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Nicci climbed down as she saw one of the double doors opening. Apparently having heard the noise Victor emerged from the building, glowering like he intended to murder the next person he could get his hands on.
«Have you seen the message?» He demanded.
«Yes, I have. Where's the horse I asked for?»
He pointed a thumb back over his shoulder toward the open door. «Well, what are we going to do now? The attack will probably come at dawn. We can't allow those soldiers to take you back with them to the army. We can't let them leave and report that we won't do as Kronos demands. What are we going to tell them?»
Nicci tilted her head toward the building. «Ishaq, would you go get the horse, please?»
He made a sour face. «You ought to marry Richard. You make a good pair. You are both crazy.»
Startled, Nicci could only stare at the man.
She finally found her voice. «Ishaq, please, we don't have a lot of time. We don't want those fellows to go back empty-handed.»
«Yes, Your Highness,» he mocked, «allow me to get your royal mount for you.»
«I've never seen Ishaq act like that,» she said to Victor as she watched the man stalking toward the door, muttering curses under his breath.
«He thinks you're crazy. So do I.» Victor planted his fists on his hips. «Has that ruse back at the stables with the spy gone bad? Or is this what you planned all along?»
In no mood to discuss it with the man, Nicci returned the glare in kind. «My plan,» she said through gritted teeth, «is to get this over with as soon as possible and to keep the people of Altur'Rang from being slaughtered.»
«What's that got to do with turning you over to Brother Kronos as a gift?»
«If we allow them to attack at dawn, they will have the advantage. We need them to attack today.»
«Today!» Victor glanced west, toward the low sun. «But it will be dark soon.»
«Exactly,» she said as she leaned in the back of the wagon and retrieved a length of rope.
Victor stared off at the heart of the city as he thought about it. «Well, all things considered, I guess it would be better not to face them in the day, on their terms. If we could somehow get them to attack today, they would soon run out of daylight. That would work to our advantage.»
«I will bring them to you,» she said. «You just be ready.»
The creases across Victor's forehead deepened. «I don't know how you're going to get them to attack today, but we'll be ready if they do.»
Ishaq came out of the warehouse leading a white stallion covered with mottled black spots. The mane, tail, and legs below the hocks were black. The horse looked not only elegant, but had a tough demeanor about him, as if it would have boundless endurance. Still, it wasn't what she had been expecting.
«He doesn't look all that big,» she said to Ishaq.
Ishaq gave the horse an affectionate rub on its white face. «You did not say big, you said that you wanted a steady horse that would not spook easily, one that had a fearless spirit.»
Nicci took another look at the horse. «I just assumed that such a horse would be big.»
«She's a crazy woman,» Ishaq muttered to Victor.
«She's going to be a dead crazy woman,» Victor said.
Nicci handed Victor the rope. «This will be easier if you stand on the wall, after I'm mounted.»
She stroked the horse under his jaw and then his silky ears. The animal nickered his appreciation and nudged his head against her. Nicci held his head and trickled a thin thread of her Han into the creature, giving him a bit of calming introduction. She ran a hand over his shoulder and then along the side of his belly as she inspected him.
Without comment, Victor climbed up the wall and waited until she boosted herself up and was seated in the saddle. Nicci arranged the skirts of her red dress and then unbuttoned it to the waist. She pulled her arms out of the sleeves one at a time, holding the front of the dress against her chest and then holding it up with her elbows as she lifted her hands toward Victor, her wrists pressed together.
Victor's face went as red as her dress. «Now what are you doing?»
«These men are experienced Imperial Order troops. Some will be officers. I spent a lot of time in the Order's camp. I was widely known-to some as the Slave Queen, and to others as Death's Mistress. It's possible that certain of these men may have served in Jagang's army during that time and so they very well may recognize me, especially if I were to wear a black dress. Just in case, I'm wearing a red dress.
«I also need to give these men something to stare at to keep them off guard and hopefully from recognizing me. It will disrupt the usual calculating judgment of soldiers such as these. It will also get Kronos's attention and make him think that the 'mayor' is desperate to appease him. Nothing rouses the blood lust in these kind of men more than weakness.»
«It's going to get you in trouble before you even get to Kronos.»
«I'm a sorceress. I can take care of myself.»
«Seems to me that Richard is a wizard and carries a sword charged with ancient magic and even he got into trouble when he was greatly outnumbered. He was overpowered and nearly killed.»
Nicci again lifted her hands out toward Victor, wrists together.
«Tie them.»
Victor glared at her a moment before finally giving in. With a growl he set about binding her wrists. Ishaq held the reins just under the horse's bit as he waited.
«Is this horse fast?» she asked as she watched Victor wrapping rope around her wrists.
«Sa'din is fast,» Ishaq told her.
«Sa'din? Doesn't that mean 'the wind' in the old tongue?»
Ishaq nodded. «You know the old tongue?»
«A little,» she said. «Today, Sa'din will need to be as swift as the wind. Now listen to me, both of you. I don't intend on getting myself killed.»
«Few people do,» Victor griped.
«You don't understand; this will be my best chance to get near Kronos. Once the attack begins it would be difficult not only to find him, but, even if we did know where he was, it would be next to impossible to get close to him. He would be dealing death against the innocent in ways you cannot even imagine, spreading fear, panic, and death. That makes him valuable to them. In battle their soldiers will be looking for anyone trying to take out their wizard. I have to do it now. I intend to end it tonight.»
Victor and Ishaq shared a look.
«I want everyone to be ready,» she said. «When I come back I expect there will be some very angry people behind me.»
Victor looked up after yanking the knot tight. «How many angry people?»
«I intend to have their entire force right on my heels.»
Ishaq gently rubbed Sa'din's face. «What are they going to be angry about? If I may ask.»
«Besides trying to take out their wizard, I intend to give the hornets' nest a good stiff whack.»
Victor sighed irritably. «We'll be ready for them when they attack, but once you go in there I'm not so sure you will be able to get away.»
Nicci wasn't either. She remembered a time when she went about her plans not caring if she lived or died carrying them out. Now she cared.
«If I don't come back, then you will just have to do your best. Hopefully, even if they kill me, I will be able to take Kronos out with me. Either way, we've laid a lot of surprises for them.»
«Does Richard know what you had planned?» Ishaq asked as he squinted up at her.
«I expect he knew. He had the good grace, though, not to make me feel any more afraid by arguing with me about what I know I must do. This is not a game. We are all fighting for our very lives. If we fail, then innocent, decent people are going to be slaughtered in numbers that stagger the imagination. I've been on the other end of attacks like this. I know what's coming. I'm trying to prevent it. If you don't want to help, then just stay out of my way.»
Nicci looked at each man in turn. Chagrined, they both kept silent.
Victor went back to his work and quickly finished up with binding her wrists. He pulled a knife from his boot and sliced off the excess length of rope.
«Who do you want to take you to the soldiers who are waiting?» Ishaq asked.
«I think you'd better take me, Ishaq. While Victor alerts everyone and sees to the preparations, you will be a representative of the mayor.»
«All right,» he said as he scratched the hollow of his cheek.
«Good,» she said as she picked up the reins.
Before she could say anything else, Victor cleared his throat. «There is one other matter I've been meaning to talk to you about. But we've both been busy.»
Victor uncharacteristically looked away from her.
«What is it?» she asked him.
«Well, ordinarily I wouldn't say anything, but I think maybe you ought to know.»
«Know what?»
«People are beginning to question Richard.»
Nicci frowned. «Question him? What do you mean? Question him in what way?»
«Word has gotten around about why he left. People are worried that he is abandoning them and their cause to chase phantoms. They question if they should be following such a man. There is talk that he's — that he's, you know, deranged or something. What should I tell them?»
Nicci took a deep breath as she collected her thoughts. This was what she had feared. This was one of the reasons she had thought it important that he not leave-especially the way he did, right before the attack.
«Remind them,» she said as she leaned toward him, «that Lord Rahl is a wizard, and a wizard can see things-such as hidden, distant threats-that they cannot. A wizard does not go around explaining his actions to people.
«The Lord Rahl has many responsibilities other than just this one place. If the people here wish to live free, to live their own lives as they wish, then they must choose to do so for their own sake. They must trust that Richard, as the Lord Rahl and as a wizard, is off doing what is best for our cause.»
«And do you believe that?» the blacksmith asked.
«No. But there is a difference. I can follow the ideals he has shown me while at the same time working to bring Richard back to his senses. The two are not incompatible. But the people must trust in their leader. If they think he is a madman they may fall back on fear and give up. Right now we can't afford that risk.
«Whether Richard is sane or not it doesn't change the validity of the cause. The truth is the truth-Richard or no Richard.
«Those troops coming to murder us are real. If they win, then those who are not killed will be enslaved once more under the yoke of the Imperial Order. If Richard is alive, dead, sane, or mad, it does not change that fact.»
