Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (49 page)

For a moment, he was aghast. Laylah was no longer on the bed, and her room appeared empty, except for the fetid corpse pressed against the far wall. Then he heard a squawking sound that eclipsed even the death throes of Uccheda. Sakuna hovered outside the window like a titanic hummingbird. And Laylah—eyes closed, body motionless—was on the eagle’s back.

Without hesitation, Torg leapt through the open window and landed beside Laylah. He pressed Obhasa between her breasts, and the ivory staff cast sparkling blue-green energy all about her. Laylah moaned—the first real sign of life Torg had seen since his return to the tower—but then she lay motionless again.

Sakuna churned her powerful wings and swept away from Uccheda—just in time. As if in response to their departure, the massive tower exploded into a million shards of golden stone, propelled in all directions at ferocious speeds. But Torg raised his right hand and cast magic from his palm, creating a wall of energy that absorbed the deadly slivers.

Off they went, into the endless night.

Soon after, Uccheda fell
 . . .
and fell
 . . .
and fell.

And was no more.

THE SURROUNDING darkness was as encompassing as oblivion. But the threesome was not entirely without light. Obhasa glowed as brightly as a dozen torches, and Sakuna’s body cast a green glimmer that also served as warmth. Even so, Torg could not see more than a few cubits in any direction. Yet it was enough to illuminate Laylah’s beautiful face.

Torg lay next to her on his side, his lips just a finger-length from hers. They had been flying for more than a bell, yet the sorceress had not moved, and her breathing was so shallow he feared it might cease at any moment. Nothing would cause her to stir—not kissing her, holding her, or even screaming at her. Just as her brother had been, she too was severely affected by the lack of sunlight, reflected or otherwise. Torg had no doubt that her life was in danger.

As always, the Faerie seemed to know exactly where she was going. After Invictus had entrapped him in his spell and kidnapped Laylah, Torg had been enraged at Jord and Peta for what he perceived as betrayal. In reality, he knew better. In the face of impossible odds, they had done what they felt was necessary to ensure that the most dangerous being ever birthed would be destroyed. Now it was up to Torg to find a way to heal Laylah before it was too late—and the Faerie was his only hope of accomplishing this goal.

Although he could not see what lay below, Torg believed they were flying at great heights, which explained the bone-chilling feel to the air. But this was a cold more intense than he had ever experienced. With no sunlight whatsoever, temperatures were probably plummeting throughout the world. Still, Sakuna’s feathers served as a blanket, and her flesh provided enough warmth to keep things tolerable. Torg clung to Laylah, sharing his body heat with hers. However long it took the eagle to reach their destination, Torg knew that at least they would not freeze to death.

Sakuna flew for another bell, the utter blackness engulfing them like the deepest depths of the ocean. Torg began to sense that the eagle was struggling, and he remembered the Faerie having to rest several times during their journey from Jivita to Kauha. She had said then that her time among the living of Triken was nearing an end, and now she had to be even weaker. Would her physical incarnation retain the strength to complete this final journey?

Torg couldn’t see, but his other senses were hyperactive, making up for his lack of vision. The sound of the wind, the smell of the air, and the feel and taste of the misty clouds told him that mountain peaks were all around them. Somehow Sakuna managed to avoid crashing into their summits. Perhaps the Faerie could see in ways that he could not. Or more likely, otherworldly powers were guiding her through the labyrinth of jagged mountains.

But which mountains? At least it was obvious they were far to the north. Once again, Torg was at the Faerie’s mercy. If she led him astray, Laylah was doomed. How long could his love cling to life?

Torg lost track of the passing of time. Despite his concern for Laylah’s welfare, he found himself dozing for indeterminable stretches, and every time he woke the air was even colder. The blackness remained constant.

Just when it seemed as if their journey would be endless, the eagle lighted on what Torg perceived to be a frozen mountaintop. Heavy winds, occasionally surging to tornadic strength, struck his face like angry slaps. Shards of ice did their best to pierce his eyes. And the howling was loud enough to deafen him.

Torg cradled Laylah in his arms and dismounted onto a flat area of icy stone. He nearly slipped and lost his grip on the woman he so dearly loved, but he managed to kneel and place her gently on a bed of snow.

Amid the tumult, he heard a high-pitched voice shouting, “We need light
 . . .
use Obhasa
!”

