All Spell Breaks Loose (27 page)

The ogre-goblin came toward me and I swear the stone slabs beneath my feet trembled. I think the floor had the right idea. He extended one massively muscled arm that ended in an even larger hand, wrapped his fingers almost entirely around my waist and simply lifted me off the floor, carried me over to the tub, and set me down next to it. Keeping one hand tight around my waist, he bent, and I felt cold iron around one ankle, followed by the sound of a click of a lock. I looked down. One manacle was around my ankle; the other was around the clawed foot of the big tub. The ogre-goblin looked at the manacles, nodded twice, grunted once, and went back to stand behind Sandrina.

Understand that my mantra was always try to escape. But this time it didn’t go very well with one of my other rules: don’t be stupid. Putting up a fight against a mountain cleverly disguised as a Khrynsani guard would’ve taken stupid to a ridiculous level, and possibly gotten me bedecked with even more chains.

I cleared my throat of the lump that’d taken up residence there. “Thanks for the ride, big guy.”

Sandrina gathered her skirts and swished her way to the door. “I will see you at the altar this evening.” She opened the door and paused, smiling. “I have no doubt that you will give us a memorable performance.”

She and the guard left, closing the door behind them.

I dipped my fingers in the bathwater and treated myself to a small smile. I hatched my best plots, plans, and schemes while soaking in a hot bath.

Memorable, indeed.

A nice, hot bath gives a girl a better outlook on just about
anything—and helped inspire a possible way to ruin Sarad Nukpana’s evening without ending my own life.

The definition of brilliant didn’t contain the word complicated. The simpler an idea was, the better the odds for success. Best of all, magic was not involved, just manipulation. And if I still ended up taking a dagger to the heart tonight, I was going to do my damnedest to scuttle an evil master plan or two before I went.

As much as I would have loved to have Mychael and my friends—and all of those enraged mages and soldiers—there with me, there was a very real possibility that this would be my show, no backup, just me and mine. Well, considering that I hadn’t exactly been flush with time to figure out a way to free my magic, it’d just be me, with possibly some invaluable assistance from Princess Mirabai. Instead of magic, I would have to make do with my wits. I’d been scared out of them during the past few days—okay, to be honest, the past
three months—but I thought I had enough left to get the job done.

But before I could scuttle anyone’s plans, Sandrina came in to oversee my dressing. I assumed it was to make sure that the only thing I had under my sacrificial white gown was me, and nothing steely or pointy to use to stab or escape. By the time Sarad Nukpana’s goons came for me, I was bathed, perfumed, gowned, and determined to make this a memorable evening for everyone.

Judging from the fanciness of their robes and armor, my escort consisted of six high-level Khrynsani black mages and at least two dozen officers of the temple guard.

Things were looking up.

There was no way all of this attention was for me. My escort wasn’t because Nukpana was afraid of me magically cutting loose in his temple, or because he wanted to put on a show for his own people. My mages and guards, as well as those we passed, were moving fast and looking far too nervous for there not to be something happening in the temple that they didn’t have control over.

Like several angry, magically and militarily proficient groups hell-bent on destruction.

I couldn’t think of any other reason behind my absurdly large escort. If my friends attempted to rescue me, Sarad Nukpana wanted to be certain that it was only that—an attempt.

Imala had told me that there were miles and miles of corridors in the Khrynsani temple. And those were only the ones in use now; there were centuries of passages that ran below and even parallel to those. Corridors and rooms that only the highly initiated knew existed. In their respective positions as chief mage and director of the secret service, Tam and Imala had made it their business to know as much as the highest ranked Khrynsani priest.

Mychael and my friends hadn’t been captured, and that had Sarad Nukpana worried.

That was some of the best news I’d gotten since we dived through that mirror.

We turned down a corridor easily twice as wide as the one we’d just been in. Every ten feet or so was a temple guard in ceremonial armor standing at unblinking attention, but that didn’t mean they weren’t watching. As I passed, black eyes glittered from the depths of their burnished helmets, tracking me as I was led past, reminding me of wolves who’d gone too long between meals. In addition to the usual swords and assortment of daggers, each held a tall pike with a razor-sharp hooked blade at the top. Anyone attempting to come down this corridor uninvited would find themselves impaled and/or slashed to ribbons before they’d managed to get a quarter of the way.

