ALAIN AND MORAYNE STOOD in the Trinacrya at the center of Triah, waiting for Cinzia’s signal.
“You really think this will work?” Morayne asked.
Alain tried to stop his eyes from darting around nervously, from looking over his shoulder every few moments, but it was almost impossible. Bright red flames—imaginary, thankfully, at least for now—crept at the edge of his mind. Living a life of serenity was simple for other people, but complicated for him. A year ago, he would have been out of his mind with nervousness; today he felt relatively calm. Compared to a normal person, he supposed he would seem quite anxious, but for him it was a decent day.
That said, espionage had never been his specialty.
“Look at me,” Morayne said.
It was midday, and a chilly breeze drifted across the open Trinacrya area, despite the clear skies and the sun beating down on them. Alain tightened his long, dark overcoat, grateful for the chilly weather. He rarely took his coat off anyway, so he might as well be in the cold.
The breeze brought with it the smell of the ocean. Not the smell of fish, thank the goddess—one of the worst parts of this city was the rancid smell near the docks. Fish were an occasional meal in Mavenil, given its proximity to a river, but there were not entire districts of the city devoted to the gutting and cleaning of fish of every type. Here, it was miserable.
Neither the chilly air nor the sea breeze, absent of fish smell, managed to calm Alain’s nerves, however.
Alain looked down at Morayne as he popped each of his knuckles, one by one.
“We’re all right,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “We can do this. Together. Remember?”
Alain nodded, but he didn’t feel any better. “You just asked whether this was going to work,” he said.
“And I still have my doubts,” she said flatly. “We don’t know these people, and we don’t know whether anything will come of this that will have any effect on the Nine,” she said. “But we’re us, Alain. You know what we’ve been through. You know what we can do.”
Alain’s breathing slowed, and the flames in his mind receded. She was right. No matter how much work he did on himself, no matter how much he helped others, he was still surprised at how easy it could be to fall back into his old self.
“You’re right,” he said. “We can do this.” He held her face and kissed her.
“I like it when you do that.”
Alain’s heart quickened. “You seem in good spirits, at least,” he said.
“I am,” Morayne said, her voice calm. Alain was glad to see her this way. He loved all of her, whether she was happy and competent or depressed and all over the place, but it was good to see her erring on the side of the former, now of all times.
“But,” Morayne said, “just because I’m feeling good at the moment doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten our disagreement.”
Alain swore.
Alain was tempted to swear again, but let it go.
“I thought we’d taken care of that,” Alain said.
Morayne scoffed. “If you think that was taking care of a conversation, you’ve got a lot to learn. We aren’t even close to resolving that particular issue.”
“Then how can you be in such a good mood?” She looked off into the distance, past the Fane and the House of Aldermen, and toward the ocean.
“You know me,” she said.
True enough. Sometimes she struggled when there was nothing to struggle over, and other times she felt great, giddy even, despite the Sfaera crashing down around them.
“Also,” she said, “just because we’re having a disagreement doesn’t mean we disagree.”
Alain blinked. That was exactly what having a disagreement meant, wasn’t it?
He was about to say as much when he noticed a little girl with a long red scarf running across the Trinacrya toward Canta’s Fane.
That would be Astrid, rushing to meeting Cinzia and the others, and that would also be Morayne’s signal.
“You see that?” Alain asked.
“I did,” Morayne said. She looked so calm. Alain wished he could experience what it felt like to be so still, just once. His own foot tapped incessantly, while his fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly.
“Then here we go,” Alain said.
“Here we go.”
Then the earth beneath their feet began to move.
The motion was slow and subtle at first, as if something deep underground was vibrating, momentarily and ever so slightly. It was more of a buzz, and felt more in the air than from the ground, really.
Three or four dozen people were walking through or sitting in the central area of the Trinacrya, while the edges were lined with many more, some selling wares, others just lounging, walking, or chatting with one another. Alain noticed a few heads perk up and look around, clearly wondering what the vibration was, but most simply continued to go about their business.
Alain wanted to ask if she was keeping calm, but he knew the question would probably compound the answer. Instead, he reached for her hand.
