Page 104 of Siege of Stone (Sister of Darkness: The Nicci Chronicles 3)

When she had completed her preparations, Adessa discarded the stolen cloak she had used as her disguise and stood to fight in only her morazeth leather. When she faced Maxim, she wanted him to recognize her before she killed him. She tucked her dagger and short sword into her waistband. She would not need them, or the agile knife. In the darkness, the wind continued to stir the spruces, some of which creaked more loudly than others, as if groaning in pain.

She waited in the forest shadows for hours, until Maxim at last strolled back up the path, well satiated from his catfish pie and a tankard or two of ale. He whistled to himself, oblivious to any danger. Using his gift from a distance, he ignited the lamps inside the cottage, and light shone through the windows. He strolled up to the cottage.

Adessa stepped out of the shadows, placing herself in exactly the right position. The dark spruces were dense and close, swaying back and forth. Maxim stumbled to a halt, staring at her. “You are damned persistent.”

“I made a promise to kill you.”

She felt a rippling defensive shield he manifested in front of him, but the markings on her skin protected her against any magic he tried to use against her.

“This is Thora’s doing, isn’t it? Do you know if she is even still the sovrena?” He sniffed. “By now, I suspect that Ildakar has fallen, one way or another.” He quirked a smile. “I ended the petrification spell and freed the army of General Utros. And I saw an entire Norukai invasion fleet sailing up the river. Maybe you should have stayed to fight for the city instead of chasing me through the swamps?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I keep my promises.” She braced herself. The wind grew louder, the trees rushed and creaked.

“This is tedious,” Maxim said. “I do not fault your determination, but your power is no match for mine.”

“I trust in what I can do,” Adessa said. Leaving the short sword in its sheath at her side, she drew her dagger. “This knife is all I need to kill you.”

He had a maddening smile. “And how do you expect to accomplish that?”

Although wizards had powerful magic and numerous defenses, they could be killed in a normal manner, so long as they were taken by surprise. Adessa had the most tremendous surprise.

Raising the dagger, she kept her gaze locked on Maxim’s, and flung the blade to the side with perfect aim. The sharp knife sliced through the rope she had used to tie down one of the tall, supple spruce trees. Using her strength and the blood magic within her, she had bent and anchored the trees, and then fastened the heavy log, which hung on a cradle of the rope, dangling like a battering ram. The trees trembled like a strung bow, straining to be loosed, and Adessa’s thrown knife cut the rope.

The coiled energy within the bent spruces suddenly released, and the supple trees surged upward and released the suspended dead log. Maxim had just enough time to turn and see the log hurtling toward him like a ram powerful enough to smash the gates of Ildakar. He heard the thrash of pine boughs, the creak of ropes, the groan of wood. He had only an instant to raise a shield before the log slammed into his chest with such force it shattered his torso.

As the log swung back into its relaxed position on the ropes, Maxim lay sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood, his face filled with astonishment. His chest was crushed, his ribs were splintered like a thistle, but he was still alive, spasming, choking. Even with his great magic, though, the wizard commander couldn’t heal himself from this.

Adessa loomed over him and slid her short sword out of its scabbard. “Sovrena Thora commanded me to bring back your head, and it gives me great pleasure to do so.”

She touched her flat stomach, thought of the child that was no longer there, felt the shadow of Ian’s presence in her, and she convinced herself that the sacrifice had been acceptable. She’d had enough power to kill the wizard commander. Only that mattered.

Maxim lay gurgling, coughing blood. “I am a wizard … cannot kill me so … easily.”

“It was not easy, but I will kill you,” Adessa said.

His fingers curled, and light flickered in his hand as he tried to summon scraps of magic, but his chest was shattered, his life fading away. She had to hurry. “Oh no, Maxim, I am not going to let you simply die. I have to be the one to kill you.”

He groaned, tried to form words: “I will still … be…”

She hacked down on his neck, cutting through the muscles and neck bone, until she lifted his dripping head by the beautiful dark hair. When she killed Maxim, a rushing glow flowed out of his body and whipped through the now-still spruces. She felt a shudder in the magic as if some last threads of an ancient spell were finally severed, although nothing touched her rune-protected body.

