“What did you do?” said Aetius.
Caina shook her head, trying to clear her reeling thoughts. The doors came to a rasping halt, the archway beyond them revealed. More pale gray light shone over the dais, while the plinth and the exposed hilt of the Sword gave off a steady crimson glow. Beyond the opened bronze doors she could not quite make out the details of the chamber beyond, as if a glowing mist obscured its features.
“Opened the doors,” said Caina. Maybe that had been a mistake. On the other hand, she could think of nothing else that might have stopped Taldrane from killing them, and after Hulagon’s rash attack, their options had been limited.
“How did you do that?” said Hulagon.
“Shadow-cloak,” said Caina, trying to clear her head. Her mind still buzzed and shuddered from the awful pressure of holding the Sword, and she had a terrific headache. Caina had never experienced a hangover, but she suspected that it felt like this. “Tool of the Ghosts. It blocks mind-controlling spells.”
“And you knew it would protect you?” said Hulagon.
Taldrane gestured, and the Magisterial Guards moved onto the dais, a few of them dragging the remaining mercenaries along.
“I didn’t,” said Caina. “I guessed. Looks like I was right.”
“Gods,” said Aetius. “You are mad.”
“Probably,” said Caina.
“Master Sebastian!” said Taldrane. “Well done. Come. You have earned the right to witness this moment. Lord Aetius, tarkhan, come as well. You were there when this began, so it is only fitting that you are here when it ends. Though, more precisely, this is another beginning. Soon the Magisterium will dominate the Empire once more.”
“I seem to remember,” said Caina, climbing the steps, “a proverb about counting chickens before the eggs have hatched.”
Taldrane only laughed, his eyes glittering. “Let us see what eggs the First Emperor has left for us.”
He strode for the door, the Magisterial Guards following. For an instant, Caina contemplated waiting until Taldrane had entered the inner chamber and then withdrawing the Sword from the plinth. If Taldrane wanted to uncover the secrets of Nicokator’s tomb, then he could spend all eternity with them. Yet Taldrane must have anticipated the danger, because several Magisterial Guards stepped towards Caina and Aetius and Hulagon, gesturing for them to move.
There was no other choice, so Caina followed the Magisterial Guards.
The chamber beyond the bronze doors was vast, a domed ceiling rising high overhead. A strange, pale, glowing blue mist flickered and flowed through the chamber, thick enough to cloak in it luminous gloom, yet not dense enough to block all sight. Sorcerous power seemed to surge through the mist, like waves crashing against Caina’s mind. Beneath the apex of the dome rose a dais, and atop the dais stood a stone throne.
The First Emperor sat atop the throne, gazing at the intruders.
For instant strange moment Caina was sure that Nicokator himself was looking at them, that by some feat of sorcery he had endured the millennia, waiting for them in the darkness of his tomb.
Then she saw that he was dead, had been dead a long time. The figure upon the throne wore plate armor of the finest workmanship, the enspelled steel plated in silver. Like the silver covering the Sword of Nicokator, the centuries had tarnished the silver, and now a figure in black armor waited motionless upon the throne. A coronet of gold and emeralds encircled the helm, and beneath it Caina saw an ancient, yellowed skull, the black eyes staring at nothing.
Behind the throne rose a massive monolith of black stone, over twenty feet tall. As they drew closer, she saw that it was a statue of a warrior clad in similar armor as the dead First Emperor, a massive stone greatsword clutched in its gauntlet-sheathed hands.
“Behold,” said Taldrane. The strange mist dampened his resonant voice. “Nicokator, the First Emperor of the Empire of Nighmar. We are the first living men to look upon his form for uncounted centuries.”
“Well and good,” said Aetius. “But where are the weapons? Where are the treasures? I thought Nicokator buried himself with weapons of power. All I see is a skeleton in old armor.”
Looking around the chamber, Caina saw that save for the throne, the skeleton, and the enormous black statue, there were no other objects in the chamber. The round walls below the dome were carved with ornate reliefs of Nicokator and his triumphs. Perhaps there was a hidden door there, or casks of treasure concealed beneath the smooth stone floor.
Or perhaps the tomb of Nicokator was empty save for his bones, and Taldrane had killed a lot of people for nothing.
Yet Caina sensed spells upon the throne and the monumental statue. Plus there was the constant arcane power flowing and throbbing through the strange glowing mist. Most of the power focused upon the towering black statue, and Caina wondered if that was the weapon that Nicokator had hidden here.
“Spread out,” called Taldrane. “Examine the walls and the floor. Look for any hidden entrances or doors. You, you, you, and you.” He pointed at four Magisterial Guards. “Keep an eye on our three guests. They may yet prove useful, but if they make trouble, kill them.”
“What happened to ruling the Empire together?” said Caina in a dry voice.
Taldrane smirked and turned his back to her.
“Now what should we do?” said Aetius, eyeing the Magisterial Guards as they moved closer.
That was a good question. Unfortunately, Caina had no idea. She had no weapon that could hurt Taldrane, and she suspected that letting him find whatever waited in the tomb would be a bad idea.
She stepped forward, peering at the huge statue, and two of the Magisterial Guards raised their swords in warning.
“Oh, don’t bother,” said Caina. “I’m not going to try anything. I just want a closer look. I figured out how to open the doors, didn’t I? Maybe I’ll figure out how your master can claim Nicokator’s treasure, whatever it is.”
The Magisterial Guards did not look convinced, but they lowered their swords a few inches, and Caina strolled past them with a studied air of unconcern. Aetius and Hulagon hesitated, and then followed her, followed in turn by the Magisterial Guards. Caina bit back the urge to laugh. She supposed they made for an odd little parade.