“Doing fine,” she said, answering his unasked question anyway. She stared blankly out at nothing, her face tightening in concentration. “Just about to… pick it up a notch…”
Just as she said the words, the vibration gradually, almost imperceptibly grew in power until the ground beneath their feet was, quite unmistakably, trembling.
Everyone in the Trinacrya stopped what they were doing, looking about.
“Earthquake!” someone shouted. A few people began rushing, some away from the center of the Trinacrya, some toward it. Most remained in place; earthquakes were not altogether uncommon in Triah, and most, historically, were nothing to worry about.
“You still in control?” Alain asked.
“I’m never in control,” Morayne said through gritted teeth.
Alain smiled at that, but he felt her hand tighten on his.
“You see an option?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said, her eyes finally focusing. She nodded her head at a space in the Trinacrya, roughly fifteen rods away, where no people sat, ran, or walked.
“Then let’s get this over with,” Alain said, more for her benefit than anyone else’s. He could not imagine the concentration and control Morayne had to muster to do what she was doing now. If Alain were to try to control fire on this scale, well… he’d burn himself and everything around him into ash in seconds, he was sure.
Morayne clenched her jaw, and then several things happened at once. The trembling earth beneath their feet intensified, for the briefest moment. Cries of shock, fear, and confusion sounded throughout the courtyard as people either began running or started, planting their feet firmly in place, looking around frantically. Above the cries, a loud crack sounded throughout the Trinacrya. And, in the space where Morayne now stared, her brow slick with perspiration, a long, jagged fissure appeared in the stone.
The opening widened until it was about an arm’s length, and then the shaking stopped.
Morayne stumbled, and Alain steadied her. Exhausted, she let her weight fall into his arms. It wasn’t long before she regained her strength and could once again stand on her own feet.
The shrieks and cries from the people in the Trinacrya had faded, but most still looked around in fear. While tremors were always a startling thing, a moment of peace was not necessarily the end. Sometimes aftershocks swept through after a quake, and on occasion the tremors were only a warning of much larger quakes to come.
As Alain glanced toward the Fane, he was pleased to see Sons of Canta already pouring out of the building. Their objective in creating a distraction, of course, had chiefly been to vacate as many security forces from the Fane as possible.
“Did it work?” Morayne asked.
More Sons continued to pour out of the Fane, with priestesses and matrons following, trying to calm the crowd.
“I think so,” Alain said.
Now, it was up to the others.
* * *
Cinzia, Knot, Astrid, and the Beldam stood in a small alleyway alongside one edge of Canta’s Fane, staring into the Trinacrya courtyard.
“Holy shit,” Astrid whispered.
The shaking of the earth had finally stopped, but Cinzia still gripped Knot’s hand tightly, her other palm pressing firmly into the wall of Canta’s Fane beside her.
The group stared into the courtyard. Even Knot seemed surprised at the display. While they had formulated their plan, Alain and Morayne had tried to explain the nature of the powers—powers that apparently stemmed from the Daemon Nadir that had infested Mavenil. Cinzia had not quite understood the details of it all, something about madness being the cause of it, and Alain and Morayne helping other people to control their powers, and how Alain could manipulate fire and Morayne earth. Cinzia did have other things on her mind, so it had been difficult to absorb all of the details, but now she wished she had listened more closely.
When Morayne had said she could cause a distraction with her power, Cinzia had certainly not expected whatever in Oblivion it was she had just seen.
Code was not surprised at all. He was smiling.
“Well, I’m glad they’re our friends,” Knot said. “Hate to see what they do to their enemies.”
The Beldam, however, frowned. “Their power comes from one of the Nine. They cannot be trusted.”
“They seem trustworthy enough so far,” Cinzia said. “They have done what we asked of them. Now it is our turn for action. Come.”
Cinzia turned and led the others down the alleyway toward the entrance Nayome had indicated.
“You are sure this woman will help us enter the Fane?” the Beldam whispered, her breath warming Cinzia’s ear.
“She will help us,” Cinzia said, “I am sure of it.” She was not sure of it. Far from sure. But they had no other option.
“If she doesn’t, we can always bust our way in,” Astrid said. “I’m itching for a good fight.”
Well, there was that option, too, Cinzia supposed. Not that it was a realistic one, but there it was nonetheless.
“It has been hardly a week since your other adventure.”
“Don’t physicians recommend at least one good fight a week?” Astrid asked. “I’m due another.”
