Nyori stared in disbelief. "I would never."
Alaric continued to pace around her. "You will. The only question is whether you will do so willingly or by force. I would prefer willingly. It would not do to sully a flower that has only begun to bloom."
Nyori could not repress a shiver. "I don't believe you."
"Do you not?" Alaric caressed Eymunder with his fingers. "Then you are a fool, Shama. You ought to know I would do anything to save my people from the terrible curse that afflicts us. Do you know what it is like to be forced to survive by feeding off of others like yourself?"
"Of course I don't."
"It is maddening." Alaric's jaw clenched. "When we realized how Leilavin fooled us, when we realized our fate…it was terrifying. Many went insane, unable to cope with the terrible truth. We, who were once Aelon, reduced to the manner of beasts of prey."
He clenched his fist around Eymunder. "Those of us who remained had to cope. We had to accept and adapt to our new way of life. Leilavin thought to use us as her servants to protect her from Stygan's wrath. She betrayed him, you see. She led him into Narak, knowing it was to be his prison. But his capture did nothing to assuage her fear. She needed servants to protect her from his agents, his Acolytes who could still be manipulated from the depths of Narak to slay her. She thought she could goad us into subservience by dangling a cure in front of our noses, underestimating the agonies I would endure to rid my people of her shackles."
"You mean the sword. Mothros." Nyori stared at the magnificent weapon at his side. It seemed to whisper of death with every movement.
His lips thinned when he gazed at it. "Yes. Formerly called Nemon until Brandon the Paladin forsook it, freeing all those held captive by its power. Brandon thought the fusorb drained and left the empty vessel in the sword. But it served as a host for another. Mothros is the fusorb, not the blade. It gives the wielder sweet, intoxicating power. I could topple kingdoms if I wished. I could destroy the Reavers. And I could enter Leilavin's forbidden haven, her Threshold to Everfell. All of that power at the cost of merely my soul."
Nyori could not help being transfixed by Alaric's words, the velvet softness of his voice. "Leilavin said something about a cost to using Mothros."
Alaric stroked the pommel of the sword with his free hand. "It drains the wielder of his life. Mothros is not one of the Geods, but it is a powerful fusorb in its own right. Perhaps more powerful than any of the others. Anko the Shadow Prince constructed it to contain his essence when he felt his end was near. Legends say that once the fusorb drains the wielder of his life's energy, the essence of Anko will inhabit the wielder's body for all of time."
Alaric's icy blue eyes held Nyori in place. "That is the risk I took when I began this journey to redemption, Shama. And you believe I will balk at harming you to gain what I desire more than my own soul?"
Nyori shrank from his merciless gaze. "I…" Her voice cut off, choked by her rising terror.
His voice grew even softer. "Leilavin knew better. That is why she rarely dared to wander from her haven in Everfell. But she took a risk and entered our world to bind Marcellus and create another Reaver. A foolish gambit. Do you know what Leilavin does now, Nyori? What she has done ever since she was captured and brought to me?"
Alaric pointed. A light bloomed from deep in the chamber, revealing a section that had been cloaked in shadows.
Nyori's legs buckled. She collapsed to the ground, hands clapping over her mouth to deny the shriek that rose from her throat.
Alaric continued in his soft, deadly voice. "She screams, Nyori. Every day and every night she screams."
He turned away, stepping into the shadows of the towering pillars. "I will leave the two of you alone while I destroy the Reaver and its army. When I return, you will surrender Eymunder to me. Or you will scream as well, Nyori. Think on that, and choose your fate wisely."
Alaric vanished into the gloom, leaving Nyori alone with the display of grotesquery.
Chapter 60: Rhanu
The army was cut off from the rest of the world. The road they traveled had been paved once, but time and neglect had long since left it cracked and broken. The land was bone-dry and dusty one moment, damp and swampy the next. The trees were twisted and unfamiliar, cracked and laced with long-dead vines as though webbed by monstrous spiders. Sunlight did not penetrate the dense cloud cover, only gave the fog a muted light.
Murky creatures slithered and fled their presence, while other beasts with pale eyes stalked from the shadows, showing no fear of the lines of armed men. Occasionally someone was snatched up by one of the obscure creatures, so quickly that only their screams hung in the air by the time the men turned to look for the commotion's source.
The Reaver never turned, never acknowledged the landscape or any of the stalking beasts. It rode forward as though drawn by an unseen force, a black specter at the head of the column.
They came upon a vast mist-covered lake, so wide across that Rhanu could not see the other side. The water was black as pitch and smelled like the charnel pit of the world. Several of the men vomited as they passed, and many more looked as though they would be next.
A scraggly black raven landed next to a patch of oversized, speckled plants that grew in sparse clumps. With whiplash speed, one of the stalks snatched it up in a bloody explosion of slime and feathers.
The men made sure to steer clear of the bulbous plants.
As they rode around the lake, they tried to avoid the hidden pitfalls in the marshy ground. Not all were able. One of the men sank into a muddy quagmire so quickly that by the time his comrades dismounted, he was already gone.
Something emerged from the lake at that moment. Soldiers scattered with panicked cries as putrid water cascaded over them.
For a moment Rhanu thought it was a serpent as wide and tall as a tower castle. Then he realized it was only the neck of the creature. A long snout protruded from a misshapen head that sprouted long, wriggling pink tentacles. A ring of red eyes flashed in its many sockets.
With a sound like a deep gong, the head lowered and the mouth opened, exposing a cave entrance lined with rows of yellowed fangs and a long, slime-covered tongue. It scooped up several men along with their horses before it swung back up, crushing them between its mighty jaws.
Rhanu galloped toward the beast. "Fall back from the lake! Archers, cover them." The men fumbled for their arrows and loosed as the creature swallowed the remains of the men it snatched. Most of the arrows bounced off its scaly hide. The head swung again.
Rhanu felt as though every eye in the hideous head was focused only on him. The great mouth opened as though to swallow the entire army. The rumbling bellow deafened him, and he was nearly overcome by the stench of putrid fish and lake water. Titien hung against his chest, but any attempt at focusing on the fusorb was shattered by the impending death that approached. He unsheathed his wakiza, knowing how futile his actions were.
A black shape hurtled past him as though his mount stood still. The Reaver raised its long black blade over its horned helm. When the sword struck, the blow rang as though against an anvil. The creature bellowed again, though this time in pain. The head spouted gouts of black blood, while several of the severed tentacles writhed in the shallows. A hailstorm of arrows sailed at the massive head which swung to and fro, trumpeting in agony. It submerged in a rolling display of bony spikes as it retreated into deeper waters.
The Reaver sheathed its blade without a backward glance. "Stay together. What comes ahead is much worse." It returned to the head of the line, deeper into the fog.