Torg complied, willing the ivory staff to illuminate their surroundings. A small pocket of the darkness shied away, and Torg saw that they indeed were on a summit as cold and cruel as Asubha had once been.

To his left was the mouth of a cave. Though it resembled any number of caves throughout Mahaggata, Torg found something strangely familiar in its appearance. He had been here before. He searched his memories but failed to come up with anything specific.

Suddenly transformed, Jord was standing beside him, adorned in a glowing gown, her long white hair swirling. “There’s not much time,” she said. “Laylah is about to
die
. You know what you must do.”

From a kneeling position, Torg looked up at her.

“I have no idea what to do,” he yelled back. “
Tell
me!”

“Don’t you recognize where you are?”

“No!”

“This is
Catu
!”

When Jord named the northernmost mountain on all of Triken, this unleashed Torg’s memories. The wizard placed Obhasa on Laylah’s chest and then scrambled into the maw of the cave on hands and knees, slipping and sliding downward in a fit of near panic. Without the staff, his ability to produce artificial light was lessened but not eliminated. He willed his eyes to glow, lighting up enough of the passageway to make it possible to maneuver without banging his head on every knob of stone.

He knew from memory that the way was not far. In a short time he came to the end of the tunnel. Lying there, just where he had put it seven centuries before, was a shaving of granite—and beneath it, the golden amulet that had preserved Peta’s flesh for ten thousand years.

The amulet could do the same for Laylah.

When he emerged from the maw of the cave, Obhasa’s glow revealed Jord crouched over Laylah, their faces only a span apart. Jord looked up and saw Torg coming. He scrambled over and knelt beside them both.

“Quick
 . . .
the amulet!” Jord screamed. “She’s gone, just this very second.”

Torg laid it on Laylah’s chest, but Jord quickly moved it to her abdomen. Then she sat down in the snow and sighed.

Torg laid his head against Laylah’s chest. There was no heartbeat.

“I must follow!” he said. “She does not know how to come back.”

Jord smiled wearily. “The
Vijjaadharaa
are aware. They will bring her back—and because of the amulet, it will be to an undamaged body. When she returns, she will have the strength to resist the darkness until it dissipates.”

Trusting Jord’s words, Torg lay down next to Laylah and took her in his arms. He counted twenty long breaths before Laylah’s eyes sprang open—and she screamed. Torg removed the amulet from her abdomen, laid it on the ground, and then continued to hold her, cooing in her ear. Beyond hope, she had returned to him. Laylah was alive.

Finally she spoke, her voice weak and hesitant. “Torg
 . . .
what have you done?”

“Invictus is dead,” he said, attempting to make sense of her question.

“You don’t understand. You should not have brought me back.”

“I did not. The
Vijjaadharaa
are responsible. We owe them much.”

She sat up and pushed him away, frozen tears on her cheeks. Then she glared at Jord. “I’m pregnant!”

The Faerie did not respond, but Torg shivered. “I already knew. Before Invictus died, he taunted me.”

“You don’t understand,” she repeated.

“Laylah, it’s all right,” Torg said, holding up the amulet. “You don’t have the body of a Tugar, but this kept your flesh—and the baby’s—intact. Death Energy will give both of you the strength to survive the darkness.” Then he smiled. “My love, you and I can raise the child together
 . . .
I don’t care
whose
it is. All I care about is
you
. Don’t you see? We’ve won.”

Laylah covered her face with her hands but did not speak.

Torg looked at Jord questioningly.

Jord said, “Undeath has not yet been appeased.”

Torg spat. “To hell with you!” Then he attempted to take Laylah in his arms but again was shoved away. Torg became even angrier. “You’re right, Laylah
 . . .
I
don’t
understand. Your brother is dead. You and I are free. What is so wrong with that?”

Laylah glared at him. Then her expression softened. “Beloved, my baby’s body perished
 . . .
before
mine did. His karma was returned to flesh that had begun to decompose.”

Her words were poison.

Torg fell back, as if a black hand had slapped him. He gasped. Moaned. And then grew mournfully silent.

Heedless of his distress, the storm continued to rage.

So ends Book Five.