A pair of temple guards opened the rather plain double doors at the end of the corridor. It was a large room, dimly lit with lightglobes, with black-and-white marble floors. A few ornate chairs sat in a semicircle around the first thing I’d seen when they opened the doors. A white marble pillar rose from the floor in the exact center of the room—a pillar with a single iron hook mounted near the top. I didn’t need two guesses to know that was where I was going. The two biggest guards grabbed my upper arms and all but carried me to the pillar, where the mage wearing the fanciest robe looped the chain linking my manacles to the hook over my head. Then he murmured a couple of words that sent chills up the back of my neck as the hook glowed red and bent in on itself, embedding its open end into the marble. So much for waiting until they were gone and then jumping up until I unhooked myself.

Then they all left, closing and locking the door behind them, leaving me alone, though I suspected not for long.

But right now I was alone. Don’t waste it, Raine. Calm yourself and keep thinking. If you panic, you can’t think; and if you can’t think, you’re dead.

I took a deep breath and let it out. I flexed my shoulders
and tried to relax them as much as possible, considering my hands were chained over my head. Though it could have been all kinds of worse; at least my feet were touching the floor. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. There was no way my fear was going away, but I needed to keep it from turning into mindless terror. Fear wasn’t a bad thing; it was all in how I used it, and didn’t let it use me. It was amazing how much space fear took up in your head.

Yes, I was chained and likely to remain so. There was a lot I could do in my position. I pulled on the chain linking me to the pillar. Nothing. Well, not in the position I was in
now
, but I wouldn’t be hanging here forever. It had to be getting close to sundown, and once the moon rose, Sarad Nukpana would want to start his show. I was sure he had it planned down to the second, and he would stay on schedule or heads would literally roll.

A door opened somewhere to my left. I twisted my head to see, but the hook and pillar did a fine job of keeping me from moving much.

“Patience, Raine,” Sarad Nukpana murmured, the click of his boots a slow and steady cadence on the marble floor, getting closer. “I waited decades to get my hands on the Saghred; surely you can wait a few seconds to see me. I promise it will be worth it.”

The goblin walked around until he was in front of me then stopped.

I’ll admit it; I stared.

“I understand that it’s tradition for a groom to look his absolute best for his blushing bride.” His dark eyes glittered. “What do you think?”

Sarad Nukpana was wearing formfitting trousers of black suede with matching boots and nothing else. His hair was still wet and glistening from a bath and fell nearly to his waist. Any breathing female with working eyes would think Sarad Nukpana was, quite frankly, perfect.

But what made me stare was that there was no sign that only a few hours before, Nukpana had taken a crossbow bolt in the shoulder. It hadn’t been from a dart-spitter like the one Tam had given me; this weapon had been powerful enough to send a bolt completely through Sathrik Mal’Salin and tack the guard behind him to a wall. Sarad Nukpana’s shoulder didn’t even have a pucker to show where the bolt had entered. It should have shattered his shoulder blade, and it probably had.

I gulped. I couldn’t help it. “The Saghred does good work.”

The goblin walked toward me until mere inches separated us. “I wanted to show you what the stone can do for someone who is willing to work in partnership with it. What you see is a wedding gift from the Saghred. The stone doesn’t bite the hand that feeds it.” He held up what should have been horribly burned and scarred hands. They were just as smooth and perfect as his shoulder. “It heals them.” His smile was slow and seductive. “Do you like what you see, Raine?”

“You’re a corpse. Reanimated, but still a corpse.”

“I am beyond life, and Death can never claim me.”

“Your new ‘allies’ are sure to line up and give it a try, and one of them is bound to get lucky eventually. I’d like to see you flipping off Death when you wake up one morning and find your head on the pillow next to you.”

He was close enough that I could smell the soap that had just been on his skin.

