CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The west gate of Sicaria had been untended, most of the polizia drawn off by the fire at the bishop’s palace. The stampede of highborn fleeing the chaos had given Dante and the others perfect cover to make their escape – even the Ruby Pontifex hesitated at slaughtering innocents to stop them.

Against Cyril’s objection, Korin had managed to abscond with three fine horses from the bishop’s private stock, and they’d ridden doubled up through the open gate and into the countryside. The roads beyond had been clear, thankfully, but for the occasional lone traveler or loaded wagon tied down for the night. They’d managed to reach the Veil wall without any signs of pursuit, but they’d kept to a reckless pace even in the Wastes. Dante knew Arturious wouldn’t give up on them so easily, not after such a humiliating catastrophe.

Forcing their mounts over the dangerous, darkened terrain had been a gamble, and had cost Dante more blood and magic than was wise, but when the sun rose, they were far enough from Sicaria to risk a more sedate pace. There was no sign of pursuit, but Dante wasn’t naive enough to think they were free. He led them on relentlessly even as the sun became a white-hot orb overhead, beating down on them like a hammer.

Finally, though, Cyril forced them to stop, overruling Dante’s objections.

“The beasts will die,” he said gruffly. “I don’t care for horses, true, but I don’t like seeing any creature suffer needlessly. Only a fool walks the Wastes during the height of day.”

Swallowing his angry retort, Dante forced himself to assess the horses. The beasts’ coats were darkened with great swaths of sweat. They stood on trembling legs, their heads hanging, their flanks heaving. Their eyes rolled with terror to be in the open Wastes. Cyril was right.

One thought mollified him as Cyril led the way to shelter: any pursuit would be forced to do the same. Still, he chafed at the delay. Now that he had Raiden, there was nothing stopping him from riding to Shade’s side but the inconvenience of the murderous Wastes. He was ready and willing to chase her into the Glass Fields if need be.

Shade, Shade, please be safe…

At last, a thorn grove came into view, tucked at the base of a tumble of rock slabs. Dante could feel the qaraz flowing beneath them the moment they stepped upon it. They’d been taking a more dangerous direct route before, avoiding the qaraz to throw off pursuit and cover more distance. Almost immediately, they all felt the difference. Even Korin sighed in something like relief, though he wasn’t a bloodwizard. Being strong in Sicani blood had to give him some sensitivity.

Drawing blood with his rose quartz blade, Cyril opened a way through the dense, twisted grove. The leaves clinging to the wiry branches were a sickly purple, and a viscous goo dripped from palm-length thorns. Teeth gritted, Cyril made sure to push the limbs back enough to let the horses enter well-clear of the lethal barbs.

“We can rest through the worst of the day. The water within is pure.”

While Cyril had opened the thorn grove, Dante and the others had dismounted and loosened the girths of their horses’ saddles. The beasts were trembling with fatigue. Raiden took their reins and followed the cousins into the shade of the grove. Cyril remained outside the shelter, a suspicious frown beneath his long mustache. He was staring at Korin. The tall, elderly man stood stiff-backed in the blazing sun, staring westward.

“What is it, Korin?” Dante asked, alarmed. Sometimes he forgot how old Korin was, he always seemed so ageless, so strong. Had their rough passage been too much for him? Worried, he approached Korin and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ill?”

Korin dragged his attention to Dante, a distant look in his golden eyes turning to a gleam of triumph. “She is no longer in the Glass Fields,” he said eagerly, clasping Dante’s forearm with long, elegant fingers. His eyes blazed. “They sent her away, I suspect, cowards that they are. I believe she is on her way to the Nexus. I can feel her through the qaraz. She will have no choice but to raise her Veil where we intended. At last!”

“She would never let herself be forced,” growled Cyril. He stepped toward them, a hand going to the hilt of his blade. He grunted, sounding pleased. “If she’s out of the Glass Fields, then she must be beyond the mountains. In Kindred lands!”

“Did she reach the Kindred?” Dante demanded, excitement rising within him along with a deep, abiding relief. Thank the Faces, she’d made it across the Glass Fields.

Korin let go of his arm. “She is on this side of the mountains, not beyond. She could never reach Kindred lands through the Glass Fields anyway. No, she tried to thwart us, and she failed.” He fixed Cyril with a stern glare. “Be glad she was merely turned away, and not trapped within the Glass Fields forever. Shade is where she needs to be at last.”

“Where is she?” Raiden asked, emerging from the grove. His voice was sharp.

Again, Korin’s gaze turned west as if drawn by an invisible cord. His long, lean frame tensed. “She is on her way to the Nexus,” he said. “She’s going to raise her Veil.”

“She can’t do it,” Raiden said softly, almost to himself, his face sallow. “She can’t raise a Veil.”

“What are you saying?” Dante demanded.

Raiden’s dark eyes fixed on him, wide with horror. “If she raises the Veil, she’ll bring destruction. By the gods of my father, I swear it!”

For a moment, only stunned silence answered him, but then Cyril exploded. “What lies did those priests put in your head, boy?”

“Is Cyril right?” Dante approached him menacingly. “Did the Brotherhood tell you this? You can’t believe a word they say!”

