The Way of the Power (24 page)

After a short time, Bad Teeth slid aside another door, and the group piled into an octagonal room with heavy draperies covering the walls. One wall opened to a long corridor. Another wall had a door painted dark red.

“Through that door is the Holding Room. Really it’s a sacrificial chamber, but that use was from long ago. Back in less informed times. It’s been centuries since anybody thought animal sacrifices were necessary for the Rising.”

Stray put his ear against the door. He cracked it open a little and peeked in. “It’s just the two of them in there. The Artisoll is sitting on the altar. Abrazkia is chanting at a statue of the Queen. I’ll go in and —”

“You’ll die in there,” Malja said. “You saw what Abrazkia did to me, and I had my do-kha to help me.”

Stray showed no fear. “Then I’ll die. As long as I save the Artisoll, my life is not important.”

“Don’t be stupid. If you die, how are we going to get the Artisoll to the Rising?”

“That’s only true if you go in there, too.”

“But I won’t die.” Malja pushed Stray aside, placed her hand on the door, and took several deep breaths. “Just be ready.” She opened the door and entered.

The Holding Room looked every bit like a dungeon. Chains bolted into the walls must have kept victims in place while awaiting their turn at the altar. Bad Teeth said they were animal sacrifices, but based on the height of the chains, Malja suspected that there were human sacrifices somewhere in Reo-Koll’s past.

The altar had been shaped like a rolling wave sculpted from an enormous white stone. Long brownish trails stained the sides of the altar — a testament to its intended use. Tall candles lined one wall providing plenty of illumination along with unwelcome heat.

As Stray had observed, the Artisoll sat on the altar. She looked as placid as always. Malja thought of the Old Men’s fatalistic attitude and wondered if it came from the behavior of the Artisoll. When the soul that holds all the magic in the world will calmly accept any fate, then why would her priests behave any differently?

Behind the altar rose a statue of an eight-armed woman. Her arms stretched out and in each hand she held a unique object. Her face tilted upward, her nose brushing the ceiling.

Abrazkia stood before this statue. She had put on a robe striped like her hair. The robe had golden fringes and a dark hood. Raising her arms toward the statue, she brandished a knife long enough to be considered a short sword.

To Malja’s ears, Abrazkia’s incessant chanting lacked a discernible tune. Likewise, the words bore no relation to any language Malja had ever heard. But each time Abrazkia lifted the knife, she sang out louder and more intensely. Then she lowered the knife and her head, and her voice followed suit.

Malja crouched low and approached. As she neared the altar, her foot scraped on a chain and made a slight noise. Staying stationary, primed to jump for the woman’s throat, she watched Abrazkia.

Nothing. Either Abrazkia could not hear anything above her own non-musical chanting, or she now listened carefully, planning to strike when Malja closed the distance even more. Only one way to find out.

Rather than continue approaching in such a vulnerable position, Malja stood straight and kept Viper at the ready. Still no recognition from Abrazkia. The Artisoll, however, had her eyes fixed on Malja’s every move.

As if reading her mind — and Malja considered that as a real possibility — the Artisoll changed. Her skin rippled as her body shrunk. In seconds, she had become the girl she had been the first time Malja saved her. Perfect for Malja’s current needs — light enough at that Malja could carry her away but not fragile like an infant.

She glanced back. Stray watched from the door. She motioned for him to put out his hands. He did so, though his face showed confusion. With her fingers easily seen by both the Artisoll and Stray, Malja counted down — 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

Malja sprang forward, lifted the Artisoll, and threw her toward the door. Stray’s shock did not prevent him from acting. He caught the Artisoll and hugged her tight.

Abrazkia spun around, her eyes blazing as she took in the scene. She reacted fast, shooting a strand of her do-kha at Malja. The attack hit hard, knocking Malja to the ground.

Malja backrolled straight to her feet. Though it made her vulnerable, she took a second to check that Stray had left. Through the open door, she saw none of her group. Good. They all had the sense to head for the top of the Temple. Even Tommy went — Malja couldn’t hide a bit of pain at that, but pride, too. The warrior in him knew that her sacrifice meant nothing if he did not help the Artisoll get to the Rising. But if she had her way, there would be no sacrifice.

