Night Angel Complete Trilogy Part 150

There was a second sigh through the land.

"It is finished," Neph Dada declared. "All Jorsin's works are broken. Khali comes." He released the vir back to the two hundred Vurdmeisters in the room. He slipped into a coughing fit, and when it stopped, he turned to Durzo. With a gesture, the bonds holding Durzo fell away. "You must be Durzo Blint. Or should I say Prince Acaelus Thorne? Oh, surprised? The Society of the Second Dawn has let its standards for membership slip, I'm afraid. I know all about you, Durzo Blint-even that you gave up the black ka'kari. Poor choice."

"Seemed good at the time," Durzo said, never shifting from his ready stance. "We gonna do this or not?"

"No," Neph said. He turned to Kylar and gave a little mocking bow. "Well met, Kylar Stern, G.o.dslayer, ka'karifer. You're not using the black ka'kari. Why?"

"Lost it in a card game," Kylar said.

"Not a very good liar, are you? When a ka'kari is surrendered willingly, it must serve its new master. They can be broken, but it takes time. I'm an old man. I'd like to bond the black as soon as possible, but I can take it from your corpse if need be. If you don't give it to me, I'll kill your master. If the Society's right, this time he won't come back."

Kylar's face twisted. "My master understands about necessary sacrifices."

Neph turned to Durzo. "There you have it," he said. A sliver of magic jutted out of Durzo's chest. Neph had stabbed him from behind. The magic faded and Durzo stood, weaving.

"Dishonorable," Durzo said. His legs folded.

"What's honor? A ninety-year-old man fighting you with a sword?"

But Durzo made no reply. He was already dead. Kylar made a wordless sound of protest, staring at the corpse with disbelief. It was like seeing the sun set at noon. He'd known that Durzo would die someday, but not now, not so easily. Not without a fight.

Neph turned back to Kylar. "One more chance. Give me the black ka'kari. That's all I want. I'll leave you to Khali. You may even escape."

Kylar drew himself to his full height, and rolled his shoulders, loosening his muscles for action. "That sounds like a great deal, but there's three problems," Kylar said. He smiled. "First, I'm not Kylar." He laughed, and his face morphed into one leaner, pock-marked, with a wispy blond beard. He was Durzo Blint. "Second, that corpse isn't Durzo."

"What?"

"Third," he continued, "if someone would move his a.s.s...." He cleared his throat.

Neph turned belatedly. In a smooth motion, the corpse stood-and was Kylar. Shields flew up around the Vurdmeister.

Skin sheathed in black metal, face covered by the mask of Judgment, Curoch sliding out of his fists as white-hot claws, Kylar punched. The Vurdmeister's shields popped like soap bubbles. Claws of Curoch crossed on either side of the Vurdmeister's spine, eight b.l.o.o.d.y points poking out of his back. "Third, I'm not dead," Kylar said, lifting Neph off the ground. "And this is Curoch."

"s.h.i.t, that's four things, isn't it?" Durzo said.

Neph Dada screamed. He threw his arms out spastically. The vir leapt to the surface of every inch of his skin. Neph shrieked and shrieked as white light blasted through every vein of vir. Kylar roared and ripped the claws in opposite directions, shearing the Vurdmeister in half.

The walls surrounding Durzo evaporated into nothing and there was silence in the Hall of Winds. Kylar sheathed Curoch on his back and gingerly picked up Iures. He tossed it to Durzo. "You could have given me a few more seconds," Kylar said. "You just taught me rapid healing ten minutes ago. What if I hadn't got it right on the first try?"

Durzo grinned. b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

An earthquake rocked the ground.

Kylar looked at the dome, hundreds of feet overhead, swaying out of time with the ground. At Kylar's feet, he saw the focus through which Neph had been pulling all the power he'd worked on with Iures. It was a leather bundle, ancient, cracked, and yellowing, with gems sewn to it and a horrid, desiccated, hairless, boneless skull grinning formlessly from the front. It could only be one thing. This horror was Khali. desiccated, hairless, boneless skull grinning formlessly from the front. It could only be one thing. This horror was Khali.

