It was Lord Khalad who sounded the warning cry. He grabbed three injured Daanorian soldiers from the line of wounded and dragged them out of the room, one after another, with a ferocity I had not expected of him. Stunned, I followed Lord Kalen and the bone witch as they rushed out after him. Princess Yansheo attempted to do the same, but the Deathseeker admonished, “Stay inside, and do not come out until we tell you to. You too, Bard.”
Still, I lingered by the doorway, ready in my ignorance to protest in the Daanorians’ defense.
“Stay back,” the Dark asha commanded, and the servants loitering in the corridor turned away without another sound.
Choking, the soldiers dropped to their knees. One of them cried out, his face contorted in pain. Then his face lengthened, elongating in a way no human face had ever been shaped. With a harsh curse, Lord Kalen drew his sword, as did the bone witch.
Limbs burst out of the poor man’s back, as the soldier morphed before our very eyes. His body jerked haplessly, bones cracking, until it was as tall as a horse, an emaciated, horrifying creature with yellow, bulbous eyes and foot-long teeth. I backed away in fright. Something close to recognition flared in its lidless eyes as it turned to the Dark asha, and she was the first person it chose to attack.
Her blade swung true; a stroke severed a twitching limb and the monster dropped, snarling.
A second soldier fell to the ground as a human but soon rose to its feet a beast, pincers taking the place of a mouth, terrible eyes glowing with a diaphanous sheen. Unlike its brethren, it leaped for the Heartforger.
Ice crackled and slid up its arm. The monster staggered, and Lord Kalen brought his sword down upon it, shattering the frozen appendage. The beast screamed, but just as quickly, another arm iced over and another arm was pulverized.
The bone witch sank her sword into the monster’s side. Its hide proved tough, the blade cutting in but not deeply enough to kill it. The creature swiped at her with its claws, and she spun, switching targets and driving the steel deep into the back of its head. It shuddered once, twitching, and collapsed. Lord Kalen finished off his opponent, bringing his sword down on its neck.
The final soldier remained in agony on the floor, still in human form. The asha knelt beside him. Her hands found his, squeezing comfortingly.
The man cried a high-pitched plea in Daanorian.
“I am sorry,” the bone witch told him, and from behind, Lord Kalen’s sword struck one final blow. Death came quickly, mercifully.
The Dark asha didn’t move for some time, staring down at the body before she gently disengaged her hand from his.
Back in the throne room, I suspected that the emperor would’ve cowered if wasn’t already cornered by the aeshma. She punched him, hard, in full view of his subjects. His head whipped back, and she slammed another fist into his stomach.
“Tea!” Princess Yansheo screamed.
“Did you do this?” The Dark asha grabbed the man’s hair, pulling his head from the ground. “Did you blight them?”
“No,” the emperor gasped, his mouth full of blood.
“I killed your lieutenant when he was on the cusp of transforming. My azi devoured him before the blight could be completed. You’re lying if you claim to know nothing of this.”
“Then kill me, witch,” the emperor rasped. “Take your revenge once and for all.”
“I’ve been inside your mind, you old crone. A quick death is the least you deserve.”
“Then what is it that you think I deserve, bone witch?”
“Here is a small sampling.”
The emperor screamed. It was a long, drawn-out screech, like a soul shattering, ripping away from its body. His head thrashed, but even that was all the movement he could afford with the bone witch standing there, her dark eyes aglow. But she showed no sign that she enjoyed this man’s suffering.
“Remember our last meeting? You belittled me for my lack of spine. You said I should not hesitate to dirty my hands if it was the only way.”
Her lip curled.
“You must be proud now. Did you choose the blighted because you knew bone witches have no access to their minds?”
“Lady Tea!” Princess Yansheo’s face was pale.
“Tea,” the Heartforger said, his face strained. “Stop it.”
“You told me once that the emperor deserved to die, Khalad. What makes this moment any different?”
“Whether my death changes anything is not important,” the man said, almost in a whisper, “but whether you allow my death to change you is another matter entirely.”
There was a momentary pause as the asha released her hold on the emperor, who fell to his knees before her, still gasping. “Did you cause the blight in these men?” she asked again.
“No,” the emperor wheezed, still fighting for breath. “I swear.”
“Your vows mean nothing to me. Khalad, monitor the rest of the Daanorians for any additional changes. Take this filth from my sight.”
“You’re different, Tea,” the Heartforger told her, still troubled.
She grinned. “And it does my heart good, Khalad, to know that you will never change.”