Shadow City (25 page)

“Let me take you to Funkytown,” Max muttered.

There were fewer and fewer exits. She was being funneled down to the main entrance. She’d expected as much. Give people only one or two ways to get in and out, and you had them trapped if they were breaking in. Plus, it allowed for killing fields along the way and limited how many defenders you’d need to keep out intruders.

She went carefully along a narrow gallery. It echoed. Above was a long balcony. Shooters could make a crossfire and fill her full of arrows if they wanted. But there was no one. It didn’t feel right. She didn’t trip alarms when she unlocked doors, but she hadn’t expected the place to be so empty. Unless—

She could have kicked herself.
Of course
. Asherah and her minions were off laying siege to Ilanion’s compound. She wouldn’t want any of the other Korvad to get the bright idea that they could just steal Scooter out from under her nose, so she’d gone in force. Which meant security was right now at its weakest.

Max broke into a jog. Her lungs had mostly stopped hurting, and her eyes were pretty much back to normal. The Calopus trotted at her heels. At the end of the chamber was a narrow door. It had no handle, and its gray surface seemed to absorb the light. The wall was made of the same material, she realized, stepping back to get a look. The rest of the chamber was made of some translucent pink stone that was crisscrossed inside with darker pinks and whites. The balcony was made of carved wood inlaid with more of the pink stone.

She returned her attention to the door. This was the stronghold. A completely separate building, if she had to guess, and probably made entirely of the strange gray stone. It pulsed with power the way a fire gave off heat.

Max brushed her fingers over the wall. Magic glowed white where she touched, and sharp jabs of power skewered her hand and arm. She pulled back. This was going to hurt. She didn’t waste any time but splayed her hands on the door and shoved with all her might.

She was instantly coiled in brambles of magic, the thorns cutting deep inside her. Max ignored it. It wasn’t half of what she’d felt when she’d gone into the abyss the first time. She pressed harder, and then the door gave. It folded downward and lengthened impossibly to become a bridge over what looked like a moat of shadows. They rose on either side and made it impossible to see the other side. A gale wind scoured the new bridge. Max hunched and walked out into it.

Her feet slid as the wind caught her. She bent and clawed her fingers around the edge of the bridge as she inched across. The wind pounded her, and more than once, it felt like she was going to go flying into oblivion. She dropped to her knees and shoved the sword through her belt, holding on with both hands as she went further and the gusts blew harder.

She lost track of time. The wind echoed in her skull and tore the breath from her throat. Inch by inch, she crawled. Her arms ached and had begun to shake, when suddenly, hands grabbed her and pulled her up. Ilanion shoved her into a deep-set doorway. Both watched as the bridge rose and disappeared. Beside them, the Calopus growled low.

Ilanion looked down at it. “Friend of yours?” he shouted above the howl of the wind.

Max grimaced. She wanted to ask him what he was doing there. Or hell,
how
he had gotten there, but first, she wanted to get inside. She pushed Ilanion away and turned to the handle-less door.

Opening it hurt just about as much as the first one and took longer. But Max wasn’t going to be denied. She kicked it open and thrust inside, Ilanion following close behind. The door swung shut, and blessed silence descended.

Max braced her hands on her knees and panted. She felt like she’d been put through a meat grinder. But no rest for the wicked. She straightened.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked Ilanion.

“Looking for what we came for.” He sounded surprised that she would ask.

“Why?”

He scowled beneath his helm, fury kindling in his eyes. They were molten gold, without a trace of his original brown. “I told you, I’m in this to the end.” His lip curled, and the air around him crackled with magic.

“Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Max said. “You know this is a borderline suicide mission at best. I wouldn’t blame you for cutting your losses. As far as the Korvad knows, you aren’t involved. You can still get out of this without any real damage.”

He stepped close, leaning in so that the eagle beak of his helm brushed her nose. “I’ll say this once more. I am in this fight. I want to break the Korvad’s back. If you doubt me again, we’re going to have a problem.”

Max put a hand on his chest and pushed him back a step. “If you wanted to hurt me, you shouldn’t have let me wear the armor. You don’t have the skills to take me down at the moment. If you ever did.”