“I think that’s scripture, actually,” Code said. “‘Thou shalt brawl with one another at least once each holy set of days, and no less. More is fine, though.’ Something along those lines, eh?”
Cinzia whirled on them both. “Our goal is not to harm anyone tonight. Anyone. Do you both understand?”
Astrid rolled her eyes. “I get it, Cinzi, all right? No killing.” She raised both hands. “Fine by me.”
Cinzia glared at Code, who cocked his head toward Astrid. “What she said.”
“Unless it’s necessary,” Knot grunted. They were some of the first words Cinzia could remember him saying since they had started this particular mission.
Cinzia rapped four times on the small door in the alleyway. This one was very different from the Fane’s main entrance. Even the side doors that faced into the Trinacrya on either side of the main doors were large; this one was just large enough for a single person to walk though. Cinzia had been aware of these side doors as a priestess, but they were rarely used.
Before Cinzia finished knocking, she heard the latch on the other side lift. Inside, Nayome waited for them, a small oil lamp held in one hand. In contrast to the bright daylight, the passageway looked perilously dark.
“And here I was worried—and hoping, let’s be honest— you would not come,” Nayome said, without a hint of a smile.
Cinzia took a deep breath. The levity she had felt out in the courtyard was completely gone now, replaced only by a fluttering anxiety in her chest. “We are here, Nayome. Now, please, lead the way.”
Nayome nodded curtly, motioning them all inside.
Cinzia turned to Code. “Wait here, please,” she said.
“Right, like I came all this way to…” Code’s perpetual smile morphed into a frown. “You’re serious.”
“I am,” Cinzia said. “We can’t have too many people roaming about in there. We will attract enough attention as it is.”
Code scoffed, but Cinzia held up her hand. “It is not that I do not trust you,” she said. Although, being honest, that was part of it. “It is not that I do not appreciate your skill and talent.” More true, that, but she appreciated those same skills and talents far more in others. “Your place is here, Code. With any luck, we will be coming back through this door soon, without any commotion whatsoever. Stay here, wait for us, and make sure our exit is safe.”
And the last thing we need is someone encouraging Astrid’s sense of humor.
Code sniffed. “Bloody guard duty, then,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m a Nazaniin, you know that?”
This time it was Cinzia’s turn to smile. “I know that, Code. And I have no doubt you are a big, strong, very talented Nazaniin at that. But your place is here.”
Cinzia turned and followed the others into the dark corridor, leaving Code standing alone, outside in the sun.
Inside the small passageway, with the door closed, Nayome’s lamp proved the only light. Cinzia’s eyes took a few moments to adjust to the darkness after the daylight, and for a few moments all she could see was the dim light from the lamp Nayome carried as she led them.
Cinzia and the others remained silent. She had alerted them beforehand that only she was to communicate with Nayome, unless otherwise directed. She imagined Astrid had a difficult time keeping quiet, but everyone had obeyed the rule thus far.
Nayome and her lamplight turned at the end of the corridor, toward the offices of the Ministry. When they reached the office hall, she looked at the Beldam.
“I hope you know what you are talking about,” she said. “And at the same time, I hope to the Goddess you do not.”
Fortunately, Alain and Morayne’s distraction seemed to have worked. They encountered almost no one—Goddessguard, Son, or clergy—and the few people they did see either seemed focused on the earthquake that had just happened outside, or their own business.
“Don’t like how empty it is,” Knot said quietly.
Cinzia looked at him. “Was that not the point of the little distraction we orchestrated?”
Knot grunted, but she knew he was right to be wary.
They continued up the stairs until they reached the sixth floor. The stairwells on either edge of the office halls stopped at this level, and the only option was to walk through the corridor that led to the offices of the High Camarilla. Cinzia had only been up here a handful of times when she was a priestess. Here, the decor was significantly more expensive than any of the previous levels. Gilded columns lined the hallway on either side between the doorways, and the marble floor was etched in gold and silver. Carved busts of important people in the Denomination’s history lined one of the walls, and Cinzia recognized Joana Jars, the youngest woman to ever hold the office of Essera. Her face was thin, even for a woman so young—she was only nineteen when she ascended—and the sculptor had made her eyes strangely narrow, as if she were looking at someone with faint disapproval or suspicion.
