—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
The torc was cold around Annon’s neck. Breathing heavily and fighting off a wave of sudden nausea, he waited in the echoes of his own mind for some sign of power or acknowledgement of the beings trapped inside the device. Finding none, and feeling himself quite alone in his thoughts, he invoked the command word.
Iddawc.
The taste of the word in his mind invoked feelings and memories: the cold dark well of Drosta’s Lair. The ravening hunger to kill that came from the blade he had taken. Cold sweat gathered across his brow. The word Iddawc contained fear, like a man cupping poisoned water in his hands and about to drink of it. Invoking the word in his mind made Annon shudder.
The blue gems in the torc began to glow dimly.
He felt the stirring of energy, the portent of power. The metal of the torc was uncomfortably hot. He felt the gathering power; the sudden surge brought tingling gooseflesh down his arms. The serpents recoiled. Nizeera’s mind went black with fear and she crouched, head low, tail limp, ears flat. The serpents fled the circular chamber, disappearing into small crevices made from the designs on the lower edge of the wall near the floor that had been invisible before. In moments, not a single serpent remained.
“Well done,” Lukias said triumphantly, breathing a sigh of relief and staring at Annon. “I knew you would tame it easily. What a gift you have, that strength of will. Not many could have done that, Annon.”
Khiara floated down and came forward, her expression wary. She approached Annon and touched his cheek with the back of her hand, as if testing for a fever. “Tell me your name.”
“Annon of Wayland,” he said. “What is it, Khiara? My mind is my own.”
“Can you prove that?” she asked, her expression darkening. She rounded on Lukias. “How did you get here?”
He held up a hand calmingly. “You feel aggressive. It is the magic from the torc. It affects us differently than the beasts. I feel it myself. My heart is racing. I have the urge to smash something. It is a physical reaction to the torc’s power. When the serpents are beyond its radius of influence, the power will lessen.”
She scowled and took a step toward the Rike. “Answer my question. How did you get here?”
“I freed myself from the bonds. It took a while, as you can imagine. Erasmus was thorough. I had a choice to make. Face the Arch-Rike and perish or help you escape. The Arch-Rike is here in Basilides. There are at least fifty soldiers immune to fire marching this way. If you wish to live, as I do, we must go. This instant.”
A shiver of dread went through Annon. “The Arch-Rike is here?”
“I assure you that he is here in person. Basilides is a carefully guarded secret, Annon. When you overcame it, he summoned his personal legion to fight you. I will take my chances with Tyrus and the rest of you. We must go. Now!” He gestured at them with his open palms.
Annon swung his legs over the rim of the sarcophagus. “I do not wish to do this, but I think the only way to escape will be through those doors.” He pointed to the ones across the room with the markings that said BASILIDES. “It leads into the Scourgelands.”
“It does,” Lukias answered gruffly, shaking his head and holding up his hands warningly. “It is death to cross that gate. There is another way out.”
“Where?” Khiara asked.
“The same way the Arch-Rike arrived. There is magic here—a portal controlled by Tay al-Ard spirits. The soldiers are arriving through it as we speak. I noticed you survived the Calcatrix lair by extinguishing the light spheres. Clever move. Darkness is the way to cross that way unharmed. The chamber is vast. If we can get there quickly, we can hide and wait for the soldiers to pass. There will be a few left to guard the way back, of course, but between us I think it won’t be a problem. We reach the Tay al-Ard and then go.”
“Where?” Annon asked.
“Wherever you desire,” Lukias replied with a grin. “It can only take you somewhere you have been before. You will choose the destination, Annon.” He pursed his lips. “I see by your expressions you still doubt me. How else can I prove my loyalty? If I wanted you captured, I would have only done nothing. The torc was the only way to escape the serpents. I gave you the activation word.” He tossed his hands. “What else can I do? The soldiers are coming. If we argue much longer, we are all dead.”
Annon glanced at Khiara. Her expression was still fierce but it was slowly calmed as her thoughts conceded his points. She nodded curtly.
“Lead on,” Annon said. He shoved the outer doors open all the way and released his mental control of the torc, allowing the stones to cool and subside. “The chamber will be swarming with snakes in a moment. We best hurry.”
