, I don't think
so.”
“He's nothing to you. As you say, he's no match for your power.”
“To do that would be to give you everything. And I intend to take, not
give.”
All of a sudden she had a terrible notion of what Rau meant. “No--”
Within the golden bubble Nhaille turned toward them, as if he looked directly
into Rau's sapphire gaze. The fingers that gripped the Power Stone twitched. His
eyes widened, then shut tightly. Slowly, his hand began to rise.
Veins stood out against his forehead. Nhaille's traitorous arm continued to
rise, up past his belt, past his breast, until he was staring in horror at the
pointed end poised before his unprotected face.
His mouth tightened. His eyes flickered open. The hand gripping the amber
trembled. It inched even further toward his right eye.
“Stop it! It's me you want, not him.”
A dark tide of dead soldiers surged around Nhaille, cutting off his route of
escape. Under Rau's control, she realized, Nhaille's command severed. Even
control of his own body was lost to him.
“You misunderstand,” Rau said in a tone that was almost jovial. “I want it
all.”
“You have it all, Rau. Stop this!”
“It's not enough. I want everything. The territory, the glory, the suffering,
the misery. All of it will be mine.”
A mistake. All of it. Going after the Sword. Coming to Hael. There was no
hope for Rau. Rationality, mercy were beyond him. There was only one option
left. To kill him.
And if she did, the soul of a madman would rest in her mind forever.
Within the Amber, the Power Stone hovered fractions of an inch from Nhaille's
right eye. His knuckles whitened as he struggled to stop its progress.
“No!”
She lunged forward, bringing the Sword down in a shining arc.
Rau brought his own up in challenge. No armor, so secure was he was in his
power. He put his body between her and the Amber.
Riordan swung again, meeting the steel of Rau's sword. Could he control
Nhaille while he was occupied? She cast a furtive glance at the depths of the
Amber.
That glance nearly cost her life.
She whirled away from the downward stroke of his sword. Dying was not an
option. She had no desire to join the rest of her family in the ranks of Rau's
dead.
Steel glanced off her helm. Her ears popped. The impact knocked her off
balance.
Falling, she did catch a glimpse of Nhaille staring into the point of the
Power Stone poised before his right eye.
Rau's sword crashed into the stone beside her head, sending a shower of stone
fragments into her eyes. She rolled away, momentarily blinded. Riordan flung her
mind outward through the Sword, tracking Rau by the dark glimmer of his mind
against the Amber's brilliance. She swung, into the darkness, felt the impact,
heard Rau's sudden cry of pain followed by a string of curses.
Riordan blinked, swung again.
He lunged after her. She darted away, leaving a swipe of singing crystal in
her wake. Her aim swung wide, missing him. In that instant, she realized her
mistake.
Wrong target. Pursuing Rau was a waste of time. Without the Amber to bolster
him, he'd be powerless.
Rau tensed, poised for another assault.
She feinted left, pretending to swing at him again. He darted forward to meet
her. But in the last second, she swung wide. The Sword recognized the target,
rushed to meet it, kindred sorceries drawn together like magnets.
“No!”
The Prince flung himself between the Sword and the Amber.
Riordan hauled backward on the Sword, desperately trying to abort the swing.
But the Sword, called by its sister weapon, descended like a shooting star
toward the Amber.
Cleaving instead into the body of the man plastered against it.
Not even the resistance of armor to stop it, the crystal blade clove neatly
through the fine cloth of his shirt and the equally poor resistance of flesh.
She felt the scrape of bone separating. His scream of pain and terror jarred her
nerves. Blood splashed in a crimson wave up over the Amber, splattering her
face.
No! Nuurah please! Not this!
In horror she watched Rau's head tumble from his shoulders to bounce once
before it came to rest on the marble floor. Sapphire eyes stared up into hers,
accusing her, damning her. The mouth moved to curse her, even now. Thrown off
balance, his body teetered on its heels, then crashed to the floor.
The Sword, interested now only in this new treat, swiveled slowly toward the
pieces of what had been Prince Doan-Rau of Hael.
His body shimmered. She tensed, knowing what was coming and powerless to
prevent it. His torso slid along the floor, pulled by Shraal sorcery toward the
Sword. She felt the burst of energy as it entered the Sword and steeled herself
for the next blow.
Dragged by the tendrils of its long, brown hair, Rau's head inched toward the
Sword. Jewel eyes accused her still.
Doan-Rau's soul tore into her body. Riordan flung her inner defenses against
the onslaught and failed. Like a rain of needles, his mind pierced hers. She
staggered back against the stone wall, panting, fighting desperately for control
of her own thoughts.