Victor, his arms folded, nodded.
Nicci moved her leg back and pressed her heel into Sa'din's side, moving his rump closer to the wall. She turned the back of her shoulders to the blacksmith standing on that wall beside her. «Pull my dress down to my waist, and be quick about it-the sun will be setting soon.»
Ishaq turned away, shaking his head.
Victor hesitated a moment, then sighed in resignation and did as she had instructed.
«All right, Ishaq, let's go. Lead the way.» She looked back over her shoulder at Victor. «I will bring you the enemy, chasing the setting sun.»
«What should I tell the men?» Victor asked.
Nicci shrouded herself in the cold exterior she had used so often throughout her life, the cold calm of Death's Mistress.
«Tell them to think dark and violent thoughts.»
For the first time, Victor's glower twisted into a grim smile.
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
«Have you seen the message?» He demanded.
«Yes, I have. Where's the horse I asked for?»
He pointed a thumb back over his shoulder toward the open door. «Well, what are we going to do now? The attack will probably come at dawn. We can't allow those soldiers to take you back with them to the army. We can't let them leave and report that we won't do as Kronos demands. What are we going to tell them?»
Nicci tilted her head toward the building. «Ishaq, would you go get the horse, please?»
He made a sour face. «You ought to marry Richard. You make a good pair. You are both crazy.»
Startled, Nicci could only stare at the man.
She finally found her voice. «Ishaq, please, we don't have a lot of time. We don't want those fellows to go back empty-handed.»
«Yes, Your Highness,» he mocked, «allow me to get your royal mount for you.»
«I've never seen Ishaq act like that,» she said to Victor as she watched the man stalking toward the door, muttering curses under his breath.
«He thinks you're crazy. So do I.» Victor planted his fists on his hips. «Has that ruse back at the stables with the spy gone bad? Or is this what you planned all along?»
In no mood to discuss it with the man, Nicci returned the glare in kind. «My plan,» she said through gritted teeth, «is to get this over with as soon as possible and to keep the people of Altur'Rang from being slaughtered.»
«What's that got to do with turning you over to Brother Kronos as a gift?»
«If we allow them to attack at dawn, they will have the advantage. We need them to attack today.»
«Today!» Victor glanced west, toward the low sun. «But it will be dark soon.»
«Exactly,» she said as she leaned in the back of the wagon and retrieved a length of rope.
Victor stared off at the heart of the city as he thought about it. «Well, all things considered, I guess it would be better not to face them in the day, on their terms. If we could somehow get them to attack today, they would soon run out of daylight. That would work to our advantage.»
«I will bring them to you,» she said. «You just be ready.»
The creases across Victor's forehead deepened. «I don't know how you're going to get them to attack today, but we'll be ready if they do.»
Ishaq came out of the warehouse leading a white stallion covered with mottled black spots. The mane, tail, and legs below the hocks were black. The horse looked not only elegant, but had a tough demeanor about him, as if it would have boundless endurance. Still, it wasn't what she had been expecting.
«He doesn't look all that big,» she said to Ishaq.
Ishaq gave the horse an affectionate rub on its white face. «You did not say big, you said that you wanted a steady horse that would not spook easily, one that had a fearless spirit.»
Nicci took another look at the horse. «I just assumed that such a horse would be big.»
«She's a crazy woman,» Ishaq muttered to Victor.
«She's going to be a dead crazy woman,» Victor said.
Nicci handed Victor the rope. «This will be easier if you stand on the wall, after I'm mounted.»
She stroked the horse under his jaw and then his silky ears. The animal nickered his appreciation and nudged his head against her. Nicci held his head and trickled a thin thread of her Han into the creature, giving him a bit of calming introduction. She ran a hand over his shoulder and then along the side of his belly as she inspected him.
Without comment, Victor climbed up the wall and waited until she boosted herself up and was seated in the saddle. Nicci arranged the skirts of her red dress and then unbuttoned it to the waist. She pulled her arms out of the sleeves one at a time, holding the front of the dress against her chest and then holding it up with her elbows as she lifted her hands toward Victor, her wrists pressed together.
Victor's face went as red as her dress. «Now what are you doing?»
«These men are experienced Imperial Order troops. Some will be officers. I spent a lot of time in the Order's camp. I was widely known-to some as the Slave Queen, and to others as Death's Mistress. It's possible that certain of these men may have served in Jagang's army during that time and so they very well may recognize me, especially if I were to wear a black dress. Just in case, I'm wearing a red dress.
«I also need to give these men something to stare at to keep them off guard and hopefully from recognizing me. It will disrupt the usual calculating judgment of soldiers such as these. It will also get Kronos's attention and make him think that the 'mayor' is desperate to appease him. Nothing rouses the blood lust in these kind of men more than weakness.»
«It's going to get you in trouble before you even get to Kronos.»
«I'm a sorceress. I can take care of myself.»
«Seems to me that Richard is a wizard and carries a sword charged with ancient magic and even he got into trouble when he was greatly outnumbered. He was overpowered and nearly killed.»
Nicci again lifted her hands out toward Victor, wrists together.
«Tie them.»
Victor glared at her a moment before finally giving in. With a growl he set about binding her wrists. Ishaq held the reins just under the horse's bit as he waited.
«Is this horse fast?» she asked as she watched Victor wrapping rope around her wrists.
«Sa'din is fast,» Ishaq told her.
«Sa'din? Doesn't that mean 'the wind' in the old tongue?»
Ishaq nodded. «You know the old tongue?»
«A little,» she said. «Today, Sa'din will need to be as swift as the wind. Now listen to me, both of you. I don't intend on getting myself killed.»
«Few people do,» Victor griped.
«You don't understand; this will be my best chance to get near Kronos. Once the attack begins it would be difficult not only to find him, but, even if we did know where he was, it would be next to impossible to get close to him. He would be dealing death against the innocent in ways you cannot even imagine, spreading fear, panic, and death. That makes him valuable to them. In battle their soldiers will be looking for anyone trying to take out their wizard. I have to do it now. I intend to end it tonight.»
Victor and Ishaq shared a look.
«I want everyone to be ready,» she said. «When I come back I expect there will be some very angry people behind me.»
Victor looked up after yanking the knot tight. «How many angry people?»
«I intend to have their entire force right on my heels.»
Ishaq gently rubbed Sa'din's face. «What are they going to be angry about? If I may ask.»
«Besides trying to take out their wizard, I intend to give the hornets' nest a good stiff whack.»
Victor sighed irritably. «We'll be ready for them when they attack, but once you go in there I'm not so sure you will be able to get away.»
Nicci wasn't either. She remembered a time when she went about her plans not caring if she lived or died carrying them out. Now she cared.
«If I don't come back, then you will just have to do your best. Hopefully, even if they kill me, I will be able to take Kronos out with me. Either way, we've laid a lot of surprises for them.»
«Does Richard know what you had planned?» Ishaq asked as he squinted up at her.
«I expect he knew. He had the good grace, though, not to make me feel any more afraid by arguing with me about what I know I must do. This is not a game. We are all fighting for our very lives. If we fail, then innocent, decent people are going to be slaughtered in numbers that stagger the imagination. I've been on the other end of attacks like this. I know what's coming. I'm trying to prevent it. If you don't want to help, then just stay out of my way.»
Nicci looked at each man in turn. Chagrined, they both kept silent.
Victor went back to his work and quickly finished up with binding her wrists. He pulled a knife from his boot and sliced off the excess length of rope.
«Who do you want to take you to the soldiers who are waiting?» Ishaq asked.
«I think you'd better take me, Ishaq. While Victor alerts everyone and sees to the preparations, you will be a representative of the mayor.»
«All right,» he said as he scratched the hollow of his cheek.
«Good,» she said as she picked up the reins.
Before she could say anything else, Victor cleared his throat. «There is one other matter I've been meaning to talk to you about. But we've both been busy.»
Victor uncharacteristically looked away from her.
«What is it?» she asked him.
«Well, ordinarily I wouldn't say anything, but I think maybe you ought to know.»
«Know what?»
«People are beginning to question Richard.»
Nicci frowned. «Question him? What do you mean? Question him in what way?»
«Word has gotten around about why he left. People are worried that he is abandoning them and their cause to chase phantoms. They question if they should be following such a man. There is talk that he's — that he's, you know, deranged or something. What should I tell them?»
Nicci took a deep breath as she collected her thoughts. This was what she had feared. This was one of the reasons she had thought it important that he not leave-especially the way he did, right before the attack.
«Remind them,» she said as she leaned toward him, «that Lord Rahl is a wizard, and a wizard can see things-such as hidden, distant threats-that they cannot. A wizard does not go around explaining his actions to people.
