Shadowblood (Book Four of the Terrarch Chronicles)

  "I can see I'm dealing with a master sorcerer," said Xephan conversationally. "You know how to neutralise venom and very quickly."

  Rik switched his attention and try to heal the broken bones, fusing them back together. As he did so, he saw Xephan draw back his fist for the killing blow. There was nothing he could do to avoid it. Something flew over his shoulder and embedded itself in the Terrarch's eye. It was a small dagger and Rik realised that Tamara must have thrown it. At least she was still alive and Xephan was momentarily distracted.

  Rik continued to draw on his magical power, healing himself and enhancing his physical strength and speed. He tried to twist himself from Xephan's grip but the armour granted him too much strength. Xephan's hand came forward, much more slowly than Rik had expected, and he allowed himself to hope that Xephan was crippled. When the Terrarch's fingers closed on his flesh he realised he had made a terrible mistake.

  Xephan's touch was cold and leeched the strength from Rik. Now he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of thanatomancy from something closer to a human being than a Quan. It felt as if his soul was being sucked from his body and devoured. Unlike most people however, he had an advantage in this situation. He had been here before and he had survived.

  Rik reached out with his own right-hand and placed it on the rotting flesh of Xephan's chest armour. He invoked his own powers of thanatomancy and felt Xephan's shock as he made contact. The situation was different from his encounter with the Quan. For one thing it was far easier to make contact with Xephan and understand his thoughts. There was an odd moment of blurred vision when he seemed to be looking out of the Terrarch's eyes at his own face and seeing the odd, ecstatic, horrified expression there.

  He sensed the strength within Xephan and knew that any advantage he had gained from surprise was momentary. He needed to strike now to take advantage of it. He invoked the Quan's spell and began to imbibe Xephan's strength. He felt the strength draining from himself reverse its flow. The feeling of weakness left him and he felt the Terrarch begin to squirm with panic.

  Xephan had never experienced this before and did not know how to react. He thrashed around, letting go of Rik for a moment and letting his concentration slip. Rik pressed home his advantage, determined to make the most of this opportunity. Every moment he became stronger, every moment his foe became weaker.

  Memories began to flood into his mind, random images and feelings that he knew did not belong to him but which were part of another's life. He remembered a childhood in an old, rundown mansion in the backwoods of Sardea. He remembered parents full of bitter pride, telling him tales of ancestral glory and filling his head with the idea that it was his duty to regain his family's rightful place in the world.

  He recalled his initiation into the Brotherhood at the hands of Lord Malkior and he remembered his thirst for sorcerous knowledge and how he'd slaked it under the corrupt old wizard's tuition. He remembered the kisses and caresses of an Empress.

  He recalled sinister operations in which the products of the blackest magic were implanted in his body to make him strong. He remembered staring into the Black Mirror and how the thing within it had stared back into him. There was something in that memory that made Rik scream. He saw once again the vision of something ancient and dark and horrible.

  He tried to block out that knowledge even as he stripped Xephan of his power. He fought off any further contact with that corrupt thing. Energy, potent and cosmic filled him, flooding his awareness, letting him know what was happening to the Black Mirror. He knew now that Xephan shared his awareness and understood what Asea was doing. It was Xephan's turn to scream now. He desperately tried to fight what Rik was doing but he was too weak now and the advantage lay with the half-breed. Rik continued to drain him, memories and knowledge flooded in and then Xephan was extinguished. The Terrarch’s face was ashen and corpse like. It matched his armour. Rik looked down horrified and elated, wondering what he had done.

  A rotting body tumbled in through the window only to be beheaded by the Barbarian with a swift savage blow of his blade. The big man turned and rose, uncoiling his huge body so that all his weight was behind the punch that sent another walking corpse tumbling backwards through the window.

  The inside of the cottage was filled with powder-smoke. The battlecries of the men echoed around the interior. Some walking corpses had managed to get inside and were swarming over the soldiers. Whatever hope Sardec had in his heart died. Up till that moment he had managed to fool himself into thinking that they had some chance of survival but now he knew that whatever slim chance they had was gone.

  They could make their stand here or make it above, it did not matter. It was sheer native stubbornness that made him give the order to withdraw in fighting order up the stairs. The men began to throw themselves back, moving faster than the walking dead, scuttling up the stairs with their rifles held ready, bayonets fixed. Sardec and the Barbarian were the last up, stepping backwards up the old stairs. As they reached the head of it, the main doors gave way and the walking dead poured into the downstairs area, filing the room up, covering the floor and the bedrolls and the gear like the sea covering a beach.

  In a matter of moments the undead were at the foot of the stair and shambling and stumbling their way up it, their arms outstretched as if they sought to give their victims an obscene embrace. He stood shoulder to shoulder with the Barbarian and prepared to meet the first of the oncoming monsters. He exchanged feral crazed grins with the big man at once appalled and rather touched by the fact that the Northerner’s ugly face would be the last human face he would ever see. Who would have thought it mere months back?

  The walking dead came on, and Sardec braced himself.