He hefted Curoch and jammed its point through the fetish.

A dozen Vurdmeisters cried out, but nothing happened. There was a hiss of escaping air, and the section of the floor beneath the fetish and Curoch sank.

Kylar stepped back and the floor opened like a coffin lid. There was a woman inside. Her hair was long and blonde, carefully arrayed in small braids and curls. Her long-lashed eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed, full lips pink, skin flawless alabaster. For some reason, to Kylar's eyes, the girl was a collection of details that refused to coalesce into a woman: a familiar dimple here, the sweep of her neck. Her dress was white silk, slim cut to her figure, backless, more daring or more scandalous than anything Elene would have worn. Elene. Kylar staggered back. "Elene!"

Her lips curved into a smile. She drew a breath. Lovely brown eyes opened. Kylar's knees went weak. She reached out a regal hand, and when he took it, she rose almost magically to her feet. Every move spoke perfect grace.

"You-you don't have any scars," Kylar said.

"I can't stand ugliness. I want to be beautiful for you," Elene said, and she smiled, and every part of her was beauty. "Kylar," she said gently, "I need Curoch."

He looked into her smiling face and was lost. Through the ka'kari, Elene looked like an archmage. Magic swirled thickly around her. Elene wasn't Talented, but this was was Elene. Elene.

His heart froze.

Distantly, he heard the main doors of the hall bang open. His knees. .h.i.t the floor.

"Kylar! No!" Vi shouted. Numbly, Kylar watched the doors open wide. Following Vi was Logan, one arm glowing green; Solon, Logan's old adviser, wearing a crown; the mountainous Feir Cousat; four magae, all greatly Talented; Dorian the prophet; Lord General Agon Brant; and Captain Kaldrosa Wyn with fifty of Agon's Dogs.

The scent of Elene filled Kylar's nostrils as she stepped close. What had she done?

His eyes snapped open as Elene s.n.a.t.c.hed Curoch from his limp fingers. The look in Elene's eyes was foreign. She looked intoxicated as she gazed at the blade. She laughed and twirled.

"Trace, that's enough," Durzo said suddenly.

She stopped abruptly and stared at Durzo, disbelieving. "Acaelus? No, it can't be."

"Hand it over, Trace. And the white ka'kari, too. Release that girl's body."

Elene's eyes narrowed. "It is you."

"What happened to you, Trace? You were one of the Champions. Jorsin trusted you. We all did. What have you become?" Durzo asked.

"I am Khali." At the word, the Vurdmeisters dropped to their faces. She laughed again. "Look at my pets, so humble, and every one of them scheming even now." She looked around the Hall of Winds. She gestured with Curoch, and every crack in the dome was sealed, the scene unified: a spring day, mountains purple in the distance, flowers everywhere. "Do you remember this, Acaelus? We were supposed to be married here." Her white dress shifted like liquid metal, shimmering into a high-necked full green gown with thousands of crystals sewn into it.

"You were beautiful."

"I was a hag!" she shot back. "Bad teeth, bad skin, crooked back. Then Ezra gave me the white ka'kari. I heard you quarreling with him. You betrayed me first, Acaelus. You left me here in my wedding gown, shamed me in front of everyone. I waited hours. I was finally beautiful, and all you were was jealous."

Durzo's face was gray, and bits and pieces that Kylar had heard over the years fell into place. To save the black ka'kari and keep its incredible power secret, Jorsin had given it to "The Betrayer" Acaelus. Acaelus hadn't even been able to tell his fiancee that he had it, and knowing that he would soon have to act the betrayer, Acaelus had fled rather than marry. All without a word of explanation. Kylar remembered Durzo snarling at him when he was a child: "I will not allow you to ruin yourself over a girl. over a girl." Momma K had said women had always been Durzo's downfall. The Wolf had said Durzo had once done something worse than take money for a death. Kylar had guessed it was suicide, but it was worse than that. Knowing the price of immortality was that someone he loved died in his place, Durzo had killed himself, hoping to kill Trace.

