CHAPTER 35

SEVERED

334 AR

Every moment in the prison of human bone was agony. The religion of the sun dwellers was a sad fiction full of inconsistencies and contradiction, but the shared emotional conviction of Kavri’s faithful imprinted powerful magic on their relics.

Their Unifier, their Deliverer, had been first in the thoughts of every human, focused by a lifetime of hopes and prayers. Undiminished after thousands of years, it was why the demons had never truly conquered the hated fortress. It was time that killed the enemy. Time, and the war dogs. For centuries, this place had lain dormant—a sleeping giant too near the hive for anyone’s liking.

Kavri’s witch queen bound the belief of the people upon the wielder of the relics of power, the Spear and Crown of Shar’Dama Ka. Now, with his coming, the Heir had woken that power.

His might was terrifying in the csar—greater even than Alagai Ka at the center of the mind court. His drones, all but mindless, could not focus their magic in joint cause as the humans could.

From the Skull Throne at the csar’s center, the Heir could crush the hive, if only he could reach so far.

There were limits, even here.

Every moment on the greatward was agony for Alagai Ka, even with the protection of the Heir.

Worse, the Heir, drunk on power, might at any moment decide the Consort was no longer needed and slay him outright. Or perhaps grow in his understanding of his power to attempt to link with the demon’s mind. Anywhere else, and Alagai Ka would welcome the attempt, confident no human will could match him. But here there would be no defense. The Heir could strip away his memories like a talon flaying flesh.

But even that might not matter, if he died in this cage. There was no food, no drink, no air. Alagai Ka Drew on his dwindling reserves of power to meet those needs, but his supply was nearly exhausted. The bone spikes, scraping at every angle, were anathema, sucking power like mosquitoes.

And so Alagai Ka, who had held iron-fisted primacy over the mind court longer than any Consort in the memory of the hive, knew fear. Stark terror that should be the suffering of lesser creatures.

Better to have attempted his escape early and taken his chances with the war dogs than suffer like this, slowly poisoned by the idealism of lesser beings.

There was a sound. Alagai Ka stiffened, muscles tense to avoid touching any of the bone spikes with enough pressure to prick his skin.

The prison walls parted, and for a moment relief flooded him, but then it was replaced again by pain as he was unceremoniously dropped to the ground, eyes burning from the light.

It baffled the demon why the primitive creatures took such comfort in the limited spectrum of light, depriving themselves of information more than if they volunteered to blindfold themselves and stuff wax in their ears.

Alagai Ka coughed, gasping air greedily to spare further drain on his power. His skin had turned pale, his muscles gelatin. He struggled weakly to rise, to present himself with dignity before his captors, but this time it was beyond him.

“Pick him up,” the Heir ordered, and Shanjat reached down, lifting Alagai Ka like a hatchling and using his robe as a sling to hold him against his bare back.

On contact with his skin, Alagai Ka attempted to slip into the human drone’s mind.

For one terrifying moment, the effort was beyond him. Alagai Ka wondered if he was already past the point of no return, and the void was inevitable.

He wondered which of the remaining minds would outlast the others, and realized he didn’t care. What matter, if it was not him?

Fear gave him strength to try again, and this time he made the connection, putting on the drone’s body like a raiment. The humans had attempted to tamper with the drone’s mind, but their damage was minimal and easily repaired.

The gesture told Alagai Ka much. They had attempted to circumvent his aid, and failed. They still had need of him, at least until they exited the cavern.

The rules would change then, as they entered the outskirts of the hive.

“No insults?” the Heir asked. “No half lies to cut at us?”

“Finally learned his place, maybe,” the Hunter said. Alagai Ka glared at her. When the time was right, she would be the first to die.

The drone Shanjat smiled behind his veil, eyes flicking lower.

Her hatchling will die first, the demon amended, seasoning her mind with anguish that will be exquisite to taste.

Renna couldn’t stop thinking about the look Shanjat had given her. Pure hatred. And the way his eyes flicked to her belly. It was all she could do not to kill the creature.