The torc was cold around Annon’s neck. Breathing heavily and fighting off a wave of sudden nausea, he waited in the echoes of his own mind for some sign of power or acknowledgement of the beings trapped inside the device. Finding none, and feeling himself quite alone in his thoughts, he invoked the command word.
Iddawc.
The taste of the word in his mind invoked feelings and memories: the cold dark well of Drosta’s Lair. The ravening hunger to kill that came from the blade he had taken. Cold sweat gathered across his brow. The word Iddawc contained fear, like a man cupping poisoned water in his hands and about to drink of it. Invoking the word in his mind made Annon shudder.
The blue gems in the torc began to glow dimly.
He felt the stirring of energy, the portent of power. The metal of the torc was uncomfortably hot. He felt the gathering power; the sudden surge brought tingling gooseflesh down his arms. The serpents recoiled. Nizeera’s mind went black with fear and she crouched, head low, tail limp, ears flat. The serpents fled the circular chamber, disappearing into small crevices made from the designs on the lower edge of the wall near the floor that had been invisible before. In moments, not a single serpent remained.
“Well done,” Lukias said triumphantly, breathing a sigh of relief and staring at Annon. “I knew you would tame it easily. What a gift you have, that strength of will. Not many could have done that, Annon.”
Khiara floated down and came forward, her expression wary. She approached Annon and touched his cheek with the back of her hand, as if testing for a fever. “Tell me your name.”
“Annon of Wayland,” he said. “What is it, Khiara? My mind is my own.”
“Can you prove that?” she asked, her expression darkening. She rounded on Lukias. “How did you get here?”
He held up a hand calmingly. “You feel aggressive. It is the magic from the torc. It affects us differently than the beasts. I feel it myself. My heart is racing. I have the urge to smash something. It is a physical reaction to the torc’s power. When the serpents are beyond its radius of influence, the power will lessen.”
She scowled and took a step toward the Rike. “Answer my question. How did you get here?”
“I freed myself from the bonds. It took a while, as you can imagine. Erasmus was thorough. I had a choice to make. Face the Arch-Rike and perish or help you escape. The Arch-Rike is here in Basilides. There are at least fifty soldiers immune to fire marching this way. If you wish to live, as I do, we must go. This instant.”
A shiver of dread went through Annon. “The Arch-Rike is here?”
“I assure you that he is here in person. Basilides is a carefully guarded secret, Annon. When you overcame it, he summoned his personal legion to fight you. I will take my chances with Tyrus and the rest of you. We must go. Now!” He gestured at them with his open palms.
Annon swung his legs over the rim of the sarcophagus. “I do not wish to do this, but I think the only way to escape will be through those doors.” He pointed to the ones across the room with the markings that said BASILIDES. “It leads into the Scourgelands.”
“It does,” Lukias answered gruffly, shaking his head and holding up his hands warningly. “It is death to cross that gate. There is another way out.”
“Where?” Khiara asked.
“The same way the Arch-Rike arrived. There is magic here—a portal controlled by Tay al-Ard spirits. The soldiers are arriving through it as we speak. I noticed you survived the Calcatrix lair by extinguishing the light spheres. Clever move. Darkness is the way to cross that way unharmed. The chamber is vast. If we can get there quickly, we can hide and wait for the soldiers to pass. There will be a few left to guard the way back, of course, but between us I think it won’t be a problem. We reach the Tay al-Ard and then go.”
“Where?” Annon asked.
“Wherever you desire,” Lukias replied with a grin. “It can only take you somewhere you have been before. You will choose the destination, Annon.” He pursed his lips. “I see by your expressions you still doubt me. How else can I prove my loyalty? If I wanted you captured, I would have only done nothing. The torc was the only way to escape the serpents. I gave you the activation word.” He tossed his hands. “What else can I do? The soldiers are coming. If we argue much longer, we are all dead.”
Annon glanced at Khiara. Her expression was still fierce but it was slowly calmed as her thoughts conceded his points. She nodded curtly.
“Lead on,” Annon said. He shoved the outer doors open all the way and released his mental control of the torc, allowing the stones to cool and subside. “The chamber will be swarming with snakes in a moment. We best hurry.”
