Another part cursed him for a fool for ever believing such lies. That part of him showed him how she had never needed rest or food, how she had fought with strength so far beyond that of mere humankind. Her eyes, burning with a wholly unnatural inner radiance, now spoke a truth he had continually failed to see. Even Lakaan had tried to warn him. “She is no more a warrior of the Crimson Shield than I am … Believe me, now more than ever, when I say she can look after herself. Believe as well that her doing so is a sight you do not want to behold.”
And how many times had he mentioned Zera to Ba’Sel, only to have him give some evasive or empty response? Why the warrior had avoided saying what he knew outright, Leitos did not know, unless he feared that Leitos was with her. And Ba’Sel had been right to be cautious, Leitos knew, even before Ulmek’s once mysterious words rose up with awful meaning. “I knew the day it was decided to help those wretches we would pay a price … you cannot admit that you erred … since those who betrayed us and were removed from our order are among the demons that attack us, those traps are all but useless.”
Zera shifted then, drawing his eye. From behind her wings emerged two more figures Leitos knew: Sandros and Pathil! Sandros glared about with one eye until he found Leitos. The darkness of that orb changed to muddy red. A deep and weeping cut had closed the other. He was on the bridge, the wolf that killed Lakaan, the wolf I attacked!
Stabbing pain lanced through his heart at the depth of Zera’s betrayal. Zera had not gone after the wolves, she had hidden herself away so that they could slaughter Lakaan … so that they could have the chance to kill him!
But no, had she wanted him dead, she would have done it herself. In a terrible flash, Leitos saw all that had happened since Sandros had dragged him from the river … their chance meeting with Zera and Pathil … the way she had so easily poisoned her fellows and escaped with Leitos … how no matter how far they had run, they had always been but one short step ahead of their pursuers….
Mind awhirl, Leitos struggled to piece the treachery together. At some point, Zera and the others must have come under suspicion, forcing them to flee before she could lead her true kindred to the Sanctuary. In her absence, the brothers had moved the Sanctuary…. They had not been running from the Hunters, she had let them drive Leitos along, a stupid bleating sheep that, at some point, the Brothers of the Crimson Shield would find and take into their Sanctuary in honor of some ancient agreement with an Izutarian king. In so doing, they would reveal their whereabouts.
Sandros laughed in derision when he noticed Leitos’s hurt expression. “I should have taught you a last lesson, boy: Never trust love.”
Pathil moved off to the other side, smiling at the brothers like an old friend, even as he tested the edge of his sword with a thumb. “Ba’Sel,” he called merrily, “have you managed to temper brother Ulmek’s rage?”
Ba’Sel ignored the taunt and studied Zera, his eyes shimmering with tears. “After all that I did to instill honor and goodness in your heart, after all the love your brothers gave, you return now as a traitor and an enemy? And you Pathil, foolish child that you always were, you benefited from the same devotion as Zera, and more. Yet you come into our Sanctuary and make mock of the man who saved your life on no less than three occasions? Is there no shame in either of you?”
Where Zera’s face showed a spark of disgrace, Pathil shrugged, smile widening. “Shame is for humankind.”
“And what are you, if not at least part human?”
“We are Na’mihn’teghul,” Sandros snarled proudly. “Ours are the faces that all Creation will one day wear. We are the perfection that the Three never dared dream. The Faceless One has foreseen our coming, and even now paves the way for our ascendency.”
“Na’mihn’teghul?” Ba’Sel said scornfully. “Is that what you call yourself, Sandros? Have you forgotten how we took you in after you fled your master, how we made you one of our own, gave you a life and purpose?”
“You always were a fool,” Sandros rasped. “Even now, your kind heart refuses to believe that it was I who came to you, a Hunter with the intention of destroying your pathetic band.”
“Na’mihn’teghul,” Ba’Sel said again, and spat. “I disbelieved such a low and despoiled affront to Creation could exist. It appears I was wrong.”
“You are wrong about many things,” Sandros said, his body swelling, changing between flesh and mist and back again. As he grew larger, his filthy robes shredded and fell away. A tawny, bristling growth of spines thrust from his darkening skin. His face rippled, elongated, becoming a brutish muzzle. His limbs bulged and bent, yet the all too human hands remained, talons ripping free of long fingers and toes. Pathil was changing as well, but not Zera.
Leitos could not take his eyes from her, still transfixed by the horror of revelation. She recoiled from his scrutiny until pressed against the doorway at her back. At her sides, Sandros and Pathil continued to transform.
Ba’Sel raised his voice. “You think to claim eminence with your false title-the Heirs of the Three-but you are the heirs of nothing. You are the consequence of a savage violation and defiled seed. Yours is a race of mongrels, born of human and beast.”
“Enough of this!” Zera cried, her voice as vast and powerful as the tides of all the seas of the world. “I have come for the last of the Valara line. I have come for Leitos … he is mine.”
“Come as you will, demon-born,” Adham snarled, “but you will take nothing.” With an insignificant twang, Adham loosed his arrow.
The shaft hissed as it cleaved the air between itself and Zera’s heart, and the word Leitos had tried to shout before burst from his throat in a strangled cry. “NO!”
Zera smiled.
Chapter 29
Dark gossamer wings folded over Zera in a protective embrace. The arrow struck that gauzy substance and burst apart. Her indistinct shape billowed and swirled, rising like streamers of black smoke, until it brushed the ceiling’s arc. Then those wings unfolded, revealing a creature of tattered mists and sweeping shadow. Zera’s eyes blazed with a terrible conceit.
Leitos had glimpsed such a creature before when he returned to help her fight Alon’mahk’lar outside a nameless bone-town. “No,” he murmured. Desolation devoured the last of his strength and conviction.
“By the Silent God of All,” Ulmek breathed, “what is that?”
“It is our doom,” Ba’Sel whispered.
Zera advanced on eddies of black smoke, and her wings spread wider, beating slowly. An overpowering shock had spread throughout the brothers, freezing them in place.
Leitos did not move, his mind still trapped at the edge of that bone-town. No matter what Zera was now, she had once fought against her own kind to protect him.
“Zera?” he murmured, his legs taking him a step nearer. Green eyes found him, recognition burning in their depths … and something more, an emotion that simply had no right to shine in such a dreadful gaze. “Do not do this,” he pleaded.
Sandros attacked then, a man no longer. Snarling, the wolf leaped at Leitos, mouth agape, rows of deadly teeth glinting in the dim light of the Sanctuary. Before Leitos could move, a misty tendril streaked from Zera and enveloped the wolf. The wisp bulged as the creature trapped within thrashed and howled. The struggle continued long, horrifying moments, during which the howls became whimpers, then abated altogether. Zera released her victim. Dissolving bones and steaming fluid splashed over the ground.