Chapter 32 #2
Sinan flew backward, knocked off his feet and alive only because his shadow shields had absorbed most of the energy.
He lay on the ground, gasping, as a familiar sensation of his hair standing on end came over him.
His skin vibrated and tingled, and he wheezed in the sharp, clean scent of a lightning strike about to happen.
Above him a storm swirled, flashes of light flickering in and out of bruise-colored clouds that blotted out the stars in the sky.
Sinan’s body jolted, not with the power of an electric shock, but with the surge of power that came from a sudden death, nearby.
He crawled to his feet and saw Zhang Jue lying dead, a dark stain spreading on his royal sorcerer robes. Rixende stood over him, her bone sword dripping with the Sorcier du Roi’s blood, and Sanura by her side.
“One traitor dead.” The dissipating remnants of the storm overhead whipped at the princess’s long, loose hair, and the fox tail at her feet twitched in fury. “One to go.”
Thanks to Sanura, Rixende’s necromancy was back, and with it, her vengeance.
It was Sinan’s turn for revenge, and he had an excellent idea how to get it. He strode over to Odart, shadows crawling up the blade in his hand. He faced his worst enemy—the one who had haunted his nightmares since the final battle of the Witches’ War.
The former head of the benandanti stood waist-deep in dirt.
Around him, the skeleton of an enormous snake slithered in and out of the ground, its bones gleaming in the moonlight that had broken through the wisps of the remaining thunderclouds. A snake skull rose in the air, fangs ready to strike at the mirror mage.
Sinan leveled his sword at Odart. “I know the benandanti have living prisoners of the Blessed in your secret dungeons, as well as corporeal ghosts trapped in their bodily remains. Agree to a binding oath to release them, and I won’t kill you.”
“Such a generous offer, death witch.” Odart showed no sign of fear or anger over his defeat. Only scorn. Sinan and his people weren’t human in his eyes, or even animals worthy of mercy, and never would be. “I must unfortunately refuse.”
Sinan had expected that, although he would have spared Odart for even one of the helpless Blessed the man had locked up, much less all of them.
It was his right to choose death, and Sinan would give it to him.
Sinan sent his shadow power into a clean strike at Odart’s neck, but the action felt wrong and sluggish.
The blow never landed, and a sword made from shadow appeared in Odart’s hand. One blow shattered the skeletal snake into shattered bone shards, and Sinan blocked the next only with a quick parry.
“Rixende, get out of here and find your brother.”
His shadow armor had been blasted away by lightning, he was wielding an unfamiliar sword, and Odart had somehow stolen his magic.
He began to spar with Odart, the distance between them farther than most sword fights, with his own strikes deflecting off the shadow shields that now swirled around the sorcerer. Sinan was forced to parry and stay on the defensive.
This would be an excellent time for the hortdan to do something useful, but Odart would be only another necromancer as far as they were concerned. Not to mention they weren’t of much help when a banquet of dead bodies was available.
The head of the benandanti pressed his advantage, hammering blows that Sinan had to block again and again. Sinan drew more power from the death around him, but it was like trying to close his fist around shifting particles of sand. As soon as he drew it to him, Odart siphoned it off.
One last hit knocked Sinan’s sword from his nerveless fingers, and he was sprawled out on the ground again, this time with a shadow blade at his throat instead of a lightning cloud.
“I have no bargain I’m interested in making with you.” Odart raised his sword. “I told you to die.”
A flash of red hair and a circle of wood slammed into Odart, and the mirror mage was knocked to the ground. He staggered to his feet, his sword still in his hand, but he made no move to strike at his new attacker.
He couldn’t.
Gallmau de Rohan, son of King Syagrius the 13 th , was as untouchable by Odart as Rixende had been. He stood towering, his family’s crest glowing with power on his enchanted shield. Next to him, Rixende had dropped into a sword stance, her bone blade out and ready to fight.
Four perfect circles of fire fell around Odart, stacking over him like the wooden rings of a child’s toy over a peg, and wiping out every trace of his shadow power.
Sinan’s Gift surged back as Jacques Collin de Plancy lowered his hands and faced his father.
“The Prince of Shadows made you an honorable offer.” Jacques held his chin high as he addressed Odart. “An exchange of prisoners and an end to this madness. Take it, or I’ll kill you myself.”
Odart stared at his son, disbelief and fury on his face.
Then he pressed his palms together in a sign of submission—before stepping back into a void of black and disappearing.
For a moment, none of them moved.
Instead, they stared at the empty spot where the Noviodunam’s chief killer of the Blessed had stood a second ago.
“I don’t understand.” Jacques had two fireballs hovering over his hands, as if calling up more flames might change what had happened. “My father was able to drain your powers—your necromancy.”
“He could,” Sinan agreed. “Until your fire circles stopped him. Then he had to use his own necromancy to shadow-walk out of here. Your father is a mirror mage—and one of the Blessed.”
Jacques extinguished his flames and ran his hand over his hair, coated in dust and what looked like someone else’s blood. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but Gallmau cut him off and grabbed Sinan by the arm.
“Valentina’s with Meri, and you need to help her with your magic.” His voice broke. “Otherwise, I don’t think Meri’s going to make it.”