Ka-poel. Was she still alive? He staggered to his feet, casting aside his rifle. Ka-poel was nowhere to be seen. Julene was gone too. The building creaked and swayed beneath him. Another quake? Outside, in the middle of Pike Lake, a great geyser sprayed into the air. Taniel could feel the heat from it. He forced himself inside.
Ka-poel lay near the arched doorway to the throne room. Blood leaked from her mouth and nose and from the corner of one eye. She stared up at Taniel, still gripping one of her dolls. It was Julene, clear as day, and the doll wore a mask of absolute rage.
Taniel fell to his knees beside Ka-poel.
“I can’t take you anywhere safe,” he said. “There’s nowhere safe left. I killed a god.”
Ka-poel blinked. Taniel choked on his own sob.
“Pole?”
She smiled, reached up, and grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close to her, stronger than Taniel could have imagined.
That’s when he felt the building fall out from under them.
Epilogue
Bloody pit, Olem thought as they brought in the bodies and laid them before Tamas.
Rain beat down and wind whipped at the canvas tent over their heads. The sounds in the air – screams like banshees that came from no mortal throat – and the smell of sulfur that clogged his senses and made him want to spit every few minutes.
He could see South Pike from time to time through the swaying trees. The whole mountain, no, the whole southeastern sky, glowed like the hillside behind a fire. It made him nervous being this close, no matter what the field marshal said. The mountain had changed. Its familiar rimmed top had collapsed on the southern side, spilling out its fiery guts onto the Kez plains.
Olem hoped it swallowed the whole damned Kez army.
Plumes of ash and smoke as big as Adro floated in the air above them, reflecting the harsh flow of the mountain. The ash rained down, requiring every man to wear cloth over his face. A plume of fire spurted from the southern rim and disappeared, heading toward Kez. Olem shuddered. That one plume was probably big enough to cover a city.
Shouldercrown was gone, swept away when the mountain’s side gave way. The last of the evacuees had just come into Tamas’s camp. It seems that they’d gotten all of the Mountainwatchers out in time. They’d brought with them the survivors of the mountaintop battle along with rumors that could shake a man’s soul.
“Are they dead?” Olem asked. He touched a new cigarette to the brazier and brought it to his lips, pulling in the sweet smoke. Dr. Petrik shot Olem a dirty look. Olem grimaced. He should watch himself. This was the field marshal’s son he was talking about.
There were three bodies, all bundled head to toe to protect them from the falling ash. One of them was alive for certain. He was a medium-sized man, emaciated and frail-looking. He was carried in on a stretcher, and his hands and feet were very clearly bound. His arms stuck out from his body, propped up by a forked stick so that his bare hands could be seen at all times. Privileged Borbador, Olem guessed. The last of the king’s royal cabal. Bo’s eyes searched the room. His mouth was not gagged, yet he did not speak.
The two other bodies belonged to a young man and woman. Soldiers unwrapped the coverings so that Dr. Petrik could examine them. The woman – no, girl, from her size – was a savage with freckled skin and hair that might have been fire red had it not been singed to hardly anything. Olem couldn’t tell if she was breathing. The boy was Taniel. Olem recognized him well enough. All of Tamas’s soldiers did.
Olem sidled up beside the Privileged’s stretcher and pulled up a stool.
“Bad up there?” Olem said. He grimaced at the pain from his chest. The wound from Charlemund had been straight and clean, making it possible for Mihali to heal it with sorcery Olem couldn’t comprehend. Healed it might be, but it still hurt between his ribs.
Bo gave him a glance.
“Cigarette?” Olem wrapped a new cigarette and put it between Bo’s lips. He lit it with a match. Bo breathed in the smoke and coughed. Olem caught the cigarette, put it back in Bo’s mouth. Bo gave a slight nod.
“I hear we got all of our boys out,” Olem said. “Before the mountain fell. That’s lucky.”
Bo said nothing.
“Rumors of a great sorceress up there, duking it out with you and Taniel. She survive?”
“Don’t know.” It was barely a whisper, muttered from between Bo’s clenched lips so the cigarette wouldn’t fall.
“That’s a pity,” Olem said. “If she did, let’s hope she’s on the Kez side of the mountain.”
Bo didn’t respond.
A man came into the tent then. He might as well have been a bear, for his size and the furs on his shoulders. He wore the emblem of the Watchmaster on his vest. Olem didn’t recognize him.
Tamas left his son’s side for a moment. “Jakola,” Tamas said in greeting to the Watchmaster.
“How’s the boy?” Jakola asked.
“Alive. Barely.”
“A miracle,” Jakola said. “You thank that girl, and give her as much attention as you show Taniel. If he survives, he’ll owe her his life. Pit, from what the men are telling me, we all might owe her our lives.”
Tamas looked over to the savage girl. “She clings on even weaker than Taniel. I don’t know what we can do for her.”
“Well, do it,” Jakola said. “You’ve got more surgeons than just this old hoot.” He crossed the room to Tamas’s cot and sat down, producing a flask from his vest pocket.
Olem frowned. Should he rebuke the man? He looked three times Olem’s size. Sabon was the only one Olem had seen speak to the field marshal like that and get away with it.
“Jakola,” Olem said. “That name sounds familiar.”
Bo gave a slight shake of the head. “I know him as Gavril.”
Olem took the cigarette from Bo’s lips and tapped the ashes off. He put it back in Bo’s mouth. “Jakola,” Olem said. “Jakola, Jakola. Hmm. Wait. Jakola of Pensbrook!” He felt his eyes widen. “That’s him?”
“Don’t ask me,” Bo said.
Olem settled back on his stool and smoked his cigarette, trying to remember the rumors passed down through the troops. They said Jakola was one of Tamas’s closest friends. Some said it was his dead wife’s brother. Olem wondered if there was truth to that. Jakola hadn’t been heard from for longer than Olem had been in the army.
Tamas limped over and squatted next to Bo’s cot. He had refused to let Mihali heal him until he had Taniel to safety. His leg was bad, getting worse, but his stubbornness remained.
“I have some questions for you,” Tamas said.
Olem removed the cigarette from Bo’s mouth so he could answer.
“What happened up there?” Tamas said.
Bo stared glumly at the field marshal. He did not look like he’d speak any time soon.
“I’m not going to execute you,” Tamas said. “Not yet, anyway. This stuff” – he gestured to the ropes – “is a precaution. I suspect the gaes still holds you?”
Bo nodded.
“Then you and Taniel were not able to find a way to destroy it?”
“We’ve spent the last few months trying to throw back the Kez,” Bo said. His voice was rough. “We haven’t had time.”
“When will the gaes kill you?” Tamas said.
“I don’t know.”
Tamas considered this. “For now, you remain as thus. We’ll try to make you comfortable. I know your compulsion to kill me is not your fault.”
Bo didn’t look relieved.
“What happened up there?” Tamas asked again. “Did Taniel really shoot Kresimir?”
“Yes,” Bo said.
“Did you see it happen?”
“I felt it happen,” Bo said. “Every Privileged in the Nine felt it happen. It tore through my soul. Did you feel it?”