Bones of the Empire (78 page)

Feanne’s expression hardened immediately, but she grabbed Raeln’s wrist and pushed him back toward the steps. “Stay by the stairs. This is between Dorralt and I now. My family has been threatened. I want no one else entering this cavern.”

“And so we arrive at an impasse,” Dorralt muttered, turning his attention back to Estin. “Care to talk her out of the stupidity I assume she will attempt next?”

Estin smiled and looked past Dorralt, knowing things were about to get ugly, as stealthy shapes slipped along the wall to either side. A good death meant dying for what he believed in, for his family and friends. This would be an exceptional death if he had seen those figures in the shadows properly. One of them should not have been walking around, but Estin was well past questioning anything.

“No. I’ll let her do whatever she wants,” he managed to choke out, smiling. “You’re going to die, Dorralt. With or without me, she will kill you.”

“Lost”

The explosion of raw energy from the ghost-wolf’s cry shattered the magical barrier around Dorralt, knocking Raeln and the others back a few steps. Before he had even regained his balance, let alone thought about what to do next, Feanne slammed into Dorralt’s side. She caused him to stumble enough that he narrowly missed crushing Estin’s skull with his fist.

Furious at himself for faltering, Raeln ran for Dorralt, while Estin fell to the ground and scurried away, trying to get out from underfoot. Dorralt shouted something at Estin, but Raeln ignored it. He reached Dorralt as he raised his hand high, the air condensing into white-hot magic around his fingers. He aimed another punch at Feanne’s head as she was trying to get her feet under herself.

Grabbing Dorralt, Raeln lifted him off the ground and threw him against the nearest pillar, disrupting his spell and drawing his attention away from Feanne. With the strength Raeln had come to expect from the Turessians, Dorralt shoved Mairlee aside as though she were nothing greater than anyone else in the courtyard. Then he ran at Raeln and drove him back into the wall of the courtyard.

“Still playing games as the tough leader, Raeln?” Dorralt asked, motioning toward Yoska, who had tried to rush him. The gypsy choked and fell, clutching at his throat. “I saw what you did to Liris. Did you think you would be given a chance to do the same to me? I will not be made a mockery of by a dog. Werewolf blood is not pure enough to harm me.”

Raeln kicked out with his right leg, buckling Dorralt’s knee. Before Dorralt could regain his footing, Raeln threw himself onto the ground and swept both of Dorralt’s legs with his own. Dorralt fell with a pained grunt. Mairlee and Feanne lashed out at him, trying to intercede between him and Raeln.

Twisting on the ground to avoid the Feanne’s claws and Mairlee’s magically flaming fists, Dorralt tried to point at Raeln, only to have his aim thrown off by Feanne. A flicker of dark energy flew past Raeln and struck Yoska, who had just managed to get to his feet. Convulsing as blood ran from his nose and ears, Yoska dropped like a stone.

Snarling, Dorralt swept aside the two women and sat up. “That spell was aimed for you. A shame, really. Until his heart stops, I cannot cast it again. That bought you seconds, Raeln.”

Rolling to his feet, Raeln punched Dorralt in the face, though Dorralt did not budge and Raeln’s hand went numb. He quickly switched to his other hand, slashing Dorralt’s face with his claws. The wound sizzled and blackened, but Dorralt simply glared at him, apparently unconcerned.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Dorralt said. Magic wrapped itself around Raeln and yanked him away from Dorralt. At the same time, he could see everyone else in the courtyard hurled backward. Dorralt got slowly to his feet and touched the ragged cuts on his cheek that had not yet healed. “Clever dog for figuring that out, not that it matters. I suppose this means it’s time to kill you all before the mists arrive.”

Nearby, Feanne somehow managed to free herself of the magical bonds and dropped to her hands and knees. With a snarl, she began changing, her body shifting rapidly and growing. Her eyes flared bright green as she bared her teeth.

“No,” Dorralt said, looking over at Feanne. Abruptly, her change halted and began to reverse. Feanne screamed as she curled into a ball. “My brother was not the only one to figure out how to prevent that. Without the power of the Miharon behind you, I doubt you have any chance of that working. Your master took that power back.”