He stared and then shook his head wryly. “Where did Nayan find you?” he wondered aloud.

“In the ass end of nowhere,” she said. “How did you get here through that tornado outside?”

“Once we were inside the protective barriers, I was safe to fly. I found the tower. It was just a matter of riding the wind until I found the entrance. And you.”

“Riding the wind?” She looked him over. His armor was scraped and dented, and blood smeared his exposed skin. Bruises splotched him like spots on a giraffe. “Looks like the ride was rough.”

He shrugged. “No worse than your journey, I’m sure. Now, we should get on with this. Asherah is certainly sitting siege at my compound, but she might return at any moment.”

They were in a broad, round room. The walls and floor were made of the gray stone, and there were no decorations or furnishings to soften the bleak space. In the middle, a broad stair corkscrewed through the floor.

“I guess we go down,” Max said.

They proceeded down the stairs, with Max leading the way and the Calopus on her heels. Ilanion brought up the rear. He eyed the spiked wolf. “How did this happen?”

“Hell if I know. It’s not trying to rip out my throat. That’s a plus.”

They’d gone down fifty steps or so when the way was suddenly blocked by a barrier of red magic that stretched to the walls, rolling and rippling like a red lake.

Upon seeing it, Ilanion sucked his teeth. “Lords of air,” he muttered, squatting down to look at it. He was careful not to touch.

“I take it this is bad.”

“I might be able to break through it, but it will take me some time.”

“Then I guess I go alone.”

He jerked his head to look at her. “This will kill you. It’s an extremely powerful shield, designed to hold back far more powerful creatures than yourself. You’ll never survive.”

“You might be surprised, Goldilocks,” she said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said.

The barrier reminded Max of the one separating Horngate from Scooter’s den. Lair. Whatever it was. All it was was a door on steroids, and doors couldn’t hold her.

“Wait here for me. I’ll be back.”

She started down. Magic swallowed her step by step, creeping up her legs, over her hips and chest, and then over her head. Her armor squirmed, and she could feel it straining against the bite of the magic. But for Max, it was no worse than walking through a pool of bleach. It stung enough to clear the sinuses but was easily bearable. The wards on the two outer doors had been worse.

When she got to the other side, it was like stepping into a genie’s house. There wasn’t a single surface that wasn’t covered with a pillow in some shade of pink. It was revolting. Maybe the genie lived in a Pepto-Bismol bottle.

She looked around for something to key off the barrier and nearly tripped over the Calopus. She frowned. “How did you do that?” The beast just stared back with milky eyes. Not a wag, not a blink. Max shook her head. She’d worry about it later.

She circled the room, searching for the barrier switch, finding nothing but pink froth. She returned to the foot of the stairs, and there it was. A small pink spray of gemstone flowers inlaid in the riser of the bottom step. She bent and brushed her fingers over the surface. A jolt ran through her hand, and the barrier fell like a rain of rose petals. A moment later, Ilanion joined her.

“Neat trick,” he said. “I’m beginning to understand what Nayan sees in you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Max said. “I’m so flattered.”

“We should hurry. Shutting down the ward barrier might have sent a warning to Asherah, if her servants haven’t sent for her already. You don’t want to meet her in her stronghold.”

Max couldn’t have agreed more. They ran down the steps, passing through several levels. They were mostly living quarters. But both she and Ilanion were in agreement that they needed Asherah’s magical workroom.

It was on the bottom level, thirteen floors down from where they’d started. A nice magical number, Max thought. The floor space of each level had been steadily increasing as they descended, and this was the largest by far. Max stopped on the bottom step to survey the room.

On the left was an open space that was clearly used for working spells. To the right were long rows of work tables littered with plants, rocks, wood, cages, herbs, bones, feathers, jars, boxes, and many things Max couldn’t identify. Lining the walls all the way around the chamber were shelves full of more supplies and thousands of books and scrolls.

It was clearly the place where Asherah practiced her magic, but nothing jumped out as belonging to Scooter.

“What now?” Max asked. Her Prime was beginning to feel itchy, like trouble was about to come crashing down on their heads. “We don’t have much time.”

Ilanion strode toward the tables on the right. “Look for something strongly warded. She might have a vault here.”

