"You're safest here," Soterius said, turning back to Carina and Carroway. He held up a hand to still Carina's ready protest. "I know Kiara and Jonmarc are in there, and that both you and Carroway have seen more battles that many a seasoned fighter. But if it's a trick, if Jared and Arontala are waiting for us..." He paused, looking toward the upper floors of the castle cautiously and shook his head. "I'd rather know you two were down here, to lead the last charge."
Carina looked as if she intended to argue with him, but then relented. "All right," she conceded. "Just warn your bow-happy archers that the vayash tnoru are on our side, huh?"
Outside, the city bells began to toll midnight.
Carina and Carroway exchanged worried glances. "Time's up," she whispered. "We've either won or lost... everything."
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
With A BURST of magic to smash the binding spells, Tris slammed open the doors to Arontala's workroom.
"Turn them loose."
Arontala only turned a fraction, as if the intrusion did not merit his interest. Gabriel slipped into the workroom behind Tris.
"I've been waiting for you to join us." Arontala jerked Kiara's head up. "You're just in time. My offering will be given to the Master for one last meal before his reemergence. It's over," he said triumphantly. "We've won."
Tris advanced on the mage, his sword held ready, his eyes only on Arontala. "By the Lady, I won't let you do this." The orb was between Tris and Arontala, with Kiara to one side and Vahanian on the other, against the wall. Tris had no clear shot. Anything he did stood a good chance of hitting the orb or one of his friends, and the wormroot made him doubt the precision of his aim.
"The Lady has nothing to do with this," Arontala laughed. "I am the supreme power in Margolan. My will controls its destiny."
Tris searched with his mage sense. Arontala was well shielded, and Tris knew his own strength was fading quickly. He searched for a weapon, anything he could use to turn an advantage, and he felt a glimmer of power radiating from a wax tablet on Arontala's worktable. The tablet was on a stand, covered with a glass dome. Carved into its surface were runes and glyphs traced in fire. Tris stretched out his power and knew the tablet for what it was— the anchor of Arontala's spell to banish the ghosts of Shekerishet. Never taking his eyes off Arontala, Tris sent a burst of power toward the tablet, shattering the glass and igniting the wax. The tablet exploded into flame.
Arontala cursed and sent a streak of red fire sizzling in Tris's direction. Tris hurled himself out of the way before the red fire struck. The temperature in the room suddenly plummeted, cold enough for him to see his breath. With a gust so powerful that it slammed the window open, the banished ghosts of Shekerishet streamed home, released from Arontala's spell. The windows shattered, sending shards of glass flying against the stone walls. In the fireplace, the flames guttered and danced crazily as the freezing wind swept through the room.
Angry at their banishment, the exiled ghosts of Shekerishet streamed back into the room in a torrent, thick as the spirits in the Ruune Videya forest.
Tris struggled to his feet, trying to hold onto his control as the spirits swept over him and through him.
A... ron... ta... la! the spirits howled, knowing the one who banished them from their home. Tris knew that Kiara and the others could see the spirits; Arontala's face twisted in a hateful grimace. The ghosts swirled around the red-robed mage in a wild vortex.
Tris seized the chance while Arontala was distracted and drew on Mageslayer's power. As he had done in the citadel when he fought Alaine, Tris sought the soul within the dark mage, using all of his power to capture and extinguish that spark. But where Alaine had been mortal, Arontala's undead soul had no blue life thread. On the Plains of Spirit, Tris could feel the dark wizard's soul as he reached for it. But within the undead body, animated by the Dark Gift, the soul was shielded by powerful magic. He stretched out, sure that he could grasp the fleeting spark, and felt a wave of cold raw power throw him back, physically and psychically. Tris slammed against the wall, his head reeling, his senses screaming from the assault.
Arontala's shielding glowed so brightly that Tris's eyes hurt to look at the mage. The angry ghosts threw themselves against Arontala's shields to no avail. Arontala's lips worked, casting a spell that wrote itself in fiery letters on the rock of the castle wall.
Tris could sense the power of the banishment spell; he sent his waning power to counter it. As the spirits howled around them the letters of fire wavered, etching into the ancient stones, burning without smoke or ash. With a terrible smile, Arontala met Tris's eyes. Tris knew that Arontala was gauging how much more he could take.
Arontala gestured and the orb flared with a red light that enveloped Kiara. She arched backward and screamed.
With Arontala's attention focused on the ghosts and the orb, Vahanian's left hand slipped to the knives on his belt. He palmed them, and in quick succession sent three daggers flying toward Arontala. Arontala's attention wavered just for an instant as he struck down the daggers, buying Tris a slim opening.
Blue fire streaked from Tris's left hand to intercept the red glow of Arontala's spell. Tris's aim wavered with the wormroot; instead of striking Arontala, his mage fire struck the growing aura of the orb. The orb pulsed once, almost too bright to behold. Tris had scarcely enough time to dive between the orb and Kiara. He flung up his battered shielding to protect them both as the orb flared like a crimson sun and with a roar, exploded into a thousand scarlet fragments.
Gabriel shielded Vahanian from the explosion that seemed to rock the foundation of Shekerishet itself. Tris held on to Mageslayer, fighting the wormroot in his blood to hold his shielding over himself and Kiara. The blast took him off his feet, and the psychic recoil almost blacked him out. Fresh blood started from beneath his cuirass, and Tris's broken ribs made it difficult for him to breathe as he dragged himself to his feet. Kiara, suddenly released from Arontala's control, slumped to the floor.
Tris felt his shields strain dangerously beneath the waves of power that surged from the shattered orb. Old, raw power washed over him, tainted by Arontala's blood magic. Tris could feel the press of spirits rushing toward freedom—Arontala's victims and the Obsidian King himself—joining the angry palace ghosts that swirled around them.
Arontala cried out. Closer to the orb, he staggered from the blast. The fire of the explosion drove Arontala backward. As he redirected his power to contain the spirits of the orb, his shielding wavered. Tris seized the advantage, striking with Mageslayer.
The blade thrummed with power as it hit Arontala's shielding. Tris hung on with all his strength, gasping as his broken ribs protested. Arontala screamed as the blade reached him, blasting his power against Tris's shields. Tris staggered, his strength fading from the wormroot and the warm rush of blood that oozed from his side.
Instinctively, Tris brought his full power to bear on the sword, drawing on the wavering blue life thread within him, holding on as the pommel of the sword became searingly hot. Suddenly the blade broke free. Tris poured all of his will and strength and magic into the sword's downward motion, cleaving Arontala from shoulder to hip through the heart.
An inhuman shriek tore from Arontala's throat. The mage's body burst into flame. Mageslayer began to melt and Tris dropped the pommel, his hands burned and red. The fire was gone as quickly as it came, leaving a cindered corpse and blackened, twisted sword. Bells began to toll the midnight hour. One... two... three...
Hundreds of shadows swirled in a whirlwind around Arontala's corpse. Spectral visages gathered in the darkness around Arontala's spirit open-mouthed and angry, their gaping eyes and toothy jaws eager for vengeance.
This time the Formless One came as a vortex, a maelstrom that plunged down into infinity beneath Arontala's charred body. Tris felt the pull of its winds and heard its roar. A gust of power raged from the heart of the abyss, seizing Arontala's soul in its inexorable grasp and drawing it into the darkness. The last thing Tris glimpsed was the abyss, folding in upon itself. Then it snapped shut and disappeared into thin air.