The Chaos Crystal (64 page)

That was Cayal's voice. Arkady found it amazing that he had let things progress to this point without getting any specific details from Lukys about how he was supposed to die. Maybe carelessness was a special flaw of immortality.

Who needed to be careful, when there was no
consequence to be suffered at the end
of
the day?

That part of Arkady that couldn't abide not having some idea of what was happening to her — some semblance of control over her own destiny — was screaming silently in frustration. She was more helpless now than she had ever been in her life. Not as a slave, not as a duke's wife, not even as a frightened, timid little girl, tiptoeing through the streets of the Lebec slums, jumping at her own shadow — until she befriended Declan Hawkes, a boy who was as fearless as she was terrified — had she felt so alone and powerless. Declan had taught her how to be strong, and how to survive in the streets, but nothing had prepared her for this.

As Lukys explained the procedure to Cayal and the others — something about pulling the Tide in and focusing it on the crystal — Arkady had time to wonder what had happened to Declan.

Had the lure of immortality proved too much for him? Was he embracing it?

She suspected he'd returned to the Cabal. Tilly would want to know everything Declan had learned about the immortals. She'd want to know everything he could tell her.

Of course, in Arkady's opinion, he'd be better served doing something useful here. Like learning how to actually
kill
an immortal, perhaps. Or undoing the spell that held her paralysed and trapped on a block of ice like a human sacrifice awaiting execution, instead of having high tea and cucumber sandwiches with Tilly back in her townhouse in Lebec, while they discussed all the terrible things the immortals had done to Amyrantha.

It wasn't fair, Arkady knew, to think that of either Declan or Tilly. Fear was making her vindictive.

Tides, it's not Dedans fault. He never meant to
become immortal.

'When will we know it's time to enter the rift?' Arkady heard Arryl asking. She hadn't been paying attention to Lukys's lecture. All those details about focus, and channelling, and the rift and the altar meant nothing to her.

'You won't need to worry about it,' Lukys assured her. 'Once you're close enough, the rift will pull you in.'

'What if you don't want to go?' she heard Tiji ask unhappily.

'Then you need to hang on to something solid, little lizard, or you'll be coming with us to the new world, whether you want to or not.'

Tiji had nothing more to say about it after that. Lukys issued a few more instructions and the group dispersed to their positions around the chamber. Arkady didn't know why she was certain they'd moved, only that they had. She was surprised they were so composed. Somehow she imagined this

occasion would be much more fraught, the participants much more edgy and tense. But they seemed quite calm.

Is that because they've done this before? Or are
they really so old, so inured to normal human emotion, that even the prospect
of
opening a rift to another world isn't enough to ruffle them?

Arkady wished she could open her eyes. She wished she could see what was happening. For a time, there was silence, and then she heard Lukys ask: 'Are you ready?'

'Any time you are,' Cayal replied. And then, without warning, Arkady's world exploded into pain.

Arkady had no idea what was happening to her. She'd thought they hadn't begun yet. She believed she'd never be able to sense the Tide. But she could feel it now.

The Chaos Crystal, which she assumed was somewhere nearby, was pulsing with a light Arkady could see, even through her paralysed eyes. It burned her retinas; her inability to open her eyes the only thing that saved her from instant blindness. She wanted to scream in agony, although she couldn't pinpoint exactly where the pain began and where it ended, any more than she could identify the cause.

It seemed as if every square inch of her body had decided to catch fire independently of every other square inch, and simultaneously send messages to her brain screaming at her that she was in flames.

She tried to cry out, but couldn't move her mouth. She wanted to writhe with agony, but couldn't move her body. She wanted to weep with terror, but couldn't shed a tear.

Someone else screamed, close by, yelling for Lukys. A woman's voice. One she didn't recognise. Then, through her own pain, Arkady heard Cayal shriek, a

sound of such torment and pathos that it tore at her soul.

Just as abruptly, he fell silent.

Even through the agony, Arkady wondered if that meant Cayal had achieved his aim and if finally, this time, his cries were silenced forever
...

She had no time to lament his passing, however.

No sooner had the sound of Cayal's torment faded than she heard Lukys shout something and a moment later, Arkady felt a strange pressure against her mind, as if an intruder was pushing on the door to her thoughts and she had to lean on it to stop them gaining a foothold.

Suddenly the pain, the prospect of impending death
...
all of those things became secondary to survival.

But not physical survival. Arkady found herself fighting for possession of herself.

Lukys had lied, Arkady realised, as she fought back with every ounce of strength she owned against the pressure in her mind. He'd lied to Cayal about not attempting to transfer Elyssa's mind.

Arkady didn't have the time to care if he'd lied about this being Cayal's only chance to die. She had other, more urgent concerns. Because whether or not Cayal lived or died, Arkady was engaged in a life-and- death battle for dominion over her very soul.

CHAPTER 59

Declan ran into the palace with Warlock on his heels and, much to Warlock's amazement, nobody tried to stop them. There were supposed to be Crasii in the palace — clearly they weren't guarding it — but he saw no sign of anybody, immortal, human, or Crasii, as he pounded after Hawkes.

There was no time to admire the immensity of the place, or marvel at its construction. Instead, he followed Hawkes along a confusing series of ice-carved corridors and down a treacherously slippery staircase to the lower levels. They kept on running, past a whole labyrinth of storerooms and then, when Warlock was convinced Hawkes had no idea where he was, they plunged down another set of stairs, lit with a sickly green light, where they ran into an anteroom blocked by a wall of crumbled ice.