But much as she hated to admit it, they needed him. Consuming the mind demon’s brain had given her no insights into their journey, and even Jardir in his seat of power had not produced a better way to the demon hive.

The howls resumed when they exited Sharik Hora, sounding close. Too close. They were far from the walls that kept the gwilji at bay, yet the sound echoed through the streets of the csar, stiffening the close-cropped hair on the back of her neck.

“Quickly, now.” Jardir was holding tremendous power as he led them toward the city gates.

“What’re you plannin’?” Renna asked.

“You and the Par’chin had the will to resist the…seduction of power when you fed on demon flesh,” Jardir said, eyes ahead. “The war dogs did not, and my people paid the price for it. When we open the gate, I plan to cleanse them from Ala, and let Everam be their judge.”

Renna thought of Shadow, Evin Cutter’s wolfhound, who had eaten demon meat and grown to the size of a bear. The dog was terrifying in battle, but still licked his master’s face, and guarded Evin’s family with loyalty to do any canine proud.

She thought of the Warded Children, and how they grew violent and dangerous when left unchecked. Of all the times she herself had struck at Arlen—the love of her life—in a fit of magic-fueled rage.

“Maybe they ent all gone,” she said. “Maybe there’s still a way to reach ’em. Remind ’em what they were trained to fight.”

Jardir shook his head. “With the original gwilji, perhaps. But these are generations removed, born in darkness, never having known the light of the sun. Our mission is too important to let them hinder us.”

The howls sounded again, seemingly all around them, and Renna ceased her arguments, putting a hand to her belly. There was time for mercy, and time to protect oneself.

There was a clatter behind them, as of claws on stone. The others heard it, too. But when they turned, there was nothing to be seen. A moment later it sounded off to the side. Ahead of them. Above. Renna strained her wardsight, but still she could see nothing.

“All around us,” Arlen said. “Bein’ hunted. Herded.”

“How can that be?” Jardir asked. “The walls hold them outside the city.”

The gwil that leapt from a low rooftop, claws swiping at him, gave proof to the falsehood. Even right before her eyes the creature seemed insubstantial. It didn’t roar, nor did the roof creak or shift with its leap. It was silent as a shadow.

Even taken by surprise, Jardir whipped his spear up in time to block, yet the gwil passed through shaft and wards alike, a creature of smoke.

But its claws were solid enough. The war dog’s blow slipped his defenses and cut deeply into Jardir’s robes. He staggered, and blood struck the ancient cobbles.

“They have us surrounded.” Shanjat could have been talking about the weather. All around, Renna could hear the clacking of those hard, obsidian claws. The gwilji were hard to look at directly, but in her peripheral vision, she could glimpse them.

And they stank. The scent more than anything told her where they were. Dozens of them, stalking like cats in a field.

Jardir recovered quickly, raising his spear and letting forth a blaze of magic at the creature as it tamped its claws down for another swing. The blast struck the demon center mass, but it passed harmlessly through and the creature leapt again.

Another pounced from an alleyway. Shanvah got her shield up in time, and there was an earsplitting whine as its claws scratched against the metal. She batted at it with her spear, but the creature scrabbled at the shield tenaciously, even as her blows passed through it like smoke.

Three more sprang from above, going after Renna and Shanjat. Renna drew a wind ward that slowed the dogs long enough for them to dodge aside, but the creatures had too little mass, and they resumed their attack the moment the wind stopped.

Two leapt at Arlen, but safe on the greatward, he misted along with them, catching them by the throats in the between-state, where strength was meaningless and only will mattered. He dominated the creatures, forcing them to solidify, then broke their necks with a sharp shake.

“Back-to-back!” Arlen called, sliding in close to Renna. Shanjat complied immediately, taking up her other side. Renna would rather have had one of the war dogs at her left.

Shanvah gave a shove at the next scrabbling attack from the gwil, knocking it back long enough for her to join the formation at Shanjat’s left. The Spear of Kaji was a blur as Jardir quickstepped to complete the ring between her and Arlen.

