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.”