But Trace, an archmage in her own right and the smartest of the Champions, had figured out a way around the black ka'kari's death sentence. ~Acaelus and I always knew there was something strange about that death. We knew she fought the magic for months, but then her body died. We tried never to think of her again.~ ~Acaelus and I always knew there was something strange about that death. We knew she fought the magic for months, but then her body died. We tried never to think of her again.~ "Jealous?" Durzo said. "I had the black ka'kari, the most powerful of them all. Ezra and I quarreled because he gave you a ka'kari that confirmed a lie you believed. You weren't ugly then, Trace; you're ugly now. Look what you've done. For seven centuries the north has labored under your darkness. This is what Trace Arvagulania turned her mind to? This is what you created? Why?" darkness. This is what Trace Arvagulania turned her mind to? This is what you created? Why?"

~For immortality,~ the ka'kari breathed to Kylar. Kylar could tell it was understanding for the first time. the ka'kari breathed to Kylar. Kylar could tell it was understanding for the first time. ~The white ka'kari can create a glamour so powerful it can be used for compulsion. She tried to turn her ka'kari into a dark imitation of me, using it to compel worship, and then trying to steal life from her "willing" worshipers. But it didn't work because the soul of my magic is love-and love cannot be compelled. Trace has been disembodied until she could find someone who loves in a way that is totally foreign to what she has become. Someone willing-without compulsion-to let Trace have her body.~ ~The white ka'kari can create a glamour so powerful it can be used for compulsion. She tried to turn her ka'kari into a dark imitation of me, using it to compel worship, and then trying to steal life from her "willing" worshipers. But it didn't work because the soul of my magic is love-and love cannot be compelled. Trace has been disembodied until she could find someone who loves in a way that is totally foreign to what she has become. Someone willing-without compulsion-to let Trace have her body.~ Now she'd found that person at long last: Elene.

"Why? I do it because I wish it. I am Khali. I am G.o.ddess. Someone has to pay the price for immortality. Tell me, Acaelus, who's paid for yours?"

Durzo paled. "Too many people. Come, Trace. Our time is done."

"My time has just begun." Curoch became a slender staff in her hand, and she raised it. A black cloud exploded in every direction, then disappeared. The walls of the Hall of Winds became clear as gla.s.s, showing the dark battlefield to every side. "Do you remember when Jorsin faced the grand armies of the Fallen?" Khali asked. "He could have stopped them, if he'd listened to me. He didn't have to fight them. He could have controlled them. He was a greater mage than Roygaris. These armies could have been Jorsin's, he could have simply taken them from Roygaris. We could have won."

As she spoke, it slowly became clear that the sudden darkness on the battlefield was moving, standing up. The black blanket was countless thousands of krul corpses rising from seven centuries of death, standing, healing, and moving into ranks. Earlier in the day, even with a hundred and fifty thousand men and krul fighting, all the armies together had occupied only a wedge of the plain south of the Hall of Winds. At Khali's gesture with Curoch, krul rose in a writhing black ocean north, south, east, and west as far as the eye could see. Kylar saw the t.i.tan he'd killed get back to its feet. Dozens more like it stood around the battlefield. Beasts that dwarfed even Harani bulls rose. Birds great and small rose in clouds. Fire ants by the thousands. Flying beasts. Beautiful, fanged children. Brute wolves. Great cats. Horses with bone-scythes extending from each shoulder. Ferali by the hundreds. Kylar's mind couldn't take it all in. Jorsin had faced this? this?

The allied armies had reached the Hall, and now they turned outward, back to back, guarding the hilltop in a circle dwarfed by the numbers of krul they were about to face.

"I can banish them," Khali said. "All of them. But I need Iures to banish the Strangers. What do you say, Acaelus? Will you watch everyone you love die a second time?" the Strangers. What do you say, Acaelus? Will you watch everyone you love die a second time?"

"You'll not have Iures from my hand," Durzo said.