  At the gateway a tear had appeared in the fabric of reality, a black gaping wound that seemed like an opening into the very mouth of hell. It swallowed the brilliance of Asea’s form like sand soaking up spilled water.

  The roar of charging men echoed down the corridor. Rik braced himself to meet them.

  “It is done,” said Asea. “Go get out. Get away from here.”

  A sense of terrible wrongness swept over Rik. Asea had done something to the monstrous energy of the Gate. It felt as if a thousand shadow-walkers were materialising all around him. He turned to look at her.

  “What have you done?” he shouted. Winds swirled through the confined space like a hurricane. A thunderous roar built up all around them. The walls of the Palace themselves had started to vibrate. Their attackers paused stunned.

  “I have shattered the binding spells on the Gate and broken all the spells connected to it. There was no time for anything more subtle or controlled.” Asea had to shout to make herself heard. “With all the power flowing through it, it will explode taking this entire Palace with it. Go! Get as far away from here as you possibly can. You might survive.”

  A look of horror passed over Tamara’s face when she understood what was happening but she also understood that now was not the time to argue about it.

  Rik came to a decision. He strode over and grabbed Asea. He was going to take her with him or die trying. He opened the way into the Shadow realm. In the presence of the out of control Gate, it was surprisingly easy. He reached out through the shadows, stretching his perception to the ultimate limit and then pushing them a bit further, using ever iota of the power he had stolen from Xephan. He knew that when the Gate exploded the results would be catastrophic. Anything close to it was going to die anyway.

  He reached as far as the harbour, saw the outlines of the ships. He beckoned to Tamara. “Take my hand. I can get us both out of here.”

  Tamara did not argue. She reached out for Rik. His fingers closed around hers and then he jumped into the Shadow realm. Behind him he sensed a titanic explosion.

  Gigantic waves of magical energy pulsed even through the paths of shadow, propelling him forward, weightless as a leaf.

  Sardec braced himself, prepared to die. There was only enough room at the head of
the stair for one person and he thought it might as well be him. The Barbarian would have edged him aside if he could but still had enough respect for his commanding officer not to lay hands on him. The wicked, glowing eyes of the undead looked up at him, filled with unnatural hunger. The leading creature paused for a moment but then the weight of his fellows behind him pushed him forward and up the stairs.

  This was it, Sardec thought. This was where it all ended.

  A change came over the walking dead. The light in their eyes flickered and for a moment went out. Sardec wondered what was going on. For a brief instant it appeared that they had lost all animation and were about to fall over. Perhaps the miracle he had prayed for had come.

  Then the light returned to the eyes of the walking dead and with it animation and mobility. Hope turned to ashes in Sardec's mouth. Then he noticed that there had been a significant change. The animated corpses no longer moved in unison. Something seemed to have gone wrong with the spell animating them. They began to turn on each other and claw at each other and rip each other to pieces. Some of them struggled to get away, others pushed on up the stairs.

  He was not exactly sure what had happened but he felt that there might just be a chance if they could hold out a little bit longer. He shouted encouragement to the Foragers. They could not see what he saw that they took courage from his tone. He stepped back a little from the head of the stairs so that there was more room and braced himself for the fight.

  From the rooftop above he had Weasel shout, "They’re turning on each other and some of them are running away."

  Sardec threw himself into the melee with renewed frenzy.

  Rick stood on the docks, looking back towards the Palace. He felt completely and utterly drained. Asea and Tamara stood nearby shivering and looking worse than he felt. At first, he thought that nothing was happening and that they had failed in their mission. He was really too tired to care.

  Then he saw that a halo of witch-fire played around the Palace, covering the cliffs and the massive structure in green shimmering light. The whole city was bathed in the eerie luminescence. The cliffs shook as if in the grip of an earthquake. Rocks tumbled. The mighty walls of the Palace shivered. A few seconds later, the earth itself began to quiver. From around the city, he could hear the sound of screams and shouts as the night-time revellers realised that something terrible was happening.

  Nearby some sailors turned and began to point at the supernatural illumination. A few, with more presence of mind than the others, began to run up the gang planks and on to their ships. Rik thought that was a very good idea but he did not have the energy to emulate them.

  The light around the Palace intensified. The rock of the cliffs glowed like magma flowing from a volcano. They shimmered and began to run like lava. The glow became worse and a wave of heat passed across the city, a hot desert wind striking in the Northern cold. Something hotter than the Sun burned in the heart of the cliffs, a thing so bright that it could make even a rock seem translucent.

  “What have you done?” Tamara asked. There was a note of utter horror in her voice. The demonic Sun continued to burn, and the great Palace atop the cliffs crumbled inward, as if the mouth of a volcano had opened underneath it. The heat intensified and the stone of the Palace liquefied and was blown upwards. It struck Rik then that everyone in the Palace was dead and that he had helped murder them.

  “We’ve got to get away from here,” said Asea.

  “I’ve taken us as far as I can,” said Rik. “I don’t have the energy to take us any further.”

