Heart of Black Ice Page 13
In front of the statue, a group of twenty men and women practiced with swords from the armory vault. Nicci watched them with a skeptical eye. They had sparred with one another for so long, using the same skills and moves, but they had never battled a real opponent. She realized that if Cyrus and his zealous followers actually joined Utros somehow, then they would become her enemy. They didn’t understand their own legends.
Nicci spent the night searching the wide streets and plazas, the empty passageways and alleys. The sliph well remained silent. The bowl-shaped amphitheater was like a deep crater in the middle of the city, and Nicci stood on the outer rim, looking down. She imagined Kurgan down there skinning Majel alive and then planting flesh beetles in her wounds. No wonder the people had risen up and overthrown him, pulled down and smashed his towering statue.
Suddenly, she sensed another presence nearby, powerful and dangerous. She snatched one of the daggers from her waist as a tan shadow leaped over a collapsed marble column. The big cat bounded toward her, and Nicci gasped, opening her arms wide. The sand panther drove her backward with momentum and exuberance, then licked her face with a raspy tongue. Laughing, Nicci wrapped her arms around Mrra’s neck. Pulling away, the cat paced around her, rubbing her fur against Nicci’s black dress, nearly knocking her over again. An ominous purr rumbled through her chest.
“Mrra, you’re back!” Nicci held the big predator tight. She had lost so much, been through such ordeals, that just having her sister panther gave her great reassurance. “Oh, Mrra! I can’t imagine how far you’ve come.” She pressed her cheek against the soft fur.
When she saw more movement at the edge of the plaza, she realized that other cats had entered the city, a dozen or more. Their glowing eyes gleamed in the shadows of the ruins, but they did not venture closer, even though Mrra had convinced them to join her pride.
“The people in this city are my friends, Mrra,” Nicci explained. “Allies. Your sand panthers must not harm them. They are not prey.” She concentrated hard, hoping that Mrra could communicate the warning to the other panthers.
Across the city Nicci heard the Hidden People raising their voices, and she saw a faint glow outlining the eastern mountains. Daybreak. Recalling what had happened to the two hapless deer, she felt sudden alarm. “Mrra, we have to get inside. You can shelter in the palace with me and my friends.” She tugged on the panther’s neck. “You need to tell the others to hide, though.” She summoned an image in her mind of the deadly zhiss swarm that would appear with the sunrise. Under normal circumstances, sand panthers would bed down in a dark protected area during the day, but she felt a great sense of urgency. “Tell them, Mrra! This is important.”
When her sister panther roared, the other cats twitched their tails, flashed a last feline glance at Nicci, and bounded off into the ruins in search of a shadowy lair. Nicci hurried with Mrra back to the palace entrance. Cora and the Hidden People looked at the predator with alarm, drawing back as Nicci led Mrra inside. “She is mine. She won’t hurt you.”
The drab people withdrew as she took Mrra inside the sheltered corridors before the sun spilled over the mountains. Throughout the ruined city, barricades slammed into place, entryways sealed to hide from the sun. In a rush, the Hidden People pulled shut the palace doors.
In a last glimpse, Nicci saw the swirling black cloud flowing into Orogang like a million wasps.
Mrra growled, and Nicci held her sister panther as the Hidden People barred the door.
* * *
The wild cat did not like being trapped inside the stone walls. Mrra was haunted by horrific memories of being tortured and trained by Chief Handler Ivan. Through her spell bond, Nicci saw memory flashes of the young cub clawing and biting the iron bars of her cage. Back then, the only freedom Mrra and her sister panthers had experienced was when they were turned loose onto the bloody arena sands. Now, she longed to be outside.
But Nicci knew what the zhiss would do to any living creature they encountered. She stroked the panther’s tan fur, running her fingertips along the branded rune scars. “I need to keep you safe. Trust me.”
Today, the Hidden People seemed tense and fearful, but it had nothing to do with the big panther locked inside with them. They were preparing to do something Nicci had not seen before. A group of the muttering people moved to the barricaded entrance. Young Asha caught Nicci’s eye and hurried in among the nervous gray-robed men and women.
