QURONG WALKED down the hall, stormed into the atrium at the front of his home, and shrugged out of his robe before he passed into the dining room. “Get me my general!” he boomed. “Now.”
The robe dropped to the floor, where one of the servants would retrieve and wash it of the stink that came from his nightmare. Thomas’s reputation as a wizard was well-known. Even as the commander of the Forest Guard, he’d possessed an uncanny ability to appear and vanish at will, along with his army on occasion.
But this! Deceiving Qurong with the illusion that he was in another reality was a talent surely no other man had.
“Where’s Cassak? Get him now. In my quarters!”
He didn’t care who heard him, only that he was heard. A shuffling of feet preceded the fleeting image of a servant fleeing the dining room.
“Hello, my love.” He turned to Patricia, who leaned against the hall entryway to his left, still dressed in her night robe. She crossed her arms and ran her eyes down his body. “You’re either feeling frisky this morning or you’ve lost your mind.”
He glanced down at his half-naked body and swore. “I should have killed that albino ten years ago when I had the chance.”
Patricia walked to the table and picked up a piece of yellow nanka. “He’s escaped?”
“Of course not.” But Qurong suspected that Thomas had indeed given him the slip. He’d taken Thomas to his private library, where the witch had somehow put him under with a spell. The next thing he knew, he was popping out of the vision in the Thrall with two equally evil albinos, whom he’d turned over to Ba’al.
“I’ve released him,” Qurong said.
“You’ve released Thomas,” she repeated scornfully. “You have no right to make these kinds of unilateral decisions!”
What on earth was she talking about? How dare she question his authority.
“She’s my daughter too,” Patricia snapped.
“Daughter? I’ve been tricked by a conniving witch and all you can think about is a daughter you haven’t seen for ten years?”
“I waited up for you all night, you thickheaded bull! Who am I, your servant?”
“Silence!”
“Don’t you silence me, Tanis.”
He felt his veins run cold. She knew how he loathed his ancient name.
“I spent the night alone in the darkness, alone because both my husband and my daughter have left me,” she said. “Fine, Qurong. Be the big, strong hero for all your people to see. But don’t toy with my heart.”
“Now what have I done?” he demanded. Only a woman could make so much out of so little. Give them a single fact and they’d fashion it into a story before taking a single breath. “I’ve just spent the night in a hellacious trance. My kingdom’s falling down around my ears, and you scold me?”
“Don’t try to distract me with more tales of how close we all are to the day of doom, Husband.” She took a deep breath and gripped both hands tightly, a very bad sign indeed. “I want you to find my daughter,” she said. “I want to speak to Chelise.”
She turned and strode toward the kitchen hallway. “The next person I speak to with Qurong’s blood will be my daughter.” At the door, she shot him a daggered stare. “And don’t bother coming to my bed.” Then she was gone.
Qurong stood rooted in complete befuddlement. Surely she had to know his heart, that he was as bothered by Chelise’s absence as she, that he’d lived in misery since her departure. He tried to inoculate himself with bitterness and denial, and that had helped for a while, but even his obsession with finding and eliminating the Circle was for her sake. He would slaughter this cult of fanatics who’d brainwashed her.
He talked about not having a daughter, but only to protect Patricia and himself. This was required of a strong leader forced to make hard choices in times of war.
“Cassak!” he roared.
“Here, sir.”
Qurong spun to see his general standing in the doorway. How much had he heard? It didn’t matter. Qurong had more pressing matters to tend to. So he told himself, but he’d learned long ago that nothing was as pressing as his wife’s peace of mind. He would rather go to war with Eram than face down Patricia.
He spat to one side and marched into the hall that led to his bedroom. “Follow me.”
He couldn’t think about bringing Chelise here now. He didn’t even know how to find her! And what would he say? Your father has finally come to his senses—please, let’s be a family again?
She was albino, for the love of Teeleh!
Meanwhile, Ba’al was conspiring to overthrow him. Qurong couldn’t be sure of everything about Thomas’s magic, but it had revealed a thing or two, and he wouldn’t ignore the warnings.
“My lord?” Cassak was hurrying to keep pace behind him.
Qurong entered his room and stripped out of his undergarments. He needed to cleanse himself of the albino stench before leaving the palace. This time he would welcome the pain of bathing.
“Sir.”
“Yes, Cassak. Close the door.” Qurong grabbed a fresh tunic from the end of the bed. He pulled it on and faced the general.
“Tell me how much I can trust you.”
Cassak hesitated. “I am your servant, my lord, not Ba’al’s. If you were to order me to kill him, I would.”
So then, Cassak was aware of the threat as well. Was it so obvious?
“I wouldn’t issue such an order, but I accept your loyalty. What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room.”
“Of course not, my lord.”
Qurong walked to the window overlooking the western city. More than two million Horde lived in Qurongi City; of those, over a quarter were males of fighting age, trained in combat as required of all adult men. But no sign of impending war was evident in the sprawling city with its mud huts and smoky chimneys.
His subjects had grown fat off the forests; rich, even. Little did they know the mounting threat from the desert.