“The crown!” Arlen shouted as he seized another dog, forcing it to solidify so he could tear its jaw off. “Drive them back with the crown!”

“Do you think me a fool, Par’chin?!” Jardir shouted back. “The crown no more repels them than it does you!”

“That explains why they weren’t stopped by the walls,” Shanvah said.

“Haunted, I warned you,” Shanjat said. “This drone requires a weapon.”

“Not on your life,” Renna said.

Shanjat blew out a breath, an expression so human it was easy to forget there was a demon at the reins. “His shield, then.”

Jardir frowned, but he slipped his brother-in-law’s shield from his back, flinging it to Shanjat.

The demon immediately had Shanjat put the item to work, slapping aside black talons flashing in the air. “Sever the talons! They are the war dogs’ only remaining link to the corporeal world. Without them they…”

“Can’t resist the call of the Core,” Renna finished, stepping into the next attack with a front kick, misting her leg enough to connect and stop the gwil short. She slashed with her father’s knife, and bloody talons clattered to the cobbles. The war dog howled as it dissipated fully, sucked down into the Core like dust into a bellows.

Jardir sliced the talons from his attacker and watched it similarly dissipate. More war dogs raced at them, silent but for their clattering claws. Jardir raised his spear, and the very cobbles of the street responded, leaping into the air to form a wall too solid for their claws to pass through. They howled, but Renna did not think it would delay them long. All around, gwilji were gathering.

“We have to get out of the city!” the demon shouted through Shanjat. “The war dogs fear to hunt in the deeper tunnels.”

He left the reason unsaid, but it was obvious to all. There would be demons in the lower tunnels, likely in numbers the surface dwellers had never seen. Drones the demon prince might, even now, be able to influence.

“Lot of ground to cover just to get to the gates, much less out of this cavern,” Renna said.

“Leave that to me.” Jardir grit his teeth, and his aura brightened, its normal crackles and whorls flat with concentration.

There was clattering from all around, and Renna thought there must be thousands of the dogs in the csar, slowly closing for the kill.

The sound grew into a cacophony—a clash of steel, rapping of wood, whooshing of air.

Windows and doors burst open all over the csar, spears flying out to answer Jardir’s call. They spun though the air, gathering in clouds as they swept the streets.

“If the war dogs cannot be slain by magic,” Jardir watched the spinning blades sever the claws from a pack of gwilji and send them to the Core, “let them fall to the spears of the very masters they betrayed.”

With spears dancing around them in an impenetrable cloud, Jardir resumed a steady march through the csar. Gwilji howled and yelped, the streets littered with bloodied black talons. The clatter of their claws was growing fainter as they fled the storm.

Jardir opened the gates with a wave of his spear, and they stepped out into the cavern. War dogs were gathered before the gate, and the cloud of spears cut them apart. Some, clinging to stalactites and stalagmites, tried to leap at them from above, but Jardir sensed them and spears spun to catch them in midair, shearing away the talons that let them cling to the physical world.

Alagai Ka heard the sound the moment the doors of the csar opened, but it was not the howls of war dogs.

The queen was crooning.

The humans heard nothing. Felt nothing. But even in the demon’s weakened and warded state, the sound was unmistakable, reverberating in every stone. The queen had begun to lay, sending out an endless stream of drone eggs. Not enough to lure back the other minds, desperately trying to establish hives of their own, but by the next turning she would begin to lay a few valuable mimics, a smaller group of minds, and six queens, deadly from the moment they hatched. They would begin sucking magic from the queen, growing more powerful by the moment as they fought one another with talon and stinger for primacy.

Unless a Consort was there to kill them before they grew too strong—as Alagai Ka had done many times in the past—or if his strongest brethren each stole one and fled. If that should happen, it might be millennia before the Consort could regain primacy, if he could manage it at all.

He could delay no longer. He needed to escape and return to the mind court now, while it remained deserted, restoring his power before his brethren returned. His greatest rivals were already destroyed. There was none who could stand against him once he regained his greatward.

