I stood, barely hearing her words. I kept seeing my family, dead and forgotten beneath the rubble. No doubt by Tarzog’s own hand. He was never one to delegate that sort of chore. Without thinking, I lunged forward and wrapped my withered gray fingers around Jenny’s fragile throat.
The next thing I knew, I was flat on the ground, a good fifteen feet from Jenny and Zariel. Jenny folded her arms.
“I should kill you for that, but I worked hard to resurrect you. Zariel’s been teaching me.” She flashed a gap-toothed smile. “Do it again, and I’ll make you rip out your own innards with your bare hands.”
I wiped ash and dirt from my palms. Jenny’s magic had shattered several ribs, and the bones ground against one another as I stood. Fortunately, death seemed to have minimized my ability to feel pain.
One thing was clear: Jenny was definitely Tarzog’s daughter.
We had walked more than an hour before I worked up the nerve to speak to Zariel. This was a woman who had eviscerated children and sacrificed whole families to maintain her power. But I had to understand what was happening if I was to have any chance of stopping them.
“Why did she resurrect me?” I asked.
“You designed the first temple,” Zariel said. “Tarzog followed the same plans for the real one, including all of your traps. If you get us in, Jenny and I can conserve our power for more important things.”
Jenny’s power. I touched my ribs. “I didn’t realize she had that kind of magic.”
“I’m still a beginner at death magic, but I got all of Daddy’s serpent powers when he died,” Jenny said, running back to join us. “I’ve even got the birthmark of Rhynoth. A snakehead, just like Daddy’s, with fangs and everything. I’d show you, but it’s not in a place you’re supposed to show to boys. Not even dead boys. The prophesies of Anhak Ghudir say only one with the mark of Rhynoth can awaken him from his endless sleep.” She tugged Zariel’s robe. “Did you remember the blood?”
Zariel sighed and drew a small, glass tube from an inside pocket.
Jenny turned to me and made a face. “I have to drink the heart blood of a virgin to control Rhynoth. Zaniel has to use magic to keep it from getting clotty and clumpy.”
I nodded, remembering how Tarzog had scoured the countryside for virgins in preparation. At first he planned to drain the blood of a few babies, but further reading ruined that plan. The spell required an adult virgin, and those were harder to find than you might expect. Especially once word got out that Tarzog needed virgins. I imagine the midwives were plenty busy the next year. “So which one of you found a girl to-”
“No girls, silly,” Jenny said, chewing a hangnail on her thumb. “They always have lovesick boys who try to rescue them. I had Zariel kill a priest. They’re celebrate-”
“Celibate,” Zariel said, her voice pained.
“Yeah, celibate. All we had to do was find one who had taken his vows before he got old enough to mess around.”
Zariel slapped Jenny’s head, hard enough to make her stumble. “How many times have I told you to stop biting your nails?”
I glanced around. We had left the scorched remains of Tarzog’s land behind and entered the rocky wilds that surrounded Frelan Gorge. Tall pine trees cooled the air, while tangled roots fought to cling to the uneven stone. The insects were thick here, and they seemed especially attracted to my dead flesh, though none were daring enough to bite me. Instead, they orbited my body, buzzing in my ears and darting past my eyes. I began to wonder if Jenny had raised me simply to draw the bugs away from her.
“How did the prince destroy Tarzog?” I asked.
Zariel scowled. “Tarzog was a fool. As Armand’s men fought their way into the temple, Tarzog ordered me to take Jenny and flee. Together, we might have destroyed them all. Instead, he stripped himself of my power and wasted precious time on his whelp.”
I glanced at Jenny, half afraid to see how she would react, but she only shrugged. “Zariel’s right. Daddy was stupid, so he failed. I won’t.” She skipped ahead, then turned around. “Do you think Rhynoth will like me?”
I didn’t know how to answer, so I looked to Zariel.
“The prophecies say the god’s gratitude will be like a ne’erending fountain upon the one who calls him from the earth.”
“I hope he’ll let me ride him,” Jenny said. “I’ve never had a pet before. Daddy had a cat, but he burned up when Armand attacked. He was a nice cat. Daddy carried him everywhere.”
I remembered the beast, a black, long-haired ball of fur and claws. He used to sneak into the dungeons and piss in the straw.
“I tried to raise him,” Jenny went on, “but he bit me. So I crushed his skull and scattered his remains.”
Movement to the side saved me from thinking up a response to that. Two men in the green and silver livery of Prince Armand leaped from the cover of the trees. Both had longbows drawn. One kept his arrow pointed toward Zariel, while the other aimed at me. Not that a regular arrow would do much against my dead flesh, but perhaps Armand was smart enough to outfit his men with blessed weaponry. He had fought Tarzog’s dead warriors before, after all.
“Speak one word, and it shall be your last,” warned the man watching Zariel.
“No!” Before anyone else could move, Jenny ran in front of Zariel and threw her arms around the old sorceress. “Please don’t hurt her.”
“Get away from her, kid,” said the second soldier. “That’s Zariel. The black-hearted bitch murdered more innocent-”
“Bitch is a bad word,” Jenny said, her dark eyes wide. She held up her arms, and Zariel picked her up, smiling.
Both soldiers now aimed their bows at Zariel. “Put her down, bi-witch.”
I opened my mouth to warn them. To beg them to fire. A single shot would pierce both Jenny and Zariel. Jenny’s magic might be able to destroy me, but she couldn’t stop an arrow in flight.
“Stay back, zombie!” The nearest man fired, sending an arrow through my throat. Pain shot down my spine, and I flopped onto my back. Armand was indeed smart enough to prepare his men. I wondered how long it would take the power in that arrow to penetrate my dead bones, dissolving Jenny’s spell. Strange to feel both terror and longing for true death.
Then both soldiers began to scream. I managed to turn my head enough to see that their bows were gone, transformed into writhing, hissing serpents. Already one had sunk its fangs into the man’s forearm. As I watched, the other soldier flung the snake away and turned to flee. The snake was faster, darting forward to bite him just above the boot. He hobbled away, and the snakes slithered back toward Jenny.
“Follow him,” Jenny shouted, squirming out of Zariel’s grasp. The necromancer disappeared after the soldier.
Jenny walked over and wrapped her small hands around the arrow in my throat. Flesh and muscle tore as she yanked it free. She brushed her fingers over my wounds, and I could feel the skin begin to seal. By the time I sat up, the holes were closed. My ribs felt whole again, too.
“Pretty good, huh?” she asked. “I like snake magic better, though.” She reached down, and one of the snakes coiled around her arm. The scales were purple, with a stripe of bright pink down the underbelly. “They’re not real, though,” Jenny said sadly. She wrapped her little fingers around the snake’s neck and squeezed. The snake crumbled away like chunks of burned wood.
A panicked shriek told me Zariel had caught up with her own prey. Jenny’s face brightened. “Make sure you cut off the heads,” she yelled. She glanced at me. “Daddy always taught me to cut off their heads or burn the bodies. You have to be sure they’re dead. If you just push them over a cliff or poison them and leave them to die, they always find a way to come back.” She tucked a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “It’s in all the stories.”
She grabbed my hand and tugged me onward. “Come on,” she said. “Zariel can catch up once she finishes playing.”