The Twilight City Page 27

  Just then, the burly Magehunter’s loose helmet flew up at Endira’s gesture and slammed Lassiter in the head with a loud thunk. The commander fell back, dazed.

  I need to finish the bastard off and avenge Arron, Nera thought desperately.

  She reached for her belt but found no remaining throwing daggers. They were all spent. Her long dagger had been lost in the fight, but Lightslicer still lay embedded in Lassiter’s calf. She extended her hand, and the dagger returned to her.

  With a cry of fury, she clambered back to her feet. Her wounds pained her greatly, but she was determined to end Arron’s killer.

  Before she could finish Lassiter, her attention was drawn to Malek’s battle with the Pale Lord.

  Malek had regained his feet, the flames of darkness flowing over him yet not burning him. With a sudden whoosh, the dark flames were extinguished, the negative energy drawn into Malek’s body along with a torrent of ambient magic. He cried out as the corruption ran through him. For a split second, Nera thought his flesh turned translucent, his skeleton momentarily visible as the energy burned through him. The smokeless magelights lining the fortress hall dimmed and were snuffed out.

  Nera felt pressure clamping on her eardrums as a tremendous amount of magic was sucked in, and a queer tugging deep within her being as Malek inadvertently tapped into the vitality of those around him. Then he threw his arms forward, bringing his hands together in a mighty clap. A shockwave burst forth, knocking Nera and the others off their feet again. She watched helplessly.

  The Pale Lord reeled back, his robes yanked backward as if he stood in a gale, his skeletal limbs standing out. He staggered before being consumed in magical fire, blazing in bright blue flames. The Pale Lord fell upon the stairs, thin arms raised to ward off the power, his glowing lantern eyes wide as he contemplated the unthinkable—his end.

  Endira’s voice floated into Nera’s mind again, fearful and anxious. “He has gone too far! Malek must be stopped, Nera. Remember your pledge.”

  “Malek—no!” Nera screamed. “Get out of my head, elf. He can still rein it in.” However, even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true.

  Malek was on the verge of being consumed with the power. If he was, then all would be lost. She thought of her pledge to Endira and knew what she had to do.

  Malek ignored her cry, striding forward resolutely, head hunched forward as if each step pained him. He kept his hands pointed at the Pale Lord, maintaining the stream of fire. The lord of the city was somehow losing the battle, and Nera didn’t know how much longer he could hold up.

  I can’t let him do it… Sabyl, don’t make me do this. There’s got to be another way, she thought desperately.

  “There’s no other way. You must, else Nexus is doomed.” The elf’s voice was a cool, calming influence in Nera’s mind. “I removed the telepathic shielding I was providing, but the Pale Lord may be too far gone to take advantage and strike.” Endira suddenly slumped down beside Nera, exhausted.

  With a prayer to Sabyl, Nera let Lightslicer fly. Her aim was true, and the enchanted dagger passed through the nimbus of energy surrounding Malek, striking him in the back of the thigh. His leg gave out, and he stumbled and fell forward. The stream of energy bathing the Pale Lord was disrupted as he lost concentration.

  At the same time, Nera felt a tingling sensation as Endira let loose her psionic energy.

  Malek cried and clutched his head, writhing on the ground. Nera’s heart clenched as pain and betrayal passed across her friend’s face. Guilt flooded her. We were supposed to help and defend him, and instead we turn on him.

  “He had to be stopped, or all would be lost. Our actions are for the greater good,” Endira said calmly in her mind, but Nera could sense her regret.

  Stuff it, bitch. And get out of my head, Nera thought angrily. The elf’s cool thoughts pulled back.

  The Pale Lord regained his feet. He seemed weakened, wounded by Malek’s attacks, yet he slowly advanced, looking at Malek as if he were a particularly venomous insect about to be crushed. The wounded mage was oblivious, lying there with head cupped in his hands.

  Nera gestured and Lightslicer returned to her hand. She came to her feet and was about to rush to Malek’s side when Endira caught her arm.

  “Get off me!” Nera tried to shrug the smaller elf off, but her grip was surprisingly strong.