He kept the drone focused, showing nothing as his insides clenched. Still, the demon breathed a sigh of relief with his own lungs when they stepped off the greatward of the csar. The pain squeezing him for the past day dissipated, and options that were unavailable a moment ago moved back into reach.

But he had to be careful. The Heir’s current display of power was terrifying. Even the inanimate objects of the csar leapt to his command by the strange magic of human faith. Setting so many weapons spinning in unison was a measure of the Heir’s will, and that had grown into something formidable. The spinning spears worked like a wardnet, protecting them from all sides at once.

The surface dwellers had grown powerful, and power emboldened.

The Heir did not ask for direction as he led the way across the cavern, headed for the correct tunnel to most quickly reach the hive. They had learned something, at least, during their time in the human temple. Perhaps too much.

The howls of wounded and fleeing gwilji died away, and the Heir, his ability to Draw upon the csar’s power diminishing with every step, began sending the summoned spears soaring back over the csar walls, no doubt to the very spots they had lain for thousands of years.

When the last of the spears had been sent home, the Heir took a moment to breathe, the others focused outwardly in defense.

And in that moment, covered by his shield, Shanjat reached into his robe and took up his daughter’s tear bottle. He broke the seal with a thumbnail and spilled the tears—infused with emotion magic—onto his fingers, drawing a quick warding onto his chest, and a few others onto the chain that bound them.

The wards glowed briefly, fading as the tears evaporated. Shanjat’s eyes flicked back and forth, but there was no sign his captors noticed. It was unlikely they would, for the magic that now radiated from him stank of humanity, of love and emotion and all the vile weakness of his captors. They might sense the magic, but they would not see it as a threat.

Indeed, it wasn’t a threat—to them. It was an invitation and a trail, singing of human frailty, inviting a mimic demon to attack Shanjat.

It was a plan not without risk. The Consort had not been able to grow enough layers of flesh to force the tattoos from his skin, and an attacking mimic could accidentally kill him with a stray slash of talon.

But even an instant’s physical contact would be enough to take control of the mimic. With such a powerful drone, he could flee to a safe space long enough to flay the wards from his skin. Then nothing could prevent his dissipating to an empty mind court.

By the time these insects found their way down without him—if they even could—the Consort would be back in power, healed, and have an endless army of drones to stand guard as he imprinted upon the new generation.

It was two days in the lower tunnels before Alagai Ka sensed the mimic.

Two days of cautious descent, using wards and the Singer’s wretched voice to slip unnoticed past hundreds of drones that hunted—and sometimes fell prey to—the subterranean life in the higher tunnels.

The Heir kept the warding field of the crown in close, lest the demons sense its presence. They put their backs to the tunnel walls when packs of demons passed through, using subtle magics to divert the herding drones from brushing against the field.

The stupidity of drones was an asset in dominating them, but in times of war with the humans, it could be a liability. The hive’s defenses were weak.

Ahead, the mimic waited, wrapped around a great stalagmite mound. Its body blended perfectly with the surrounding rock, down to the layers of sediment and the slickness of dripping water. Its magic was drawn in close, hidden beneath its outer layer where even the Heir would miss it at a casual glance.

It was close. So close. But whether by instinct or sheer luck, the Heir led them on a path that put the mimic just out of reach. Even this more intelligent drone could not pierce the cloak cast by the Singer and his captor’s wards, save for the human stench the tear bottle painted on Shanjat. The mimic could sense the prey was close, but not see or hear it. Not yet.

The Consort slowed, and the Heir and Explorer, senses focused ahead, did not notice as they pulled ahead until they were just out of sight.

The mimic hid just a few short strides away, but Shanjat’s daughter was positioned between them. The Consort had Shanjat stumble slightly as they passed another stalagmite, cut off momentarily from the others’ line of sight.

He shattered the weakened links on the chain, freeing the drone’s hands and feet. Shanvah reacted quickly, but not quickly enough. The drone’s fighting skill and muscle memory were undiminished.

With the element of surprise, the drone quickly established a dominance hold, leaving a free hand to hammer precise blows, shattering bone and breaking joints. In seconds he cast her aside, a broken thing, and sprang for the mimic.

