Bones of the Empire (77 page)

“Dorralt?” Estin asked, backing up a step before realizing that doing so put him closer to the mists.

The skeleton nodded and picked up the decaying fragments of what appeared to have been a book, though little more than crumbling bits of parchment remained. “The council rose up to take charge after Kharali vanished when I was attempting to claim the throne of my brother. They buried me down here for more than a hundred years when they could not kill me, choosing instead to pour stones down the well until I was trapped and then seal it with magic. Do you know what it does to the mind to be encased in stone, unable to die or escape, for that long? I could not even move my head those first few years. It was just me and the voices of the dead, whispering endlessly. I had not even grasped the potential of my abilities until I was deprived of all else.

“I had a great deal of time to plan all of this out. They buried me here to trap me alongside the hole between worlds that I created to empower those like myself and my generals. Now I consider this to be my only true home. Everything else out there, I will see through my puppets. This body will not see the daylight again. Even if I were to retake the world, I will never see it with my own eyes.”

Estin nodded toward the stairs. “Where are your generals now? It looks like it’s just you and I.”

Dorralt laughed dryly, the fleshless grin making Estin’s skin prickle. That lack of any way to identify emotion behind that laugh was even more disturbing than the sound itself. “I do wish I knew. You brought me back Oramain, but On’esquin did a fine job of hiding the others. I had hoped to locate them before the mists stripped the world bare. Now I must say good-bye to many old friends, wherever they are. Believe me when I say it pains me to have instrumented the true deaths of so many good men and women. It was not meant to be like this. I had hoped for a swift victory. Now, wherever they are, the mists will claim them sooner or later.”

Estin looked around the small cavern again before returning his attention to Dorralt. “Come to think of it, you don’t even have Oramain at your side anymore. I really expected I’d have to fight through him and Liris to reach you.”

At that Dorralt laughed hysterically, almost sounding as though he were fighting tears. Once he managed to stop laughing, he said, “Funny you should mention that, Estin. There is so much humor in the world when you can see more than one location at a time. The Miharon’s cry destroyed more than a hundred of my children near the temple, weakening me, but for some reason, those two are relatively intact. Is there anything else you would like to mock me about?”

“Probably,” Estin said before turning to run for the steps.

Faster than he had seen other Turessians move, Dorralt shoved past him and blocked the hall out of the cavern with one skeletal hand on each wall. “Your friends are coming to save you, Estin. I intend to kill you when they arrive as a final act of revenge for all the trouble you’ve caused me. After that, those above us may find a way to kill me after all these centuries. For now I will allow you one question, given the curiosity you keep demonstrating and your mistaken belief that stalling will aid you. Your father begged for answers to one question, and I did not give it to him before I had Liris hang him beside your mother. You I have more respect for. Ask your question.”

A distant rumble echoed down the steps, and Estin swore he heard feet pounding down the stairs. Given how long he had taken to reach the bottom, he knew it would be a while before they could get to him. He had to survive another minute or two before he would have aid.

“Why?” Estin asked, looking back at Dorralt.

“Your father’s question as well.”

“No,” Estin replied, moving a step closer to Dorralt and the stairs, refusing to show any fear. “Not why are you killing me or my family. My father probably wanted to know why you murdered my mother and who you were. I want to know why you targeted wildlings all these years. Did you truly hate us that much?”

Chuckling, the skeleton scraped the tips of his fingers on the stone walls. “I did, Estin. I truly did hate your people. Turess gave his empire to one of you out of love rather than rational thought. I had to make her disappear. He died believing she betrayed him, but she never did. Try as I did, I never managed to make her turn on him. Lies and torture could not break her spirit. I ended up having to simply get rid of her. I see that same devotion in many of your kind, and I have no patience for it. When I look in your eyes, all I can see is that bitch, preparing to take what was rightfully mine.

“That is not why I kill your kind or why I drive my people to do so. Liris believed that we were hunting your people to prevent the prophecy from coming to pass, but even she had no idea. I believe your friend Raeln has shown her what I hid for all these years.”

Pointing toward the mists, Dorralt went on. “Look into the first hole opened between the realms by my brother. I tore it back open to draw magic through to empower myself. In there you will see the one I used to create all of my children. Life’s blood was required. Her blood created us and it can destroy us. I had you hunted to protect my kind. My original generals could resist your blood, but the younger like Liris cannot. Your people were a threat I needed neutralized before you were used against us. Our enemies would have killed all of your kind to gain weapons against us, had they known your blood was key. I considered it a mercy to strike first.”

Estin hesitantly moved toward the mists, trying not to get any closer than he had to. With each step, something within the mists became clearer, and the screams in his mind became more real. By the time he was standing in front of the cloud, Estin could both see the person within and hear her screams in his mind, echoed by the voices that were the conduits for his magic. It was as though the mists were amplifying her screams into the heart of Eldvar’s magic.

A snow leopard wildling hung within, her body shaking violently as the mists attempted to tear her apart and somehow failed. Burns and cuts would flash across her arms and legs, only to vanish a second later in the ever-changing flow of the glowing cloud. Arcing lightning raced around her, even as her fingers, toes, and tail were stretched to their limits, trying to get to anything in the void she occupied. Through the long seconds Estin watched, her mouth remained locked in a scream that never seemed to end.

“Kharali…or Kerrelin if you prefer.” Dorralt relaxed somewhat at the foot of the stairs. “I needed someone who would be tortured for all of time, whose body would be on the verge of death for centuries. I cast her into the mists and used some very delicate magics to hold her there, unable to die or escape.

