Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
Adham resurrected to waves of pain. He comprehended where he was and his lack of air. Soon he would suffocate again, only to be resurrected.
He would accept this fate if he could save Kosmina first. How much time had passed since she’d been taken? Must reach her.
How? Mangled body. Withered power.
He shoved against the stones trapping him. His futile efforts only brought him closer to that ghoul claw. Had it eked out another inch closer?
Consciousness faded once more. Need air. Need ? —
Air?
For the second time in Nightside, it washed over him to fill his emptied lungs.
Over the sound of his hacking coughs, he heard other immortals. Two males were arguing as they dug him out. He tried to yell, Mind the ghoul! But his jaw was shattered.
Hands clamped his limp body. As they lifted him from the last of the rubble, he narrowly missed that still-buried claw.
Someone managed to prop him up against a boulder. Through the blood in his eyes, two shapes grew visible. He blinked until he made out appearances: one had dark-blond hair and blue eyes. The other had red eyes, pale hair, and a fierce countenance.
Vampires.
The red-eyed one crouched before Adham. “A burial in rock, huh? Not as lengthy as my burial was, but it probably got your attention. If I weren’t on a mission, I’d have gotten you to sign my new ledger for your freedom.”
Ledger. As Silt’s sight cleared, he recognized the Enemy of Old from their last meeting ages ago.
“You’re the sorcerer I scented with my niece,” the vampire said. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Adham tried to answer, could barely move his broken jaw.
Realizing the problem, Lothaire’s attention dipped to Adham’s chest, to his ripped shirt. He reached forward and tore away the bloody cloth to reveal tattooed skin. “I never forget a tattoo. You’re Silt Harea, the Sandman. Where’s Kosmina? Just nod in her direction.”
An immortal as old as Lothaire could possibly save her! Adham managed to nod toward the hive entrance, shocked to find the landslide had blocked it. He grunted, “Ghous . . . too . . . er. Save . . . er!”
“Aww. Has little Mina made a conquest?”
“In ountain. Dig! ” They could get through those boulders quickly enough.
Lothaire followed his gaze, then turned back to assess Adham. “You wouldn’t have separated from her unless tons of rock had covered you. So that landslide must have struck before you could get to her. It probably happened during that big quake last night.” An entire night had passed? “Which means she’s been captive of the ghouls at least since then.”
Yes, yes, go fucking get her!
“Well, that is disappointing.” Lothaire stood. “Kristoff, the mission has changed.”
Kristoff? The one Kosmina had wanted was here for her. Adham didn’t care as long as the Gravewalker saved her. “Changed to what?”
“The assassination of a Dacian princess.”
Noo! Adham thrashed his wasted body again.
Lothaire said, “The ghouls will have infected her. She’s even now one among them.”
Adham had two immediate foes: ghoul contagion and these vampires. If he didn’t regain his sorcery, he’d lose Kosmina to one or both.
He glared down at his frame, at the compound fractures and crushed bones. He was more helpless than he’d been as an Inferi.
No sorcery. No Kosmina.
Her earlier words whispered through his mind: You are magic.
He hadn’t imagined that spark as they’d claimed each other. His sorcery had simmered, just untapped. If he could create a desert rose, he could bring a reckoning. As with a building, the only difference is scale.
Kristoff scowled at Lothaire. “You went straight to assassination? You never even considered the Ring of Sums for her, did you?”
I did!
Lothaire said, “As you remember, Dorada already controls me. And my new ledger isn’t yet big enough to tempt her.”
“You have thought about it, then.”
“Attributing decency to me is the foremost mistake of my fallen enemies,” Lothaire said. “Will you join their ranks?”
“You didn’t deny it!”
While they argued, panic filled Adham, supplying him with enough adrenaline to shove his dislocated shoulder against the rock behind him and work it back into place. Function returned to one hand. He used it to grip a leg bone. Choking back pain, he manipulated his splintered femur back under the skin and muscle to speed along regeneration.
Lothaire asked, “Do I look like the type of vampire who would bargain his soul away for a distant, inconsequential relative?”
Kristoff paced. “Use all your knowledge to figure this out!” He must truly care about Kosmina.
“Wendigo toxin responds to salt. Nothing in my memories hints at a similar weapon against ghouls.”
As the realm spun, Adham cobbled together his other leg. Somehow he stayed conscious. Even with regeneration, he wouldn’t be able to walk, much less fight, for hours. Unless . . .
Could his atrophied power compensate for his broken body? He needed substantial amounts of sand, yet none was here for the taking.
You’re the King of Sand—it’s there for the making . All he had to do was conjure millions of years of mechanical force and energy.
Lothaire and Kristoff’s argument faded as he concentrated. Kosmina needed him; she needed a reckoning. You are magic.