She would be looking at you that way, if she had even a remote idea what you were about, Cinzia told herself. A part of her still could not believe what she was doing. Breaking in to Canta’s Fane, the most sacred place in all of Canticism, the religion she had devoted her life to upholding and teaching. She imagined Nayome felt the same way, but even worse. At least Cinzia had the mask of heretic to hide behind, now.
Beside Joana was a bust of Lucia Wayright, the Essera in power when the last king of Khale gave up his crown. While she was by no means ancient, even in comparison with Joana, she was much fuller-faced, her cheeks round, her head resting on an ample neck and shoulders.
More busts lined the wall, but Nayome stopped them before a set of large double doors equidistant from either end of the otherwise empty corridor. A large gold and silver Trinacrya, the size of Cinzia’s arms if she encircled them, was set into the wood where the doors met. A silver, ornate doorknob stood out on one door, while the other held a pyramidal, golden lock mechanism.
“That leads up to the Triunity’s offices,” Cinzia said quietly. She had never been up that far. No priestess ever had. Typically, only the members of the Triunity—First Priestess, the Holy Examiner, and the Oracle—roamed above this level. On occasion, a high priestess or a Holy Crucible was allowed up under very special circumstances.
“Goddess, Cinzia, just go. We’re all right behind you.”
Cinzia glared at Astrid, but felt encouraged by the girl’s words nonetheless.
She felt a strong grip on her arm, just above her wrist. She and Nayome locked eyes.
“Are you sure?” Nayome asked.
No, Cinzia wanted to say. I am no longer sure of anything.
“Yes,” she said, with as much force and conviction as she could muster.
It seemed to be enough for Nayome. The Holy Crucible turned, pulling a keyring from her robe. She fumbled with it for a moment, and then selected a black iron key.
Cinzia had expected a more ornate key for such a fancy lock. But Nayome turned the key, and the mechanism clicked, and then Nayome swung one of the doors open wide. Along with it came the silver part of the Trinacrya embedded in the door, part of the circle jutting out, while part of the golden triangle remained in place, jutting out from the door that remained. A triangular open space remained on the swinging door.
“Doesn’t seem the most secure of doors,” Astrid mumbled.
“It usually doesn’t have to be,” Nayome said.
In front of them was another flight of stairs, leading upward. Nayome took one more glance back at Cinzia, then started up them. They all followed close behind.
“It has been a long time since I have been here,” the Beldam said as they ascended the stairs.
“You’re lucky to be returning at all,” Nayome said.
At the top of the steps was another door, but this one was plain, iron-banded wood, with a single doorknob at its center— and no locking mechanism that Cinzia could see.
Nayome pushed the door inward and walked into the Triunity’s chambers. Cinzia took a deep breath and followed, just as she heard a sharp gasp from Nayome.
Cinzia’s heart froze. They had chosen the time of day that, according to Nayome, all three members of the Triunity should be caught up in meetings and other business, and were least likely to be in their chambers. But there was always the chance that they would walk right into one of the highest-ranking members of the Denomination. If that were to happen— Goddess, if that was what was happening now—Cinzia had still not decided what they should do.
When she entered the chamber, she realized she would not have to make that choice, at least not yet—but there was no relief. Instead, her gut tightened.
The Triunity’s chambers were large, but not lavish. Simple rugs covered the floor, and tapestries more valuable for their content than for their artistry decorated the walls. The room itself was circular, and directly in front of Cinzia a large window looked out onto the Trinacrya square. Two other windows looked out at Triah at different angles: one toward the ocean and God’s Eye, and the other inland, toward Khale itself. The room was well kept, a large desk stacked with papers and books and a few other chairs across from where she stood in the stairwell doorway. She would have liked to look around and see what else the room contained, but the seven figures at the center of the room occupied her full attention.
Three women from the Sect of Priesthood stood facing them, accompanied by four Goddessguards, armed and in chain mail, two on either side of the women. At the center was the high priestess who had delivered her papers of excommunication, Garyne Hilamotha. Her long black hair hung in a braid down her back, and her dark eyes stared right past Nayome and bored into Cinzia. One of the other women was a matron, her Cantic robes trimmed in gold, and the other a simple priestess. Just as Cinzia once was.