«The Lord Rahl has many responsibilities other than just this one place. If the people here wish to live free, to live their own lives as they wish, then they must choose to do so for their own sake. They must trust that Richard, as the Lord Rahl and as a wizard, is off doing what is best for our cause.»
«And do you believe that?» the blacksmith asked.
«No. But there is a difference. I can follow the ideals he has shown me while at the same time working to bring Richard back to his senses. The two are not incompatible. But the people must trust in their leader. If they think he is a madman they may fall back on fear and give up. Right now we can't afford that risk.
«Whether Richard is sane or not it doesn't change the validity of the cause. The truth is the truth-Richard or no Richard.
«Those troops coming to murder us are real. If they win, then those who are not killed will be enslaved once more under the yoke of the Imperial Order. If Richard is alive, dead, sane, or mad, it does not change that fact.»
Victor, his arms folded, nodded.
Nicci moved her leg back and pressed her heel into Sa'din's side, moving his rump closer to the wall. She turned the back of her shoulders to the blacksmith standing on that wall beside her. «Pull my dress down to my waist, and be quick about it-the sun will be setting soon.»
Ishaq turned away, shaking his head.
Victor hesitated a moment, then sighed in resignation and did as she had instructed.
«All right, Ishaq, let's go. Lead the way.» She looked back over her shoulder at Victor. «I will bring you the enemy, chasing the setting sun.»
«What should I tell the men?» Victor asked.
Nicci shrouded herself in the cold exterior she had used so often throughout her life, the cold calm of Death's Mistress.
«Tell them to think dark and violent thoughts.»
For the first time, Victor's glower twisted into a grim smile.
CHAPTER 26
The soldiers atop huge warhorses peered down at Nicci as Ishaq led her horse to a stop beside the community well in the small square at the eastern edge of the city. Her stallion, Sa'din, felt small in the presence of such huge beasts. Armored plate down the front of their heads lent them a threatening appearance. These were cavalry horses and the armor helped protect them from arrows as they charged enemy lines. They pawed the ground and snorted their disdain for the smaller horse come among them. Sa'din backed a step, just out of range of one of the warhorse's teeth when it snapped, but he didn't shy away.
If the horses looked to be frightening animals, the men were clearly their masters. Dressed in dark leather armor plates and shirts of chain mail and carrying an array of sinister weapons, these men were not merely brutish-looking but larger than any of the men defending the city. Nicci knew that they would have been selected for the mission because of the way they looked. The Order liked sending such intimidating messages to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies.
From dark windows, recessed doorways, narrow streets, and the shadows in alleyways people who had retreated out of the open watched the woman stripped to her waist, her wrists bound, being handed over to the soldiers. Nicci had endured the ride through the city by not thinking about it and instead focusing on her need to get this over with so she could catch up with Richard. That was what mattered. So people looked at her-what difference did it make? She had had to endure far worse at the hands of the men of the Order.
«I am an aide to the mayor,» Ishaq said in a subservient tone to the powerfully built man atop a towering, brown, bull neck gelding. The butt of the pole with the white flag rested on the man's saddle between his legs, his meaty fist gripping it halfway up the length of the stout shaft. The man sat mute, waiting. Ishaq licked his lips as he bowed before going on. «He sent me in his place with his woman, his wife — as a gift to the great Kronos to show our sincerity in agreeing with his wishes.»
The soldier, a midlevel officer of some sort, smirked at Nicci after taking a long and deliberate look at her breasts. Broad leather belts held several knives, a flail, a short sword, and a crescent-bladed axe. The mail and metal rings along studded straps crossing his broad chest jangled when his horse stomped its hooves. She was relieved not to recognize the man and kept her head turned down to hide her face from the men with him.
Still, the officer said nothing.
With one hand Ishaq swept his hat off his head. «Please relay our message of peace to.»
The officer tossed the pole with the white flag down to Ishaq. Ishaq swiftly replaced his hat in order to catch the pole with one hand, his other still tightly gripping the reins just below Sa'din's bit. The pole looked heavy, but Ishaq had been loading wagons for most of his life and had no trouble with it.
«Kronos will let you know if the offering is satisfactory,» the officer growled.
Ishaq cleared his throat, rather than say anything else, and again bowed politely. The soldiers all snickered at him before taking another knowing look at Nicci's exposed condition. They obviously greatly enjoyed exerting their dominance over others.
Most of them had metal rings or pointed metal rivets pierced through their noses, ears, and cheeks in an attempt to make them look more fierce. Nicci thought that it simply made them look silly. Several of the dozen men had wild, dark, tattooed designs sweeping across their faces, also intended to intimidate. These were men who had risen to their highest ideal in life: to be savages.
It was somewhat common for many of the women in the cities surrendering to advancing Imperial Order troops to come out stripped to the waist as a petition for leniency. Because it was such a common form of submission, the soldiers were not at all surprised by the manner in which the wife of the mayor was being surrendered. That, of course, was one of the reasons why Nicci had done it. Such bids for mercy and gentle treatment were never honored, but the women who offered themselves in such a manner didn't know that.
Nicci knew because she had often been with the Order troops when they took such women captive. Such obliging people imagined that surrender in such a subservient manner would be ingratiating and elicit reasonable treatment. They had no idea that they had willingly given themselves over to incomprehensible horrors. The soldiers' treatment of women captives was dismissed by the intellectuals of the Order as a trivial matter compared to the greater good the Order was bringing to the nonbelievers.
Nicci sometimes longed for death rather than continue to live with such memories and the knowledge that she had once been a party to such horrors. What she wanted now, though, was to set things right as only she could do. She wanted to participate in wiping the scourge of the Order from existence.
The grim officer who had carried the white flag into Altur'Rang bent down and now took the reins to her horse from Ishaq. He stepped his mount close to her. As he leaned toward her he casually seized her left nipple, twisting it as he spoke intimately to her.
«Brother Kronos tires quickly of a woman, no matter how beautiful she is. I expect it will be no different with you. When he moves on to the next he gives us the one he is finished with. Know that I will be first.»
The men with him chuckled. He flashed her a grin. His dark eyes gleamed with menace. He twisted harder until she gasped in pain and tears stung her eyes. Satisfied with himself and her timid reaction, he released her. Nicci squeezed her eyes shut as she pressed the back of her bound wrists to herself trying to ease the throbbing pain.
When he batted her arms away from her breast, she jumped in surprise, then lowered her gaze in submission. How many times had she seen women do similar things trying to appease such men, praying silently for deliverance as they did so? For those women, deliverance never came. Nicci recalled thinking at the time that the Order's teachings had to be right, that the Creator really was on their side, for he easily tolerated such behavior from his champions.
Nicci did not bother to pray for deliverance; she intended to create her own.
As the man turned his horse and led her away, Nicci cast one last look over her shoulder at Ishaq, standing with his red hat in both hands, turning the brim around and around in his fingers. His eyes glistened with tears. She hoped that this wasn't the last time she would ever see him or the others, but she knew that such a possibility was all too real.
The officer kept ahold of the reins, so she rode gripping the horn of the saddle. As they rode east, the company of men closely surrounded her —more to get a good look at her, she thought, than from any worry that she might escape. By the way they swayed easily in their saddles and deftly handled their mounts, these were experienced horsemen who spent the majority of their waking hours in the saddle. They had no fear of her getting away from them.
As they rode east on a dusty road, the men all grinned their silent promises whenever they looked her over. She knew, though, that none of them had enough rank or stature to dare to drag her off her horse for a little sport along the way. Men like Kronos did not appreciate their conquests freshly raped and these men knew it. Besides, they were surely figuring that they would soon enough have their turn at her-and if not her, then their pick once they stormed into Altur'Rang.
Nicci tried to ignore the leering men by concentrating on what she had to do. She knew that such behavior was part of their routine. They could think of nothing more clever than simple innuendo and intimidation, so they used it like a worry stone turned over and over in the fingers. As she rode, her resolve became her refuge.
It would still be a while before the low sun at her back set, but already the cicadas had started in with their endless droning song. They reminded her of Richard and the night he had explained about the creatures that emerged from the ground every seventeen years. It seemed remarkable that the cicadas had come ten times in her life and Nicci had never even realized it. Life under the spell at the Palace of the Prophets had not simply been very long, but had been insulating in ways she had never even realized. While the world went on around her, she had been devoting her time to other worlds. Others, like the Sisters of the Dark who had been Richard's teachers there, had succumbed to seductive promises from those other worlds. Nicci had, as well, but not because of those promises. She had simply believed that this world held nothing of value to her.
Until, one day, when Richard had shown up.
The air was warm and humid so at least Nicci wasn't cold as she rode, but the mosquitoes were starting to come out and they were becoming obnoxious. She was glad that her hands weren't tied behind her back so she could at least keep the biting bugs off her face. The wheat-covered hills they passed through to the east of the city shimmered a greenish gold in the late light, almost like burnished bronze. She didn't see any people working in the countryside and the roads remained empty. Everyone had fled before the impending arrival of the army, like animals before a wildfire.