Hawkes swore savagely for a moment, punching the wall with his fist.

'Can't you use the Tide to break it?' Warlock asked, examining the barrier closely. Unlike the finesse that had gone into creating the rest of the palace, this crude but effective wall seemed to have been created by bringing down a part of the ceiling. It wasn't done magically, Warlock surmised. The ice was jagged and rough and piled in a heap against the opening.

'I think the Tide will just make things worse,' Declan said, frowning. 'If all those immortals channelling the Tide above us can't crack it, this much closer to the crystal
...
I don't like our chances.'

Tides, all that magical power they're so
enamoured with, and they can't do a damned thing useful with it
...
Then we're going to have to break it down the hard way.'

'What do you mean?'

'This barrier wasn't magicked into existence using the Tide, Hawkes. They sealed the chamber the hard way, with pickaxes.'

'How could you possibly know that?'

Warlock pointed to the tools lying on the floor near the foot of the stairs. There was a pickaxe and a crowbar, both partially buried under the ice, as if they'd been abandoned in a hurry. 'Just a hunch.'

Hawkes swore again and scooped up the pick handle, jerked it free and tossed it to Warlock, before turning his attention to the crowbar. 'We don't have much time.'

Warlock couldn't argue with that. Even he could feel the vibration down here, and not only because they were channelling the Tide. The ground was actually shaking.

Whatever they were doing inside that chamber, Hawkes was right about one thing — it wasn't looking good for anyone on the outside.

He slammed the pickaxe into the ice, pulling away chunks of it, as Hawkes worked the crowbar free and began to do the same. The wall resisted their attempts to dismantle it, however. Every inch of progress they made was hard fought, every inroad they made into the ice, seemingly not enough to do any good.

Warlock soon lost track of time. He had no idea how long they hacked away at the ice. His shoulders burned and his hands had begun to blister before the light changed a little on the other side and they were rewarded with some hint their efforts were not in vain.

The ice, where it was thinnest, had taken on a decidedly rosy hue.

Panting with exhaustion, Warlock lowered his pick- axe and bent over for a moment, trying to regain his

breath. The ground was no longer trembling; it was fairly shuddering.

'We're nearly through!' Hawkes exclaimed, raising the crowbar for the final blow that would break through the wall.

'Wait!'

Mid-blow, the spymaster hesitated and turned to look at him. 'What's the matter?'

'What's going to happen when you break through?' 'I don't know.' 'Good plan.'

Hawkes lowered the crowbar and stared at him. 'Got a better idea?'

Warlock nodded, drawing in deep breaths of the icy air. 'You can probably withstand whatever we release when we break the wall, but I won't.'

Hawkes thought about that for a moment and then nodded in agreement. 'You're right. Get out of here. I'll break it down and go in.'

'To do what?'

'Whatever it takes to end this,' Hawkes said, a little impatiently. 'Tides, Warlock, you're having doubts about this
now?'

We have the will to do whatever it takes,
Boots had said to him back in Hidden Valley,
to see as many
immortals as possible perish in that rift when they open it.

What if it really does destroy Amyrantha in the
process?

He remembered her eyes shining in the darkness.
Think
of
a future where your own children are
destined to betray you to the suzerain, Warlock, and then tell me you wouldn't rather see an end to this world than wait for that to happen.

Warlock blinked way the memory and looked Hawkes in the eye. 'I have no doubts, spymaster. I know exactly why I'm here. I'm coming with you.'

'Then let's finish this thing,' Hawkes said, raising the crowbar. 'Get down.'

Warlock did as Hawkes suggested, crouching down behind the rubble they'd hacked from the wall. Declan slammed the crowbar into the ice twice more, and the wall split open.

A wave of intense heat exploded out of the small opening, filling the outer chamber with a fierce red light, melting away much of the debris they'd dislodged. Hawkes was thrown back onto the stairs behind them with the force of the heatwave, landing with a crack that sounded horribly like the noise of his backbone breaking.

The ground was shaking even harder. Hawkes screamed out in agony. If his back was broken, it was also healing again, and it was exceedingly painful.

Ignoring Hawkes — he was immortal, after all, and would recover — Warlock staggered to his feet and managed to climb up the slick ice to the opening and look into the chamber. A moment later Hawkes joined him. Unharmed.

Together they gazed through the opening into the swirling, hellish nightmare that was the ice cavern. It seemed as if the very air in the cavern was a spinning red hurricane, like blood swirling down a drain.

It was hard to make out anything precisely. There seemed to be figures evenly spaced around the chamber. Near the altar in the centre there were several more people Warlock couldn't immediately identify. One of them — a naked male — lay at the foot of the altar and appeared to be either unconscious or dead. There was a woman curled on the floor beside him, and behind the altar, standing with his arms held wide, a white-haired man Warlock guessed must the legendary Lukys.

Then he spied another creature cowering in the shadow of the altar. Warlock would have sworn it was a chameleon Scard if he didn't know better.

For a moment, both Tide Lord and canine were too overwhelmed by the sight before them to react to it, but then something moved on the blocky altar in the

centre of the room. There was a woman lying on it, her back arched so fiercely they could see her face from here, screaming in such torment it made Warlock's soul bleed to hear her cries.

Beside him, Hawkes went rigid.

'Tides,' he said, 'that's Arkady.'

CHAPTER 60

Hawkes was clambering down the ice and running across the chamber before Warlock could stop him. He cursed under his breath and scrambled after him, certain no good could come of charging into such a maelstrom without any forethought, and trying to interrupt the proceedings.