And yet something about these women did not seem right to Cinzia. Why were they here, in the Triunity’s quarters? None of them belonged here.
Did you really think I’d let you do this without opposition?
A shiver ran down Cinzia’s spine as the voice echoed within the walls of her own mind.
Luceraf.
“Who are you?” Nayome asked the three, but Cinzia was too involved in the conversation in her own mind to hear how the women answered. And, after all, she already knew the answer, now. These women were part of the Cult.
You have been there all along? Cinzia asked.
Of course I have, my dear. You are too valuable to leave to your own devices.
I did know it, Cinzia thought. But she had let her guard down anyway.
She looked back at Knot and Astrid. Astrid was crouched, short swords drawn, ready to pounce, and Knot had drawn his Nazaniin sword.
“So many of our enemies here at once,” High Priestess Garyne said with a smile. “How fortunate are we, ladies?”
The two women on either side of her did not share her amusement. A sheen of sweat slicked the priestess’s forehead. The matron appeared slightly more composed, but her face remained deadly serious.
We have a special treat for you, my dear. Luceraf’s words were cold, devoid of the amusement usually so prominent in her speech.
“Who are these women?” the Beldam demanded, stepping forward. “You have no right to be here.”
Garyne cocked her head to one side. “Is the famous heretic finally going senile? Or is that why you left the Denomination in the first place?”
The Beldam spluttered a response, but Garyne spoke over her, nodding to the Goddessguards.
“Seize them. Kill everyone but the vampire. Leave her to me; she owes us a debt.”
Cinzia glanced back at Astrid to see fear in the girl’s eyes. “You’re part of the Cult,” Astrid said, putting together what Cinzia already knew.
Garyne did not respond to Astrid’s question directly, but the implication was clear. “You once served the Black Matron,” the high priestess said. “She answered to me. An affront against my servant is an affront against me, dear girl. I cannot allow such things to go unpunished.”
Anger bubbled up within Cinzia. She stepped purposefully between the high priestess and Astrid. “Leave her alone,” Cinzia said.
The high priestess bared her teeth. “You can’t tell me you’ve actually developed feelings for that little daemon?”
“Enough talk,” Cinzia said. “Or is that all you can do?”
Garyne sighed. “All right, then. You heard the heretic. Enough talk, let’s get at it, ladies.” The matron and priestess looked at one another, faces pale, and then both drew daggers from their robes. The four Goddessguards stepped from the flanking position they held to stand between the three Cult members and Cinzia’s party.
Cinzia heard muttered curses from Astrid and Knot simultaneously behind her, and the blood drained from her face.
The voices of the matron and priestess rose in unison, their words trembling.
“My blood for the blood of Aratraxia,” they both said.
Cinzia froze, even as Knot and Astrid both rushed past her. The Goddessguards moved to intercept them, and with a scream from Astrid they all clashed in a flurry of steel.
She had seen this before, heard these words before, when the young man had slit his own throat in front of her and Arven. Afterward, an Outsider—a great daemon from some faraway plane—had entered the Sfaera.
They had to stop these women.
“My blood pays the price of passage, from their realm to ours,” the two continued, their voices still in perfect unison.
Knot and Astrid would not get to either of the women in time. Both the matron and the priestess raised their daggers, dark steel toward the pale skin of their throats.
Cinzia bolted forward, past the Goddessguards, all of them distracted by Knot and Astrid, one of them already down. The priestess was closest to her. She could make it. She had to make it.
Cinzia noticed something shift in the air around her just as the wide oak desk that had been off to one side slid across the floor directly in front of Cinzia, blocking her path.
Psimancy. Someone in the room—Garyne?—was a telenic.
Cinzia leapt over the desk, but two of the wooden chairs nearby suddenly flew into the air, rushing directly toward Cinzia. She raised her arms to block them as best she could, but Cinzia felt two sharp, hard blows against her arms, chest, and stomach.
Above the sound of wood splintering, she heard the women’s voices.
“My blood for the blood of Aratraxia.”
Cinzia plowed forward, ignoring the dull ache in both arms, and tackled the priestess to the ground. Both the priestess and Garyne shrieked, and the priestess’s dagger clattered to the floor. The matron collapsed in a shower of blood.