Dorralt raised his hand and closed his eyes with a self-satisfied smirk, pointing at Feanne with what Raeln assumed to be another deadly spell’s preparation. Then, blinking, he stared up at his hand.

All around the courtyard, the binding magic began to collapse. Turess, Mairlee, and even Alafa—who Raeln had not realized had managed to slip into the courtyard—pulled free. Raeln pushed past the invisible ropes holding him. Even Yoska sat up, wiping blood away from his face as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Something wrong?” Mairlee asked as she got up, brushing her long grey hair out of her face. “Perhaps you forgot that even you have limits. Your minions seem to be getting a little tired on the battlefield. There are so few of them, thanks to the Miharon.”

Leaping for Dorralt, Raeln managed to punch the side of his head with one hand and claw his ribs with the other. Dorralt winced and backhanded Raeln, knocking him onto his back. Before Raeln could roll to his feet, Dorralt slid him across the courtyard with a flick of his wrist, putting twenty feet or more between them.

Dorralt sighed as he created magical flames in his hand, examining the smoking wound on his side from Raeln’s blood-covered claws. “Tired, yes, but they have far more to spare. There are, after all, almost a hundred of them and only a few of you here. I will manage.”

“Now!” Mairlee shouted.

Immediately Feanne rolled to her knees and howled. A second later, Mairlee added her own shrill cry, and the shadowy Miharon let out his own howl. The sounds echoed through the temple, quickly answered by animal cries in the distance.

Dorralt laughed for a moment before his eyes went distant. He let his arm drop and the flames fade away. “You clever bitches. A simultaneous attack on all of my children in the region. You mean to starve me of magic?”

Laughing softly, Mairlee walked across the courtyard. The others closed in, forming a tight circle around Dorralt. Raeln got off the ground and then remained still, trying not to draw Dorralt’s attention from Mairlee. Dorralt gestured at her, but Mairlee walked right through the magic as though it were no more than a breeze.

“Use your magic all you want,” she said. “Ilarra found your weakness, though she didn’t know it. You are bonded to your children as surely as she was to Raeln. Each of them aides you, while their deaths merely deprive you of power. For you, power is life. You can pull magic to yourself and let your children die. Each of them that crumbles will weaken the whole. Should you leave the magic with them, you cannot hope to stand against me. You have no good option left, Dorralt. Who is a match for a dragon now?”

Before Mairlee reached him, Dorralt looked between the temple’s pillars, where the mist whirlwinds had gotten far closer. Raeln was willing to bet they were tearing at the outer parts of the temple. As he watched, a few black stones like those used in the temple’s construction flew up into the mists, bursting into flame as they went. He swore he saw a few human-sized bodies fly away as well, but he tried not to think about that.

“You are absolutely correct, dragon,” Dorralt said, turning to face Mairlee. He bowed graciously as he backed away, keeping some distance from Feanne, Mairlee, and Raeln. His path took him more toward Turess and Alafa, who had done the least to slow him. With them, Raeln could see Yoska, who appeared to be recovering, sitting up and searching for his dropped weapons. “Who is?”

With a rush of wind, a shadow near Dorralt formed into the shape of a man and stepped between Mairlee and Dorralt. It hissed and shifted, intercepting Raeln as he inched closer to Dorralt’s side. The ghostly figure appeared to be a Turessian. His tattoos glowed faintly as he lifted his hands to do battle with Mairlee using magic, keeping his gaze on Raeln.

“I would like you to meet Oramain,” Dorralt announced. “I believe Estin has already met him, as has my brother. The rest of you are in for an interesting surprise. After On’esquin, he was the next I created. He gained immortality even before I did.”

Mairlee roared at Oramain, unleashing a torrent of flames from her fingertips. The flames passed harmlessly through him, and he sent bolts of lightning back at her, forcing her to give up on her spell to deflect the blast. The two let their spells fade, and Mairlee prepared another. Oramain lashed out at her with tendrils of darkness from his fingers, which burned her forearm badly, forcing her to retreat several steps as he advanced.

“Oramain,” Dorralt said, looking over and smiling at Raeln, “do me a favor and bring back some fallen allies. I want to see this courtyard filled with familiar faces. Make sure the wolf has someone to play with.”