She had spent too many seconds with her thoughts, and Abrazkia took advantage. One of the tall, iron candle holders smacked into Malja’s side and clanged against the hard floor. Abrazkia picked up another candle holder and wielded it like a sword.

“What a sad, weak thing you are,” she said. “You think you’ll somehow survive this, that the Artisoll will become Queen, that all will work out.”

“No. I don’t think I’ll survive.”

“A noble sacrifice? Even sadder.”

Malja held Viper before her, ready to deflect any attack. Abrazkia’s verbal insults meant nothing. The insult of the candle holder, however, scratched under Malja’s skin. Abrazkia had shown her do-kha’s strength previously. To face Malja with this silly weapon reeked of contempt — as if to say
You’re not worth any more of my energy than this stupid weapon.
But Malja refused to be goaded into a sloppy assault and figured that the longer Abrazkia insulted, the more time that gave the Artisoll.

Abrazkia snickered. “When Harskill brought you to me, I had such hopes. You could have been a daughter to me.”

“Never would have happened.”

“You think so? I wonder. If you had known then that I could have brought you to the world where you were born, would you still have jumped through that window? If you had known then that I could have introduced you to blood relations of yours, would you still have jumped?”

“I already have all the family I need,” Malja said, and felt stronger knowing that she meant it.

Abrazkia dropped the candle holder. “Damn. I had thought maybe I could change your mind just now. We could have left here and let the Artisoll go do her bit. I wouldn’t mind losing her power, if I could gain you. I could show you the wonders of all the worlds while I took you to your real family.”

“I’ve had that offer before. Doesn’t seem to turn out too well.”

“Then I’m back to gaining the Artisoll’s power. So, you’ll have to move out of my way.”

Rolling her shoulders, Abrazkia removed her ceremonial robe. Underneath, she wore only her do-kha, and it glistened as she approached Malja. She cracked her knuckles and rolled her neck.

Malja slid Viper away — her wonderful blade would be of no use against Abrazkia’s do-kha. Abrazkia stopped at arm’s length. Without another word, she punched towards Malja’s head.

Holding her ground, Malja cocked her head to the side, and Abrazkia’s fist found only air. Abrazkia swung and jabbed and crosscut, but none of her strikes made contact. Frustration flushed her cheeks, and she stepped back before raising her hand above her head.

Malja had no thoughts beyond the fight. Her pinpoint focus told her all she needed to know — Abrazkia was about to use her do-kha. Well, Malja had a do-kha, too.

Abrazkia’s do-kha struck with two tendrils. Malja cartwheeled to the right, evading both attacks. As the two tendrils snapped back, a new one thrust straight out and landed in Malja’s gut.

The air rushed from her lungs, but she avoided doubling over. Keeping her head up, she saw the next attack — a swipe at her legs. Kicking out, she threw herself back a few feet but lost her balance. She hit the floor hard, and Abrazkia’s do-kha grabbed her by the leg. Abrazkia reeled her across the room, letting her crash into the stone altar.

Ignoring her pains, Malja launched back at Abrazkia. With a swift motion of her hand, Abrazkia knocked Malja aside. Bringing out her tendrils once more, she attacked Malja.

But when the tendrils hit Malja, they connected with an iron-hard surface. Malja stood, her do-kha finally kicking in. Abrazkia attempted another attack and another, yet Malja made no attempt to block. Her do-kha absorbed the strikes with ease.

“Enough of this,” Abrazkia said. “You think you understand your do-kha?”

Abrazkia moved back toward the altar, putting the massive stone slab between her and Malja. She then closed her eyes for a moment. Her do-kha stretched upward, slithering over her head, until it covered her entire face, leaving only her striped hair visible. Her legs thickened. Her arms, too. Muscles grew throughout her torso. Even her neck became a tree trunk of muscle. Her face lost all recognizable form, and instead, took on the likeness of a long-snouted animal. She opened her mouth, revealing the sharp teeth of a predator, and she roared.