Up next
 . . .
the conclusion

Book Six

Healed by Hope

(Book 6: The Death Wizard Chronicles)

(Excerpt)

Darkness into Light

DAWN NEVER ARRIVED. The unnatural darkness rushed over them and hungrily consumed the stars. But on the battlements of Hakam, Ott, and Balak, there was light aplenty. Several tons of
Maōi
had been arranged along the wall walks and set aglow. The milky illumination sprang into the opaque firmament like a spear. Elu guessed that it could be seen for dozens of leagues.

None among them comprehended the purpose of the blue-black cloud. Certainly this was an event unheard of in all recorded history, as frightening as it was mysterious. The cloud had surged toward the fortress from the direction of Avici; therefore most saw it as yet another evil creation of Invictus. But Elu wasn’t so certain. What sense did it make for a Sun God to give birth to darkness?

The Svakaran wished that Torg, Jord, or Peta were around to shed some light of their own. He hadn’t seen the wizard or Faerie since their encounter at Lake Hadaya, and the ghost-child Peta had since departed the fortress, leaving Elu and Ugga alone. Though the Nissayans had been friendly and even servile, the Svakaran still felt lonely. Recently, he had buried his best friend in the world with his own hands; another man he had grown to love was no longer a man; and the rest of his friends—those who still lived—were scattered far and wide. It was enough to make Elu want to cast himself off Hakam.

The bear nuzzled the Svakaran’s hand with his wet nose. Elu looked at him and offered a sad smile. The beast’s small eyes resembled Ugga’s in eerie fashion, containing the same gentle expressiveness.

“I wish you could speak,” Elu said. “You always had a way of warming the hearts of those around you. Few have such skill. I miss you so much, my dear friend.”

The bear snorted, and then to the Svakaran’s surprise stood up on his hind limbs and wrapped his front paws around Elu’s neck. There were gasps and shouts of dismay from nearby knights, but these soon changed to laughter when the bear leaned down and began to lap his companion’s face like an overexcited dog. Elu squirmed and spluttered but lacked the strength to push the beast away. Finally Ugga stopped of his own accord and dropped back down. Then he sat and stared, his long red tongue lolling goofily.

“You see!” Elu said, wiping a gob of spittle off his face. “Even now you’ve found a way to cheer me up.”

The bear yawned, laid his snout on the black stone, and fell instantly asleep. Elu studied him for a moment and then resumed his silent stance, staring outward into the pitch darkness. The light from the
Maōi
created the same effect as a well-lighted room at night; if you looked out a window, you were blind to anything beyond the length of your arm.

A black knight approached the Svakaran. Essīkka was her name, and earlier she had provided him with a change of clothing and then offered to outfit him in black armor, the latter of which Elu had refused. Ever since, she had hovered nearby, as if assigned to keep watch on him and the bear. But the Svakaran suspected otherwise. When Essīkka raised the visor of her helm, there was a glint in her eye. Before the vines had gotten hold of Elu, most women had been pleased by his physical appearance. Apparently, the return to his original body was not without benefits, even if he wasn’t quite as happy-go-lucky as he used to be.

“How did you know?” Essīkka said.

“Know what?” Elu said.

“That the darkness was coming. You must have known, or you would not have ordered us to display the
Maōi
.”

Elu snorted. “I would never
order
such great knights to do anything. I barely had the courage to ask politely. As for knowing in advance, I can’t lay claim to that. The girl is the one who knows everything. I just did what she told me.”

“Is the child a witch or demon? One moment I was staring at her, the next she was gone
 . . .
poof
!”

“Whatever she is, bad isn’t part of it.”

Essīkka removed her helm and placed it in the crook of her arm. Her long black hair swirled in the chilly breeze. Despite her armor and the thick padding beneath it, she shivered and leaned closer to Elu.

“So many are dead,” she said in a near whisper. “My mother, father, and two of my three brothers were slaughtered by newborns at Nissaya, and my remaining brother never returned from the Green Plains. I am alone in the world, as are many. At least I am unwed and without children. I could not have borne to see my husband, sons, and daughters butchered in such horrible fashion.”

“I am truly sorry,” Elu said. “For what little it’s worth, I too have lost many who were dear to me.”

Essīkka removed one of her gauntlets and wiped tears from her eyes. “I am alone,” she repeated, then brushed the side of his face with her damp fingertips.

Elu did not respond, but neither did he draw away. She was beautiful, after all.

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