Cresting a hill, Nicci finally saw them, men and horses from the Imperial Order spread out across the broad valley below her like a dark flood. It appeared they hadn't been there long as it looked like they were only starting to set up camp. Apparently, they wanted to be close to the city so that when they began their attack in the morning they wouldn't have far to go.
The ground was only just beginning to be churned up by all the men, horses, mules, and wagons. Individual territory had been staked out and small tents erected. Rings of sentries and outposts guarded the sea of men. Every hilltop had lookouts watching all the approaches.
The tents cast long shadows across the trampled wheat. Already a haze of smoke hung over the valley from all the cook fires. Nicci could see that one of the nearby olive groves had been stripped of its valuable fruit trees to be used for firewood. Men cooked for themselves or in small groups —simple things, camp stew, rice and beans, bannock, and fritters. The aroma of the burning wood and cooking mingled uneasily with the smell of all the animals, men, and manure.
Her escort kept a tight formation around her as they trotted into the camp along what was quickly becoming a temporary road among the seething throng. Nicci had expected to see them in a raucous state, drinking and celebrating on the eve of a great battle. They were not. They were going about the business of preparing in earnest for the job ahead; sharpening weapons, working on saddles and other gear, tending to horses. Lances and spears were already sharpened and neatly stacked all over the camp. Blacksmiths at a traveling forge worked with tongs and hammers as helpers feverishly pumped bellows. Farriers shod horses while other men mended leather equipment. Cavalry horses were being fed, cared for, and groomed.
This was not a typical Imperial Order camp where chaos ruled. The army to the north was almost unimaginably vast. Many parts of it were little more than an unruly mob that was periodically unleashed on helpless civilians and allowed to plunder at will. This force, on the other hand, was much smaller, consisting of less than twenty thousand men. This was the camp of a well-honed war machine.
In the main army camp of the Imperial Order, a woman with her breasts exposed as Nicci's were would already have been dragged from her horse by a rabble and raped. These men were no less lecherous, but they were far better disciplined. These were not just any soldiers sent to do some dirty work; these were experienced, dedicated, handpicked troops sent to vent the emperor's rage at the insult of his home city rejecting everything for which he stood.
Nicci felt a shiver of dread at again being among such men. These were the cream of the Order's crop. These were men who gleefully killed all those who opposed them. These were brutes who reveled in violence to further their beliefs. These were the embodiment of the term «bloodthirsty.» These men were the enforcers of the Order's doctrines.
As Nicci and her escort rode through the camp, the soldiers all ogled her. Every step of the way, hoots, calls, and cheering followed her. Obscene promises were laughingly given as she passed. Nothing was left to the imagination of anyone in earshot. She heard herself described in every lewd term she had ever heard before, and among Jagang's men she had heard them all. Now they were all directed at her.
She kept her eyes ahead as she rode, thinking of the way Richard treated her and just how much such respect meant.
Near a grove of cottonwood trees along the bank of a creek running through the valley, Nicci spotted lambskin tents that were a little larger than the rest. While by no means elaborate accommodations like the tents of Emperor Jagang's entourage, these were still luxurious by army standards. The small group of command tents sat atop a hillock that afforded the officers the opportunity to look down on the rest of the camp. Unlike the main army encampment, here there was no ring of guards protecting the elite forces and officers from the common soldiers. Outside the main tent, slabs of meat were being rotated on spits by slaves that always attended the higher ranking officers — or high priests of the Fellowship of Order. For a force such as this, only the most loyal slaves would have been brought along.
As they slowed to a halt, the man who held the reins to Nicci's horse tilted his head, ordering one of his men to go announce them. The man threw his leg over his horse's neck and jumped to the ground. With each step, dust lifted from his pants as he strode toward the main tent.
Nicci noticed that all around curious men began wandering closer, coming to see the woman being brought as a gift for their leader. She could hear them laughing and wisecracking among themselves as they leered at her. Their eyes were as cold and frightening as any she had ever seen.
What worried her the most, however, was that many of the men held spears or had arrows nocked in their bows. These were not men who took anything casually. Even as they drooled at her they were prepared for any kind of threat her appearance might present.
The man sent to announce her was ushered into the main tent by an attendant. A moment later he reappeared, followed by a tall man in flowing henna-dyed robes. His manner of dress stood out on the drab scene like clotted blood. Despite the heat and humidity the hood of his robe was draped regally over his head, a sign of pious authority.
He stalked to the edge of the rise, closer to her, and struck an arrogant pose. He took his time looking her over-inspecting the goods.
The man holding the reins to her horse bowed in his saddle.
«A humble gift from the people of Altur'Rang,» he explained with mock courtliness.
Men far and wide laughed quietly to themselves at that, commenting to one another on the specific pleasures Kronos was going to enjoy from his gift. Officers came out of nearby tents to see what was going on.
A lustful grin spread across Kronos's face. «Bring her in. I will have to unwrap the gift and have a closer look.»
The men laughed all the louder. Kronos's smile widened, pleased that they found his wit entertaining.
Nicci found the circumstances of her dress to be distracting, but that was the risk. She had judged the risk necessary. These men were brutes and they found her situation to their liking.
Brother Kronos took her in as he waited for her to be conveyed inside. His unflinching gaze was riveting. She found herself staring into his dark eyes.
Men closed in around her.
Nicci knew that she couldn't allow them to get her off her horse. It had to be now.
There were a thousand things she wanted to say to Brother Kronos. She wanted to tell him what she thought of him, what she was going to do to him, what Richard was going to do to all the Imperial Order.
A simple death seemed too easy for Kronos. She wanted him to suffer before he died. She wanted him to know full well what she had in store for him. She wanted him to feel it, to twist in pain and agony, to beg for mercy, to taste the bitter bile of defeat. She wanted him to suffer for the misery he spread in his wake. She wanted him to pay the price for everything he had ever done to innocent people.
She wanted him to know that his entire life had been a waste and that it was about to end.
But she knew that that was not her task. She would risk failure should she even attempt to accomplish any tiny part of it.
Instead, Nicci unceremoniously lifted her fists just a little toward the man as she willed forth her Han. Fearing to tip Kronos as to what was coming, she refrained from taking even an extra split second to conjure anything elaborate. She opened the floodgates, using nothing more complex than a blast of air directed at the man-but it was concentrated beyond anything he would expect even if he suspected she might be a sorceress.
In a blinding instant the late-afternoon camp was lit with a flash of crackling light-discharges created by the intense heat generated by a focused compression of air. Threads of light lashed around the convergent release of force.
Since even a slight slip could conceivably give him an opportunity to strike out before he died, Nicci didn't even risk the satisfaction of smiling as the iron-hard spike of air shot for his head.
Before Brother Kronos ever realized that something was happening, Nicci's sudden release of power blew a fist-sized hole through the center of his forehead. Blood and brain matter sprayed the lambskin wall of the tent behind him. He dropped like a sack of sand, his life already long gone. He never had a chance to respond in kind.
Nicci used a shard of power to at last sever the ropes binding her wrists. They hissed from the sting of heat as they were cut and then dropped away.
Without pause she fed a flow of her Han into a focused line of power that she swept around her like a blade wielded by a master swordsman. The officer who had led her horse and leered at her the whole way grunted as that hot edge ripped through him, cutting him in two below the rib cage. His mouth opened but no scream escaped as his upper half tumbled toward the ground, landing with a hard thud.
With a wet thump the second man could do no more than gasp as he was hit by the same power and torn in two. Coiled ropes of his intestines disgorged across his horse's neck. Nicci twisted in her saddle as she whipped the conjured blade around in an arc. With frightening speed and a flash that lit the shimmering leaves of the nearby cottonwood trees, the edge of deadly power sizzled as it ripped through the air. Before anyone could begin to react, it cut down all the men on horses around her as they still sat in their saddles.
The air filled with the stench of burned flesh, blood, and the contents of ruptured viscera. Horses reared up or bucked, trying to rid themselves of the disembodied legs. Ordinarily, warhorses were used to the confusion of intense battle-but that was in large part because they had familiar riders to control and direct them. Now they were on their own and they were spooked. A number of men rushing in were knocked down and trampled by the panicked horses, further adding to the disorder.
As pandemonium began to erupt all around her, as men charged in toward her, Nicci gathered her inner will, preparing to unleash an onslaught of withering destruction.
Just as she was initiating the launch of that deadly assault, she pitched forward unexpectedly. At the same time she felt the stunning pain of something heavy clouting her across her back. It was propelled by such staggering force that it drove her breath out with a cry. She saw flying past her the shattered pieces of a heavy lance that had been swung like a club.