Intrigued, Nicci followed them to the closed main door, where one middle-aged man stood alone, facing the rest of them. He had a worn expression and sad brown eyes. He braced himself and ate a mouthful of the fleshy, poisonous mushrooms as if for extra energy.
The Hidden People looked at him with reverence. Several touched him on the arm. “Thank you, Cal.”
“We appreciate you, Cal,” said another.
A drab woman kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, Cal…” She couldn’t form any other words.
Nicci didn’t understand what was happening. Cal swallowed the poison fungus and turned to the barricade, as if in a trance. Two men lifted the crossbar as he stood at the door, trembling.
Nicci realized they were going to let this man out into the sun. Mrra’s tail thrashed, and a low growl filled her throat, but Nicci rested a hand on the furred shoulders to calm her. “What is he doing?” Nicci asked Cora. “You’re letting him out? What about the zhiss?”
The old woman turned to her, and Nicci saw tears filling the wrinkle tracks in her cheeks. “We’ve had to do this every month. It is the only way we keep the zhiss under control.”
The men pulled hard on the heavy doors and opened them to let an axe blade of sunlight spill into the gloom. Cal turned to the gathered people. “Farewell. I—” His voice cracked. He dashed into the bright morning, pulling the hood over his head like a man darting into a downpour. The Hidden People pressed closer to watch.
Once away from the great building, Cal paused out in the open sunshine, filled with wonder. Turning slowly, he pulled down his hood and lifted his face to the sky. He squinted in the blinding sun, but reveled in the warm light.
“What is that man doing? Why is he sacrificing himself?” Nicci fought back the urge to push past these people and rush out to rescue him. “What will he accomplish? The zhiss will feed on him.”
Cora narrowed her eyes. “We are counting on it.”
The man walked placidly to the middle of the plaza near the toppled statue of Kurgan, where he stripped off his gray robe and tossed the garment away. His pale skin was milky, translucent, his face filled with rapture. He spread his arms, felt the sunlight, touched his bare chest. “This is my payment! Oh, what glory the sun is!”
Inside, the muttering people fell into a hush as Nicci heard a buzzing sound that grated her teeth, her spine. Mrra’s growl grew louder, and her ears flattened.
Flowing among the high buildings like a shapeless predator, the black swarm approached, thousands of black specks. Cal kept his eyes closed, refusing to look at the deadly cloud as he drank in the sun. The swarm swirled and knotted, then rolled forward, picking up speed.
“They’ll drain him dry,” Nicci said. “You said that if the zhiss feed on human blood, their numbers will increase dramatically.”
“Not with our blood.” Cora gestured outside. “Watch.”
Obviously agitated, the black cloud was ravenous as it closed in on its victim. Cal faced it and knotted his hands into fists. He howled in defiance as the zhiss swarmed over him, covering his body like a thousand biting black flies, coalescing as they had done around the two unfortunate deer. Within moments, the man was just a vaguely human shape cloaked in black.
Flailing about, Cal dropped to his knees and then collapsed face-first onto the flagstones. More zhiss pounced in to drink deep of the blood. The buzzing grew louder, like a brewing thunderstorm.
Once they had gorged themselves, the individual specks rose up from the body like fat raindrops. The dark red globules wavered, a cloud heavy with Cal’s
blood. But instead of drifting off, as they had done after draining the deer, they became discolored. The crimson from Cal’s blood turned a sick brownish purple. Hundreds, thousands of the floating zhiss swelled, wobbled like drifting pustules, and burst in the air, splattering dark stains across the plaza. Every one of the zhiss that had fed upon Cal suffered, swelled up, and died.
“Because we spend our lives eating the poison fungus, our flesh and blood is deadly to them,” Cora explained. “Individually, the zhiss have no minds, only instinct. This is how we keep the swarm in check. Cal just destroyed a good part of them. We choose a new sacrifice every month to curtail the growth of the cloud.” The old woman continued to stare longingly into the sunshine. “The zhiss learn their lesson for a time, and then they forget.”
Nicci watched the flickering black cloud disperse, the surviving zhiss aimlessly flying away from the desiccated body.