Letting the black tendrils of magic fade, Oramain floated closer to Dorralt and looked over the bloodied and wounded people that filled the courtyard, lingering on Raeln. He slowly turned to study Feanne, and Raeln swore the ghost’s shoulders dropped. For her part, Feanne did not seem to notice. She struggled to catch her breath, her attention locked on Dorralt.

Raeln held his position, waiting to see what would come next. He doubted he could do much to a ghost. He frantically glanced toward Mairlee, who was hugging her burned arm to her side and arguing quietly with Turess at the edge of the courtyard. Alafa tugged at Yoska, trying to help him up.

“Anyone in particular?” Oramain asked breathily. He shifted to watch Raeln, cocking his head slightly.

“No. Surprise me,” Dorralt insisted. “Make it people they miss the most. I want to see their misery.”

Oramain nodded and rotated in place, his feet unmoving, until he faced Feanne fully. A faint whisper-like sigh came as Oramain raised his arms. Dust all throughout the courtyard rose and flowed into solid shapes. One by one, humanoids took form, creating a wall around Dorralt and Oramain. The forms began as little more than silhouettes, as though they would be ghosts themselves, but soon they thickened and took on details. The clearer they became, the more Raeln’s stomach knotted.

Two shapes formed in front of Raeln, blocking any route to Dorralt. They solidified, features forming from the dust as colors and shapes became more refined. In only a matter of seconds, they stared at him, appearing nearly as horrified as he felt, before they readied themselves to fight.

Raeln found himself looking into the eyes of his sister, Ilarra. Her long brown hair, with her pointed ears poking out, was the last thing to form. Despite her elven birth, she was as much his kin as anyone else, other than his mother.

Beside Ilarra, his mother, Asha, stood in all her wolven calm. Her dark eyes watched Raeln with a mix of anger and patience that took his breath away.

Both Ilarra and Asha’s faces told Raeln they were sorry, even as their bodies took up defensive stances. Ilarra poised herself to use magic against him, and his mother’s muscles twitched, ready to fight him with her bare hands. When he thought it was more than he could possibly bear, another body formed at Asha’s side.

Greth. A wolf with white, black, and brown patterning, he held a sword at the ready, though his face appeared ready to break into sobs as he watched Raeln. They were Oramain’s slaves, even in death. That made them Raeln’s enemies, no matter what it would do to him to be forced to fight against them.

Dozens more long-dead people appeared throughout the courtyard. Raeln only recognized a handful among them. He held his position in front of the three Oramain had summoned for him. It seemed Oramain knew exactly who would most demoralize those standing in the courtyard.

In front of Feanne, there stood an old fox man and a fox-lioness woman, who Feanne faced down bravely, giving no hint of the dismay Raeln felt. She maintained her poise until two more people formed. The first was a wildling fox youth, who Raeln was fairly certain was one of the two children he had met long ago. At the boy’s appearance, Feanne backed away, her poise gone, her legs and hands trembling. The second was a grey-furred fox, likely Feanne’s age, who Raeln was certain he had seen somewhere, but he could not remember where. When he finished forming, Feanne’s face went slack and she stumbled, trying to put distance between herself and him.

A dwarf stood in front of Dalania, though her head still hung lifelessly, not seeming to see him there. The dwarf watched her with a sadness that looked very out of place on him, especially as he held two gleaming knives ready to strike. Only the Miharon, still standing over Dalania, seemed able to meet the dwarf’s stare. He looked ready to fight for Dalania’s safety.

Three women—two humans and one halfling—stood before Yoska, who very nearly collapsed on the spot when he saw them. Yoska immediately closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent prayer or plea.

Near Mairlee, Nenophar stood calmly, his illusionary elven form flickering as he moved toward her. Mairlee screamed as she backed away, unable to even look at him. Her own illusion shimmered as she struggled with emotions she clearly was unable to confront.

Alafa buried her face in her hands, falling and curling into a ball. The deer man Raeln had seen die only half an hour earlier stood before her. Beside him, three very young wildling deer children flanked the man, staring at Alafa as though they would fight too.