Dazed, Nicci realized that she had just hit the ground face-first. She tried desperately to gather her senses. Her face felt oddly numb. She tasted warm blood. She saw strings of it dripping from her chin as she pushed herself up on wobbly arms.
She realized then, when she couldn't pull in a breath, that the wind had been violently knocked out of her. She frantically tried again, but, despite her desperate efforts, she couldn't draw a breath.
The world swam in dizzy disarray around her. Sa'din was above her, dancing about but unable to move away. Even though Nicci feared that the horse might accidentally step on her, she couldn't make herself move out of the way. Men all around finally muscled the horse aside. Other men dropped to their knees beside her. A knee in her back flattened her to the ground again. Powerful hands gripped her arms, her legs, her hair, holding her down-as if she could get up on her own.
These men apparently feared that if she got up she might conjure her power, as if the gifted needed to be standing and they had but to keep her on the ground to be safe. But the gifted did need to have their wits about them if they were to call upon their power, and she didn't.
Some of the men pulled her over on her back. A boot at her throat kept her pinned to the ground. Weapons all around pointed down at her.
And then a terrible thought came to her — dark eyes.
The wizard she had just killed had dark eyes.
Kronos didn't have dark eyes.
Kronos was supposed to have blue eyes.
She was having difficulty sorting it all out in her mind. She had killed the high priest. It didn't make sense.
Unless there had been more than one Brother.
The men holding her down backed away.
Grim blue eyes glared down at her. It was a man wearing long robes. The hood was pulled up. A high priest.
«Well, sorceress, you have just managed to kill Brother Byron, a loyal servant to the Fellowship of Order.»
She could tell by his tone that he had not yet begun to voice his building anger.
Through the shock, Nicci still couldn't draw a breath. The pain in her back radiated out in paralyzing waves. She wondered if the man who had clubbed her had broken her ribs. She wondered if her back was broken. She supposed it didn't matter, now.
«Allow me to introduce myself,» the red-faced man above her said. He pushed the hood of his robes back. «I am Brother Kronos. You belong to me, now. I intend to make you pay a long and painful price for the murder of a good man who was only doing the Creator's noble work.»
If the horses looked to be frightening animals, the men were clearly their masters. Dressed in dark leather armor plates and shirts of chain mail and carrying an array of sinister weapons, these men were not merely brutish-looking but larger than any of the men defending the city. Nicci knew that they would have been selected for the mission because of the way they looked. The Order liked sending such intimidating messages to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies.
From dark windows, recessed doorways, narrow streets, and the shadows in alleyways people who had retreated out of the open watched the woman stripped to her waist, her wrists bound, being handed over to the soldiers. Nicci had endured the ride through the city by not thinking about it and instead focusing on her need to get this over with so she could catch up with Richard. That was what mattered. So people looked at her-what difference did it make? She had had to endure far worse at the hands of the men of the Order.
«I am an aide to the mayor,» Ishaq said in a subservient tone to the powerfully built man atop a towering, brown, bull neck gelding. The butt of the pole with the white flag rested on the man's saddle between his legs, his meaty fist gripping it halfway up the length of the stout shaft. The man sat mute, waiting. Ishaq licked his lips as he bowed before going on. «He sent me in his place with his woman, his wife — as a gift to the great Kronos to show our sincerity in agreeing with his wishes.»
The soldier, a midlevel officer of some sort, smirked at Nicci after taking a long and deliberate look at her breasts. Broad leather belts held several knives, a flail, a short sword, and a crescent-bladed axe. The mail and metal rings along studded straps crossing his broad chest jangled when his horse stomped its hooves. She was relieved not to recognize the man and kept her head turned down to hide her face from the men with him.
Still, the officer said nothing.
With one hand Ishaq swept his hat off his head. «Please relay our message of peace to.»
The officer tossed the pole with the white flag down to Ishaq. Ishaq swiftly replaced his hat in order to catch the pole with one hand, his other still tightly gripping the reins just below Sa'din's bit. The pole looked heavy, but Ishaq had been loading wagons for most of his life and had no trouble with it.
«Kronos will let you know if the offering is satisfactory,» the officer growled.
Ishaq cleared his throat, rather than say anything else, and again bowed politely. The soldiers all snickered at him before taking another knowing look at Nicci's exposed condition. They obviously greatly enjoyed exerting their dominance over others.
Most of them had metal rings or pointed metal rivets pierced through their noses, ears, and cheeks in an attempt to make them look more fierce. Nicci thought that it simply made them look silly. Several of the dozen men had wild, dark, tattooed designs sweeping across their faces, also intended to intimidate. These were men who had risen to their highest ideal in life: to be savages.
It was somewhat common for many of the women in the cities surrendering to advancing Imperial Order troops to come out stripped to the waist as a petition for leniency. Because it was such a common form of submission, the soldiers were not at all surprised by the manner in which the wife of the mayor was being surrendered. That, of course, was one of the reasons why Nicci had done it. Such bids for mercy and gentle treatment were never honored, but the women who offered themselves in such a manner didn't know that.
Nicci knew because she had often been with the Order troops when they took such women captive. Such obliging people imagined that surrender in such a subservient manner would be ingratiating and elicit reasonable treatment. They had no idea that they had willingly given themselves over to incomprehensible horrors. The soldiers' treatment of women captives was dismissed by the intellectuals of the Order as a trivial matter compared to the greater good the Order was bringing to the nonbelievers.
Nicci sometimes longed for death rather than continue to live with such memories and the knowledge that she had once been a party to such horrors. What she wanted now, though, was to set things right as only she could do. She wanted to participate in wiping the scourge of the Order from existence.
The grim officer who had carried the white flag into Altur'Rang bent down and now took the reins to her horse from Ishaq. He stepped his mount close to her. As he leaned toward her he casually seized her left nipple, twisting it as he spoke intimately to her.
«Brother Kronos tires quickly of a woman, no matter how beautiful she is. I expect it will be no different with you. When he moves on to the next he gives us the one he is finished with. Know that I will be first.»
The men with him chuckled. He flashed her a grin. His dark eyes gleamed with menace. He twisted harder until she gasped in pain and tears stung her eyes. Satisfied with himself and her timid reaction, he released her. Nicci squeezed her eyes shut as she pressed the back of her bound wrists to herself trying to ease the throbbing pain.
When he batted her arms away from her breast, she jumped in surprise, then lowered her gaze in submission. How many times had she seen women do similar things trying to appease such men, praying silently for deliverance as they did so? For those women, deliverance never came. Nicci recalled thinking at the time that the Order's teachings had to be right, that the Creator really was on their side, for he easily tolerated such behavior from his champions.
Nicci did not bother to pray for deliverance; she intended to create her own.
As the man turned his horse and led her away, Nicci cast one last look over her shoulder at Ishaq, standing with his red hat in both hands, turning the brim around and around in his fingers. His eyes glistened with tears. She hoped that this wasn't the last time she would ever see him or the others, but she knew that such a possibility was all too real.
The officer kept ahold of the reins, so she rode gripping the horn of the saddle. As they rode east, the company of men closely surrounded her —more to get a good look at her, she thought, than from any worry that she might escape. By the way they swayed easily in their saddles and deftly handled their mounts, these were experienced horsemen who spent the majority of their waking hours in the saddle. They had no fear of her getting away from them.
As they rode east on a dusty road, the men all grinned their silent promises whenever they looked her over. She knew, though, that none of them had enough rank or stature to dare to drag her off her horse for a little sport along the way. Men like Kronos did not appreciate their conquests freshly raped and these men knew it. Besides, they were surely figuring that they would soon enough have their turn at her-and if not her, then their pick once they stormed into Altur'Rang.
Nicci tried to ignore the leering men by concentrating on what she had to do. She knew that such behavior was part of their routine. They could think of nothing more clever than simple innuendo and intimidation, so they used it like a worry stone turned over and over in the fingers. As she rode, her resolve became her refuge.
It would still be a while before the low sun at her back set, but already the cicadas had started in with their endless droning song. They reminded her of Richard and the night he had explained about the creatures that emerged from the ground every seventeen years. It seemed remarkable that the cicadas had come ten times in her life and Nicci had never even realized it. Life under the spell at the Palace of the Prophets had not simply been very long, but had been insulating in ways she had never even realized. While the world went on around her, she had been devoting her time to other worlds. Others, like the Sisters of the Dark who had been Richard's teachers there, had succumbed to seductive promises from those other worlds. Nicci had, as well, but not because of those promises. She had simply believed that this world held nothing of value to her.
Until, one day, when Richard had shown up.
The air was warm and humid so at least Nicci wasn't cold as she rode, but the mosquitoes were starting to come out and they were becoming obnoxious. She was glad that her hands weren't tied behind her back so she could at least keep the biting bugs off her face. The wheat-covered hills they passed through to the east of the city shimmered a greenish gold in the late light, almost like burnished bronze. She didn't see any people working in the countryside and the roads remained empty. Everyone had fled before the impending arrival of the army, like animals before a wildfire.