  “It’s too late, Nera. You’ll die too,” Endira said sadly.

  The Pale Lord made a crushing motion with his hand, the long, spindly fingers like the legs of a great white spider. Malek seized up and curled into the fetal position, a ragged scream tearing from his throat. The Pale Lord muttered something in arcane speech. The words boomed in Nera’s ears yet made no sense. Her skin crawled at the incantation.

  A thunderous crack resonated in the hall, and Malek seemed to fold into himself and was gone. He had disappeared—a momentary blast of icy wind was all that remained.

  “What did you do to him?” Nera cried, trying to shrug off Endira’s grasp. The elf was holding both her arms from behind. Nera fought to get free but couldn’t. Her horrified gaze took in the empty space Malek had occupied an instant before. Wisps of smoke curled around the place he had lain before disappearing.

  Was he unmade as his master was? Her stomach turned at the thought.

  The Pale Lord turned his terrible gaze on Nera and Endira. The amber eyes seemed to peel back Nera’s skin until she felt he could see into her soul. “Foolish one, are you so eager to die too? You are an enigma that I will solve before I destroy you.” He took a step forward and raised a hand toward her.

  Nera could sense him drawing his power and knew she was dead. Malek had been a serious threat to him, but the Pale Lord likely considered her a nuisance, dangerous in the manner an ember knocked free of a hearth could be if left to smolder.

  “I ilvil ithie o lielh i ves, slisieli ih flersihi,” the Pale Lord intoned.

  Nera screamed as the black flames shot from his hands and crackled around her.

  Chapter 32

  Nera turned to flee, but her muscles seized up, wracked from pain as the pitch-colored flames clung to her. They generated no heat that she could feel, perhaps a result of her fire resistance, yet the agony was paralyzing. She convulsed momentarily then pitched forward, the flagstone floor filling her vision.

  After a brief moment of vertigo, suddenly Nera was in the floor. A cool rush of energy flowed through her, and the wracking pain of the Pale Lord’s assault vanished. She didn’t know what was happening as pitch blackness smothered her. Her stomach twisted, and she struggled to breathe, panic and dizziness threatening to make her retch.

  Balor’s balls, I must be on my way to the Abyss!

  “Easy—don’t fight it. You’re safe.” Endira’s calming voice spoke in her mind.

  Nera flailed around in panic, but the blackness was absolute. After a moment, she realized that somehow her ragged breaths were still taking in air. After a moment, she forced herself to relax. She could feel Endira’s arms gripping her in an embrace and the cool flow of her psionic power around them. Nera distinctly sensed she was falling.

  After a couple minutes, they passed out of the stone and into an open space. Contrary to her sensation of falling earlier, they came out sideways into a passageway. Endira released her grasp, and Nera stumbled forward, catching herself against the rough-hewn wall on the far side of the passage. Her stomach flipped, and she lost her hold on what was left of her dinner, falling to her knees and retching.

  After a minute, Endira spoke. “Nera, we need to go now. The Pale Lord will locate us here.” The elf looked pale and drawn from the strain of expending so much power during the battle.

  Standing back up was a chore, but Nera managed. How does one hide from the Pale Lord? He sees all in Nexus. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she thought of the silver ring Malek had given her, which she was still wearing on her horn. Grasping it gave her a small amount of comfort. Protection from magical scrying… I mig
ht make it out of this, yet. The thought seemed foolish given the circumstances, but she was able to take heart in it. Her survival instincts, honed by a life on the streets, took over, and she tried to avoid thinking about Malek’s fate.

  She became aware of a bludgeoning of her eardrums, a tremendous racket, almost like at the foundry but greater, more powerful with a deep bass resonance. The ground itself thrummed in time to the noise. The air was thick with dust and the smell of hot oil.

  “The Machine of Nexus,” Nera said. “We must be near it.”

  “Yes, we are beneath Nexus. Come, we mustn’t tarry.” Endira walked down the corridor.

  Nera followed the elf, assuming she knew where she was going. Despite her cuts and bloodstained clothes, she suddenly realized her injuries didn’t pain her as badly as before.