The dagger moved slightly. Cinzia gripped the priestess— her right arm screamed in pain—and rolled just as the dagger twitched into the air and shot toward her, embedding itself in the priestess’s back.
Garyne cursed, but then she seemed to relax. “Two would have been better,” she said, panting, “but one will do.”
A shadow moved over the chamber, and then a dark shimmer appeared, swirling in the air above where the matron now lay, face down in a pool of her own blood.
A man groaned, and Cinzia heard the soft, slick sound of a blade sliding through flesh. She pushed the priestess’s body off of her, and turned to see the last Goddessguard fall to Knot’s sword.
He and Astrid both turned to face the shape forming in the air.
“Are you mad?” Cinzia asked, looking at Garyne. “An Outsider in a space this small… it will destroy the Triunity’s chambers. It might kill every one of us.”
“And besides,” Astrid said, “we’ve faced these before. We can handle one of them.”
With a great thump, a dark shaped dropped to the floor of the Triunity’s chambers with such force that it fell through it, stone crumbling and breaking beneath it. Cinzia heard the sharp crack of breaking glass, and the nearest window shattered into a hundred pieces at the impact.
“I’ll just have to give it a head start.”
The four weapons the Goddessguards had carried lifted into the air—three swords and a short stabbing spear. All four of them turned so they pointed toward Knot and Astrid.
“No,” Cinzia said. Before she knew what she was doing— perhaps before she even spoke the word, Cinzia could not be sure—she found herself sprinting toward Garyne. The woman turned her head slightly as Cinzia charged, but there was nothing she could do. Cinzia crashed into the high priestess, and the two went flying toward the shattered window. In a panic, Cinzia realized she could not control their fall. The window was so tall and wide that the lip of it was less than a rod from the floor of the chambers. Cinzia and the high priestess barreled over the lower edge of the window, and out into the blue midday sky.
* * *
Astrid rolled to the side, the high priestess’s blades narrowly missing her. One embedded itself in the rising, dark shape before her.
The Outsider thrashed, its tail flicking out. Nayome had hidden herself the moment fighting had broken out in the chambers. It was probably for the best. The Crucible had no fighting prowess that Astrid knew of, and would likely only get in the way. The Beldam she had lost track of, however. She hadn’t left, of that much Astrid was sure, but she, too, must have hidden herself when the fighting broke out.
Astrid heard the faintest sound of scuffling, and a struggle outside the window. If her memory didn’t fail her, there would be a large, gradually sloping roof directly outside of the window. With any luck, Cinzia had stopped herself from falling any farther, and the high priestess had toppled to a grizzly death. From the sound of things, that wasn’t the case, and the two were engaged in a struggle on the roof outside the window.
At least, Astrid hoped, that meant Cinzia was still alive.
The hope gave her strength, and Astrid advanced on the Outsider, swords at the ready. She’d been confident earlier, but the last time she and Knot had faced an Outsider during the day, they’d at least had Eward’s archers to back them up. Here, it was just the two of them, and in a complicated space, to say the least.
“How d’you want to handle this, nomad?” Astrid asked. When Knot didn’t respond, she snapped her head back to look at him.
He lay on the ground, perfectly still, the spear the high priestess had psimantically thrown embedded in his chest.
Astrid choked on the next breath she drew, her lungs contracting, throat tightening. She was aware of the fact that the Outsider now stood at its full height, its head almost touching the high ceiling of the chamber, a low growl rumbling with enough force that Astrid felt it in her chest. She was aware of the struggling outside the window, the faint voices. She was aware of Nayome, curled in a ball, beneath another large desk off to the side.
But most of all she was aware of Knot’s stillness, and the length of wood sticking straight out from him.
Within this awareness an entire world seemed to exist, a world Astrid never knew was there until this moment, outside of time and space, because even as the Outsider’s growl trembled around her and into her lungs, in this other world, this special world she had just become aware of, Astrid was without Knot, and that absence ached and echoed with an immediate pain that she could not ignore.
He can’t be dead, she told herself, but she had no evidence one way or the other. He lay still on the ground, a spear in his chest. She knew what the chances of surviving such a blow were.
The tower shook as the Outsider took a step toward her.
