Travis glanced over his shoulder. Ti’an had reached the end of the bridge. Her beaded garment swayed and glittered as she moved, and the ruby in the center of her forehead gleamed like a third eye. She did not run, but rather walked slowly, her feet bare against the stone floor. Travis met her onyx gaze, and once again he felt heat rise within him. . . .
A hard jerk on his arm brought him back to himself. He turned and stumbled after Grace down the long flight of steps, past the dismembered corpses of the Scirathi. At least now they knew what–or rather who–had slain the Scirathi. But how? Surely, if Ti’an were close, she would not stand taller than Grace’s shoulder. How had one tiny woman torn apart a small army of sorcerers?
They reached the bottom of the steps. The hall stretched before them, the gigantic statues of spider‑eyed women and falcon‑beaked men standing sentinel on either side. At the far end, the crack in the door through which they had slipped glowed white hot. It seemed terribly far away. Grace ran toward it, and Travis followed.
“Avhir, stop!” cried a sharp voice. It was Vani.
Travis halted, turning around. Avhir was walking up the steps they had all just descended, back toward the arch that led into the dome. The T’golwas more than halfway to the top, moving slowly, mechanically, without his usual sleek stealth.
Vani took a step toward the arch, Nim in her arms. “Avhir, what are you doing? Get back here now!”
However, the T’golseemed not to hear her and kept climbing. A golden figure appeared at the top of the stairs. She raised a delicate hand, making a beckoning gesture. Avhir obeyed, moving toward her. Only a few steps remained. . . .
Larad fumbled in his robes as if to draw out the box with the Imsari. “We have to stop him.”
“It’s too late,” Farr said.
Avhir reached the final step. Ti’an’s onyx eyes flashed, and her arms reached up, coiling around his neck, drawing his face down as her own tilted upward. Their lips touched in a kiss.
The T’gol’s body went rigid, as if a spike had been driven through him, and his arms shot out to either side. He struggled, trying to pull away, but Ti’an’s small hands clamped on either side of his head, holding him in place so that their mouths remained locked. Like cracks in sun‑baked mud, black lines snaked up Avhir’s neck, over his face and hands.
It happened in a moment. Avhir gave a single jerk, then his skin changed from bronze to gray. His cheeks sank inward, and his hands curled into claws. He no longer struggled, but stood stiff and still as Ti’an continued her kiss. Her golden skin seemed to glow brighter, as if burnished with oil.
Then it was done. She released Avhir, stepping away. He toppled over, rolling down the steps, coming to a halt at Vani’s feet. The T’gol’s withered face gazed blindly, eyes like gray raisins in their sockets. Inside his black leathers, his body was a shriveled husk.
“I think we had best consider leaving,” Larad said, his voice hoarse. “Now.”
Travis managed to tear his gaze away from the mummy that moments ago had been Avhir. Ti’an was slowly, steadily descending the steps. Her skin shone so brightly it was painful to look at her, though all the same Travis now found it hard to look away. She had drawn Avhir’s blood, his life into her. And now she was going to do the same to them.
Nim screamed. The sound helped Travis to tear his gaze away from Ti’an. Vani clutched the girl and started running. Travis followed along with the others. However, they had only gone a dozen steps when he heard a groaning sound.
He risked a glance over his shoulder. Ti’an stood at the base of the steps, her arms raised before her, palms outward. The ruby on her brow shone as if on fire.
“Oh,” he heard Grace say as she and the others came to a halt.
Why had they stopped? Then Travis turned around, and he understood. At the far end of the hall, the two statues closest to the doorway were moving. Sand fell from their shoulders as they stepped from their pedestals; the stone floor cracked under the pressure of their feet.
Farr was closest to them. The statue of the spider‑eyed woman towered over him, twenty feet tall. Red light flashed in its multifaceted eyes as it brought a fist whistling down toward his head.
The dervish dived at the last minute, rolling to one side. The statue’s fist crashed into the floor with a sound like thunder, creating a gaping pit three feet across. The figure of the falcon‑beaked man lumbered forward, swifter than seemed possible for such an enormous thing, and Farr was forced to roll to one side as a stone foot kicked at him. He jumped to his feet and tried to lunge toward the crack in the door, but both statues stepped in front of it, blocking the line of white light. Farr backed away.
“If anyone has any ideas how else to get out of here,” Grace said, her face pale, “now would be the time to speak up.”
However, the only other way out of the hall was the arch that led back to the dome. And that would mean going past Ti’an. She was walking toward them now, the ruby on her brow blazing.
“We’ve got to get past those statues,” Farr said.
“How?” Larad said. “I doubt they will step aside from the doors if we ask them.”
Farr looked at Travis. “They might, if he asked them.”
Travis shook his head. How could he control the statues?
“This city rose out of the sand at the touch of your blood,” Farr said, drawing close to Travis. “And these statues are part of this city. Use your blood to command them.”
Travis wanted to argue, but he felt the eyes of the others on him, and he knew without looking that Ti’an was getting closer; he could feel her like a heat.
“I’ll try,” he said, then moved toward the statues blocking the door.
The statues’ eyes glowed crimson. They reached toward him with massive stone hands, moving faster than he had expected. Travis raked his fingernails over the knuckles of his right hand, prying away the scabs, so that blood flowed.
“Get back,” he shouted, thrusting his hand toward the statues.
They kept coming. The floor shook under their feet; their hands reached for him.
“I said get back!”
Again Travis thrust out with his hand, and this time red droplets flew from his bleeding knuckles, spattering the outstretched arm of the spider‑eyed woman.
The statue stopped moving. The droplets of blood glittered on its arm–then vanished, as if absorbed by the stone. The light in the statue’s eyes changed from crimson to gold. It had worked. . . .
“Travis, look out!”
Grace’s shout propelled him into action. He ducked barely in time to avoid the crushing swing of a stone fist. He looked up to see the statue of the falcon‑beaked man bearing down on him. Its eyes still shone crimson. Travis’s knuckles were already scabbing over in the dry air; he clawed at them again, trying to open them up, to make the blood flow.
There was no time. The male statue brought its fist down toward Travis’s head. He tensed, waiting to be crushed to a pulp. The stone fist whistled down–
–and struck the floor next to Travis with a deafening crash. The force of it threw him to one side. When he looked up, awe filled him. The statue of the spider‑eyed woman was grappling with the male statue. The colossi rocked back and forth, arms entangled, one’s eyes blazing crimson, the other gold. The male statue opened its beak in a silent cry. It shoved hard against the other statue, knocking it back. However, their stone limbs were still entangled. As the one statue toppled, it dragged the other with it.
They struck the doors of the palace, slamming them shut with a boom!Then the statues crashed against the floor, breaking apart into a heap of rubble. The head of the female statue shattered, while that of the male rolled to a halt against the door. The light in its eyes flickered, then went out.