“That’s when the first sequestration started. Thousands starved, more were killed or sold into slavery, but the people in the cities didn’t hear about that. What they hear are reports of children disappearing, whispers that the bandits are eating them.” He paused for a moment, staring straight ahead. “It scares me the things people will believe, and without even thinking about it for a moment.”
“I know what you mean,” Alexander whispered, closing his eyes and wishing he could turn off the nightmare swirling around in his mind.
Days passed without event. Each night, Lancer patrols returned with more slaves captured in the forest. A few tried to escape; none succeeded. After a week of waiting, a wagon train arrived, each wagon fitted with a cage capable of transporting eight people.
One by one, the Lancer commanders herded the prisoners into the staging area, lining them up in orderly rows for inspection. A Lancer general walked the ranks, inspecting each prisoner. Behind him, an aide tallied the number of slaves captured by each commander and assigned every slave an estimated value.
As the general approached, Alexander assessed him. His colors were muddy and dark, devoid of humanity, absent of conscience. He might as well have been inspecting bushels of corn.
The general accepted nearly all of the slaves, touching his ring to their collar. The few he deemed to be of too-little value to warrant a place in his caravan were killed on the spot. Once the value of the slaves had been calculated, he paid the commanders and supervised the loading of his purchases into the wagons.
As the Andalians herded the slaves into the wagons, Alexander watched for Anja. She’d been loaded into a wagon with seven other young women. Alexander met her eyes as he passed, mouthing the only thing that really mattered, “I love you.”
Chapter 5
Isabel woke slowly, lingering in that place between sleep and wakefulness, unaware of where she was until she opened her eyes and found herself lying on a cold stone floor, dull pain hammering in her head. She pushed herself up to her hands and knees, clenching her eyes against the explosion in her head caused by such sudden movement. She took a moment to breathe, willing her mind to clear and trying to focus.
Very deliberately, she got to her feet and assessed her surroundings. She was in a circular room. Magic circles were etched into both the floor and ceiling. A single window cut through three feet of stone and barred at the midway point provided the only source of light. Opposite the window was a heavy door without a keyhole or latch.
Details began to work their way through the fog of pain in her head. She’d stabbed Phane … but he’d survived. He’d subdued her with poison-a possibility that had never entered her mind. He was an arch mage, yet he’d made preparations to defend himself without magic.
She sat down, the realization settling on her that she’d failed because she had underestimated him. Alexander had warned her, but she hadn’t listened.
Then it hit her.
Her hand went to the Goiri bone under her tunic. It was still there. The pain in her head faded, replaced by all of the possibilities racing through her mind. Since she still had the cursed bone, it stood to reason that Phane wasn’t aware of it. Surely he’d have taken it from her.
A thrill of fear ran up her spine, quickly spiking into terror so powerful that Isabel found herself cowering on the floor, searching the empty walls for a threat she couldn’t name. After a few minutes she regained some sense of awareness beyond the unexplainable fear gripping her soul. The experience had been so intense and so unexpected that she forgot momentarily why she was afraid in the first place. It took a moment of searching her mind before she remembered.
The box.
It was sealed by magic. If Phane got the bone, he could open the box without Lacy-he would have the final keystone he needed to open the Nether Gate.
Isabel surged to her feet, ripping the Goiri bone from around her neck and dropping it to the floor, stomping on it, grinding it into the flagstone with the heel of her boot until it was nothing but powder. Then she carefully scooped up the dust and blew it out the window.
As the remains of the cursed bone swirled away on the breeze, Isabel was thrown across the room as the magic circle reasserted itself in the absence of the null magic field. All vestiges of the fear she’d been feeling faded away in an instant. Then she hit the ground hard and the darkness of the Wraith Queen gripped her psyche once again. She would have screamed if she could have spared the effort, but she knew that any distraction, any slip of focus could lead to ruin, allowing Azugorath into her mind and heart where the demon would take up permanent residence.
Isabel wasn’t sure how long she lay on the floor, curled into a ball, fighting to remain in control of her own free will … it seemed like hours. Moment by moment, she fended off the demonic invasion threatening to take everything from her until the will of the Wraith Queen broke and her push for dominion receded.
Isabel sat up, trying to steady herself, allowing the flutter in her stomach and the energy coursing through her veins to dissipate. With a smile, she tipped her head back and linked her mind with Slyder. He was a long way away, and he was lonely. She could feel his excitement as he took to wing, flying toward her. She knew exactly how he felt. It had been a long time since she’d been able to use her magic, a long time since she’d been able to link with her familiar.
The sound of boots on stone brought her mind back to the circle cell. When the door opened, she remained sitting in the middle of the floor, smiling slightly as Phane stopped at the threshold. Two very large guards stood behind him.
“Hello, Isabel,” Phane said, a boyish smile of unabashed joy spreading across his face. “I trust the accommodations are to your liking.”
She stood and gingerly pressed against the barrier created by the magic circle. “It’s a little too confining for my tastes,” she said, meeting his eyes. “I was hoping you’d bled out.”
“Charming as ever. The truth is, no one has ever stabbed me before. In fact, no one has ever come so close to killing me before, not even remotely. Quite impressive, really, especially when you consider the magical protections surrounding me. I’m so very eager to learn how you managed to penetrate those defenses.”
“I’ll bet,” Isabel said.
Phane chuckled, not with derision or malice, but with genuine joy. “That’s one of the many reasons I like you, Isabel. You are so very defiant … even in the face of utter defeat, you stand your ground. Such tenacity is to be admired, though not overly so. As you can see, you’re all out of moves. I’ve won. Things will go much better for you once you accept that.”
“So, is this where you threaten to torture me?”
Phane actually looked shocked, and even a bit hurt. “Dear Isabel, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to make you my queen, my Lady Reishi. I can show you how to tap the darkness within you, command it, wield it. I can show you how to bend the netherworld to your will. Kings will kneel before you and tremble.”
Isabel started laughing. At first it was slightly forced, but within a few moments, it transformed into a genuine belly laugh that she couldn’t stop. Phane’s expression morphed from the pure joy of imagining his fantasy to sudden rage, his features contorted and ugly.
With a gesture, he dismissed the magic circle and surged forward, taking Isabel by the throat and lifting her off the ground at arm’s length. Still, she laughed past her choking. She watched the struggle play out in his eyes; he wanted to kill her and yet he didn’t. Then the rage passed, replaced by cold calculation, and he set her down gently.