Astrid didn’t have time to wait for the creature to take the initiative. With a deep breath she sprang forward, hacking at the Outsider’s nearest leg. She got a few good strikes in, but even with all her strength her blades hardly broke through the armored hide.
Goddess, what she wouldn’t give for a bit of holy magic right now. Jane wasn’t her favorite person, she had to admit, but she’d once completely vaporized an Outsider with a ray of light, and Astrid would do just about anything to end this as quickly as possible.
The Outsider looked down at Astrid, cocking its head to one side. With a strange sound somewhere between a bark and a scream, the monster kicked her, hard, full on in the chest, and Astrid flew backwards.
She crashed into the wall, chunks of stone falling around her. Astrid gasped but took in a mouthful of dust and began to cough violently. She struggled to stand, but as she prepared herself to meet the Outsider once more—not knowing how in Oblivion she could possibly take on the beast—she realized it wasn’t striding toward her. It wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, it was staring at the desk behind which she knew Nayome was hiding.
What in Oblivion…
Suddenly, Astrid remembered their battle against the Outsiders under the dome in Izet. The Outsiders had seemed particularly drawn to, almost enraged by, psimancers.
“Nayome,” Astrid said, speaking as loudly as she could while still keeping her voice calm, “if you’re a psimancer, the Outsider is going to target you. You need to do something about that.”
Astrid took one step toward the desk under which Nayome hid, but so did the Outsider, which also glanced her way before refocusing on Nayome.
Astrid swore. She would barely be a distraction to it. If it wanted to kill Nayome, it would, and Astrid would not be able to stop it.
“Nayome,” Astrid said, but before she could continue, Nayome stood up. She was shaking, her hair in a frazzled blonde halo around her face. She stared down the Outsider, and Astrid recognized the pure, white-hot rage radiating from her eyes.
“I,” Nayome said, her voice wavering through gritted teeth, “am a Holy Crucible of the Cantic Denomination. I serve the Goddess and all she stands for. I root out heresy and abomination, and purify such things out of existence.” Though her voice wavered and her body shook, Astrid felt the power radiating from her. Even without psimantic ability, she knew Nayome must be aiming a tremendous amount of acumenic pressure at the Outsider.
The Outsider met Nayome’s gaze, huge black eyes clashing with her brown, and remained almost perfectly motionless. Astrid had never seen an Outsider so still, unless it was dead. Once they took form, they only seemed to care about thrashing, clawing, devouring, and destroying, with all the energy they had.
“And now,” Nayome said, “it is time for your purification.” Her body remained still, albeit trembling, but Astrid could sense even more power radiating from the woman, all of it directed straight toward the Outsider.
Nayome uttered a guttural moan, the sound escalating into a scream, and then in a single, swift motion, the Outsider’s head snapped back, and the beast collapsed, lifeless, to the stone floor.
Astrid coughed, waving her hand in front of her face to clear the newly formed dust cloud as best she could. She had seen an acumen do something similar to a person once before, in Izet, when Kali had killed Nash. Kali had sent a psionic blast directly into the man’s mind, essentially bursting his brain inside his own skull.
Dark blood drained from the outsider’s large black eyes, and she knew Nayome had done the same thing here. But, just for good measure, Astrid rammed a sword into one of the black, lifeless eyes, full on to the hilt.
There was much to be done.
First, she ran to the window where she’d last seen Cinzia and the high priestess topple out into the blue sky.
“Goddess, it took you long enough.”
Cinzia lay on a disrupted patch of the clay tiles that lined the roof, limbs spread awkwardly to keep her from sliding toward the edge.
Astrid couldn’t reach her, so she ducked inside to find the halberd one of the Goddessguards had been carrying.
“AstridwhereareyougoingIneedhelp—”
When Astrid returned, reaching the halberd handle out to her, she coughed, reaching for the weapon. “Ah. Thank you,” she said.
“You got a good grip?” Astrid asked.
Cinzia nodded. Astrid pulled. Eventually, Cinzia made it close enough for Astrid to grab her and lift her back into the Triunity’s chambers.
“The high priestess?” Astrid asked.
“She fell,” Cinzia said, staring at the body of the Outsider.
“Wasn’t me,” Astrid said. She nodded at Nayome, who stood exactly where she’d left her, face pale. “It was her.”
Then, she rushed back to Knot.