“In exchange for your cooperation, your family will not be harmed.”
The Saghred twisted in my chest, my rage awakening it.
Carnades knew. He laughed softly and his voice dropped to a bare whisper. “You want to obliterate me, don’t you, Raine? The urge is almost more than you can bear. How many nights have you lain awake wondering how much longer until you lose what little control you have left? Knowing that the instant you do there will be no going back.”
“And all I have to do is let Balmorlan’s sicko mages get their hands on the Saghred by getting their hands on me, so you and yours can destroy every goblin breathing your air.”
“Before they do the same to us,” Carnades hissed. “Before you further betray your people to help our enemies. Enemies who at this moment are planning our race’s destruction.”
“Destroy them before they can destroy us. Brilliant. It never occurred to you to work with the goblins who have no interest in killing a single elf. Who want to bring down the goblins who do want the elves’ collective neck in a noose.”
“There are no such creatures. Goblins kill. It’s what they are. Consumed by evil from the moment they are spawned.”
“You want to see what evil really looks like?” I snarled. “Take a look in the mirror hanging around your own neck.”
Carnades stiffened. You’d think I had slapped him. Believe me, I wanted to do a lot more than that, and the Saghred was eager to help.
“You refuse my offer?” Frost rolled off his words.
“And toss it back in your face.”
“Very well. I offered you the chance to surrender voluntarily. Enjoy your last few hours of freedom—and if you see your cousin, tell him to do the same.”
Surrender or thousands die.
Don’t surrender, the goblins and/or elves will come and get you, and thousands will still die. I really didn’t want to think about what was going to happen to me in either one of those scenarios.
I hate no-win choices. In my book, if you don’t have a chance of winning, then it’s not a choice. But either way, I was screwed and innocent people died. I didn’t believe for one second that King Sathrik would stay home and play nice—or Carnades and Balmorlan would crawl back under their collective rock—if I served myself up on a silver platter. But that’s exactly what the Seat of Twelve wanted to do with me as soon as they could vote on it.
I’d been in this room before. Nothing good had happened in it then, and I didn’t see that changing now.
In my opinion, it wasn’t a room for the Seat of Twelve to meet—it was a star chamber for passing judgment. I’d been in the hot seat last time, too. The dais was still there, but the throne-like chairs were around a massive table instead. Marginally less imposing, though it still said loud and clear that this group took themselves and their power way too seriously. No low self-esteem here.
“What are the terms for the surrender?” Carnades asked.
To Carnades, saving his own lily-white patrician ass and those of his yes-mages was his first priority, the rest of the island’s inhabitants and students be damned, or in this case destroyed.
“There are no terms, because there will be no surrender.” Justinius Valerian gave Carnades a look that said loud and clear that he would not say that again. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to debate.
Unfortunately the old man was in the minority.
The Seat of Twelve was shaking in their designer robes. Scared mages meant trouble of the fatal kind for me.
Fighting never occurred to men and women who depended on fancy magic and political maneuvering more than they did standing their ground and defending what was theirs. To them that was what they hired guards for. Actual fighting was barbaric and beneath them.
Which was exactly what Sathrik Mal’Salin and Sarad Nukpana were counting on.
Justinius was the top dog in this well-dressed pack. The old man had teeth and he knew how to use them. The same couldn’t be said for most of the others. Just because you were a mage-level talent didn’t mean you could use that power for fighting.
That’s why they had established the Guardians.
Five hundred knights against tens of thousands of goblin warriors, and at least a couple hundred of those warriors were mage-level talents—in black magic. And with Sarad Nukpana coordinating the invasion, I’d be willing to bet that there would be major-class demons among those numbers. I didn’t care how much magical ass Mychael’s boys could kick, outnumbered was outnumbered.
If I surrendered, all I would do is buy Mychael and his Guardians some time, but when the goblins did attack, it would be ten times worse.
King Sathrik Mal’Salin and Sarad Nukpana would have the power of the Saghred at their beck and call.
They would have me.
If they had me, they didn’t need the rock. They could use the Saghred through my link with it, and sacrifice victims the same way. Nukpana had the power to open the Gate. He was planning to use me to keep it open.
I was a weapon, a conduit to cataclysmic power, and the goblin king was going to invade the Isle of Mid to come and get me.
A human mage sat a little apart from the fray, calm and aloof—mainly from the borderline panic among her colleagues. I remembered her. She’d been the only one not in favor of throwing me in a containment room and throwing away the key the last time I was in this room. That didn’t make her a friend, but right now I’d take what I could get.
“Not that I am questioning Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin’s word, but what proof do we have of this?” Her voice was strong and cut right through the din. “He desires his brother’s throne. No doubt he would have an equal desire in getting Mid’s help to destroy his brother.”
A voice of reason. Always a good thing to have.
“I have people getting that confirmation now, Magus Cagilian,” Mychael told her with a slight bow. “I hope we find no such evidence; but if an impending invasion is confirmed, we must be ready to begin evacuating the students.”
Another mage spoke up; actually, it was more of a whine. “But the goblin king said that if we gave him Raine Benares they would not invade.”
“And you believe him?” Justinius barked, a short laugh minus the humor. “He and Nukpana want the Saghred. They’ll use Miss Benares to get enough power to come and take it. If they get that far, we’re all toast.”
Carnades strode across the room in a swirl of robes and sat on one of the ornate chairs. Naturally it was at the front of the room with the dais behind him and facing me. A nice dramatic backdrop.
“No one has voiced the obvious solution,” he said. “When the goblins attack, we use the Saghred to strike.”
My eyes locked on his. “You mean use me.”
“For all intents and purposes, you and the Saghred are now one and the same, so there is no difference.”
“Even if I knew how to destroy an army—which I don’t—the rock hasn’t had a decent meal in hundreds of years. That’s hardly enough juice to take on an army.”
Carnades didn’t even blink. “Then feed it.”
There it was. So much for confirmation whether Carnades was in on Balmorlan’s plan for me.
No one in the room said a word; no one even breathed.
You could have heard a fly fart.
Some of the mages were appalled. Others started nodding in agreement. Too many.
Mychael broke the silence. “You’re advocating murder,” he said, his voice tight.
“I’m advocating saving the lives of our citizens,” Carnades countered.
“And yourself,” I snapped.
Mychael walked slowly toward Carnades. “By sacrificing our citizens, damning their souls to eternity trapped inside the Saghred, their souls used to fuel a black magic that shouldn’t exist, let alone be used. You want that.”
“I want survival.”
“The price is too high.”