His sudden movement negated the cloaking wards, but the mimic gave no sign as he approached, continuing to lie in quiet wait, like a spider in his web. When he got in close it would strike, and the demon might have only seconds to slip free of Shanjat’s mind and into the mimic’s. He readied his last reserves of power for the transfer.

The Hunter noticed him bolt from cover. She was a blur of movement as she ran to cut him off, unwittingly putting her back to the mimic. Her knife was in her hand, and her aura was without mercy. She would kill him, if she could.

The woman was a fool, facing him with her body. Her knife. She could have drawn wards where she stood, powering his tattoos and killing him. The humans had power, but their primitive minds had not come to trust it more than steel.

She lunged, but for all her magic-enhanced strength and speed the Hunter did not have skill to match this drone. He caught her wrist in a turn that set her blade shaking in nerveless fingers. She turned her attention to keeping the grip, letting the drone hold her in place long enough to kick hard off a ridge in the tunnel floor, adding power to the already mighty blow as he struck a fist into the rounded egg sac bloating her belly.

The Hunter screamed, knocked from her feet. The Consort followed her down with a rain of swifter blows, all aimed at the same, vulnerable spot.

Renna cursed silently, lungs emptying as she landed hard on her back. Shanjat was atop her immediately, continuing his heavy blows. It was not the fluid grace of his daughter’s sharusahk. The sharukin of the Sharum were cruder, but no less effective. Renna thought herself a skilled fighter, but he took her as easily as a cat took a mouse.

But while the demon had full control of Shanjat’s skills, it did not seem to care much for his sense of pain. By the time he noticed his mistake, Shanjat’s hand was shattered to pulp.

“Think I’m stupid?” Renna had used powerful magic to strengthen the muscles of her stomach. Her child floated in a suit of armor hard as warded glass. “Saw you eyein’ my belly back in the csar.”

The demon’s hesitation gave her an instant, and Renna punched Shanjat in the chest, the impact wards on her fist flashing. She felt ribs crack. He was knocked several steps back, landing with surprising grace.

Renna was already back on her feet, charging in. The bone handle of her knife was hard in her hand, throbbing with power.

“I would tell you it is not personal,” Shanjat said. “That it is survival, my race against yours, that forces my hand.”

She was faster, stronger, but still Shanjat picked off her attacks until he locked on to her knife arm, twisting until he had control. Slowly, he pressed the knife in Renna’s hand toward her belly. The magicked blade was one of the few things Renna did not trust her belly against.

“I would tell you that,” Shanjat whispered, “but it would be a lie.”

Renna remembered the first time that knife cut her. She was five, and Harl made her clean it after a kill. The blade, sharp as a razor even then, slid through the cleaning cloth like it was nothing, cutting a thin line across her palm.

Her mother gasped, but Harl only grunted, holding up a hand to keep her from rushing to the girl. He caught Renna’s tiny hand and pressed it in her face, forcing her to look at the reddening wound.

Knife’s like a mean old hound, Harl used to say. Bite what you tell it to, but you ent smart, it’ll bite you, too.

Renna grit her teeth, forcing the blade back. She could hear Arlen and Jardir rushing to her, but they would not be in time.

She breathed, visualizing her movements as Shanvah had instructed her. Then, in a sharp jolt, she broke the hold and reversed it.

The ground is the true battlefield, sister, the Sharum’ting taught. Bring your opponent to it, establish control, and force submission by blood or air.

Now Shanvah lay senseless, perhaps dead. It was time to put an end to Alagai Ka, even if it meant finding the Core on their own.

But that didn’t mean Shanjat had to go with him. Renna pinned his struggling limbs and curled up, putting her foot between Shanjat and the demon. She kicked, tearing his robes and throwing the demon far enough away to power its tattoos without killing Shanjat.

“Gonna burn you like the sun,” she growled. Arlen and Jardir were rushing back to the scene, bright with readied power. There would be no escape for the demon king.