“If you were my bride,” he whispered, “would you be pleased?” He reached out one hand—one flawless and unburned hand—and ran the tips of his fingers down the length of my face and throat. I jumped as if shocked. His smile broadened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I tried to swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “I’m just a sacrifice, a sideshow to entertain your lackeys and wedding guests, and I can assure you, I couldn’t care less how you look.”

“Oh, yes, concerning that. There is something you should probably know. I won’t be staining that lovely gown of yours quite yet with your blood. However, it will still serve a valuable purpose tonight in ensuring that all of my new subjects see you chained to the Saghred’s pedestal next to the altar.”

I stood frozen. Chained to the Saghred’s pedestal? “You’re not sacrificing me tonight?”

“Not for some time. Does that please you, too?”

“You tell me.”

“I understand that the Saghred has fed through you once before. Since it was only a few days ago, no doubt you remember the specifics.”

I had to force the words out past the rising panic knotting in my chest. “I vaguely recall.”

“I imagine there was excruciating pain, the sensation of a violated and murdered soul being pulled inside of you, and then ripped through you into the Saghred.” Nukpana wrapped his hand around my throat, stroking, caressing. “I understand that when this happened, you screamed until you could scream no longer. And that was but one soul being pulled through you.” He sighed with exaggerated disappointment. “Unfortunately, with the Saghred in its rightful place, the blood from the sacrifices will flow down to the stone’s pedestal of honor, eliminating that exquisite communion between you, the sacrifice, and the Saghred.” The goblin’s fingers lightly slid down to stop just above my breasts—exactly where the Saghred had pulled that elf mage’s soul into me. With one finger, Nukpana leisurely traced a tiny circle in that spot. “However, while it healed me last night, the stone shared with me how that communion can be reestablished and even extended to include the agonies of the souls once they’re trapped inside.”

With dawning horror, I knew what Sarad Nukpana was going to do to me. I stared at him, trying to remember to breathe. It would be worse than death, worse than being sacrificed and being taken inside the Saghred. I would rather
die. Literally. After only a few sacrifices, I’d probably be begging for my own death—if I was still capable of speech.

“Other than as a symbol of my power, the Saghred is of no value to me until it is fully fed,” Nukpana was saying, though I only half heard him. “What you said is true. There will be more than a few powerful individuals who will plot my death; they want the throne and the Saghred’s strength for themselves. So you see my reasoning. I cannot take the risk of being, shall we say… distracted, by being the Saghred’s bond servant at this time. I need for my sanity to be intact.” He smiled. “You’re going to be more useful to me than I ever thought possible.”

I would be taking the Saghred’s sacrifices. Dozens, hundreds of murdered souls pulled into and through me. I would feel every death, every stab and slash of Sarad Nukpana’s sacrificial dagger. I pushed down a whimper. It would be as many deaths as it took to bring the Saghred to its full power.

I would feel each and every one of them. During their murders and afterward as they realized they were trapped forever inside of the stone, enduring years of terror and despair that lengthened into centuries, knowing that they would never be free, never truly die, slowly going mad, eventually fading into mindless wraiths.

I would experience and share their suffering, but be powerless to help.

“There’s no need for me to be in full possession and control of the stone until it has attained its full strength.” His voice became soft, an intimate whisper. “It’s no fun to completely control something—or someone—unless you can use it for your enjoyment. To restore the Saghred to its full power will require thousands of souls. Unfortunately, the process of those souls being dragged through you… Let’s just say that raving insanity won’t be very attractive on you.”

I expected one of two things to happen to me tonight: I would escape and live, or not escape and die. I was hoping for one, but prepared for the other. I was not prepared to live
and linger, feeling death time and time again, but never dying myself, being released from an endless cycle of pain and insanity only when Sarad Nukpana decided that I had suffered enough.

To him, I would never suffer enough.

I could start screaming right now, which was what I really wanted to do, or I could change the topic from me dying a thousand deaths to Nukpana living forever. I wasn’t looking to reap a harvest; I just wanted to plant a few seeds of doubt and get the goblin’s hands off of me—and get my thoughts away from my impending future.