"So be it," Khali said. "Kylar, kill him. Kill all of them." Her words washed over him with the whipcrack of authority. He recognized it as a compulsion spell even as he rose to obey. The spell was the full-grown older sister to the spell Garoth had laid on Vi, akin to the glamour Vi had used on him the first time they'd met, when she'd tried to kill him. But where that glamour had been anch.o.r.ed only by Vi's attractiveness, this compulsion hit every note from l.u.s.t to awe at standing in front of another immortal, a G.o.ddess. It pulled on his adoration for Elene, his loyalty and trust for her as his wife. She was princess, G.o.ddess, immortal, lover, companion, wife-and all those bonds were amplified a hundredfold through Curoch. There was no question of disobedience.

Kylar stood. The black ka'kari formed twin swords in his hands. It was trying to speak to him, tell him how to combat the magic she was bombarding him with. But to use the ka'kari, he had to want to use it, and the compulsion stole his very willpower. He looked into Elene's big eyes and nothing mattered but pleasing her. Even as his heart despaired and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself on his own swords, he wanted to please her more.

"Kylar! Stop! I command you!" Vi shouted, advancing alone from among the magae. The command flashed like lightning through Kylar's compulsive wedding earring to the core of his being. It felt like he'd been falling from a great height only to have a rope tied around his wrists suddenly stop his fall. Kylar gasped with pain-and stopped.

Khali paused, surprised. She looked at Vi. "Dear girl," she said, "don't you know what happens when a woman contends with a G.o.ddess?" She turned to Kylar and put a hand on her stomach. "My love, you wouldn't betray the mother of your child, would you?"

He couldn't breathe. Elene's stomach was indeed slightly swollen. His child. The sudden delight on Khali's face told him it was true. Elene was pregnant. She'd known. She hadn't told him. The new claim to his loyalty added another layer to the power of the compulsion spell.

"Darling, kill them. Starting with that s.l.u.t," Khali said. The command snapped tight like a rope around his ankles. He felt himself being torn between compulsions like a man on the rack.

One of the mages chose that moment to loose a fireball. It fizzled before it went an arm's length. Khali made a little s.n.a.t.c.hing motion and Kylar saw every glore vyrden in the room emptied in an instant. The magi were left gasping.

"Kylar, help me," Vi cried. She fell to her knees, concentrating on him, sending strength to him. She reached for the nearest elements of their bond: His guilt at what he'd put her through, how he owed her better, and his desire for her. sending strength to him. She reached for the nearest elements of their bond: His guilt at what he'd put her through, how he owed her better, and his desire for her.

Khali matched those and overmatched them. Khali tugged on what he owed Elene, on his desire for her, on the moments they'd shared making love. The compulsion spell worked by magnifying whatever hold a person had, whether authority, or love, or l.u.s.t, or obedience. Fueled with the might of Curoch, it almost obliterated Kylar's mind.

Kylar raised his swords and started walking toward Vi. He could feel Khali's triumph, her pleasure at her mastery of him.

Vi's eyes held his as he walked closer. She reached up and pulled out the band that held her braid. Her hair spilled down like a copper waterfall. For the first time in her life, Vi made no attempt to protect herself, no attempt to cover this one thing that she had kept private as she had lost all else.

She spread her open hands and dropped the threads of l.u.s.t and guilt in their bond. Kylar saw her then as he'd never seen her before. He saw the nights of agony with which she had paid for his nights of pleasure with Elene. He saw how gladly she'd done that for him, and at what cost. Vi loved him. Vi loved him fiercely. Kylar missed a step as she clung to that single cord-love-with all her might.

She looked up at him as he drew the twin swords back. "Kylar," she said quietly, at complete peace, "I trust you." Then, impossibly, she released the bond. Every claim she had to him, she dropped. She let him owe her nothing-not friendship, not honor, not dignity, not friendship, not her life-nothing at all.

With no claim to magnify, their wedding earrings failed.

It shook him like a bell had been rung from his ear through his whole body. It shook him from his suddenly freed wrists down to his bound ankles-and there, Khali had no answer to this kind of love. She knew only taking. It was like two people had been playing tug-of-war and one released the rope. All the magic held in tension by the wedding ring rushed outward-toward Khali. Kylar felt the huge wave of power pa.s.sing through him as the vast pressures of the bond released into her, their force doubled and redoubled by her own pull on them.