Alagai Ka tumbled less gracefully than Shanjat, coming up hard against a stalagmite mound. Renna readied her attack when the movement stopped, but her concentration was broken when the stalagmite reached out of its own accord to wrap around the demon.

“Mimic!” she shouted, though it was obvious to all by now.

Idiot girl, she cursed herself. Demon was plannin’ that all along. Played right into his talons.

All three of them, Renna, Arlen, and Jardir, unleashed powerful blasts of magic, but the demon sloughed them off even as the stalagmite was destroyed in a cloud of debris. None of them hesitated, bulling forward through the screen.

“I have him in the crown’s bubble!” Jardir cried. “He will not escape!”

The demon was only out of sight for an instant, but when Renna’s vision cleared, the mimic had swollen, with the spiked armor of a rock demon and the horned tentacles of a water demon. Rows of four-inch teeth grew from a mouth large enough to swallow her head and shoulders.

“Mind’s still bound by the tattoos!” Arlen shouted. “It’s in there somewhere, wearin’ the mimic like a suit of armor.”

He drew a mimic ward, smashing the demon hard against the edge of Jardir’s bubble. The creature flattened, and Renna glimpsed a lump in the middle. She leapt, knife leading. She would not hesitate again.

The mimic flowed away faster than she could move, tentacles shooting out to knock them all back. Renna and Jardir were ready, slicing at the tentacles. Mimics could heal instantly, but they could not regrow what was severed.

Alagai Ka knew this as well. The tentacle was thicker than her blade, the demon accepting the cut to whip around and strike her from behind. Knocked to her knees, she glimpsed Arlen from the corner of her eye.

Arlen could have dodged, or warded his tentacle away, but he caught it instead, holding the long powerful muscles with his bare hands as he shocked killing magic down the limb. He caught sight of her then, and his eyes widened. “Ren!”

The demon took advantage of the distraction. A second limb split off from the one Arlen held and drew a quick ward, knocking him sprawling. Another quick ward collapsed part of the ceiling onto him.

Renna did not have time to watch things unfold. The demon continued to press the attack, tentacles merging, dividing—turning hard and sharp, then soft as jelly. She fought to draw a ward in the air, but it slapped her hands, foiling the attempts while it searched for a submission hold.

Renna wanted to dissipate. It would be so easy. But this deep underground, the call of the Core—a song once like the seductive burble of a brook—was now a river roaring with spring melt. Could she swim that? Could she trust that she could pull herself—her baby—back out?

No. She needed to stay solid.

Jardir did not appear to be faring better. He was fast, picking off attacks and delivering the occasional blow of his own, but he was a shadow of the infinitely powerful man he had been in the csar.

The demon had a score of limbs now. Jardir’s spear was a blur, but more than one slipped past his defenses. With the power of the crown focused on keeping the demons in, he could not use it to turn the demon’s blows. He was stripped to the waist instead, the wards scarring his skin bright with power. The demon could not touch him, but he was battered and bruised by the rebound as it pummeled the wards. Jardir shrugged the blows away, but soon they would begin to tell.

Then one tentacle, appearing from the midst of half a dozen just like it, folded back at the last instant to produce a hidden stone. The rock shattered against Jardir’s brow, knocking the crown from his head. It flew through the air, clattering to the tunnel floor several feet back.

The instant the item slipped free, the demon’s attacks ceased. Tentacles retracted and the mimic leapt, shifting in midair to a large field demon. It hit the ground running, racing down the tunnel.

Jardir glanced at the crown, but there was no time to retrieve it. He lifted his spear and took off after the demon.

Renna shook herself, focusing magic to strengthen her stride as she gripped her knife and bolted after them.

Jardir was gaining on the demon, and she on him, when a tentacle extended from the demon’s back, drawing a ward in the air. There was an explosion, and the tunnel ahead collapsed. Renna lost sight of Jardir, unsure if the falling stone had missed him or buried him alive.

“Ahmann!” She was surprised at the passion in her voice. She stuck her knife in its sheath, coughing at the falling dust, but did not hesitate to reach for the nearest stone and tear it away. And the stone after that, and the one after that. But with every stone, her fears grew. The demon’s magic was precise. Even with her strength it would take too long to dig through.