“All of our generations have been a sacrifice,” Cora continued. “Someday, I will draw the marked token, and I’ll go out to surrender my life just as Cal did. We only hope there will be enough of us in Orogang to keep the zhiss from prowling elsewhere.”
When part of the black cloud wandered toward the palace, the Hidden People swung shut the door and lowered the crossbar into place.
Asha came up, her eyes sparkling. “It is our sworn duty, even if no one else knows what we do.”
“I know what you do,” Nicci said. “But you don’t know how to destroy them. If you’re all committed to destroying them, why don’t you send fifty people out there in a single sacrifice? If you each destroy as many of the zhiss as Cal did, then surely that would eradicate the whole swarm.”
“We’ve tried that, many times,” the old woman said, shaking her head. “Some of the zhiss are fooled, but the others flit away. Many of us died, and still the black cloud returns.”
Asha pulled on Nicci’s arm, pleading. Her pale cheeks were streaked with drying tracks of tears. “You are a great sorceress, Nicci. Can you help us? Can you find a way to destroy the zhiss?” She hung her head. “Or will you just leave us?”
After growing impatient with these sullen, passive people, Nicci had almost made up her mind to set off on foot. She could not ignore the threat that General Utros posed, but now she also had a different perspective on the danger posed by the zhiss. If the deadly black cloud ever left this ruined city and swarmed overland to engulf other human settlements, doubling in size each time, the entire world could be covered in a black, blood-drinking shroud.
Nicci recalled what the witch woman Red had written in Nathan’s life book, long ago: And the Sorceress must save the world. She had accepted that mission for her own reasons. After Richard showed her a different way to live, a different role to play, her heart of black ice had melted enough to allow love and duty.
And the Sorceress must save the world.
Nicci saw the tentative hope on their faces. “I will find a way.” She let no doubt creep into her voice or into her heart. When Nicci made up her mind to do the impossible, she usually succeeded. “I will find a way.”
CHAPTER 23
With an escort of a thousand mounted soldiers, General Utros headed north in search of his lost capital. At the front of the expedition, he rode an imposing black stallion fitted with a black saddle of embossed leather with polished brass studs.
Utros maintained a brisk pace, searching for old imperial roads, which had weathered away over time. They had crossed this terrain fifteen centuries before, but the details of the landscape were fresh in his mind.
“It seems like only months ago, beloved Utros.” Ava rode a bay mare beside him. The painted, hairless sorceress sat high in her saddle, her fingers woven into the horse’s mane. Her loose blue gown rippled in the breezes.
Ruva rode an identical bay mare on his other side. “But now the roads are overgrown, and forests cover the lands that we once dominated.”
“We will conquer them again.” Utros ran a finger under the gold mask to wipe away sweat. He nudged the stallion with his heels. “And this time, I will do it for myself, not for Iron Fang.”
Fifteen centuries ago, with the entire army behind him, he had led a slow march across the continent, subjugating town after town. Some foolish leaders resisted, and they all died. More importantly, the vanquished rulers served as a lesson. Utros made sure they were executed in the most hideous and painful ways, slowly eviscerating the upstarts, burning them alive over low fires until they were smoked like venison sausages hung for the winter. The tales of the atrocities spread swiftly, which extinguished defiance among those who might consider resisting.
It was a careful strategic calculation. Unlike Iron Fang, Utros was not a sadistic man, and he did not enjoy causing such pain, but he realized the military necessity of it. After he committed just a few horrific atrocities, the other leaders could not surrender fast enough, and thus he saved lives. When his army rolled onward and his legend grew, he easily vanquished the next city and the next with little bloodshed. Even large walled citadels threw open their gates when his army marched near.
Until he reached the most difficult target: Ildakar.
Now the hot sun shone down on the soldiers as they rode back to their lost capital. Many of these men were conscripts recruited from conquered towns, and they had never seen Orogang, while others were hardened members from the imperial army, originally trained in the great capital city. They had families, sisters, wives, and mistresses back home—all long dead now, just as the soldiers themselves should have died in the natural order of things. Those men remembered Orogang, and Utros could sense their excitement as they rode toward the familiar gray mountains, knowing they were getting closer, mile after mile.