“Though I chose her out of revenge initially, during the century I was trapped here, I found a new use for her. Her blood made the very poison we used to kill everyone in Altis and many other cities. Using it sped my creation of an army, though it left us open to the threat of wildlings’ blood being used against us. It also meant that some of you were immune to the effects. You I can hear in my mind as one of my children, even though the poison never took your life. I cannot control you, but your very existence nagged at the edge of my thoughts. I want you dead, if only because you defy me with every moment you live on. You and I are bound in a sense.

“Aside from wildlings, the weak-willed who I poison simply die, while the magically inclined become my children. I had long thought I had no use for Kharali, but this proved me wrong. It is also why I have let you live over and over. I needed someone with an equal will to live. I needed someone strong of heart and mind who would never give up and die.”

Estin’s skin went cold as he put the pieces together. “You’re going to put me in there?”

“Yes, that is one of my plans, though I actually meant your wife. Kharali’s body is dying despite the way the mists alter time around her. I have perhaps another century or two before she is ripped apart. Now that the magic is tuned to her, I needed another wildling. You came here and presented yourself. You will be the new sacrifice for our magic. It will be you in there for the next millennia. That is why I would not fully exterminate your kind. I needed a few wildlings, and I needed them strong. You walked yourself right to my doorstep, despite the pain I inflicted on you.”

Backing away, Estin reached for his swords, only to find his sheaths empty.

“You lost those earlier,” Dorralt reminded him. “You will also find that this close to the mists, your magic will be weakened. Even the dragons will not come down here. Putting up a fight is beyond your ability now, Estin. Down here, you are at my mercy. Even I am weakened by the mists, which is the reason I remain in my tomb, using others’ bodies to travel the world. Until I grow far stronger, this body cannot force its way from the cave without the mists tearing it apart. The Miharon has seen to it that I will not walk the surface again for hundreds of years. Longer, if the dragons keep tearing apart my children.”

Estin searched the room for anywhere he could go. Without the stairs, the only other way out was the well far above. Taking that as his next possible option, Estin leaped at the wall, caught the rough stones with his claws, and climbed as quickly as he could. He made it no more than ten feet before boney hands closed on his tail. They yanked him off the wall, slamming him to the floor hard enough that he nearly blacked out.

Rolling as fast as he could to avoid Dorralt’s hands, Estin scrambled away as he nearly brushed the mists. Getting to his feet, he rounded on Dorralt, summoning all of his strength in a rush of magic. He unleashed what he intended to be little more than a burst of healing energy, meant to injure undead. Instead, Estin’s hand erupted with light and heat that nearly blinded him. A roar like that of the dragons outside filled his mind, drowning out the voices of the spirits, as the magic lit the room.

Holding his ground, Dorralt stopped the entire blast with his skeletal hand, forcing the magic to split around him. Huge sections of stone crumbled to ash behind him, but he did not budge. The bones of Dorralt’s fingers dissolved in the magic. After several seconds, the spell fell apart, and Estin stumbled, exhausted. For all the power of the dragons, Dorralt was still too strong.

“Your friends are almost here,” Dorralt said, coming forward quickly to hoist Estin off the ground by his neck. “I want your wife to see you put into the mists. The first few seconds are exquisite, as your heart stops beating. She will…”

Shouts came from nearby. Chuckling, Dorralt hurriedly walked to the edge of the mist and held Estin up beside it, close enough that they burned and froze his back and tail. Despite the pain and his best efforts, Estin could not manage to budge Dorralt’s grip on him. All he could do was pull his tail close to his body in an effort to keep it away from the mists.

“Hello, Feanne,” Dorralt said, shifting enough that Estin could see her standing at the foot of the steps beside Raeln. “Stop right there and have the others do the same. I have been down here long enough that I find talking preferable to battle.”

Feanne froze where she was. Raeln moved off to one side of the steps and Yoska the other. Estin struggled even harder, knowing he was about to be used as a pawn against his own friends and family.

“Let me explain how this is going to work,” Dorralt continued, moving Estin a hair closer to the mist. His entire back sizzled and ached as the sparking cloud clawed at him, trying to rip both his magic and his life from him. “Estin here is going to help me, and you are not going to interfere.”

Feanne laughed and stepped forward, spreading her fingers as she readied herself to attack. “Give me a reason why I would let you hurt him.”

Wordlessly, Dorralt shoved Estin fully into the mist and pulled him back out. In that moment, Estin’s heart skipped several beats, and his whole body burned as though he had been dragged through a bonfire in the middle of a snowstorm. He shook uncontrollably, no longer able to force himself to keep clawing at Dorralt’s hand. He could only hang limply from the man’s hand and struggle to breathe.

“You cannot kill me,” Dorralt explained, pointing at Raeln as he spoke. “The wolf has likely told you how to kill our kind, and I can assure you that it will not work, at least not quickly. Given long enough, you might manage to use a wildling’s lifeblood against me and bring me down. I have more than enough time before you can reach me to shove your mate into the mists. Without my protection, he will be consumed by them. With my help, he can survive at the edge of the mists for years. He will be in agony, but he will live.

“I have watched you through many eyes, Feanne, and I know that your love of him will keep hope alive that you can find some way to save him later. You will let me do this, or his neck will break and he will be cast into the mists to be torn apart. You cannot save someone who is dead or dying elsewhere, just as you could not save your son. Consider that a lesson in crossing me. You will allow me to inflict the worst imaginable agony on the one you love because you believe you will succeed in the end. You will let me put Estin in the mists.”