Shanjat and Shanvah were likely dead, and perhaps Arlen with them. Was Jardir buried under all this stone? Was she the last one left alive?

“Sorry, love.” She put a hand on her belly as she prepared to dissipate. “Whole world’s countin’ on us.” It was just a short hop through the rubble. Too quick to pull her down to the Core.

She hoped.

“Ren, wait!” Arlen caught her arm, and relief flooded her. He held the Crown of Kaji gripped in his fist. “I’ll go after him. Shanvah’s alive, but she ent gonna be for long. Do what you can and I’ll be back.”

“You better be!” she screamed, but he was already mist, flowing through the barrier.

Renna hesitated. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to follow, to help Arlen. But the babe was shifting in her belly, and Shanvah’s aura was dim and flickering.

Gotta trust him to save himself. Like he done for me.

Renna rushed over to Shanvah, laying the young woman flat as she pulled magic through her and Read it. There were breaks and bleeding everywhere—it was a miracle she had lasted so long.

“I…” Shanvah gasped.

“Don’t try’n talk,” Renna said.

“I am…” Shanvah breathed again, “ready for the…lonely…path…”

Renna spat. “Core, you are. Got work to do, girl. Dyin’ ent no excuse for shirkin’ chores.”

Renna wished she had a Gatherer’s training, or Arlen’s skill at healing magic, but there was no time for lament. Power rushed into her as she Drew, holding Shanvah’s hand as she extended her magic into the Sharum’ting.

Her hands worked along with the power, massaging bones and flesh back into place as infusions of magic sped the body’s healing. She focused on Shanvah’s chest first, securing her heart and lungs, then repaired the fractures in her skull, drained the swelling from her brain.

She worked outward from there, losing track of time as she worked. She blinked, eyes dry and burning, and knew it was time to stop. She had seen how healing drained Arlen. If she weakened herself too much…

Shanvah’s eyes were closed, but she was breathing comfortably now, her broken body whole, if still weak. Renna drew back, still holding an excess of power despite the burn that was beginning to seep into her muscles. At any moment, Arlen, Jardir, or a thousand demons could burst through that cave-in.

She waited long, tense moments, straining her senses, but there was nothing, no sign of life up ahead.

A wheezing startled her, and she whirled, knife in hand, to find Shanjat, lying exactly where she had left him in the struggle. With no one to tell him to rise, the warrior would lie there until he died.

It wouldn’t be long. Renna’s punch had shattered his sternum, and his hand was a crumpled ruin. The mind had been heedless of Shanjat’s injuries, interested only in escape.

She could save him, even now. His injuries were not as extensive as Shanvah’s. But to what end? Jardir at a dizzying height of power had not been able to fix the man. If Arlen did not return with the demon, then what use was Shanjat? And if Arlen did bring Alagai Ka back, would it only give the demon another chance to use Shanjat to escape? To try to kill her child?

Renna’s hand found the comforting grip of her knife. Her gaze flicked to Shanvah and found the girl watching her, eyes wide behind her scarf and veil. They locked stares, and no other words were needed.

Shanvah struggled onto her side, pushing onto an elbow, working a knee under her. “If it must be done, sister, I should be the one to do it.”

Renna moved to help her, but the girl waved her off. She struggled to her feet, wobbling slightly until she found her balance. A knife of curving glass appeared in her hand, and she stalked forward.

She stood over her father a long time, then knelt beside him, cradling his head in her lap.

“Is your soul prepared for the lonely path?” she whispered.

“Only Everam can judge a soul.” Shanjat’s voice was devoid of emotion.

Shanvah blinked, pain and confusion in her aura. The question had been rhetorical.

“Do you wish to go?” Shanvah asked. Renna saw tears in her eyes but made no move to try and catch them. This moment was too private. Again she turned her senses outward. How long had Arlen been gone? Minutes? An hour? More?

There was no way to tell, and no way to ignore the last words of father and daughter.

“I no longer wish anything,” Shanjat said in the dull monotone.