There was a giant crack that rattled Kylar's teeth. Something tinged on the marble floor. It was Kylar's earring. The earrings were broken. The bond was broken. The compulsion had vanished. Kylar couldn't feel Vi-or Khali. He was free of both of them.

Ten paces away, Khali was rocking on her heels, stunned.

"I'm so sorry, Kylar," Khali said, but the tone was Elene's.

Kylar was at her side in an instant. "Elene?"

She pushed Curoch into his hands. "Quickly, quickly. I can't stop her. She's recovering."

"What are you talking about?" Kylar asked. "Honey?"

Tears were rolling down Elene's face. "Wasn't Vi magnificent? I'm so proud of her. I knew she could do it. You take care of her, all right?"

"I'm not letting you go."

Her eyes filled with sudden pain and her jaw tightened as a convulsion pa.s.sed through her. "You know how I used to think I'd never be important like you are? I found it, Kylar. I found something I can do that no one else can. The G.o.d told me. Khali could only possess someone who let her, but she didn't know I can hold her in. You can kill her once and for all. You can kill the vir."

"But I can't kill them without killing you," he said.

She took his hand and smiled gently, acknowledging it. She was more beautiful than anything he'd ever imagined.

"No!" he shouted.

The ground shook. Kylar looked through the clear walls and saw one of the t.i.tans pick up an entire building and hurl it at the allies. It crushed hundreds. There was no time. He looked back to Elene just as another spasm pa.s.sed through her frame.

"But... Curoch," he said. "It can kill me. If it does, the spell that makes people die for me will be broken. I can still save you."

Kylar heard Durzo curse behind him, but he ignored him.

"Kylar," Elene said, "when Roth Ursuul killed you, that first time before we knew you were immortal, I prayed that I could trade my life to save yours. I thought the G.o.d said yes. I was so sure of it that I dragged you out of that castle. Later, I told myself that it was just a coincidence, but G.o.d did did say yes. Yes in his time, not mine. My death then would have accomplished nothing. Now I can do something no one else can. Please, Kylar, don't be too proud to accept my sacrifice." say yes. Yes in his time, not mine. My death then would have accomplished nothing. Now I can do something no one else can. Please, Kylar, don't be too proud to accept my sacrifice."

He clutched her hand convulsively. He was crying. He couldn't stop. "You're pregnant."

Tears coursed down her cheeks. "Kylar... there are so many people we love here. I'd give our son for them. Won't you?"

"No! No."

Elene held his face in her hands and kissed him gently. "I love you. I'm not afraid. Quickly now."

The ground shook again, and outside, choruses of magic rose into the sky. Whatever krul had been raised, some of the newer ones had Talent. But inside, no one moved, they all knew that their fates and the fates off all Midcyru's nations were balanced on Curoch's edge.

Kylar pulled Elene into his arms and hugged her fiercely. Sobs burst from him. He drew back Curoch, and slid it into her side. She gasped, squeezing him.

As Curoch pierced Khali, light exploded, engulfing him in fire. It was clean and hot and purifying. Kylar thought he might be dead. He hoped he was.

97

A voice in the darkness: "I thought it was finished. He killed Khali. Why are they still coming?" voice in the darkness: "I thought it was finished. He killed Khali. Why are they still coming?"

"She lied," another voice said, Dorian's voice. "She wasn't the queen of the Strangers, only an ally. Our work isn't done yet. Not by half. We need Curoch."

Kylar opened his eyes as someone touched him. Sister Ariel stood over him, and he was curled on the floor with Elene. "We need the sword, child." Her voice was gentle, but firm. "Now. Khali's dead, Kylar, but Elene's not, not yet, but her wound can't be Healed. Nothing can mend what Curoch cuts," Sister Ariel said. "We need you. Both of you. Or we'll never stop the krul."

Curoch was buried almost to the hilt in Elene's side. Her eyelids fluttered briefly but didn't stay open. "I can't," Kylar said.