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)
As is everything he does.
Saur’goth soldiers part, making a path for him as he strolls into the flock, undaunted. “I learned much from my last experience here. Namely, that one cannot rely solely on those who kneel before them, for it is not me they bend a knee but for themselves. No … I need an army that is devoted to me and me alone.”
I trail behind him. “How many are there?” A sea of helmets reaches deep into the cavern, as far as my vision stretches. Far beyond, surely. I have never seen so many beasts.
“Enough to overwhelm this mountain range and crush any army that challenges me. No enemy will have the strength to defeat me.” He stops before a soldier larger than all others, with streaks of black and red paint across his chest and a necklace of fangs dangling from his neck. Clearly, a leader of sorts. “Mal’Gar, my loyal servant. It is time.”
I shudder at Malachi’s words. He said something similar to me once.
“Sire.” The Saur’goth leader’s voice is sinister and deep, the two-syllable word delivered in layers that vibrate within my chest.
“Send the first wave now. It will take them time to get into position.”
“As you wish, Sire.” He shouts, drawing the attention of two other warrior-beasts wearing necklaces of fangs. His officers, I presume. They share a series of grunts and snarls in their language as he gives them their orders.
“What is the aim of this army?” I ask Malachi.
“What is the aim of any army?” he answers vaguely as Mal’Gar returns. “Have you brought what I requested?”
Mal’Gar waves a gauntlet and the horde parts.
Malachi smiles. “You have done well.”
My stomach twists with disdain as the warriors present him with his prize, and the pathetic, terrorized souls drop to their knees, begging for mercy.
I helped with this.
I didn’t even ask questions.
Will Elijah ever forgive me for the depths I’ve sunk in his name?
Malachi watches me closely.
“A truly formidable army against your enemies, my love.” I force a guise of adoration in my features.
“And now let us bring it home.” He gestures toward the stone.
21
Romeria
“What are the odds of this working?” Zander asks as our ship cuts through the water, Mordain’s port growing in our line of sight.
“Better than the odds of anything else working?” It sounds like a question rather than a statement. “If the Prime has no reason to see us as a threat, then she won’t be ready with an attack.”
He searches my wrinkled face—Agatha’s face, thanks to my silver mask. His eyes are the only part of him I can identify behind the daunting Shadow disguise. “You are right. This is a good plan. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
When I first suggested this scheme, Zander couldn’t imagine me fooling anyone into believing I was an elderly scribe, but as soon as I transformed, he demanded Solange secure Shadow armor for himself, Jarek, and Abarrane.
“It’s only half a plan.” We’ve figured out how to get into Mordain. The getting a hundred scribes out part is still a little murky.
“Lucretia said the door would work, did she not?”
“She said, ‘The Queen of All may always return to her realm,’” I admit reluctantly, because I don’t want to give Zander any more reason to worry.
“There is always room for deception in the serpent’s words,” Jarek says from behind his matching costume.
“Our immediate problem is not getting the scribes out but dealing with the Prime,” Solange says. “She believes me still at the rift, preparing to march home with the casters. This plan only works until she discovers I am here.”
We were careful not to reveal our scheme to anyone in Ybaris, ordering the Shadows who sacrificed their armor to remain in Islor. All messenger casters have been sequestered. Her second-in-command, a Shadow named Mannix, is the only other who knows of what is happening in Mordain, and Solange assured us he would fall on a spike before he betrayed her.
We traveled by dragon and landed well outside Argon to avoid raising alarms that could reach Mordain. After procuring horses, we rode the rest of the way, sending Caindra, Valk, and Xiaric back to patrol the rift—far from us.
“Then we must not let her find out until it is too late,” Jarek says matter-of-factly.
“You cannot do anything. If you three try to pass through the gates, you will find yourself striking an invisible wall, and I doubt it will be painless. Romeria and I will be on our own against them.”
Zander’s jaw must be clenching beneath that mask. He hasn’t dared “forbid” me again, but the anxiety swirling around him is potent enough to choke a corpse.
“What does this Ring of Minerva look like?” I ask, steering the conversation away from any chance he has of letting Solange know exactly how much he doesn’t trust her.