“Prepare the army.” He swung around. “Send word that we will march north to the Torun Valley for training exercises.”
“Consider it done. It will be good to take our third division out; they’ve grown fat.”
“Take everyone,” Qurong said. “Including the temple guard.”
Cassak blinked. “I’m not sure I understand. A training mission that size has never been attempted.”
“All of them! North. Within the week.” He glanced at the door, then back. “I want them well fed, hydrated, armed, and ready for a full-scale assault at my command.”
Understanding filtered into Cassak’s eyes. “Then it’s not a training mission.”
“Recall our scouts from the northern desert and debrief them. Send out six teams of Throaters with orders to infiltrate the Eramite city and report back by week’s end.” He paced. “I want to know numbers, strengths, weaknesses. How many children, how many women. Weapons. Morale. Anything that has changed in the last few months.”
“A week isn’t enough time—”
“It’s all we have.”
“You’re saying you plan on invading within the week?”
“I’m saying I want to be ready to crush the infidels within a week. Sooner if I decide.”
Now Cassak was quiet. The order was unprecedented. Not since the invasion of the forests had the Horde fought a full-scale war, and even then they’d never committed all of their assets to one front.
Qurong kept his voice low. “The war drums are beating, Cassak. Samuel, son of Hunter, is uniting Eramite and albino forces with the intention of undercutting us.”
“I didn’t know the albinos had a force.”
“They don’t, but it’s not for lack of strength. Their will is weak, but that could change. I don’t intend to give them that chance.”
Cassak nodded and joined him by the window. “I agree. Eram is a thorn to be rooted out. But one week? What’s the rush?”
“Ba’al’s the rush. He’s on his way to some cursed Black Forest now, and if I’m not mistaken, he has ambitions of his own.”
“So we move before he can get his prickly fingers into our business.”
“And we take his own little army with us.”
His general regarded him with a crooked smile. “I was going to say that the dark priest is a snake, but now I should say that about you.”
“I never claimed to be a serpent. And I don’t think Teeleh would be too upset if Ba’al were his only loss in a war that destroyed the halfbreeds and the albinos together.”
“Agreed, sir.”
Qurong nodded. “I also want you to send out three of our best scouts into the west with flags of truce.” He sighed, not eager to pass on the order. “Tell them to find Chelise.”
Cassak stared as if he’d heard wrong. “Impossible. We can’t just find the Circle.”
“No, but they can pass word for Chelise to meet her mother in the Torun Valley in four days. She will come.”
“They could ambush the queen, my lord. This isn’t safe!”
“I thought you said they’re a peaceful bunch.” Qurong grabbed a bowl of morst for his skin and headed toward the door. “Just do it. And there’re two albinos in Ba’al’s dungeon, scheduled for execution tonight. See to it that they both stay dead.”
“Sir?”
Qurong turned back. “Dead, Cassak. I want them both dead.”
THE ONLY reason the search didn’t leave them naked was the guard’s ignorance that anything so small as a vial hidden under the band of Janae’s undergarments could do any damage. This and the Horde’s general disgust for albino flesh. Maybe if Qurong had overseen the search, Ba’al’s journal in Billy’s underwear and the precious vials would have been found.
Their situation was simple and dire. Billy and Janae’s advantage was worthless in the dungeon below the Thrall where they awaited execution at nightfall. The ten cells ran along a tunnel lit only by a single torch near the heavy wooden door to freedom. All were empty except for the one they occupied, but the stench of urine and sweat crowded the small space.
“Still there?” Janae demanded, bunched up in one corner.
Billy pressed his face between two bars and peered down the passage where two priests stood guard. He pulled back and paced the straw floor.
“Well?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Don’t these animals ever use the bathroom?”
They couldn’t tell what time of day it was, but nightfall had to be fast approaching.
Billy bent down and uncovered the items he’d hidden under straw in the corner. A vial of Raison Strain B. A vial of one of the most potent, nonbiogenetically engineered viruses, Asian Ebola, responsible for over a million deaths the decade before a vaccine was developed. A third vial contained Thomas’s blood. Janae had lined her bra with all three in Bangkok.
The last item was Ba’al’s journal. The blood book.
They considered calling the guards over and trying both viruses on them. But Billy and Janae didn’t know what the results would be and would surely tip their hand. Regardless, the guards had refused to come after repeated calls.
Still, within half an hour of exploring their cell, they landed on a simple means of escape. The lock.
A brief examination of the crude metal lock revealed it to be an archaic thing with a rudimentary mechanism. She was convinced that she could pick it using nothing more than the underwire from her bra, which she’d already removed.
They would still have to contend with the two guards at the end of the hall. And once out of the dungeon, they had to escape the Thrall and then the city.
Billy had pored over Ba’al’s writings in the dim light, filling in the numerous blanks between the memories he’d taken from Ba’al earlier. The collection of writings carefully outlined hundreds of details from numerous sources about this world, but the sections that Billy read and reread as the hours passed related to the Thrall and Marsuuv’s Black Forest.
Ba’al had sketched the Thrall’s basic blueprint, which showed a back door just beyond the dungeon’s entry. If they could get past the guards and climb the steps to the atrium unnoticed, he was sure they could escape the Thrall.