Raiden started, and he glanced at Cyril, despair on his face. Despair, and utter certainty. His lips grew pinched as if he might be sick, and he looked away. Suddenly, his eyes locked on Korin. The old healer had turned to face them at Raiden’s shocking words. Unlike the rest of them, there was no horror on his face, no doubt or anger. He stared at Raiden with a clear amber gaze, his back straight and his face stern.

“It’s not a lie,” Raiden said faintly, and he pointed at Dante’s mentor and lifelong friend. “Ask Korin…”

“Korin?” Dante said faintly. A roaring started in his ears as he waited for Korin’s outraged denial and none came. The look on his face told him everything he needed to know.

“What is he talking about, Korin?” Dante couldn’t keep the anguish from his voice. It cracked on his next despairing plea. “Is he right?”

Korin’s eyes shifted to him, but just as abruptly slipped aside. Dante’s heart sank and he felt as ill as Raiden looked. Cyril watched Korin like he was an adder dropped in their midst, waiting for his answer, his hand on the hilt of his knife. With a deep sigh, Korin drew himself straight.

“It is the Coterie’s belief,” he began, no hint of shame or regret in his voice, “that when she raises her Veil at the Nexus, it will fail. That failure will tip the balance which has been so precariously maintained for centuries. The other Veils will fall, even the oldest and the strongest. The qaraz will be fully corrupted, and there will be nowhere left for any of us to hide.” His hands bunched into fists and his voice rose, became strident. “This time, all of Malavita will be forced to rise up against our ancient enemy. Every wizard with a blade will be forced to fight our true enemy. Not the Capos and their Corsaro, not the Brotherhood, but the Unseen! At long last, we will have the chance to destroy them and finally cleanse Malavita of the blight!”

They stared at him in open-mouthed shock. A shiver rippled through Dante. “Faces turn from me,” he said. “The Unseen are shadows, Korin, only their taint remains. Starting a war with phantoms won’t rid our land of the blight. How many will die when the Veils fall? Without the protection of a Veil, the entire city of Sicaria could be wiped away by a single Blackstorm!”

“It is a small price to pay.” Korin leaned closer to him, his nostrils flaring and his eyes wild. “The Unseen are not gone, only imprisoned, and that prison grows weaker by the day. Some have escaped, and they spread their evil across the land. The Guardians – those few Sicani left – they hide like frightened rabbits in their holes, allowing the creatures to infest Malavita, too afraid to hunt them down. Dropping the Veils is the only thing that will drive my people out to join our fight – the screams of thousands suffering and dying.”

Dante jerked back. “Your people? What are you saying…?”

“Yes, my people. I am a Sicani, one of the few, true Sicani left, and I am ashamed at the cowardice of my kind. It has been my driving purpose to destroy the last of the Unseen and cleanse our land. Once the Veils fall, the prison which holds the Unseen will crack open like a rotten egg. My people will have to fight or be swept away by the demonic hordes. The Sicani will cleanse the land at long last. Don’t you see, my son?”

Fury replaced his shock. “I am not your son!” he shouted. He stepped toward Korin, his hands knotting into fists. “How could you do this to me? All this time you’ve listened to me talk of raising a Veil and said nothing! You knew it would lead to disaster. You knew!”

“I tried to warn you,” Korin shouted back, his face wrinkling with anguish. “I tried to warn you away from her! I never wanted to hurt you, Dante, but this is the only way.”

Horrified, Dante could only stare at him. “You’re mad.”

“What of Shade?” Cyril said. “What will happen to her when she raises the Veil?”

Korin’s lips thinned. A mask seemed to drop over his face, and he wouldn’t look at Cyril. His heart pounding with sudden fear, Dante grasped him by the collar, shaking hard. “Answer him!”

Gripping his wrists, Korin stared down at him. “We lost everything when we lost Mercedes’ child. Elena was the culmination of a century’s planning – a weapon we created to use against the Unseen. A power strong enough and pure enough to heal the world. When the flames took her, we had to find another way. The witch was always a poor replacement, but she was the best we could hope for. She will serve a greater purpose than you could ever understand.” His words turned bitter. “I warned you not to get close to her, and instead you took her into your bed like a smitten fool.”

Dante’s lips drew back from his teeth and he gave Korin another, harder shake. “Tell me what will happen to her, or I swear I’ll gut you like a pig right here and now.”

“The moment she crafted her blades, we knew she would serve us. This Veil will be her gift to the world. But when it falls – and it will fall – she will fall with it.”

A fierce cry burst from Cyril, an enraged denial. His knife appeared in his hand as he lunged at Korin. He pressed the sharp blade against the old man’s neck, drawing blood. His mustache quivered over his bared teeth. “Let me slit this dog’s throat,” he rasped. “He deserves no better!”

“No,” Dante said, knocking Cyril aside. “There’s still time! We can stop her. We can save her.”

“You cannot!” Korin declared angrily, or tried to, but Dante’s hands closed around his throat, cutting him off.

“Only your years of service to my family is keeping you alive right now, Korin. I owe you my life, I owe you my hands, old friend.” His fingers squeezed tight and Korin’s eyes bulged. “But I will gladly use them to choke the life from you if anything happens to Shade Nox.”