Laughter shattered her mind.
Well, said Rau from inside her head. An interesting predicament, Your
Majesty.
She tried to shut her mind against his intrusion and found she couldn't.
And then again, it still might work. She felt the devious gears of Rau's mind
turning within her own. Now that we are one, perhaps war is not necessary. We
could rule together.
Rule together with Doan-Rau lodged forever in her mind, and her face to the
world, carrying out his destruction.
Think of it, Riordan, Rau hissed. Think of what we could accomplish
together.
She didn't need to think about it, Rau's foul thoughts were embedded in her
mind. Whatever happened, she had to end it now, even it if meant her own death.
Even if it meant never seeing Nhaille again.
How touching, Rau scoffed. Did you really think killing me would solve the
problem?
Rau's will penetrated hers. An intrusion so swift, she had no time to fight
against it.
To her horror, Riordan felt her legs moving toward the Amber. She poured the
sum of her consciousness into stopping their forward motion. To no avail.
Her fingers loosened. The Sword of Zal-Azaar clattered to the floor.
Slowly, Riordan reached out and placed her hands against the Amber.
Sweat ran in hot rivulets down Riordan's neck. Palms flattened against the
Amber's warm surface, her face pressed against it, she had no choice but to peer
helplessly into its swirling depths.
Like chess pieces frozen in amber, the battle paused. The dead waited, axes
poised as if the chain of command had suddenly snapped, leaving them without
orders. She searched for Nhaille, losing his image in the Amber's muddy
depths.
Rau's will snapped closed about her like a fist, squeezing her own desires
from her mind. Images of the battle vanished, leaving her blind. Summoning her
strength, she tried to lever herself away from the Master Stone to snatch up the
Sword of Zal-Azaar which lay several feet away, abandoned. Her fingers twitched
against the Amber's smooth warm surface, but she couldn't pry a single one of
them from Rau's control.
Rau's thoughts spun like a vortex in her mind. Moving against the current was
like trying to swim through a sea of knives. His will pierced hers in a of
myriad places, slicing away at her thoughts.
Sounds of the battle below them retreated in the fog of Rau's will. She felt
him reach out with her mind, her hands. Riordan watched in horror as she
commanded the army of the dead to turn against Kanarek.
Nuurah, help me! she thought. It is my face they will put to Kanarek's
downfall. My face to Rau's destruction!
Riordan pictured herself at the front of Rau's army of the dead, leaving a
trail of ruin in her wake. It would be written in the history books that
Kanarek's Queen had gone suddenly mad and turned upon her own countrymen.
Ah, the irony is almost too beautiful. Rau's mocking voice boomed inside her
thoughts.
Rau's will rushed out into the Amber, drowning hers in the tide of his
thoughts. The dead took up their axes and turned on the meager leagues of
Kanarekii warriors.
Images changed as Rau searched for new sport. And suddenly Nhaille claimed
the center of her vision. Oblivious to the fighting around him, he stared,
mesmerized, at the tip of the Amber stake he held in his fist. Even through the
Amber's swirling depths, she could see his muscles shake as he tried in vain to
move the point from his face. Inches now from his eye, he brought the point
closer.
Separated by the writhing bodies of the dead, she saw Penden shouting at him,
desperately trying to gain Nhaille's attention as he fought his way through the
press to Nhaille's side. But the dead, fortified by Rau's will, began fighting
with renewed vigor. A blockade of axes and fighting dead bodies barred Penden's
way.
Horrified, Riordan watched as the tip of that Amber spike moved toward
Nhaille's right eye. The Captain was weakening quickly, the strain of resisting
Rau's command leeching away the small reserve of his strength. At another time,
Nhaille might have been able to resist Rau's onslaught, but battle wounds,
compounded by a long march, took their toll. Even through the image in the
Amber's depths, Riordan could tell he’d reached the last of his strength. In
seconds Rau would win. And Nhaille would join the army of the dead.
“No!” Riordan ground out the word through clenched teeth. She'd kill herself
before she let that happen. She'd run the blade of Zal-Azaar across her own
throat before she gave Rau the victory. Except that the Sword lay where she'd
dropped it, and she could not pry her hands from the Amber to break the chain of
Rau's command.
Oh no, Your Majesty, came the echo of Rau's harsh laughter. I'd never let you
do that. You are to be the vessel of my revenge.
Hatred throbbed within her, a low, bass note. Riordan flung the sum of her
anger at Rau's consciousness.
Too late she realized her mistake.
Rau absorbed her hatred like a sponge, expanding until he filled her mind.
