“I hacked your head from your body,” Adessa said. “I shattered your chest with a tree and burst your heart. You are dead.”
“Maybe I can’t be killed so easily.” He laughed again.
“I will cleave your head in two, and then I will chop those pieces into more pieces.”
He merely scoffed at her. “You think that by removing this receptacle you can destroy my spirit? You are welcome to try.” His lips curled in a sneer. His rotting eyes squinched shut and he opened them again so that runny liquid oozed out of his eyeballs. “Did you not promise my dear Thora you would bring her my head? If you hack me to bits, how will you explain your failure?”
Adessa wavered, glaring down at him.
The eerie voice continued, “Come, we will be companions on the long journey back to Ildakar! But I assure you, nothing remains of the city.” He snickered again. “How would you know? You’ve been gone so long.”
“You’re lying.”
“I see things as a spirit.”
“You know nothing. You’re my victim. You’re dead.”
“I am,” Maxim replied. “And yet I am still here.”
Frustrated and disgusted, she yanked the burlap sack over the severed head, wrapping it up and tying it tightly. Now his voice was just a whisper, but still there. She set her burden on the other side of the fallen tree. Adessa had no further appetite, nor could she sleep throughout the long and noisy night.
CHAPTER 13
Throughout the bright daylight hours, the Hidden People busied themselves inside the gloomy buildings of Orogang. They had plugged every chink, sealed every crack so that no hint of sunshine could penetrate their sanctuary. The pallid men and women struck sparks to torches, lanterns, and candles to illuminate the corridors of the palace. Even safe and sheltered within the blocky walls, they still moved furtively.
Nicci looked up to the high arches where the stone pillars vanished into shadows overhead. Old Cora led her through great, dim chambers where the cool stone walls were covered with patches of moss. “Why did you come to us?” the old woman asked. “Orogang sees almost no travelers. What brought you here?”
Tagging along, young Asha added, “Did you come over the mountain road? We keep it guarded, but our night hunting parties didn’t see you.”
Several others walked close, their gray garments rustling as they followed, listening. They spoke in low voices, as if their language were composed entirely of rumors.
“I did not come by road,” Nicci said. “The sliph carried me. If you have lived in this city for so long, surely you know of her well?”
The Hidden People muttered nervously. Cora considered. “We have heard stories of the silvery woman in the well, but no one has seen her in our memory. It is said she fell dormant more than a thousand years before Emperor Kurgan.”
“The sliph was created to transport spies and saboteurs for Emperor Sulachan, long before Iron Fang was born.” Nicci straightened. “I awakened her. I wanted her to take me to Ildakar, but instead she abandoned me here. Something strange happened during our journey. She thinks I betrayed her.” Her heart felt heavy with the knowledge that she might not ever summon the creature again. The sliph was gone. “But I have to get back to my friends. There is a terrible war, and I can’t stay here.”
Cora paused as she led Nicci along. “Another terrible war. There is always a terrible war.”
They entered a cavernous chamber with a domed ceiling supported by gigantic marble pillars. Nicci paused to take in the size, assuming this must have been a grand throne room. Iron Fang’s?
“Ildakar is many days’ ride from here.” Cyrus sounded dubious as he accompanied them. “And the sliph brought you all that way?”
“The sliph carried me to Serrimundi on the coast and Tanimura before that. Those places are much farther away than Ildakar. Distance is not the same for such a creature.” Nicci paused. “But if I cannot summon her again, then I have no way to get to where I need to be—not in time. Ildakar is under siege, and it may already have fallen.”
“Our people cannot leave Orogang, or we would help you,” Cora said. “Because of the zhiss, we are honor-bound to remain here and keep the rest of the world safe.”
Nicci looked around at the shadowy people, who slipped in and out of corridors and disappeared into dark passageways. “How many of you are there?” Hundreds had swarmed into the city square when they attempted to capture her, and she had seen many more silhouettes hovering in the doorways and arches of the sealed buildings. Were they a significant fighting force?
“Many,” Cora said. “Our people live inside the buildings and in the catacombs that connect the largest structures, others in caves in the mountains. We are everywhere in Orogang, but we don’t allow ourselves to be seen.”
The torches burned like fiery eyes filling the large chambers. Emperor Kurgan’s ancient palace held innumerable wings and chambers, as well as underground levels, but shadows disguised the magnitude of the place. The ancient capital city had many imposing structures. Iron Fang had built them all with heavy taxes and forced labor as he crushed citizens to prove his power. Though he had been murdered by his own people, Kurgan’s monuments had endured for fifteen centuries.
The Hidden People went about their daily business. In large communal chambers, Nicci heard the clack of looms, the rasp of files, the rough biting sound of small saws. Craftsmen were shaping wood to make chairs, building tables, creating common amenities. Others wove fabric or spun yarn, while seamstresses sewed garments. The interior of the city had a hushed quality, but Nicci also sensed a certain contentment rather than fear.
“How do you feed so many people?” she asked. “I saw storehouses and granaries in the streets. Do you really farm at night?”
“We plant crops,” Cora explained. “The daylight cares for its own and the zhiss do not bother the plants. At night we till and harvest. Our hunters bring back meat.” Her smile showed genuine satisfaction. “We produce enough to care for ourselves.”
Asha pulled ahead, excited. “But there’s more! Our most important crop is underground. Come, let me show you.” The girl reached an arched doorway above a descending stone staircase. She trotted down the steps with a patter of feet, leading them to a dark lower level beneath the palace.
Nicci followed Asha down claustrophobic and confined stairs into an underground chamber with rough rock walls. The room was illuminated by an eerie silver-blue light emanating from fleshy growths that covered the walls. Nicci smelled a lingering swampy odor in the air that was not entirely unpleasant.
Ten Hidden People, including some younger children, worked among the bulbous growths. They carried baskets and harvested the gray-white fungus, while others distributed brown mulch from baskets to fertilize the growths. Asha tore a piece of the shapeless mass from the wall and popped it into her mouth, obviously relishing the taste.
As stern Cyrus stood at Cora’s shoulder, the old woman spoke with a hint of awe. “We cultivate and nurture this substance, making it our greatest weapon against the zhiss. This is why the swarm has not swelled across the land.”
Two of the children harvested the mushrooms, stuffing their baskets while snitching a bite or two.
Cyrus also took a mouthful, as if it were his duty. “We consume the special fungus every day so that it permeates our flesh. It … helps our work.”
Nicci realized how hungry she was after her ordeals, and she reached out to take a sample, but Cora violently yanked her hand away. “Not for you, Sorceress! Not for you.”
Nicci backed away. “I do not understand you or your people.”
The old woman seemed conciliatory. “We will explain everything. It is important.” She picked one of the misshapen mushrooms and crushed it in her palm, showing the mess to Nicci, who inhaled a deeper breath. With her gift and her heightened senses, she found an ominous undertone to the slightly savory smell, a foul chemical that she had not noticed before. Cora said, “The fungus is deadly to all who are not accustomed to it, a poison as strong as the deathrise flower. It would kill you if you ate even a mouthful.”