Cresting a hill, Nicci finally saw them, men and horses from the Imperial Order spread out across the broad valley below her like a dark flood. It appeared they hadn't been there long as it looked like they were only starting to set up camp. Apparently, they wanted to be close to the city so that when they began their attack in the morning they wouldn't have far to go.
The ground was only just beginning to be churned up by all the men, horses, mules, and wagons. Individual territory had been staked out and small tents erected. Rings of sentries and outposts guarded the sea of men. Every hilltop had lookouts watching all the approaches.
The tents cast long shadows across the trampled wheat. Already a haze of smoke hung over the valley from all the cook fires. Nicci could see that one of the nearby olive groves had been stripped of its valuable fruit trees to be used for firewood. Men cooked for themselves or in small groups —simple things, camp stew, rice and beans, bannock, and fritters. The aroma of the burning wood and cooking mingled uneasily with the smell of all the animals, men, and manure.
Her escort kept a tight formation around her as they trotted into the camp along what was quickly becoming a temporary road among the seething throng. Nicci had expected to see them in a raucous state, drinking and celebrating on the eve of a great battle. They were not. They were going about the business of preparing in earnest for the job ahead; sharpening weapons, working on saddles and other gear, tending to horses. Lances and spears were already sharpened and neatly stacked all over the camp. Blacksmiths at a traveling forge worked with tongs and hammers as helpers feverishly pumped bellows. Farriers shod horses while other men mended leather equipment. Cavalry horses were being fed, cared for, and groomed.
This was not a typical Imperial Order camp where chaos ruled. The army to the north was almost unimaginably vast. Many parts of it were little more than an unruly mob that was periodically unleashed on helpless civilians and allowed to plunder at will. This force, on the other hand, was much smaller, consisting of less than twenty thousand men. This was the camp of a well-honed war machine.
In the main army camp of the Imperial Order, a woman with her breasts exposed as Nicci's were would already have been dragged from her horse by a rabble and raped. These men were no less lecherous, but they were far better disciplined. These were not just any soldiers sent to do some dirty work; these were experienced, dedicated, handpicked troops sent to vent the emperor's rage at the insult of his home city rejecting everything for which he stood.
Nicci felt a shiver of dread at again being among such men. These were the cream of the Order's crop. These were men who gleefully killed all those who opposed them. These were brutes who reveled in violence to further their beliefs. These were the embodiment of the term «bloodthirsty.» These men were the enforcers of the Order's doctrines.
As Nicci and her escort rode through the camp, the soldiers all ogled her. Every step of the way, hoots, calls, and cheering followed her. Obscene promises were laughingly given as she passed. Nothing was left to the imagination of anyone in earshot. She heard herself described in every lewd term she had ever heard before, and among Jagang's men she had heard them all. Now they were all directed at her.
She kept her eyes ahead as she rode, thinking of the way Richard treated her and just how much such respect meant.
Near a grove of cottonwood trees along the bank of a creek running through the valley, Nicci spotted lambskin tents that were a little larger than the rest. While by no means elaborate accommodations like the tents of Emperor Jagang's entourage, these were still luxurious by army standards. The small group of command tents sat atop a hillock that afforded the officers the opportunity to look down on the rest of the camp. Unlike the main army encampment, here there was no ring of guards protecting the elite forces and officers from the common soldiers. Outside the main tent, slabs of meat were being rotated on spits by slaves that always attended the higher ranking officers — or high priests of the Fellowship of Order. For a force such as this, only the most loyal slaves would have been brought along.
As they slowed to a halt, the man who held the reins to Nicci's horse tilted his head, ordering one of his men to go announce them. The man threw his leg over his horse's neck and jumped to the ground. With each step, dust lifted from his pants as he strode toward the main tent.
Nicci noticed that all around curious men began wandering closer, coming to see the woman being brought as a gift for their leader. She could hear them laughing and wisecracking among themselves as they leered at her. Their eyes were as cold and frightening as any she had ever seen.
What worried her the most, however, was that many of the men held spears or had arrows nocked in their bows. These were not men who took anything casually. Even as they drooled at her they were prepared for any kind of threat her appearance might present.
The man sent to announce her was ushered into the main tent by an attendant. A moment later he reappeared, followed by a tall man in flowing henna-dyed robes. His manner of dress stood out on the drab scene like clotted blood. Despite the heat and humidity the hood of his robe was draped regally over his head, a sign of pious authority.
He stalked to the edge of the rise, closer to her, and struck an arrogant pose. He took his time looking her over-inspecting the goods.
The man holding the reins to her horse bowed in his saddle.
«A humble gift from the people of Altur'Rang,» he explained with mock courtliness.
Men far and wide laughed quietly to themselves at that, commenting to one another on the specific pleasures Kronos was going to enjoy from his gift. Officers came out of nearby tents to see what was going on.
A lustful grin spread across Kronos's face. «Bring her in. I will have to unwrap the gift and have a closer look.»
The men laughed all the louder. Kronos's smile widened, pleased that they found his wit entertaining.
Nicci found the circumstances of her dress to be distracting, but that was the risk. She had judged the risk necessary. These men were brutes and they found her situation to their liking.
Brother Kronos took her in as he waited for her to be conveyed inside. His unflinching gaze was riveting. She found herself staring into his dark eyes.
Men closed in around her.
Nicci knew that she couldn't allow them to get her off her horse. It had to be now.
There were a thousand things she wanted to say to Brother Kronos. She wanted to tell him what she thought of him, what she was going to do to him, what Richard was going to do to all the Imperial Order.
A simple death seemed too easy for Kronos. She wanted him to suffer before he died. She wanted him to know full well what she had in store for him. She wanted him to feel it, to twist in pain and agony, to beg for mercy, to taste the bitter bile of defeat. She wanted him to suffer for the misery he spread in his wake. She wanted him to pay the price for everything he had ever done to innocent people.
She wanted him to know that his entire life had been a waste and that it was about to end.
But she knew that that was not her task. She would risk failure should she even attempt to accomplish any tiny part of it.
Instead, Nicci unceremoniously lifted her fists just a little toward the man as she willed forth her Han. Fearing to tip Kronos as to what was coming, she refrained from taking even an extra split second to conjure anything elaborate. She opened the floodgates, using nothing more complex than a blast of air directed at the man-but it was concentrated beyond anything he would expect even if he suspected she might be a sorceress.
In a blinding instant the late-afternoon camp was lit with a flash of crackling light-discharges created by the intense heat generated by a focused compression of air. Threads of light lashed around the convergent release of force.
Since even a slight slip could conceivably give him an opportunity to strike out before he died, Nicci didn't even risk the satisfaction of smiling as the iron-hard spike of air shot for his head.
Before Brother Kronos ever realized that something was happening, Nicci's sudden release of power blew a fist-sized hole through the center of his forehead. Blood and brain matter sprayed the lambskin wall of the tent behind him. He dropped like a sack of sand, his life already long gone. He never had a chance to respond in kind.
Nicci used a shard of power to at last sever the ropes binding her wrists. They hissed from the sting of heat as they were cut and then dropped away.
Without pause she fed a flow of her Han into a focused line of power that she swept around her like a blade wielded by a master swordsman. The officer who had led her horse and leered at her the whole way grunted as that hot edge ripped through him, cutting him in two below the rib cage. His mouth opened but no scream escaped as his upper half tumbled toward the ground, landing with a hard thud.
With a wet thump the second man could do no more than gasp as he was hit by the same power and torn in two. Coiled ropes of his intestines disgorged across his horse's neck. Nicci twisted in her saddle as she whipped the conjured blade around in an arc. With frightening speed and a flash that lit the shimmering leaves of the nearby cottonwood trees, the edge of deadly power sizzled as it ripped through the air. Before anyone could begin to react, it cut down all the men on horses around her as they still sat in their saddles.
The air filled with the stench of burned flesh, blood, and the contents of ruptured viscera. Horses reared up or bucked, trying to rid themselves of the disembodied legs. Ordinarily, warhorses were used to the confusion of intense battle-but that was in large part because they had familiar riders to control and direct them. Now they were on their own and they were spooked. A number of men rushing in were knocked down and trampled by the panicked horses, further adding to the disorder.
As pandemonium began to erupt all around her, as men charged in toward her, Nicci gathered her inner will, preparing to unleash an onslaught of withering destruction.
Just as she was initiating the launch of that deadly assault, she pitched forward unexpectedly. At the same time she felt the stunning pain of something heavy clouting her across her back. It was propelled by such staggering force that it drove her breath out with a cry. She saw flying past her the shattered pieces of a heavy lance that had been swung like a club.