She gasped as his control over her tightened. Through the Amber she felt Rau
reach out to deal Nhaille the final blow.
Nhaille! Dragging her consciousness away from the battle with Rau, she
touched Nhaille's mind. Stop fighting him! Join with me!
Understanding dawned even as she sent Nhaille her thoughts. Rau would draw
strength from her hatred, just as the Sword could use her hatred and loneliness
against her. She'd told Nhaille that she had to conquer her inner demons before
she could wield the Sword. She asked his help to do it and they had become
lovers.
Distantly, she felt Rau's malice still chanting on the periphery of her mind,
urging her to join him. Riordan ignored the seductive call of his hatred.
Within the web of the Amber's control, she felt Nhaille's weakening
constitution link with hers. Drawing out his love for her, his dedication to
Kanarek, she wrapped herself in it and drove it like a missile into the wall of
Rau's control.
Rau faltered under the sudden change in strategy, floundering for more of the
hatred that had sustained him. Riordan struck quickly. With a massive leverage
of will, she shoved his mind aside.
Beneath her hand, the Amber glowed bright gold. Her will flowed down the
invisible current, out into the minds of the dead. Doing so, she lost contact
with Nhaille. Fear for his safety clutched at her heart, but she couldn't falter
now, couldn't spare a thought for anything other than marshaling the sea of dead
minds against the threat of Hael. From far away she heard the clatter of boots
in the hallway beyond.
With the tide of battle turning against them, it wouldn't be long before Hael
turned to the Amber for help.
She levered herself away from the Amber long enough to snatch up the Sword.
The feel of cool crystal against her hand was reassuring. Riordan sent the sum
of her will out into the Amber, searching for Nhaille's consciousness.
Minds howled at her within the maelstrom of the Amber. She sent a mental
shout after him. As if from a great distance, she heard his weak reply. Relief
flooded her, then vanished as a multitude of feet clattered down the hallway
outside.
Nhaille, have Penden send some men to the tower! I need help up here,
now!
Still, she couldn't be certain he'd heard her, or that there'd be enough
Kanarekii left standing to assist the Queen. Having no other choice, Riordan
sent her urgent cry out through the Amber.
And called the dead toward her.
#
With a harsh curse, Nhaille thrust the point of the Amber dagger away from
his face. Memories of the chiseled point inching closer to his eye were burned
into his mind.
He could still feel his own muscles tensing to run the stake into his brain.
He remembered the Amber piercing the fringe of his eyelashes, stitches bursting
in his wounded shoulder as he threw the last of his strength into turning the
blade away.
Then, like a rope gone suddenly slack, Rau's will had vanished. And it was
Riordan screaming in his mind that he should stop.
Hot blood trickled into his armpit. Abused muscles protested, torn flesh sang
with pain. He sagged against Stormback.
“Captain!” Penden grasped his shoulder and shook him hard, sending another
red-hot bolt of pain down his arm.
“I'm all right,” he said, which was a lie. The world spun precariously about
him, threatening to send him tumbling from Stormback's saddle. Beneath his
armor, blood matted the front of his shirt. He tried to see past the red haze of
pain, tried to organize the jumble of thoughts in his mind.
He glanced at the Power Stone still clutched in his hand. A shudder worked
its way down his spine. Every ounce of sanity urged him to toss the thing away.
But it was his only link with Riordan. And he had to know whether she'd
succeeded, or.…
Nhaille didn't want to contemplate the alternatives. Dragging in an unsteady
breath, he felt with the tentative fringes of his consciousness into the
Amber.
Confusion reigned over the ranks of the dead. The insistent call for order
rippled through the lines. Around him, he watched the dead army take up their
weapons and turn against Hael.
So it was Riordan in control. But her mastery of the dead was tenuous. He
felt the sharp edge of her panic, read her mental call for help. But there was
an uncharacteristic darkness to her thoughts that he recognized immediately.
Doan-Rau. Suddenly, he understood. She'd done what he'd warned her against,
what he'd prevented her from doing in the Sword's chamber. She'd killed
Doan-Rau. The Prince's consciousness was now lodged in her soul.
“Nuurah have mercy!” he groaned.
To which Penden stared back at him blankly.
“Dispatch every available man to the tower,” he ordered, finding his voice.
“Her Majesty is in danger!”
#
Two powerful minds tore at Bevan's consciousness. He staggered, losing his
grip on the axe he was about to bury in a Kanarekii warrior's head. With a
shriek of disgust, the Kanrekii threw him off. He landed awkwardly in a heap on
the ground.
Another presence seized him, desperately trying to manhandle his dying mind
into submission. Then just as swiftly, it was gone, replaced by that gentler
mind, the one that promised him salvation. Endless sleep.
