Nicci considered. “But Kurgan fell fifteen hundred years ago. You cannot be that old.” She remembered the preservation spells woven through the Palace of the Prophets that prevented aging. Nicci herself was over one hundred and eighty years old. “Or are you?”
Cora shook her head. “No, that was generations ago, but we have stayed because we know our duty. We need to keep the zhiss here. If we leave, the cloud will seek out other villages, towns, cities, and then the zhiss will be unstoppable.”
The young woman who had scoffed at Cyrus came closer, even managing a smile. “The swarm only comes out in daylight, so we are safe as long as we remain sealed in our buildings until dark.” The girl would have been pretty, a heartthrob for any young man, if she hadn’t been so pallid. “I am Asha. We go out at night to hunt and gather. We have stockpiles of food throughout the city, enough to last for decades, but we dare not leave Orogang.”
“We wait,” Cyrus said. “We have our purpose.”
“But the zhiss fed on those two deer,” Nicci said. “Won’t the swarm reproduce now?”
Cora shook her head. “The zhiss sustain themselves with the blood of animals, but there is some quality in human blood that lets them reproduce.” The old woman lowered her voice. “And gifted blood is the most powerful of all.”
Nicci realized the significance of how vulnerable she had been out in the ruins. “When you first saw me at night, how did you know I was a sorceress?”
“We didn’t,” Cora said. “We just tried to save you, but when you fought back using your gift, we knew it was imperative to get you inside, away from the zhiss, even if it cost the lives of many of our people. If the black cloud had fed on you…” She let her words trail off, shuddering visibly.
Nicci wondered if her gift would have been able to deflect the hungry black swarm. She didn’t count on it.
Old Cora continued her explanation. “And so we remain here and feed the swarm just enough to keep it under control. It doesn’t wander away, but we cannot leave. Not ever.”
“Unless we stop it somehow,” Asha interjected.
Looking around inside the expansive foyer of the palace, Nicci frowned at the burned bodies of those she had killed with wizard’s fire while trying to avoid capture.
“I’m sorry I caused you so much harm,” she said again, tasting the regret in her throat. “I didn’t understand what you were doing.”
“We were not only doing it to save you,” Cyrus scoffed. “If the zhiss had fed on your blood, our situation would have grown far worse.” He added an edge to his voice. “If we could not bring you inside the shelter in time, we would have killed you.”
Nicci faced him in the flickering torchlight. “You might have tried.”
CHAPTER 10
Creeping through the trees, Verna and her companions searched for a small mountain village, hoping to find it before the enemy raiders did. The fresh-faced novice Amber accompanied her, as well as the morazeth Lyesse and five of Zimmer’s D’Haran soldiers.
Lord Oron stalked beside the prelate, hard-faced and unhappy with his circumstances. “I was once a respected member of the wizards’ duma, as well as the head of the skinners’ guild. Now I am wandering through a trackless forest hoping to find a few hovels.”
Ahead, they heard bleating sheep, and the trees opened up to reveal an expansive meadow. A terrified flock was being driven down the grassy slope by thirty armored soldiers.
Verna shot a glance at the powerful wizard from Ildakar. “And I was once the prelate of the Sisters of the Light. Now it appears we will both be shepherds.”
Lyesse was already sprinting forward. “That is enough meat to feed many enemy soldiers. We cannot let them have the animals. Come, let’s stop them.”
As Verna watched the aloof soldiers herding the sheep along, her voice came out in a low, husky growl. “At least we will make them pay for what they did to that poor shepherd’s family.”
Only an hour earlier, they had smelled smoke and come upon a burning cottage in a high meadow, where they found the bodies of a woman and her daughter, both with their throats cut. The cottage had been stripped of supplies, all the food eaten. Farther out in the grazing fields, they found a tent that held the shepherd and his teenage son, both also dead, along with their dog. The tent had been set on fire, and the corpses were half burned. Now the ancient raiders were driving the whole flock back to the main army.
“It is only thirty soldiers,” said Lyesse, pausing to watch from the edge of the trees. “Our swords will make quick work of them. I’d kill them all myself, but then Thorn might not believe my score.” Her lips quirked in a smile as she looked at the other D’Haran soldiers. “I will let my comrades have a turn as well.”
“The prelate and I also have a respectable amount of magic,” Oron pointed out. “We’ll take care of a few ourselves.”
Out in the open meadow, the soldiers banged their swords on their flame-embossed shields to keep the sheep moving across the sloped grasses. They had no idea they were being watched.
The D’Haran soldiers drew their weapons and crouched, hiding in the forest camouflage. A breeze stirred the branches, rustled the leaves. Lyesse gripped her short sword and looked over her shoulder at her companions. She raised her heavy dark eyebrows. “What are we waiting for?”
Oron raised his hand and called upon his gift. “I’m not waiting.” The sky darkened over the meadow, and a sharp wind began to blow harder. The marauders looked up, grumbling at the sudden afternoon thunderstorm. A single black cloud unleashed a downpour that fell only over the meadow, drenching them. The bleating sheep kept moving.
With a smile, Oron twisted his fingers, and a thin lightning bolt speared down into the middle of the enemy soldiers, killing two and scattering the others. In terror, the sheep bolted in all directions.
Prelate Verna and the others needed no further encouragement. Smiling, Amber used her own gift to summon a whirling whip of air that lashed out and caught one of the enemy soldiers, knocking him over. He yelped in surprise.
The D’Haran soldiers charged out of the forest, with the lean morazeth bounding ahead of them. In the pelting rain and howling winds, the ancient soldiers didn’t realize how few were attacking them.
Thunder boomed from Oron’s black cloud. Another bolt of lightning shattered one of the enemy warriors into chunks of charred flesh. Fleet as a jaguar, Lyesse leaped in among the startled soldiers. Swinging her short sword, she decapitated one of the men, then gutted a second with her backstroke. “Two!” she cried, and fell upon more victims.
Yelling, Verna ran after them. Amber followed her. “I’m at your side, Prelate.”
Though Verna felt old and weary from the long journey, she was tough. She had trained many young wizards in the Palace of the Prophets, had even been able to enforce her will on Richard Rahl. She was a scholar, a leader, and powerfully gifted.
And she had been to war before.
Verna called up a pocket of air above the milling, frightened sheep, then collapsed it, pressing her palms together. The snap of compressed air made an explosion of sound, a harmless boom that sent the panicked sheep bolting into the trees.
She looked at Oron. “The raiders will never catch those sheep now.”
The wizard gave a small nod. “Effective, Prelate, though I would rather kill the enemies, not just startle them.” He raised both hands, twisted his wrists, and changed the magic he had released. The pouring rain froze into a wave of long, sharp ice projectiles that were like pointed arrowheads pelting the drenched soldiers. Then the D’Haran soldiers fell upon them.