“What would you have wished, before?” Shanvah asked.

“To serve Shar’Dama Ka, who will deliver us from Nie,” Shanjat said. “To protect my daughter, greater than any son.”

The words were cold, but Shanvah sobbed, clutching him to her.

“Sister,” Shanvah begged, and Renna rushed to her side. “I cannot bear this burden. You must…must…”

Renna gently took the glass knife from Shanvah’s limp hand. Their eyes met, and Renna slid the knife unused back into its hidden sheath in Shanvah’s robe.

“You heard the man.” Renna ignored the burn as she Drew more power to heal Shanjat. “Dyin’ ent no excuse for shirkin’ chores.”

It was hours before Renna could clear the rubble enough to squeeze through, but there was no sign of the others on the far side.

They were buried, woulda been signs, she told herself. Woulda sensed it.

They were alive. Or had been, when they passed this point. But had the demon killed Jardir? Had Arlen been sucked down into the Core? Was Alagai Ka on his way back right now with an army of demons?

She climbed back to the chamber where Shanvah and Shanjat lay. Their bodies had been repaired, but food was required for full healing.

For her, as well. The baby kicked and squirmed as it often did when too much time passed without a meal. She found their packs, producing the bowls Jardir used and filling them with soil, packing it down and smoothing the surface.

“Sister, what are you doing?” Shanvah asked.

“Makin’ food,” Renna said.

“That is one of the most difficult wardings of the dama’ting,” Shanvah warned. “To prepare the holy food and drink incorrectly is said to create a poison that can kill with a single crumb or drop.”

Renna felt a churning in her gut, but she forced a shrug to her shoulders. “Ent gonna let us starve down here.”

She drew the wards as she had seen Jardir do so many times. The magic burned as it passed through her, but it seemed to work. The soil in one bowl became steaming couscous, and in the other, clear water.

Still, she looked at them doubtfully, Shanvah’s warning repeating itself endlessly in her mind. But what alternative was there? Finally she grunted, reaching out.

“Sister, let me!” Shanvah cried. “You are with child. There is no need to risk two lives. I should taste the food.”

“What difference does it make?” Renna asked. “If it’s poison, we’re both dead anyway.”

“If I die you could make for the Spear of Ala,” Shanvah said. “The wards for food and drink remain there, and the temple is secure.”

“Great,” Renna said. “Fight through Creator only knows how many war dogs to die of old age in some forgotten fort.”

“Only if the Deliverer does not return,” Shanvah said.

“Ent waitin’ out the war,” Renna said. “Meant to do that, would’ve stayed home. Got a better reason why I shouldn’t eat the food?”

“I am more expendable.” Shanjat’s voice was flat as he answered the rhetorical question.

Renna and Shanvah exchanged a look. At last, Shanvah nodded, taking the tiny bowl, cup, and eating sticks from her pack. She knelt with her father as she had so many times before, and they prayed together before Shanjat, at her command, drained the cup and took up the eating sticks, swallowing a mouthful.

Renna realized she was holding her breath. She blew it out, and when Shanjat did not drop writhing to the floor, she fell on the food like a demon over a fresh kill.

Later, refreshed by the food and drink, the three of them shouldered their packs and squeezed through the rubble, following the tunnel down until it came to another cavern. A great hole had been blown in the floor, with a drop of hundreds of feet to a great underground canyon below.

Had they all fallen through? Was it a trap Arlen or Jardir avoided? A shortcut to the Core? There was no way to know. Renna tried Reading the currents of magic, but there was too much information for her to sort out.

“Demonshit,” she growled, her legs dangling over the terrifying drop. In addition to the hole, there were several tunnels branching off from here, and she didn’t remember the map they had seen. The only copy was in Arlen’s notebook, gone now, along with her husband. “Even if they didn’t fall, which tunnel leads to the hive?”

There was a shuffling of feet, and Shanjat began walking away from them. The warrior picked the third tunnel to the left with no hesitation, and began making his way down it.

Renna and Shanvah met each other’s eyes for a long moment, then turned and followed.