  “Earlier, I could barely think straight from the pain, but now I feel much better. Did you do something?”

  Endira shook her head. “That was part of the Pale Lord’s mental assault, causing pain and fatigue. He is unique in that he wields arcane magic as well as psionic. I’m truly surprised Malek held up as long as he did, even with my aid.”

  Nera shot her a glare. “He’d have had that pale, fish-bellied bastard if we hadn’t betrayed him like that.” She knew it had been necessary, but it didn’t feel right.

  Endira elected not to respond, but guilt was evident on her face as well. They continued along the tunnel, the floor ascending as they walked for several minutes until fresher air greeted them. Soon, they came to the end of the tunnel and a metal gate barring their way. On the other side of the gate, a wide view of the city stretched out before them. Across the way, the foundry belched its steady stream of smoke into the air.

  “We must be under the hillside beneath the Pale Lord’s keep,” Nera said.

  Endira nodded and suddenly looked wobbly on her feet. She braced herself against the wall of the tunnel. “I fear I exerted myself too much. Can you get us through that gate?”

  Nera scoffed at the clunky lock securing the gate. “Aye, should be a breeze. Whoever put that here had no business being in charge of securing the fortress.” Nera set to the lock and made quick work of it with her picks. The gate squealed loudly as she kicked it open and stepped out onto a narrow path that led down to another gate in the base of the curtain wall. The Noble District lay on the other side of the wall, the large manors and villas surrounded by rare and expensive imported trees and greenery. Endira steadied herself against the wall for a moment as a drunk would, before following her down the path.

  A flash drew Nera’s attention. The massive foundry shuddered and then erupted into an enormous fireball. A moment later, the shockwave hit them, throwing the two of them back against the hillside. Loosened dirt and pebbles tumbled down around them. The thunderous boom pealed over the entire city. Thick smoke billowed from the foundry, and its walls looked to have shattered much like an egg trying to contain a hatching dragon.

  “Oh gods.” Nera gasped in horror.

  Endira was speechless beside her, eyes wide like a frightened animal’s.

  “How… Surely that couldn’t have happened as a result of our battle with the Pale Lord?” Nera asked.

  “I fear this is the end of Nexus, as the Seer predicted. Malek didn’t bring about the downfall of Nexus directly but merely heralded it.”

  ***

  Waresh tilted back the tankard of ale, intent on getting fully piss-drunk. The trail for Neratiri had grown cold, and he was undecided as to where he should pick it up. With the coin he had taken from the rogue, he thought he might have enough to pay a diviner to scry her location, but magical services were notoriously expensive, and he preferred to find her on his own if he could. With a loud sigh, he put his head in his hands.

  Why can’t my damned luck change for once?

  The conversation of a couple locals at the next table caught his attention. They were chattering about strange occurrences near the Nexus Fortress.

  “Whatcha mean there was some explosions there, Cole?”

  Cole shook his head. “Alls I know is what I seen. A blast of fire shot out one of them gates that the Magehunters guard up past the slums at the base oʼ the curtain wall. Ya know the one?”

  “Aye, I think I know it. That’s the one across the square from Scurvy Gashes whorehouse, ain’t it?”

  Waresh grunted in amusement. The establishment was named Curvy Nasha’s, but most called it Scurvy Gashes on account of the low-class whores found there. Waresh wouldn’t dip his stick there for his weight in gold.

  “Aye, that’s it.”

  “Well, what happened then?”

  “The Magehunters ran outta there like a dragon shot a blast o’ fire up their arses.” The men chuckled nervously at that. “When the smoke cleared, they went running back in there. It was all quiet after that. I didn’t stick around long enough for them to come outta there all pissed off and lookin’ for someone to take their mood off on, ya know?”

  Waresh’s attention turned to the pretty barmaid as she appeared at his table with his bowl of stew and trencher of bread. She also produced a fresh tankard of ale, which brought a smile to the dwarf’s face.

  “Thanks, lass.” He downed the remainder of his first tankard and dug into the stew with a vengeance.