Instead of trying to force his sorcery to obey his commands, he recalled what had occurred whenever it had sparked on its own.
Bonding with Kosmina. Dreaming of her.
The divine. The mystery. She was both.
He’d realized that he was a protector, born with one job: to keep Kosmina Daciano safe. He’d been equipped with a sole power. He stiffened as recognition hit; pain made him dizzy, but he held on to the thought. This sorcery is as much hers as it is mine.
Instinctively, he knew that if he allowed it, his power would grow to match his love for her. No time to waste. Once more, he dropped his shield and bowed his chest, opening himself up to her. To them. To everything.
His hands began to glow. He clenched them, concealing that light from the vampires. For now.
Sorcery burgeoned inside him infinitely, the wellspring in the desert, the oasis just waiting for him to find. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he could see his power overrunning all obstacles, bursting through a dam of silt. Crystalline?—
Light beamed from his eyes. Sorcery sparked his regeneration, his heartbeat thundering to pump magic and blood to injuries.
All the while, the vampires argued over Kosmina’s fate, never knowing that they would have no bearing on it.
When his jaw healed enough to speak, he said, “I won’t let you hurt her.”
Lothaire turned to him with a laugh. “And what are you going to do about it, Sandman? It’ll take you hours, if not days, to regenerate your limbs.” He told Kristoff, “I’ve made my decision, and quarrelling with you no longer amuses me.” Lothaire turned to size up the landslide.
With a curse, Kristoff followed. Still sniping at each other, they began moving the boulders that divided Silt from Kosmina.
Those rocks should pay a price for that. He waved his hands, deploying sorcery until the stones glowed gold.
The vampires leapt back.
With a yell, Adham levitated the boulders. You are magic. In midair, he crushed them down to rock . . . crumbled them to pebbles . . . pulverized them like gritty fireworks.
At last, silken sand flowed into an immense pile on the ground beside him. He had tons of it to work with, and it fueled him in turn.
The vampires gazed on warily, ready to attack. Try it. They were no longer a threat to Kosmina. Nothing would stand in Adham’s way now, not even his wounds.
He directed the finest sand to pour over his body, then stiffened it, forming a suit of armor to scaffold his bones in place and to help him move. Biting back agony, he rose—a hybrid king, half sand, half man. Sand masked his face like the Sorceri hunters of old. He spun two tornadoes of it to flank him.
With cold intent, he addressed the two vampires. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“She’s a ghoul by now.” Lothaire flashed his fangs. “Princess Kosmina is a proud female, worthy of her line. She would never want to go on like this.”
“ I will use Dorada’s ring to turn her back.”
“Will you then? Long ago, I read your tattoos with interest, considering those Sorselan words a challenge. You marked yourself with a vow never to lose your root power. Dorada will demand one thing of a sorcerer like you—your very soul.”
“Yes.”
Lothaire clearly hadn’t expected that answer. “You’d become an Inferi for Mina?”
“Anything.”
“Even if you secured the ring, it can’t undo death. As soon as the sickness took hold, the Mina we knew was lost. You’ll have to do what’s necessary. Or we will.”
“Stay the fuck out of my way. Try to harm her, and the last thing you’ll breathe is sand.”
Instead of attacking, Lothaire’s expression glimmered with interest. He hiked a thumb at him and remarked to Kristoff, “I’ve got to see what this Sandman can do.”
Ignoring his pain, Adham rushed through the cleared entrance to the hive, vaguely aware of the vampires following him. A storm of more sand trailed them.
Man-made—or ghoul-made—tunnels opened in all directions. Figuring they’d each lead to the hive’s heart, he chose one and charged in.
A troop of dozens of sentries met him. He waved his hands, directing focused grains until a wall of sand hardened. He wielded it against them like a giant cudgel, liquefying them to the soundtrack of Lothaire chuckling and Kristoff telling him, “Shut up and let the sorcerer concentrate.”
Nothing could distract Adham; nothing could mute his godlike power.
In Nightside, one threat after another had attacked him and Kosmina. Now he was the sinister threat—the King of Sand.
Body healing with each moment, he vaulted over the puddled remains, heading into hell. From deeper within the mountain, untold groans sounded. What must be thousands of ghouls teemed upward to greet him.
He sent another wall of sand at them. It splattered the ghouls, one row of them after another.
The world was glowing green blood and sand.
Blood and sand. A reckoning.
From behind him, Lothaire muttered to Kristoff, “Beware the Sorceri.”
Yes. Fully empowered now, Adham was unstoppable. He would rescue Kosmina from this place, get her to the mortal realm, then call upon Dorada.
He knew that old witch would come for his soul.
Especially when it produced power like this. She would be the Queen of Evil and of Sand, and Adham would call it a bargain because he would have Kosmina back.
Blood. And sand.