  “There’s a small boat down there, get aboard.” Rik saw the vessel she had indicated and began to clamber down into it. Asea and Tamara joined him and began to pull up the anchor. He continued to watch the destruction of the Palace, certain that it was about to get much worse.

  The hot winds screeched around them and the earth shook like a waking titan. The screaming reached a new pitch of intensity and he could smell burning now. Most of the buildings near the Palace had caught fire.

  Asea had raised the sails and begun to chant a spell that seemed to guide the wind into them. The little boat started to move out of the harbour very quickly but he paid almost no attention to it. His eyes were drawn towards the final stages of the dreadful spectacle that was unfolding in the heart of Askander.

  The light burning beneath the Palace had become so bright as to be unbearable. All of the buildings had vanished, devoured by the new sun being born beneath them. There was a moment of absolute and utter stillness and silence, as if the night held its breath, and then a thunderous roar as if a hundred thousand barrels of gunpowder had exploded.

  The enormous cliff ripped asunder. Gigantic chunks of burning rock, each weighing tens of tons, were hurled into the sky and then arched down in fiery meteors of death, smashing into the buildings, and shattering them like eggs hit by a sledgehammer. The earth rippled in a huge wave that transferred its energy to the sea, and came rushing and roaring towards them. He thought for a moment that their little craft might be swamped, but somehow it managed to climb the wave and stay afloat, and Rik found himself looking back at the ruins of what had once been a mighty city, in the centre of which a new volcano burned, it’s light turning the night into something like a hideous, infernal day.

  "What happened, sir," Toadface asked. "Why are we still alive?"

  "I don't know," said Sardec. "But I'm glad we are."

  He turned around and hugged Rena. She did not flinch away from him even though he was covered in the black blood of the walking dead. She was just as surprised and delighted to be alive as he was. She kissed him and then again and then she echoed Toadface's question.

  Sardec considered the matter. All he could think of was that something had gone wrong with the spell animating the walking dead. They seem to have lost much of their energy and a good deal of the intelligence that had guided them. He had no idea whether this reprieve was temporary or permanent and at that moment, he was too tired to care. He looked around to see if anyone was badly wounded. Pteor and his wife were already bandaging wounds and making sure that everyone was all right. Sardec ordered the Foragers to begin clearing the corpses out of the ruined farmhouse. They would stay here the night and then move on in the morning.

  There was something in the air that told him that things had changed. He was not exactly sure what it was but he sensed that something was different and he hoped that the change was for the better. Maybe it was just the fact that he was still alive when he had expected to be dead. He told himself not to get his hopes up but his heart felt lighter than it had done in days and it seemed like the weight that had been pressing down on him was removed. The darkness of spirit that had oppressed him for months was gone almost as if an evil spell had been removed.

  Nonetheless, that did not absolve him from the responsibility of performing his duties. He made sure that sentries were posted and that the area was clear before he bedded down for the night.

  At dawn they would continue the journey Westwards. They had the cure for the plague and they needed to take it to where it would make a difference.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  Sardec walked into the main square of Redtower. It seemed like an age since he was last here although barely two years had passed. The place still looked more or less the same as it had been when he was billeted there. It seemed strange and absurd that it had changed so little when he had changed so much. The callow youth who had first visited Lady Asea in her Palace was gone as surely as if he had died in battle. Sardec was not sure that he would have approved of the Terrarch he had become but he did not really care. He was happy with himself and with his new life in a way that would have seemed simply impossible to the person he had once been.

  Rena was safely ensconced in their apartments near Asea’s Palace. He had told her that he loved her and he was happy with that. Some of his fellow officers did not approve, particularly the younger and the priggish such as he had once been
but most of the others did not care. They thought of him as the hero who had brought back the cure for the Great Plague and he suspected that many of them were simply jealous. That was the Terrarch way, after all. Some of his commanders might disapprove of the fact that he had made the knowledge common property but they could not come out and say that now. He had managed to preserve Talorea’s armies from disease and allowed them to keep in the field when it looked like they might be overcome.

  And of course everyone knew of his friendship with the Lady Asea, now once again the most powerful and respected adviser to the Queen of Talorea. Asea’s destruction of Askander had reminded everyone of exactly how powerful she was and once again she was feared and envied in equal measure. All the most powerful politicians of the realm now courted her good opinion and she ruled the Kingdom in all but name.

  Sardec was not at all surprised to see the Barbarian standing on guard by the gate. Asea had bought out all of the old veteran Foragers from military service and taken them into her own employ if they desired the position. All of them had taken her up on the offer even though she had settled a generous pension on them that would have allowed them to live independently without working.

  She had done the same for Marcie and her children. A fact that became evident when young Daved came out to take his horse. He was dressed as a groom and seemed happier and healthier than at any time on their long march back through Kharadrea. He seemed pleased to see Sardec which only made Sardec feel guilty when he thought of the boy’s father. He pushed that thought aside and walked further into the Palace across the courtyard. He had last been there before he and the Foragers had set out for the lost city of Achenar.