And once out of the Thrall, their course was clear.
“That’s it,” Janae snapped, rising. “We have to go now, before they come for us.”
“Slow down, we only get one shot at this! Keep your voice down.”
Her face wrinkled as if she was going to cry. “We have to go, Billy,” she begged. “We’re going to run out of time! Do you hear me? This is going to get us killed!”
She looked to be on the edge of her own sanity. He had no shortage of urgency himself, but Janae looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown.
She scratched at a rash that had sprung up on her right arm. Only then did it occur to him that his lower back had begun to itch as well. Rash. Surely, it had to do with lice or something in this cursed place.
He imagined larvae crawling through their skin. Worms. He’d had his fill of them already.
Billy shivered and snatched up the artifacts. “Okay. Try to spring the lock, but keep it quiet.” She was already at the gate, her frantic hands fiddling. “But wait until I say; just try to get the lock open.”
She spun back, and held up the sprung lock. “Simple.”
So fast? She’d obviously messed with locks in her time. He hurried forward and handed her the vials. “Hide these.”
Janae grabbed the small glass containers and stuffed them back into the sides of her bra. Her skin was milky white, and he saw now that the rash wasn’t only on her arm but on her belly and neck.
An unreasonable fear slammed into his mind. Déjà vu. He’d been in this situation before, far below a monastery. The worms there had been much larger, but he was now certain that they’d come from Shataiki. He and Janae should wait—they should proceed with extreme caution, but he wanted nothing more than to be out of this cage, guards or no guards.
Billy brushed past her, pulled open the gate, and slipped into the dark hall. His recklessness was an impulsive, irrational reaction to the fear, and he knew it even as he faced the guards down the tunnel, but by then it was too late.
They stared back at him as if he were a ghost.
“I appeal to the power of Marsuuv, queen of the twelfth forest,” Billy said, marching forward. Never mind that he was a bare-chested albino; he had knowledge that no ordinary man, Horde or albino, should have, and he intended to use it now. Janae was breathing hard behind him.
Billy lifted the blood journal. “My maker, Marsuuv, with the blackest heart compels you—bring Ba’al and I will speak for my lord.”
Ba’al was gone, Billy knew that. The guards yanked out their daggers and crouched, but they didn’t sound an alarm. “Back,” one cried in a hoarse voice.
Billy stopped no more than six feet from the guards and spread both arms wide. A surge of power swept over him with surprising force. More then adrenaline. There was a power in the air.
He tilted his chin up and spoke with as much authority as he could muster. When his voice came, it sounded like that of an old man, but it carried a power that shook his bones.
“I am born of Black; I am eaten with worms. My place is with my lover and my master, who waits for me in the twelfth forest with Teeleh. Any man who touches my servant will die.”
He could barely breathe, so powerful were his words. A wave of power rolled down his spine, and he knew, as he’d never known before, that he was close, so close to being home. The fact that home resembled hell more than any utopia hardly mattered.
He belonged. This was his destiny.
A cry and a whoosh of air startled him out of his reverie. Janae had taken the dagger from one guard and slashed his neck. She was now thrusting that same blade at the second guard, moving with unnatural speed. She, too, seemed empowered beyond herself.
She thrust the long dagger straight through his belly, pinning him to a beam. Janae held his body there for a moment, then released it and stepped back, panting.
“Okay, then,” Billy breathed. And for a long moment neither said anything else.
Janae absently wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing it with blood. She licked her lips and swallowed, eyes still on her handiwork, perhaps unaware of what she’d just tasted.
She finally faced him, eyes wide. “The twelfth forest?”
Billy swallowed. “Marsuuv’s forest. My forest. It’s where the dark priest has taken the lost books.”
Janae spun and started up the steps. “Then we have to go.”
“Wait.”
She didn’t wait. “We have to go now!”
“Wait!” he spat. “You need to cover up. We’ll dress in these priests’ clothes first.”
She turned and stared down at the bodies. After a moment she began to strip the clothes off the first guard she’d killed. The bloodier of the two.
They both dressed quickly and slid the daggers into their belts. With any luck they would pass through the city under cover of darkness and be free.
“How far?” she asked.
The Black Forest. “Three days. Maybe two if we don’t stop.”
“Then we can’t stop.”
He thought about objecting, thinking he should be rational. Better to be cautious and live than die rushing over a cliff. But he couldn’t deny his own desire.
“Agreed,” he said.
Janae suddenly turned to him, wrapped her arms around his body, pulled him tight, and kissed him on the lips. “Billy . . .” She kissed him hungrily, smearing the guard’s blood on his mouth, breathing through her nose. “Thank you, Billy.”
Her teeth bit into his lip, drawing blood. Strangely, he found it natural. This was how Shataiki mated, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure of the mechanics, but he knew it had to do with the passing of blood. And this . . .
This small expression of affection was merely foreplay, he thought.
Then Janae pulled away and hurried up the steps, hiking her robe so as not to trip on the long garment, like a maiden rushing up the tower stairs to meet her prince.