Sadira turned her palm toward the ground again. Already Rikus’s entire back had turned black, with the stain rapidly spreading around his ribs and down over his hips.
“Let go, Khidar!” the sorceress hissed, pulling more magical energy into her body.
“Why? So you can save Rikus?” he sneered. “You might escape, but your husband comes with us.”
“No!” Sadira threw herself forward.
She thrust her hand into the stain on Rikus’s back. The half-shadow did not even scream. His body simply exploded into black vapor, casting his arms and legs, still material, in all directions. The blast hurled Sadira through the air, then she heard a loud crack as the back of her skull slammed into the cobblestone street. Her vision started to dim, and a terrible ringing filled her ears. The sorceress pushed herself upright, fighting back the curtain of oblivion that threatened to descend over her.
“Fine,” said Khidar. He reached across Sadira’s body and grabbed her free hand. “We’ll take you instead of Rikus.”
Sadira turned her palm toward the ground. Already her hand was swaddled in shadow up to her wrist. She began to pull, trying to summon more magic. Sadira succeeded in drawing nothing but a bone-numbing chill into her body.
“Don’t be afraid,” Khidar hissed, his blue eyes locking onto hers. “You’ll grow accustomed to the cold.”
“Not likely,” said Rikus, stepping up behind the halfling.
The mul brought his hands down on either side of Khidar’s head, driving his palm-heels into the ears. The halfling’s eyes bulged out, then his skull collapsed with a loud crack. The Black ceased to spread from beneath his shadowy hands.
Rikus stepped back, pulling Khidar’s head away. The Black came with it, peeling off Sadira’s body like wet silk. The mul tossed Khidar’s lifeless head aside.
“At least we know we’re not too late,” Rikus said.
Sadira rubbed the lump that had appeared where the back of her skull had hit the cobblestones. “And why’s that?”
“They wouldn’t have attacked unless they thought we could stop Tithian,” the mul answered. He pulled her to her feet and started down the street. “All we have to do is figure out why they were so worried.”
A searing wave of pain hissed through Tithian’s serpentine body. He contracted into a tangled knot of coils. His scales rose on end and quivered, bending back against their natural pattern to point toward his head. Fighting to keep his tail wrapped around the Dark Lens, the king clenched his teeth and waited for the spasm to pass.
He was in the Dragon’s sanctum, a beautiful grove of a thousand exotic trees. There were tall conifers with red needles as long as daggers; stubby palms, each topped by a spray of barbed fronds; and majestic hardwoods with crowns as white and billowy as clouds. A carpet of blue moss covered the forest floor, decorated at odd intervals by a blossoming bush or a curving hedge of brightly colored leaves. An eerie calm hung over the place, for there was no wind, and the king had not heard the cry of a single bird, insect, or creature of any kind.
“Don’t stop now!” Sacha’s screech shattered the ghostly silence. “We’re almost there.”
A short distance ahead, two more paths emerged from the silent forest and joined this one to form a circle of polished jet. In the middle of this plaza, a dull, black sphere hovered in the center of a sable-sheened basin. The orb was pulsing madly and spinning in all directions at once. Torrents of dark energy poured from it into the hollow below, then came billowing out to gush toward the Dark Lens in a roiling stream.
“Crawl, worm!” commanded Sacha. “Use the Way.”
Tithian closed his eyes and visualized himself uncoiling, slowly stretching forward. He felt no surge of energy from the Dark Lens, but his body slowly stretched out, utilizing the energy already pouring through it. Once he had pushed his head forward, the king allowed his muscles to contract, dragging himself closer to the black sphere.
Progress came slowly, for Tithian had to call upon the Way each time he stretched out. His belly scales would not lie flat, and they began to break off as he dragged himself forward. The pain searing through his body grew steadily worse as he neared Rajaat’s prison, and he felt sure he would burst into flame.
When he reached the edge of the plaza, the Dark Lens turned crimson. The black spout stopped rising from its glassy surface. Dark fumes began to swirl off the king’s scales, streaming into the pit ahead. The heat of boiling blood filled Tithian’s body, and he screamed.
“Crawl,” urged Sacha. “The Dark Lens has drawn away the magic of the caging spell. Touch the Black, and Rajaat will be free!”
Tithian pulled himself forward and reached across the pit. He lowered his hand, and his fingers brushed the numbing cold of the Black. A crimson glow flashed from the king’s flesh, and his body erupted into fiery pain. His teeth clenched so tightly that several of them cracked, and his muscles clamped down on his bones so hard that he feared they would break.
The black sphere burst open, spraying wisps of cold gloom in every direction. A seething cloud of blue steam boiled up into Tithian’s face.
From beneath the protective shadows of an ornamental tunnel vault, Sadira peered over Rikus’s shoulder. Fifty yards ahead, a granite wall blocked the way, though it seemed incorrect to say that the boulevard ended there. The cobblestone pavement ran clear to the base of the rampart, passing beneath an imbedded arch as though the street continued on the other side of the wall.
Before the arch stood four of the sorcerer-kings, their gazes fixed on the stone blocks in their path. As Sadira and Rikus watched, Andropinis floated down from the top of the wall. He shook his head and said something they could not hear, though Sadira guessed that he was telling the others they could not fly over the wall. This seemed to anger Hamanu, who cast a ray of golden light against the stones beneath the arch. The beam sprayed back over the monarchs, showering the street with flickering yellow sparks that ate through the cobblestones as though they were cloth.
When Hamanu finally lowered his hand, Sadira saw that the spell had not even scorched the wall.
“Borys sealed it against even them,” Sadira whispered. “He must not have trusted his sorcerer-kings entirely.”
“Or never thought that they would need to get inside without his help,” Rikus suggested.
“Perhaps. But if five sorcerer-kings can’t get past the wall, how could Tithian?”
“The same way he and I crossed the lava sea-with Khidar’s help,” Rikus answered. “Do you think you can get us to the other side?”
“Perhaps, when the sun-”
The crack of a distant explosion interrupted Sadira. It came from somewhere far beyond the arch, and the sorceress could tell from its sharp report that the blast was a powerful one. A patchwork of cracks raced through the granite wall, then the entire rampart blew apart with a deafening boom. The sorcerer-kings vanished beneath a maelstrom of billowing dust and flying boulders.
Sadira grabbed Rikus. Before she could turn to run, a tremendous shock wave slammed them to the ground. The vault blew off its foundations. The walls clattered down at their sides, and the arch crashed onto the street behind them. Sadira covered her head and curled into a tight ball, protecting herself from the dozens of fist-sized stones that rained down on her body. When the bruising shower ended, she found herself choking on a thick cloud of rock dust.
Rikus’s strong hand grasped her arm. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” Sadira said, allowing the mul to pull her up.
The sorceress saw that they were surrounded by an arc-shaped pile of debris. They had escaped serious injury only because they had been standing at the front of the arch when the explosion blew it over backward.
At the end of the street, it did not look as though the sorcerer-kings had been so lucky. The wall they had been trying to cross was now a mountain of rubble. Sadira saw no sign that any of their enemies had escaped the devastation.