  He wondered what was going on in Nexus. Things hadn’t been the same lately, due to a number of bizarre occurrences. First had been the horror he had battled in the Magelight Market. Then, the plane-cursed thief, Neratiri, and her half-elf friend had managed to slip their collars, which was nearly unheard of without assistance. Very few individuals were foolish enough, or had the stones, to cross the Special Judiciary by removing others’ collars, for fear they’d end up with some clamped around their own necks. To think the pair had remained in Nexus and not skipped off plane was almost inconceivable. Then, the Magehunters showed up looking for them along with a mysterious human mage. An elven sorceress had fought him off and put him to sleep. Then, after he reacquired Neratiri’s trail, the plane-cursed wench had wounded him and knocked him off the roof, leaving him with a shattered leg and a foul mood.

  “String of shite luck I’m having… Maybe the gods are tryin’ to tell me something,” he grumbled into his stew. “Its time I got out of this retrieval business.” If only I didn’t have a hundred and ninety-eight more thrice-cursed retrievals to go.

  Rumors of a prison break had been floating around for a couple days, and now the talk of strange explosions up at the fortress. Normally, the Pale Lord ruled the city with an iron fist, and any challenge to his authority was crushed swiftly and mercilessly. Waresh couldn’t remember ever hearing of such blatant assaults on the Nexus establishment in all the time he’d lived in the city. I’m not liking the turn of events of late… Bad omens, if ever I’ve seen any.

  His memories of the past few days and his pursuit of Neratiri made him think of his own collar. He absently scratched at it where it chafed his thick neck. Wish I could slip me collar and get off this damned place… I could disappear and try to earn an honest wage for once. Mayhap I’d become a stonemason like I wanted as a lad before I knew about nobility and princely duties and all that shite. And before I cursed myself to this fate.

  Waresh raised his tankard to take a large draught when the ground shook violently beneath him, sending the ale cascading down the front of his tunic. Many others nearby were also unnerved and shouted in panic.

  Gods… what next?

  He carefully placed his ale back on the table and, forgetting about his food and drink, he followed the crowd streaming outside into the packed street.

  Fingers pointed toward the center of Nexus and Foundry Hill, and voices were hushed in shock and worry. A huge column of black smoke stained the sky—not the gray smoke of industry, but the black of burning material.

  Pushing farther into the press of taller people, Waresh jostled them until he got a clear view. A blackened shell remained where the foundry had stood, flames licking at th
e skeleton of the great building.

  Waresh’s jaw sagged open. Reiktir’s bloody beard… Things just took a turn for the worse.

  ***

  The crowds seemed skittish, nervous, as if something was afoot in Nexus. Perhaps it was. Rumors were spreading like a plague. People spoke in hushed whispers of an unknown faction battling the Magehunters and fighting at the fortress.

  Idrimel and her brother had followed Yosrick through the city, the gnome holding a charm in hand and whispering to it. They wended their way through the Industrial District and walked up the busy street that culminated at the monstrous foundry atop the hill.

  “I think that evil bastard was plotting something at the foundry.” Yosrick gestured excitedly ahead of them. “Mayhap we can—”

  He was cut off by a massive explosion. One moment, the foundry was a dark blot in the twilight ahead of them, its bulk barely illuminated along the massive base by the magelights along the street. The next, it turned into a massive fireball that seared the eyes.

  Idrimel gasped and shielded her face with a hand. A moment later, the shockwave hit them. She was thrown from her feet and flung against the wall of a building, the breath driven from her lungs, her head ringing from the concussive blast.

  She must have blacked out for a moment, for she became aware of shouts of alarm and the cries of the wounded. Her legs were numb from a weight atop them, and she was unable to move for a moment. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the burning remains of the foundry.

  Fire raged through the skeleton of the foundry, licking out of the opening where the roof had once been. A huge piece of blackened stone the size of an oxcart lay in the street where the three of them had stood moments before.

  “What in the Abyss…” Athyzon’s stunned voice came from nearby. Her brother weakly staggered to his feet a few paces away.

  With a nearby groan, something moved, relieving the pressure on Idrimel’s legs. Yosrick had been thrown atop her. The armored gnome rolled over onto hands and knees with a muttered curse.