Maxim was hers. She stared at his slack face, his dull and open eyes. She would deliver the trophy back to Ildakar, back to Thora. It would be a long, hard journey home, but with the wizard commander’s head, Adessa would have all the companionship she needed.

CHAPTER 85

Even after the conflagration burned the front ranks of his army, General Utros was not willing to admit defeat. But with Ildakar entirely gone, he no longer had a city to conquer. Despite his losses, he still had more than a hundred thousand brave fighters. They stood on an empty, burned plain without an enemy to face.

He stared at the remnants of his stunned army and knew that he needed to give them a new goal, another reason to exist. His separate expeditionary armies were already on the march to find other lands to conquer. Utros had hoped to use those victories to get back into Kurgan’s good graces, yet he had less and less respect for the man to whom he had sworn his loyalty and his life.

Loyalty is greater than love. Was that even true anymore? Majel, his love, had been destroyed, and his loyalty toward her murderer was frayed and full of questions.

Utros returned to his makeshift command tent beyond the fringe of the great fire, where the tall oval lens to the underworld stood out in the open. Ava and Ruva were with him, determined to support him, whatever he should decide to do.

First Commander Enoch had also miraculously survived, much to Utros’s relief, but he would never know the names of all the dead. A good commander owed that much to his fallen soldiers, but there were too many. Far too many.

The first commander sat on his warhorse, bowing to Utros. “The soldiers await your orders, General. They will follow you wherever you may lead.”

Utros stared across the empty plain, still unable to believe that the city had simply vanished. Without Ildakar, the orders Iron Fang had given him were no longer valid, though in truth the emperor had never understood the situation on the ground, had never grasped his own empire. Iron Fang knew how to make people fear him, but he didn’t know how to rule. He was a pompous, self-absorbed man who achieved power only through others, like Utros.

The general didn’t know how he had been so blind before. No wonder Majel had sought love in someone else’s arms. If it hadn’t been Utros, would it have been another man? She had been so beautiful, so perfect, yet even after Kurgan had inflicted his horrific punishment upon her, she had gone back to him. Utros couldn’t understand it, nor did he need to. His duty was to his hundreds of thousands of soldiers. He was their leader, their general, not some spirit that spoke only through a bloodstained lens.

Utros stopped in front of the scorched but still functional lens to the underworld. At his command, the sorceresses activated the glowing runes, and the greenish mists cleared, letting him see through to the realm of the spirits. Utros stood bravely before the glass, staring at the ravaged landscape of the dead, which looked all too similar to the blasted landscape of his own camp.

Emperor Kurgan appeared before him again, grinning to show his hooked iron tooth. Majel was beside him, her face a raw mask. Her brown, lidless eyes stared at Utros, but now he saw her more clearly. No love remained there for him.

“You summoned me again, Utros,” Kurgan said. “If you have finally conquered Ildakar, then I am ready to issue my first orders. Execute

all those who defied me, and when they come here to the underworld, we will punish them further.” He seemed to relish the idea.

“Ildakar is gone,” Utros said. “Vanished.”

“Gone?” Kurgan was taken aback. “How do you lose a city?”

“How do you lose an empire?” Utros retorted, allowing the harsh tone to erase all the awe and respect he had once held for this man. “How do you lose your wife, the most beautiful woman in the world? How do you squander all the lands I conquered for you, while I continue to fight for your foolishness?”

Kurgan was outraged. “I forbid you to speak to me like that. I am your emperor.”

“You are dead. You are no longer my emperor, and I no longer follow your orders. Neither loyalty nor love is strong enough. I am strong. I have my army, and I will conquer the Old World for myself. My soldiers are loyal to me, and we will create a new empire, a worthy empire. You corrupted everything you touched.” He lowered his voice as the emperor snarled, unable to form words. Utros shifted his gaze and spoke to the other image inside the lens. “Majel, I did love you, but our love was doomed from the start. I should have been wise enough to know that. Maybe I could have saved you, but I will not mourn for what happened fifteen centuries in the past. Instead, I will make my own future without you.” He turned back to Kurgan. “And without you, Iron Fang.”

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