Dazed, Nicci realized that she had just hit the ground face-first. She tried desperately to gather her senses. Her face felt oddly numb. She tasted warm blood. She saw strings of it dripping from her chin as she pushed herself up on wobbly arms.
She realized then, when she couldn't pull in a breath, that the wind had been violently knocked out of her. She frantically tried again, but, despite her desperate efforts, she couldn't draw a breath.
The world swam in dizzy disarray around her. Sa'din was above her, dancing about but unable to move away. Even though Nicci feared that the horse might accidentally step on her, she couldn't make herself move out of the way. Men all around finally muscled the horse aside. Other men dropped to their knees beside her. A knee in her back flattened her to the ground again. Powerful hands gripped her arms, her legs, her hair, holding her down-as if she could get up on her own.
These men apparently feared that if she got up she might conjure her power, as if the gifted needed to be standing and they had but to keep her on the ground to be safe. But the gifted did need to have their wits about them if they were to call upon their power, and she didn't.
Some of the men pulled her over on her back. A boot at her throat kept her pinned to the ground. Weapons all around pointed down at her.
And then a terrible thought came to her — dark eyes.
The wizard she had just killed had dark eyes.
Kronos didn't have dark eyes.
Kronos was supposed to have blue eyes.
She was having difficulty sorting it all out in her mind. She had killed the high priest. It didn't make sense.
Unless there had been more than one Brother.
The men holding her down backed away.
Grim blue eyes glared down at her. It was a man wearing long robes. The hood was pulled up. A high priest.
«Well, sorceress, you have just managed to kill Brother Byron, a loyal servant to the Fellowship of Order.»
She could tell by his tone that he had not yet begun to voice his building anger.
Through the shock, Nicci still couldn't draw a breath. The pain in her back radiated out in paralyzing waves. She wondered if the man who had clubbed her had broken her ribs. She wondered if her back was broken. She supposed it didn't matter, now.
«Allow me to introduce myself,» the red-faced man above her said. He pushed the hood of his robes back. «I am Brother Kronos. You belong to me, now. I intend to make you pay a long and painful price for the murder of a good man who was only doing the Creator's noble work.»
CHAPTER 27
Nicci couldn't, simply couldn't, pull in a breath to save her life, much less to say anything. The pain of not being able to breathe cloaked her in a tight shroud of panic that prevented her from thinking. The distress of needing air and not being able to get it grew more terrifying with every passing second.
She didn't know what to do.
She remembered when Richard had been shot with the arrow and he couldn't breathe. She remembered how his skin had turned ashen, and then had begun turning blue. She had been so afraid seeing him not being able to breathe. Now she couldn't.
Kronos's smile was as humorless and wicked as any she had ever seen, but it seemed not to matter to her.
«Quite an accomplishment-for a sorceress-killing a wizard. But then, you only accomplished such a feat by treachery, so it was no real accomplishment after all. It was nothing more than simple, underhanded deceit.»
He didn't know. Nicci realized that he still didn't know who she was — or what she was. She was no mere sorceress.
But she needed a breath to be anything.
Her vision was narrowing to a black tunnel with the face of the wizard Kronos twisting into rage at the far end. She tried with all her might to pull a breath. It felt like her body had forgotten how to breathe.
It surprised her that the lack of air made her ribs throb and ache. She wouldn't have expected that. Despite her fading, frantic effort to get air into her lungs, the life-giving breath simply would not come into her. She could only assume that whoever had clubbed her had done some kind of serious damage, and she would never again draw a life-giving breath.
And then Kronos gritted his teeth and seized her breast in a vicious, viselike grip spiked with thorns of magic intended to inflict excruciating torment.
The sudden sharp shock of pain made her gasp a breath before she realized she was doing it.
The air felt hot with life as it flooded into her lungs. Without conscious thought, she instinctively struck out with her Han at the cause of the piercing pain.
Kronos cried out and staggered back, cradling the hand that had been on her and dealing out his revenge. Blood ran down his wrist and under the sleeve of his robe.
Although she had been able to get him to release her, and even to injure him, she was still too disoriented to muster the force necessary to get past the formidable defenses of a wizard in order to kill him. She panted, gulping air, even though each breath hurt. She knew, though, that it hurt far more not to be able to get a breath.
«You filthy bitch!» he yelled. «How dare you use your power against me! You cannot hope to match me with the gift. You will soon enough learn your place.»
His face flushed red with anger. With a thin thread of her Han Nicci could sense the powerful shields the man had erected before himself. Before he had, though, she had seared the flesh off his fingers. He held the trembling hand to his breast. She knew full well that his intent was to extract prolonged and gruesome retribution.
He ranted at her, cursing and calling her names, telling her what he intended to do with her and what would become of her once he was finished with her. The grins of the men watching widened at hearing the nature of those plans.
He thought she was a sorceress and that he could overpower her gift with his. He did not know that she was far more; she had become a Sister of the Dark. Even if he knew that much, Kronos might not have understood, as few people did, the full and terrible meaning behind that appellation. A Sister of the Dark wielded not only her own gift, but the Han of a wizard as well; his gift was taken before he passed through the veil into death.
As if the combined gift of a sorceress and wizard was not formidable enough, added into that powerful mix was Subtractive Magic gained while the veil was parted at the instant of the donor wizard's death. His own Han acted as the conduit, and she held within herself that power as the Subtractive essence slipped through the veil.
There were few people who could command Subtractive Magic: Richard by birth, and the Sisters of the Dark by contrivance. All of the Sisters of the Dark were now captives of Jagang except for Nicci and four others —three of Richard's former teachers from the Palace of the Prophets and their leader, Sister Ulicia.
Kronos shook his bloody fist at Nicci. «The people of Altur'Rang are traitors! They have defiled a holy place! In turning away from the ways of the Order they have turned away from the Creator Himself. Through our hands, the Creator will have His revenge and smite these sinful people. We will cleanse Altur'Rang not just of their flesh and bone but of their unenlightened ways! The Imperial Order will once again rule Altur'Rang and from there Jagang the Just will rule the world under the rightful ways of the Creator!»
Nicci almost laughed. Kronos had no idea that he was speaking to the person who had given Jagang the title of «Jagang the Just.» She had told the emperor that such pronouncements of justice under his rule would win over a great number of people without having to fight them. He had been willing to battle them all; she alone had been able to make him see that it was to his benefit to have them rally to his side of their own free will. She told Jagang that the name she had given him would bring the people to him.
She had been all too right. Many people equated intentions with the actual deed. The title she had given Jagang was now widely believed by people who didn't know much at all about him or the Order. It never failed to amaze her how simply saying something, no matter how untrue, was all it took to convince a large number of people of what you wanted them to believe. She supposed that it was easier for them to let someone else do their thinking for them.
Kronos's tirade had bought her time to recover. With her strength returning, Nicci couldn't afford to wait another instant.
She straightened her arm, pointing her fist up toward him. She wanted to draw her force out the length of her arm to let it build and converge at a point just beyond her fist. While it wasn't at all necessary, she wanted to do it that way simply because it pleased her to let Kronos see her overt threat.
Confident in his ability, and the shields of his power, her hostile posture only served to further enrage him. «How dare you threaten.»
She released a tight bolt of Additive and Subtractive Magic laced together in a fearsome cord of destruction that arced through the wizard's shields like lightning through paper and blew a mellon-sized hole right through the center of his chest.
Kronos's eyes snapped wide. His mouth hung open in mute shock as his mind registered the irredeemable.
Through that hole, Nicci could see the sky. Almost instantly the internal pressure forced what remained of his surrounding organs into the void and then out the opening as Kronos's mortally wounded body toppled back.
The man hadn't known that his power was no match for hers. He could only conjure shields of Additive Magic. Such shields were of limited use against Subtractive Magic.
All around her weapons were already being lifted. Powerful muscles drew bowstrings to cheeks. Arms with spears cocked back, the iron tips all pointing at her along with swords, axes, and pikes.
Without pause Nicci unleased a blast of opposing magic twined together in a shattering ignition that in ruinous fury leveled the officers' tents and blasted through the men on the knoll. The devastating concussion radiated outward in a circle at breathtaking speed, stripping flesh from bone. The ground was made muddy by the sudden deluge of blood.
The heat that had been focused into the blast was so intense that nearby trees erupted in flame. The clothes of men in the surrounding camp who had been rushing to meet the threat also caught fire. The flesh of those a little closer ignited. Men closer yet were ripped apart by the thunderous discharge of Nicci's power. The force of what she had unleashed dissipated with distance and men farther away were only sent sprawling.
Such an extreme effort was risky because it was so draining, but it had the desired effect. In an instant the situation had changed from arrogant brutes gloating over a captive woman to confusion and panic.
