“And Ashia?” Asome asked. “My traitorous wife must face justice for killing her brother and my palace guards.”
Inevera resisted the urge to laugh at the irony. “I am afraid your Jiwah Ka was mortally wounded in the battle, my son.”
Asome pursed his lips, clearly doubting. “They must be returned, now that the danger is past. I would see the body of my wife, Kaji must lead his tribe, and my holy grandmother …”
Inevera topped the steps and met his eyes, and he did not dare finish the sentence. As Shar’Dama Ka, Asome’s power exceeded her own, but it was untested, and they both knew Inevera could have both of the hostages killed long before he found them.
“The danger is not past!” Inevera said loudly, her voice echoing through the room. “I have consulted the alagai hora, and the dice foretell doom, should they leave my protection.”
She did not bow, striding as an equal to her bed of pillows beside the throne.
CHAPTER 33
A VOICE IN THE DARK
334 AR SPRING
Six cycles passed, cold months come and gone as the demon worked, shaving the metal of his shackles away atom by atom. The first lock was ready to shatter, and the others grew weaker. Soon he would be ready to escape, but still his captors remained vigilant.
The prison began to heat, light seeping in through the curtain weave. Soon the day star would rise in full.
He was about to curl back down when a sound came from below. His gaolers, coming again to bark at him.
There were five of them, the same that had struck in the Enemy’s tomb. For reasons unknown, they had foolishly cut themselves off from their drones. Their minds were warded, but they had not learned to mask their auras well, and the glow about them showed the Consort much.
First came the drones. The male was magically and mentally dim, but loyal as a rock drone. He circled the ward mosaic, taking position behind the Consort.
The female drone was brighter than her sire, but this was not surprising. Demon females always dominated their sires—something the Consort knew well. The Hive Queen was his progeny, after all.
With the lesser drones behind him, the Unifiers entered. First came the Heir, who carried the weapons of the Enemy, powered by the bones and horns of the Consort’s ancestors, including his own grandsire.
The Consort swallowed a hiss. The Heir had gone to great lengths to protect the body of his own ancestor, yet he flaunted his enemies’ bones arrogantly. It was an insult the Consort would repay a thousandfold when he was free.
But the Heir’s surface aura was one of barely contained action. His every instinct screamed for him to kill the Consort and have done. He would not act unprovoked, but he would take any excuse to strike.
The Consort was careful to give none. His posture did not threaten, but he met the Heir’s eyes, watching.
Next to enter was the Explorer, who found the Enemy’s tomb and brought back the fighting wards the Consort and his brethren had worked so hard to suppress. Immediately following was his mate the Hunter, who feared nothing when the kill was scented. Both had covered their flesh in powerful wardings, powered from within by stolen Core magic.
Heir. Explorer. Hunter. Each was bright with power, but even now, all three could not match the power the Consort held in reserve, if he were free to use it.
“Mornin’,” the Explorer said. “Hope the accommodations are to your liking. Sorry we can’t be better hosts.”
The Consort watched him with bemusement. The Explorer always opened with some insincere platitude. They played the game over and over, but never learned the rules.
The Heir’s aura chafed at the Explorer’s lead. Older and more experienced, he was accustomed to dominance, but the Explorer’s magic was brighter, and in the end, magic always led.
It was a small rift in their alliance, but like the links of his chain, the Consort could worry it in time.
“How do we know it even understands us?” the Hunter asked. The female lacked patience, quick to anger. Another crevice to widen.
“Maybe its mouth ent suited to our speech,” the Explorer said, “but it’s getting every word.”
He moved along the wall, eyes on the Consort. There was something new in his aura. Impatient. “Only, I’m thinking it can talk. I think maybe it just doesn’t want to.”
“Can’t imagine why,” the Hunter said.
“Because it is a creature of Nie,” the Heir said.
“Thing is, demon, you ent much good to us if you can’t talk.” The Explorer took one of the curtains in hand, pulling it aside.
The Consort shrieked, throwing up arms to shield its eyes as the cell was filled with blinding brightness. Like molten stone, it burned his skin.
The Explorer let the curtain drop, and the Consort immediately Drew on his reserve, healing the damage. The pupils of the humans had not even dilated, but it was more light than the Consort could bear for long. He would be drained of power even before the day star rose to burn him into oblivion.
“Got anything to say?” the Explorer asked, still clutching the cloth.
It was a ploy. The Unifiers had kept him too long to kill him now. But the Consort’s eyes still burned, and the auras around him were unreadable. He could not risk it.
The Consort Drew hard, rolling to the side and strengthening a claw to shatter the lock he had eroded. A twist of the chain freed one of his legs, and he reached out, snatching the broken pieces of lock in his talons.
A short burst of power sent metal flying through the room. Neither the Consort nor his magic could leave the circle at the center of the mosaic, but once in motion, the projectiles flew uninhibited.
The Heir batted one piece aside with a wave of his weapon. The Explorer dissipated, letting it pass harmlessly through him. The Hunter was struck, but her aura brightened, healing the damage instantly. The female drone angled her shield and diverted the missile harmlessly.
The male drone was dim, but quick and alert. He stepped precisely as the Consort anticipated, and the twisted bit of metal missed him to strike the wall behind at precisely the right angle to rebound into the back of his head, knocking the warded wrappings he wore askew.
Dazed, the drone stumbled onto the mosaic and collapsed, one limb falling forward, the barest fingertip crossing the circle.
But even that breach was enough for the Consort to slip into his mind, crushing the drone’s will like an insect.
The others rushed to him, but they pulled up short when the drone got to his feet and placed himself in front of the Consort, his spear and shield held at the ready.
“Shanjat, stand aside,” the Heir said.
“Your drone no longer controls this shell,” the Consort replied, using the warrior’s mouth to form the clumsy, inefficient vibrations of their speech.
The Heir pointed the hated weapon at him. “Shanjat is ready for Heaven, demon. We will not release you for him.”
“Of course not,” the Consort agreed. “He is only a drone. He does not expect you to save him. He begs your forgiveness for his failure.”
“There is no dishonor in being defeated by a superior foe,” the Heir said, emotion coloring his aura and clouding his judgment. How easily they were manipulated!
“Indeed,” the Consort agreed. “You were correct that I cannot form your words, but this drone will serve hence as my voice.”
The female drone made a low sound, her aura coloring with a delicious blend of pain and anger. The Explorer reached again for the curtain. “Just for now, Shanvah. You’ll get your da back.”