He thought of Kurgan’s enormous palace, with its towers and banners, its crystal windows, its plazas and statues, and the sunken amphitheater from which the emperor would address throngs of his citizens. Great bronze bells would ring fanfares to celebrate Kurgan’s every announcement. Conquered cities and kingdoms would send tributes, and such new wealth would pay for all of his extravagance.
The twin sorceresses couldn’t wait to see the city with their own eyes. “My sister and I only knew our small village,” Ruva said.
“Is Orogang grander than Ildakar?” Ava asked.
“Orogang is Orogang, the capital of my empire.” Utros straightened. “Of course it is grander.”
Fixing his gaze on the line of mountains still many days’ ride away, Utros said, “I have often imagined what would happen when I returned to Orogang with the report of my triumphs. I was sure Emperor Kurgan would praise me for the victory.” His heart felt heavy, and he couldn’t speak the words. Regretful thoughts surrounded him. “I did it for him. Loyalty is greater than love.”
“You also did it for Majel,” Ava added. “Do not fool yourself, beloved Utros. We know you, and we know your heart.”
Utros stared ahead as his black stallion toiled onward. “Yes, for her,” he whispered. “Keeper and spirits…”
Though he knew their passion was forbidden, even on the bloodiest battlefield he thought of her, the soft skin, her long black tresses, her brown almond-shaped eyes. Iron Fang had been his emperor, but Majel had been his love.
He lifted his chin and spoke with a raw edge. “I also did it for him. I swore my loyalty, and I served my emperor.”
Honor had been his armor, a shield that protected him from indecision, but his honor had also blinded him to Iron Fang’s incompetence and petulant evil. No wonder the man’s own wife had sought solace in the arms of another man. Majel had truly loved him, but centuries in the underworld had changed her. Through the blood lens his sorceresses had created, he had seen Majel stripped of her skin, her face peeled off to expose her teeth and staring bloodshot eyes. Speaking to him through the veil, Majel’s spirit had spurned Utros and reaffirmed her devotion for the very man who had done those horrors to her. Utros knew that his dear Majel was not just dead, but dead to him.
Now he c
ouldn’t shake away the thoughts. After the last battle at Ildakar, when his army had suffered such devastating losses, the sour spirit of Emperor Kurgan had taunted him from the underworld, and Utros had smashed the blood lens, forever breaking contact with Iron Fang and with Majel. Now he was on his own, and his determination had not faded, merely shifted. He still intended to conquer the land, but it would no longer be for Emperor Kurgan.
“I don’t know what we will find in Orogang,” Utros said as they rode into the hills. “I’m a soldier of the empire, whatever remains of it. Iron Fang was a terrible leader, but if the current emperor is worthy, then I will swear my loyalty to him. If he is not worthy…” Utros looked at the two women, who gazed at him with yearning expressions. “If he is not, then I will claim the throne for myself, as I should have done all those years ago.”
* * *
That night, when the army camped in a sparse birch forest, Utros tried to sleep in his command tent. As he closed his eyes, he pondered Orogang. The capital city had surely grown over the centuries, but he would recognize the towers, the looming buildings. Would anyone even remember General Utros from so many centuries past? The wizard Nathan had said that his name was legend, but what else had transpired in the empire after all that time?
Ava and Ruva remained outside by the fire, adding powders to the smoke, shaping and sending wisps among the sleeping soldiers to reinforce the preservation spell. Foraging hunters had killed deer, goats, rabbits, and squirrels, anything to feed the ravenous troops. Some of the more intensely desperate soldiers stripped leaves from trees, ate the fleshy stalks of plants, even tall grasses. Once this escort army reached Orogang, they could feast and resupply. That was what Utros held on to.
Orogang … In his mind the capital was breathtakingly beautiful, home to the lavish palace, the throne, banquet halls, meeting chambers, and high balconies from which Iron Fang had commanded his subjects. He also remembered the hidden rooms where he and sweet Majel had spent hours reveling in each other, touching, kissing, without fear of discovery.…