Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
“Behold.” Malachi gestures grandly, waving a hand toward the valley in the northwest. “My army.”
I gasp. In the distance, firelight burns as far as the eye can see.
The Saur’goths roar with laughter when we return to camp, drinking ale and gnawing on roasted meat—of what kind, I’m afraid to ask. They seem less like demons and more like our kind, despite their hideousness, each day.
Beyond them sit the supplies and several cages. Traveling with the daaknar has proven challenging, its reach through the bars farther than they’d anticipated. They lost three Saur’goths to barbed talons before Malachi lashed out with a whip to warn the daaknar to behave. I’ve caught its hateful red eyes glowering at him often since. It will kill him the second we release it from its confines, but I am ready to—happily—send it back to Azo’dem when it tries.
The mortal prisoners in the other cages cower, just outside the reach of the demon. They’re past the point of fear and shock and are now waiting to die. “I do not think you will be able to control Romeria with them.”
“You are wrong. She is many things, but she is still human, and that weakness will be her downfall,” he says with confidence.
In that case, I should have insisted we bring Wendeline along.
A female shrieks, snapping my attention to the right, past a row of tents, to where four Saur’goths hover over a servant. All I can see of her is flesh and torn garments, but when I decipher the dropped breeches and thrusting motion, my rage ignites.
I send all four warriors flying with a blast of wind, scattering them like bowling pins.
The servant clambers to her feet and runs through the camp, her clothes hanging off her body.
With a grimace of disgust, I gather threads to burn the Saur’goths where they lie.
Malachi’s hand landing on my shoulder stalls me. “Do not punish them, my love. Sometimes they get overzealous, but that is what they are made for.”
I stare up at him as I struggle to interpret his words. “They are demon warriors. They were made to fight for you.”
“Who will also spawn a new age.” He smiles as the four brutes pick themselves up off the ground, the guilty one’s pants still hanging down to his knees to reveal his engorged length.
“They can breed with mortals?”
“And elven. And caster. Any creature that has a womb.”
“But casters cannot bear children.”
“They will bear these. The Saur’goths will create entire new races. It has already begun. This world is changing before our eyes.”
My stomach twists into knots. “What kind of realm will this be, then?”
“One that bows to me and me alone.” He rests his hand on my nape. “Let us get to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
But the way his fingers squeeze my neck tells me it is going to be a very long night.
63
Romeria
We regard the black stone and vine-covered pillars in front of us.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Zander studies me with concern in his eyes.
“Take advantage of every weapon we have, right? Why is there a sanctum to summon the fates here, in this nymph kingdom, anyway?” I’ve wondered that more than once.
“Because they knew the Queen for All would have need for it,” Lucretia says, appearing beside us in head-to-toe black warrior’s garb to match Jarek. “They have met all of Her Highness’s needs so far.”
“Except the one where they leave and close the rift,” Zander mutters.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, Agatha. How do I do this?”
The caster has been hanging back. Now, she moves forward. “It is quite simple. Step into the sanctum and channel your affinity to the pillar of whichever fate you choose. In this case, either Vin’nyla or Aminadav. Direct all that you can muster and, hopefully, they will answer. If they do not … try the other.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. As I said, it is simple. You do not even need a full sanctum. Long ago, elementals used to carry small stone carvings in their pockets, so they could call upon the fates from anywhere.”
“Neilina had a set of those with that journal we found.”
Agatha snorts. “Why am I not surprised?”
My stomach flutters with nerves. “How long will it take before one of them answers?”
She shrugs. “Casters have waited from minutes to days, and longer. Given our dire need, I hope not that long.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Let’s do this—”
“And don’t ask questions.” She holds up a wrinkly finger. “They do not like questions.”
I nod. “Okay. I will try to—”
“And don’t try to be clever. They like their subjects obedient and meek.”
I groan. “I’m going to piss them off.”
“You will not.” Zander cups my face. “You will do well. Just … choose your words carefully.”
“You mean, don’t tell a god that they owe me?” How arrogant Neilina must have been.