“Wonderful,” Malja said before hightailing her way out of the room.

Chapter 24

The sounds of Abrazkia
demolishing the hallways nipped at Malja’s back as she raced up the stairs. She knew not to waste time looking back — either she would outrun Abrazkia or she would feel a final blow pierce her spine. The avalanche of destruction following her offered no other choice at the moment.

Sweat drenched her body and stung her eyes. Her legs ached from stair after stair. But she pressed on.

Abrazkia’s maddened growls followed the sound of a wooden door smashing to pieces. Malja felt a spark of hope — Abrazkia was pausing to break down doors. She was checking to see if Malja had hidden behind one instead of continuing up the stairs, and that gave Malja time.

With renewed energy, Malja climbed faster until she heard the clambering feet of her friends up ahead. Fawbry came into view first. When he saw her, his face brightened.

“You killed her?”

The rest of the group stopped and looked back.

“No. She’s coming up behind me fast, and she’s become a ... thing.”

“What are you leading her to us for?”

“She wasn’t going to follow me away from the Artisoll.”

Fawbry wanted to argue the point more, but Stray shot him a warning glare. He looked to the Old Men. “Can you make it to the roof?”

Sweat dappled Big Nose’s bald head. Malja thought he might pass out, but he nodded. Stray handed him the Artisoll. She wrapped her little girl arms around Big Nose, but Malja thought she saw something wise and mature in the Artisoll’s eyes. Her body really was just a form — her brain had not changed at all.

“Go,” Stray said. Big Nose carried the Artisoll further up the stairs.

Malja said nothing to Stray, but a quick look passed between them that said everything. “You, too, Tommy,” Malja said. “If we can’t hold Abrazkia off long enough, it’ll be up to you. Get up to the roof and start preparing some kind of spell.”

Tommy rushed off.

“If we’re going to be throwing our lives away again,” Fawbry said, “could Hirasa and I please have a decent weapon?”

Malja wanted to laugh — her old Fawbry through and through. “You didn’t bring anything?”

An angry roar from below halted any retort. Stray handed one of his scimitars to Hirasa. The heavy blade took her by surprise but then she lifted it firmly.

“And me?” Fawbry said. Stray reached to the back of his belt and produced a simple dagger. “That’s it? She gets one of your massive blades and I get a toothpick?”

Another deep roar rolled up the stairwell. Fawbry snatched the dagger and backed up a few steps.

“Be ready,” Malja said. “She’s big.”

As Abrazkia approached, the group all put their weapons in front, ready to strike. The long-snouted head came first, followed by her over-sized muscular body. Slobbering as she climbed closer, Abrazkia saw the additional warriors and her eyes narrowed.

Stray launched into an attack, and though Malja would have preferred to have waited for a better opportunity, she jumped into the fight with all her power. Abrazkia blocked each strike with her arms. The do-kha made them hard as blades, and a distinct, metallic clang followed each block. She moved fast and attempted to counterstrike many of the attacks.

Stray’s furious pace matched Abrazkia’s blow for blow. His frenzy afforded Malja an extra few seconds to be strategic. She parried Abrazkia’s attacks with ease — Abrazkia’s focus stayed on Stray with only the occasional strike at Malja to keep her from causing trouble — and waited for an opportunity to open up.

Abrazkia increased her furious strikes. She took several hits to the side in order to shift to a stronger offensive. Her do-kha whipped tendrils at Stray and Malja — liquid in movement but hard as steel when they made contact.

Backing up the stairs, Malja and Stray reluctantly gave ground. Malja didn’t hear Fawbry behind her. Nor Hirasa. Until they rounded the next section.

“Coming to a landing,” Fawbry said. “Looks big.”

Malja felt the stairs flatten as she stepped back into the open room. She moved off to the left and Stray went right. Hirasa and Fawbry spread out to complete an arc around the entrance to the landing.