Fearing to lose the initiative, she focused intense heat into the trunks of trees along the creek bank behind the men. It was a method of getting a large return for a small investment of power. Superheated sap instantly boiled into steam and the massive cottonwood trunks exploded in thunderous blasts, sending heavy sections of splintered wood spiraling though the crowds of men, cutting them down by the dozens.
Nicci swiftly conjured a liquid fire and sent the inferno spilling out across the field and into the confusion, igniting men, horses, and equipment in the terrible fury of roaring flames. The screams of man and beast melted together into one, long, terrible cry. The air smelled of oily smoke as well as burning hair and flesh.
At last, men were no longer charging in at her. In the brief break, Nicci struggled to get up from the blood-soaked ground. She stumbled through the carnage. Sa'din raced forward through the thick haze and nudged her with his head, helping her to find her balance. She threw an arm over his neck, relieved that she had succeeded in directing her power around him and that he was all right.
She finally seized the reins and, grunting with effort, managed to pull herself up on the horse before men could spear him, or slash her, or send arrows at them. She spun Sa'din around, all the time casting boiling gouts of fire out among the men as they again began rushing in at her. As they caught on fire, they stumbled blindly, shrieking, flailing, crashing into other men or into tents, spreading the deadly conflagration.
She didn't know what to do.
She remembered when Richard had been shot with the arrow and he couldn't breathe. She remembered how his skin had turned ashen, and then had begun turning blue. She had been so afraid seeing him not being able to breathe. Now she couldn't.
Kronos's smile was as humorless and wicked as any she had ever seen, but it seemed not to matter to her.
«Quite an accomplishment-for a sorceress-killing a wizard. But then, you only accomplished such a feat by treachery, so it was no real accomplishment after all. It was nothing more than simple, underhanded deceit.»
He didn't know. Nicci realized that he still didn't know who she was — or what she was. She was no mere sorceress.
But she needed a breath to be anything.
Her vision was narrowing to a black tunnel with the face of the wizard Kronos twisting into rage at the far end. She tried with all her might to pull a breath. It felt like her body had forgotten how to breathe.
It surprised her that the lack of air made her ribs throb and ache. She wouldn't have expected that. Despite her fading, frantic effort to get air into her lungs, the life-giving breath simply would not come into her. She could only assume that whoever had clubbed her had done some kind of serious damage, and she would never again draw a life-giving breath.
And then Kronos gritted his teeth and seized her breast in a vicious, viselike grip spiked with thorns of magic intended to inflict excruciating torment.
The sudden sharp shock of pain made her gasp a breath before she realized she was doing it.
The air felt hot with life as it flooded into her lungs. Without conscious thought, she instinctively struck out with her Han at the cause of the piercing pain.
Kronos cried out and staggered back, cradling the hand that had been on her and dealing out his revenge. Blood ran down his wrist and under the sleeve of his robe.
Although she had been able to get him to release her, and even to injure him, she was still too disoriented to muster the force necessary to get past the formidable defenses of a wizard in order to kill him. She panted, gulping air, even though each breath hurt. She knew, though, that it hurt far more not to be able to get a breath.
«You filthy bitch!» he yelled. «How dare you use your power against me! You cannot hope to match me with the gift. You will soon enough learn your place.»
His face flushed red with anger. With a thin thread of her Han Nicci could sense the powerful shields the man had erected before himself. Before he had, though, she had seared the flesh off his fingers. He held the trembling hand to his breast. She knew full well that his intent was to extract prolonged and gruesome retribution.
He ranted at her, cursing and calling her names, telling her what he intended to do with her and what would become of her once he was finished with her. The grins of the men watching widened at hearing the nature of those plans.
He thought she was a sorceress and that he could overpower her gift with his. He did not know that she was far more; she had become a Sister of the Dark. Even if he knew that much, Kronos might not have understood, as few people did, the full and terrible meaning behind that appellation. A Sister of the Dark wielded not only her own gift, but the Han of a wizard as well; his gift was taken before he passed through the veil into death.
As if the combined gift of a sorceress and wizard was not formidable enough, added into that powerful mix was Subtractive Magic gained while the veil was parted at the instant of the donor wizard's death. His own Han acted as the conduit, and she held within herself that power as the Subtractive essence slipped through the veil.
There were few people who could command Subtractive Magic: Richard by birth, and the Sisters of the Dark by contrivance. All of the Sisters of the Dark were now captives of Jagang except for Nicci and four others —three of Richard's former teachers from the Palace of the Prophets and their leader, Sister Ulicia.
Kronos shook his bloody fist at Nicci. «The people of Altur'Rang are traitors! They have defiled a holy place! In turning away from the ways of the Order they have turned away from the Creator Himself. Through our hands, the Creator will have His revenge and smite these sinful people. We will cleanse Altur'Rang not just of their flesh and bone but of their unenlightened ways! The Imperial Order will once again rule Altur'Rang and from there Jagang the Just will rule the world under the rightful ways of the Creator!»
Nicci almost laughed. Kronos had no idea that he was speaking to the person who had given Jagang the title of «Jagang the Just.» She had told the emperor that such pronouncements of justice under his rule would win over a great number of people without having to fight them. He had been willing to battle them all; she alone had been able to make him see that it was to his benefit to have them rally to his side of their own free will. She told Jagang that the name she had given him would bring the people to him.
She had been all too right. Many people equated intentions with the actual deed. The title she had given Jagang was now widely believed by people who didn't know much at all about him or the Order. It never failed to amaze her how simply saying something, no matter how untrue, was all it took to convince a large number of people of what you wanted them to believe. She supposed that it was easier for them to let someone else do their thinking for them.
Kronos's tirade had bought her time to recover. With her strength returning, Nicci couldn't afford to wait another instant.
She straightened her arm, pointing her fist up toward him. She wanted to draw her force out the length of her arm to let it build and converge at a point just beyond her fist. While it wasn't at all necessary, she wanted to do it that way simply because it pleased her to let Kronos see her overt threat.
Confident in his ability, and the shields of his power, her hostile posture only served to further enrage him. «How dare you threaten.»
She released a tight bolt of Additive and Subtractive Magic laced together in a fearsome cord of destruction that arced through the wizard's shields like lightning through paper and blew a mellon-sized hole right through the center of his chest.
Kronos's eyes snapped wide. His mouth hung open in mute shock as his mind registered the irredeemable.
Through that hole, Nicci could see the sky. Almost instantly the internal pressure forced what remained of his surrounding organs into the void and then out the opening as Kronos's mortally wounded body toppled back.
The man hadn't known that his power was no match for hers. He could only conjure shields of Additive Magic. Such shields were of limited use against Subtractive Magic.
All around her weapons were already being lifted. Powerful muscles drew bowstrings to cheeks. Arms with spears cocked back, the iron tips all pointing at her along with swords, axes, and pikes.
Without pause Nicci unleased a blast of opposing magic twined together in a shattering ignition that in ruinous fury leveled the officers' tents and blasted through the men on the knoll. The devastating concussion radiated outward in a circle at breathtaking speed, stripping flesh from bone. The ground was made muddy by the sudden deluge of blood.
The heat that had been focused into the blast was so intense that nearby trees erupted in flame. The clothes of men in the surrounding camp who had been rushing to meet the threat also caught fire. The flesh of those a little closer ignited. Men closer yet were ripped apart by the thunderous discharge of Nicci's power. The force of what she had unleashed dissipated with distance and men farther away were only sent sprawling.
Such an extreme effort was risky because it was so draining, but it had the desired effect. In an instant the situation had changed from arrogant brutes gloating over a captive woman to confusion and panic.
Fearing to lose the initiative, she focused intense heat into the trunks of trees along the creek bank behind the men. It was a method of getting a large return for a small investment of power. Superheated sap instantly boiled into steam and the massive cottonwood trunks exploded in thunderous blasts, sending heavy sections of splintered wood spiraling though the crowds of men, cutting them down by the dozens.
Nicci swiftly conjured a liquid fire and sent the inferno spilling out across the field and into the confusion, igniting men, horses, and equipment in the terrible fury of roaring flames. The screams of man and beast melted together into one, long, terrible cry. The air smelled of oily smoke as well as burning hair and flesh.
At last, men were no longer charging in at her. In the brief break, Nicci struggled to get up from the blood-soaked ground. She stumbled through the carnage. Sa'din raced forward through the thick haze and nudged her with his head, helping her to find her balance. She threw an arm over his neck, relieved that she had succeeded in directing her power around him and that he was all right.
She finally seized the reins and, grunting with effort, managed to pull herself up on the horse before men could spear him, or slash her, or send arrows at them. She spun Sa'din around, all the time casting boiling gouts of fire out among the men as they again began rushing in at her. As they caught on fire, they stumbled blindly, shrieking, flailing, crashing into other men or into tents, spreading the deadly conflagration.