Bevan staggered awkwardly to his feet and raised his axe to take down the
Haelian warrior next to him. Haelian soldiers gazed up at the palace, sensing
that unseen events had changed the course of the war. Confusion turned to
dismay, dismay to horror as they found themselves on the losing side.
Terror sent them running back through the palace doors, to the last bastion
of Haelian power.
The mind's hold on the dead intensified with urgency. DANGER! it warned. HELP
ME! THEN YOU CAN REST.
Insubstantial dead minds tumbled like falling leaves sucked into the vacuum.
The ranks of the dead flowed up the palace steps, toward Riordan-Khun-Caryn and
the promise of rest.
#
Regulation boots thundered on the stone floor outside. The heavy door bulged
on its hinges, then splintered in a rain of wooden stakes. Haelian soldiers
poured over the threshold, coming to an abrupt halt as they found the room
vacant of all except the silver haired woman in the stolen Haelian uniform.
Riordan set her back against the Amber, maintaining the contact Rau so
desperately wanted her to lose. She drew the Sword, a silver flash in the
Amber's golden light.
“Stop where you are, or you'll join your Prince in Al-Gomar.” Her words
bounced off the stone walls.
Soldiers glanced at the crystal blade, then about the conspicuously empty
chamber. One of them detached himself from the rest. Their Captain, she
guessed.
“You cannot hope to hold the Amber. There are many more of us than you.”
“You are mistaken,” Riordan said. “Now that I command both Shraal weapons and
the army of the dead, there are many more of us than you.”
The soldier took a step toward her. Crystal flashed between them. His scream
ricocheted off the stone. His fellows gaped in horror as the body shimmered and
disappeared into the Sword. Riordan braced herself for the shock of his
consciousness lodging inside her mind.
Join me, she heard Rau's mental whisper to his fallen countryman. With
dismay, she felt this new soul link with Rau's.
Suddenly her hands were not her own. The Sword twisted back upon its arc,
aiming for her own neck. Eyes widening, Riordan watched the crystal blade
descend. Muscles straining, she desperately tried to abort the swing, but it
sailed toward her neck, carried by her own arms.
Nhaille! Strengthened by worry for him, her thoughts leapt to her Captain.
From out of the Amber's golden storm she heard his weak answer, felt the ember
of his strength merge with hers. Enough to throw off Rau's swing, enough to
break the Prince's concentration if only for a second.
The crystal blade sliced into the stone floor. She brought it up swiftly and
swung again at the line of Haelian soldiers facing her. Her own will surged
within her mind, trapping Rau in a tiny compartment and nailing him there with
the force of her anger.
Riordan felt for Nhaille's consciousness, found him busy commanding Kanarekii
soldiers hacking their way through Haelian lines in the lower halls of the
palace.
Haelian warriors recovered themselves and surged forward. She took down the
front line with a mighty slice. Their terror churned in her mind. Riordan kept
her concentration focused on sweeping a wide arc to keep them from seizing her
and pulling her away from the Amber. She shot another desperate mental plea to
the dead.
Then in the hallway she heard it, the flat moans of the dead army. Cadavers
gushed through the doorway in a rancid wave.
Kanarekii the most tattered, uniforms barely recognizable, skin withering and
shrinking from the bone already showing through exposed body parts. Kholeran,
the recent dead in stained uniforms and civilian clothes, their stench
unbearable. Haelians the freshly dead, stained with their own blood and the
blood of fallen Kanarekii.
Dead soldiers lumbered to do her bidding. She lashed out with the Sword,
sending the Haelians skittering backward. No more came to their rescue. With the
dead army under her command, it seemed all hands were busy holding off Kanarek
in the lower halls.
Footsteps thudded up the staircase. Riordan reached out again with her
consciousness, hauling more of the dead toward the Amber's sanctuary, cutting
down the Haelians that stood in their way. Kanarekii soldiers marched in their
wake to create more of the dead army from their fallen Haelian enemies.
Screams rebounded off the stone hallways. The Haelians in the chamber rushed
to deal with this new challenge.
And found the doorway blocked by another wall of cadavers bearing swords.
Fearing now for their own lives, Haelian soldiers fell upon them, hacking
viciously into their midst. Limbs tumbled to the ground with wet, bloodless
thuds. But no matter how many dead they immobilized, there were more behind them
to take their place. Injured dead left to writhe upon the floor continued their
assault with nails and teeth. Riordan watched with grim satisfaction as another
of Rau's men went down under a mass of clutching hands. In her mind Rau was
strangely silent.