“Watch this, slave killer.”
Rothen felt a flash of pain, then a distant but terrible feeling of paralysis and fear. Slowly the sense of Lord Sarle’s mind faded to nothing, and Rothen felt himself abruptly released.
He gasped and stared at his surroundings. The horse was stationary. Men and women beside the road hurried past, eyeing him nervously.
The blood gem! Rothen thought. Kariko must have put it on Lord Sarle. He shuddered as he realized he’d felt Sarle’s death. He’s going to show me the death of every magician he kills.
And next time it might be Dorrien or Dannyl.
Slapping his heels against the horse’s flanks, Rothen sent it galloping toward the city.
34
The Hunt Begins
The city streets were still hazy with dust from the destruction of the wall. All was desolate and empty, but now and then Lorlen caught a glimpse of movement at the corner of a building or within a window. He and Osen had broken into one of the houses facing the Palace only a few minutes before. Now they were waiting for the Ichani to arrive, and Balkan’s order to attack.
He didn’t know how many magicians had survived or how much power they had left, but he would find out soon enough.
“Here. Sit down,” Osen murmured.
Lorlen glanced away from the window to find his assistant holding an antique chair. As Osen set the chair down, Lorlen managed a wry smile.
“Thank you. I doubt I’ll be using it for long.”
The young magician’s gaze shifted back to the street outside.
“No. They’re here.”
Looking through the window again, Lorlen saw six figures emerge from the dust. The Sachakans walked slowly past, toward the Palace. Kariko gazed up at the wall.
No, we ’re not going to give you another chance to blast the stone out from under our feet, Lorlen thought as he moved to the door.
— Attack!
At Balkan’s order, Lorlen flung open the door and stepped outside, Osen following. Other magicians were emerging to form a half-circle around the Sachakans. Lorlen added his strength to their shield, then struck at the Ichani.
The Sachakans spun around to face them. An image of one of the Ichani flashed into Lorlen’s mind. At once, the Guild attacked the man. The force of their strikes sent the Ichani staggering backward toward the Palace wall, until the Sachakan’s answering strikes forced the Guild to concentrate on shielding again.
The blasts that hit the Guild’s shield were terrible. Lorlen felt a rush of fear and anxiety as the half-circle of magicians flinched away. The Guild would weaken quickly if it endured this battering for long.
— Retreat.
At Balkan’s command, the Guild magicians backed away to the houses and alleys they had emerged from. The Ichani began to advance.
“We have to get at least one of them,” Osen gasped.
“You shield, I’ll strike,” Lorlen replied. “Let’s just get closer to the house.”
They edged toward the door. As they reached it, Lorlen stopped.
“Now!”
Abandoning his shield, Lorlen threw all his remaining power into a strike at the weakened Ichani. The Sachakan staggered, and other strikes came as Guild magicians saw the man’s weakness. The man gave a shout—a wordless cry of anger and fear—as his shield failed. The next strike threw him back against the Palace wall, which buckled around him. He sagged and crumpled to the ground.
Cheers came from all around, but they ended abruptly as the Ichani retaliated with powerful blasts. Osen made a strangled noise.
“Get... back... inside...” Osen said between gritted teeth.
Lorlen followed Osen’s gaze and felt his stomach turn with dread as he saw that the Ichani leader, Kariko, was walking toward them, sending strike after strike at Osen’s shield. Taking Osen’s arm, Lorlen guided him back into the house. Wood and brickworks shattered as Kariko’s strikes passed through the doorway. Then Osen’s shield wavered.
“No,” Osen gasped. “Not yet.”
Grabbing Osen’s shoulders, Lorlen pushed him aside. There was a boom, and the front wall of the house collapsed inward. Cracks ran across the ceiling. Lorlen felt something slam across his shoulders and he staggered to his knees.
Then he was being battered to the floor. The ceiling had fallen in, he guessed. A weight pushed down on him from above. It crushed the air from his lungs. Then, as stillness finally came, he grew aware of pain. He sent his mind inward, and went cold as he saw the broken bones and ruptured organs, and realized what it would mean.
There was only one thing to do.
Dust and dirt cascaded down around him as he edged his hand toward the ring in his pocket.
The passages under the Inner Circle were quiet. Here and there volunteers waited by exits. Akkarin and Sonea’s guide stopped as a messenger appeared and hurried toward them.
“Sachakan magician... stayed with... the slaves,” the man panted. “They’re in... slums. Northside.”
“So one of them has separated from the others already,” Sonea observed. “Should we find him first?”
“It will take time to get there,” Akkarin said. He looked up in the direction of the Palace. “I would like to see how the Guild fares, but... this lone Ichani may try to rejoin Kariko when he hears that the Guild has been defeated.” He nodded slowly and turned to the guide. “Yes. Take us to the slums.”
“I’ll let them know you’re coming,” the messenger said. He sprinted away.
The guide led them back down the passage. Several minutes later they were stopped by a middle-aged woman.
“Tunnel’s collapsed,” she reported. “Can’t go that way.”
“What is the fastest alternative route?”
“There’s another tunnel close to the Guild wall,” the Guide told them.
Akkarin looked up. “The gap in the wall is almost above us.”
“That would be faster,” the guide said, shrugging. “But you may be seen.”
“The Guild and Ichani are outside the Palace. To anyone else, we will look like two more ordinary Imardians escaping the city. Take us to an exit as close to the wall as possible.”
The guide nodded and led them away. After a few turns, he stopped at a ladder bolted to a wall and pointed up at a hatch.
“That’ll put you in a storeroom. There’s a door to an alley.” He gave them instructions on finding an entrance to the passages on the other side of the wall. “You’ll find guides there. They know the North Quarter better than me.”
Akkarin began to climb. Following him, Sonea found herself in a large room filled with foodstuffs. They pushed through a door into a narrow, dead-end alley. Akkarin glided forward and stopped at the entrance. Drawing alongside, Sonea saw that they were on the other side of the road that followed the Inner Wall. Her heart sank as she took in the ruins.
A gust of wind chased away the dust and she saw familiar colors among the rubble. As she looked closer, she realized they were the robes of magicians.
“The way is clear,” Akkarin murmured. As they moved out of the ally, she took a step toward the magicians, and felt Akkarin’s hand on her arm.
“They’re dead, Sonea,” he murmured gently. “The Guild would not have left them, otherwise.”
“I know,” she said. “I just want to know who they are.”
“Not yet. There will be time for that later.”
Akkarin drew her toward the gap in the wall. Rubble covered the ground, forcing them to slow as they neared the gap. They had just reached the base of the fallen gates when he stopped. Sonea looked at him, and felt a stab of alarm. His face had turned white, and he was staring at a point somewhere far below the ground.
“What is it?”
“Lorlen.” He turned abruptly to face the Inner Circle. “I have to find him. Go on ahead. Find this Ichani, but do nothing until I arrive.”
“But—”