Max looked down at the Calopus. “I don’t suppose you can sniff it out, can you?” Again, that completely unreadable look.

She started on the left. The open floor wasn’t all that likely a place to keep valuables, but she might as well rule it out and meet Ilanion on the other side.

Magic filled the room with such intensity that it was impossible to sort out stronger spells from the minor ones. But—

She was looking for something that belonged to Scooter, and she knew his smell almost as well as she knew her own. Nothing could hide it from her. She stood still, closing her eyes and pushing her predatory senses outward. Now that she was looking for it, she couldn’t believe she’d missed it. It was just a thread of scent, but it was strong as steel.

It led her back to the open floor space. She’d walked right past it and never saw it. Why should she? It was small—only about eight inches wide. But size wasn’t what disguised it. It sat on a shelf in the back on the end in the shadows and was warded to be invisible. If Max hadn’t had Scooter’s scent, she’d never have found it.

She lifted it down. The moment she touched it, the invisibility spell evaporated. It was a box made of ebony wood wrapped in layer upon layer of silver, gold, and copper wires woven in spell patterns. It was closed with a simple hook catch.

“I found it,” Max called to Ilanion. He joined her.

“It’s in your hands?” he asked, following her gaze.

“Can’t you see it?”

He shook his head. Max described it. He chewed his lower lip. “It’s possible that opening it without the proper incantation will destroy whatever’s inside. Even your ability to pass through locking spells might not be enough.”

She rubbed a hand over her mouth. Should she risk it? It meant Scooter’s life. But getting Asherah to open the box wasn’t going to happen. “Can you figure it out?” she asked Ilanion.

“Given time. But Nayan doesn’t have it.”

“I know.”

“You could wait.”

“For what? We have to know what we have and what we’re still looking for.” Holding her breath, Max flipped open the catch and slowly lifted the lid. Magic jolted through her like a lightning strike. Her hair crackled and stood on end, and she smelled it burning. Even her armor couldn’t absorb the entire blast.

Inside, a massive diamond filled the confines of the box. It was roughly shaped and unfaceted. Max lifted it out and hissed. “Shit.” Within the diamond was Scooter’s heart. A crystal straw had been thrust through the top of the stone to disappear into the slowly clutching pink muscle. A thin line of crimson filled the tiny straw.

“Good,” Ilanion said. “Blood was drawn off, but Ash hasn’t had time to use it yet. She’s probably hoping to get her hands on Nayan first. Even that small amount will help strengthen him when we return his heart to him.”

“I’m going to kill that bitch,” Max said through clenched teeth, carefully settling the diamond back into the box.

“Not today. We need to get out of here before she comes back.”

They dashed up the stairs, taking four at a time. The sense of danger was growing stronger. Asherah was on her way. Max knew it without a doubt. She also knew that Ilanion was right—today wasn’t the day to face her. Not without first getting Scooter’s horn and silk back.

When they reached the gray room where they’d entered, Max thrust open the outer door, wincing as the wards lashed at her. The paranoid bitch had locked the door from the inside and out.

“Can you fly out of here?” she asked Ilanion over the roar of the wind.

He nodded. “Of course.”

Max snorted but didn’t challenge him. “Get back to Scooter. I’ll meet you there.”

“How—” He broke off. How she was traveling was obvious. “You’re going to hide his heart?”

She nodded. “Somewhere the Korvad will never find it.”

He gripped her shoulder. “Stay safe.” With that, he launched himself out into the wind. It grabbed him, and in an instant, he was gone.

Max shut the door and looked at the Calopus. “This is where we part ways,” she said. But she made no move to leap into the abyss. Not yet. Instead, she waited.

The minutes ticked past. At last, the air thickened, and Max felt Asherah approaching. The smell was familiar. It saturated every corner of the tower and the outer palace. Sensual, sweet, and nauseating.

Pink light filtered in from the shadows above. It twisted and slithered, gathering together into a woman. Of sorts. She had long black hair that shone like the back of a beetle. Her face was oval, with black eyes, greenish-white skin, and pink lips. Her body was curved and luscious. She had four arms, each delicate and graceful. Her fingernails were curving talons painted pink. She was clearly as deadly as she was beautiful.