The glimmer of humor faded as she looked at the base of the statue.
A row of sigils had been cut into the statue’s circular base, glowing with the same harsh blue light as the statues in the gallery above. As Caina moved closer, she saw similar sigils cut into the stone of the dais steps, though these symbols were dark. Nevertheless, she sensed potent sorcery radiating from both the glowing and the dark symbols, sorcery similar yet much stronger than the spells she had felt on the statues above.
“What is it?” said Aetius.
“I don’t know,” said Caina in a soft voice. “Something powerful. Some lost spell or science of the First Empire. I’ve never seen or felt anything like it before.”
She stared at the statue, trying to sort through her headache and the dizzying array of sensations from the potent spells. Caina had never sensed spells like this before, yet there was something familiar about them. Something…
She blinked.
The spells were latent. They were waiting to be activated.
She thought of a spider crouching in its web, waiting for a fly to blunder into its reach.
So just what would activate this web?
She turned as Taldrane began casting a spell towards the statue, and a horrible intuition seized Caina.
“No!” she shouted. “Taldrane, stop! Don’t…”
She was too late.
It was only a simple spell, one Caina had seen and felt many times before, the spell to sense the presence of arcane forces. It was the logical spell to cast, the first step towards probing and exploring the burial chamber. It did not require a great deal of arcane power, and only touched lightly upon its subject.
Yet it was enough.
The symbols at the statue’s base flared with light, and the sigils cut into the steps of the dais burned with icy blue flames. A cold wind began to blow through the domed chamber, the glowing mist swirling and billowing around the throne and the dais. The Magisterial Guards spun, raising their swords and shields, while the few surviving mercenaries cowered back.
“Ah,” said Taldrane with satisfaction. “At last.”
“You activated it,” said Caina.
“Of course I did,” said Taldrane. “Presumably the weapon has something to do with the spells upon that statue. If I gain control of them, I can then…wait.”
Some of the mist gathered in a pillar before the throne, flickering and writhing. As Caina watched, the mist seemed to flatten and harden, and suddenly resolved into the translucent image of a man.
It was the Emperor Nicokator.
The image wore armor identical to the corpse upon the throne, though this armor gleamed silver-bright, as if it had been wrought of polished moonlight. Nicokator’s image wore no helm but a diadem of gold, and his face was gaunt and bearded, his eyes hooded and deep-set. It was a stern and pitiless face, a face accustomed to war and conquest. Looking at it, Caina could believe that this man had forged the squabbling Nighmarian lords into the First Empire.
“Gods of strife and battle,” whispered Hulagon. “You have conjured his wraith to kill us all.”
“No,” said Taldrane. “This is only an illusion. A message he left for anyone who entered his tomb…”
The image began to speak in a booming, rasping voice. The words were in ancient Nighmarian, the syntax and diction strange, but with an effort Caina could understand them.
“Hearken to my counsel, and hear well my words,” said the image. “In life, the enthroned skeleton before you was Nicokator, Lord of the Citadel of Malarae, and by fire and sword I forced the other lords of Nighmaria to submit to my overlordship, and I wrought an Empire from them. In the centuries after the great cataclysm, the nations of man were sundered and torn, while every lord and prince did as he wished, and the lowly born and the poor were sore oppressed. I ended this, and I brought order to my Empire. Now one law governs Nighmaria. One ruler bring order. My law and my rule brought swift punishment to wrongdoers. When I ruled in Malarae, a virgin girl could walk from one end of my Empire to another bearing a bag of gold, and no rogue would dare raise his hand against her.”
The crowned head turned back and forth, as if the gaunt, fierce features were regarding them.
“Yet for all my skill at battle and my sorcerous prowess, death came to me,” said Nicokator. “No man is beyond its reach. So I must by necessity leave my Empire to the hands of another. Yet how can a ruler hold his lands without power unconquerable? Therefore I resolved to construct a weapon of great power, an irresistible force that could not be defeated.”
“Yes,” said Taldrane, smiling.
“Then I realized my folly,” said Nicokator.
Taldrane’s smile vanished.
“No one man is fit to wield supreme power, for all men are corrupt, and wickedness lurks ever within their hearts, ready to blaze forth like an ember setting a great forest aflame,” said Nicokator. “And if a man wields unchecked power, who then shall oppose him if he turns to evil and folly? An Emperor may hold the Imperial Curia and the lords of the Empire in check, binding them to peace and law. Yet if an Emperor turns to wickedness, the Imperial Curia and the lords of the Empire can bring him to account.”
“What idiocy is this?” said Taldrane, his disgust plain. “The First Emperor’s final weapon was a lecture about virtue?”
“I contemplated this matter, and concluded that my Empire would always be threatened by those who sought power absolute and supreme, unchecked by their peers,” said Nicokator. “I defended my Empire in life, and I shall do so in death. I commanded my servants to construct me a tomb in the valleys north of Malarae, and my lords and magistrates put forth the rumor that I had created a weapon of ultimate sorcerous power, a weapon that would be entombed with me.”
A cold fist closed around Caina’s heart.
“Taldrane,” said Caina. “We have to get out of here, we…”
“Silence!” shouted Taldrane, his eyes upon the wavering image.
“I knew this rumor would draw proud fools to my tomb,” said Nicokator, “seeking to seize absolute power for themselves.” Again the pitiless eyes swept over them. “If you now listen to my words, then you are those proud fools, come to usurp power that does not belong to you.”
“This is ridiculous,” said Taldrane, “this…”
“Hearken!” roared Nicokator, his voice booming through the chamber, and Taldrane flinched as if the dead Emperor had spoken to him. “I, Nicokator, Emperor of Nighmaria, do pronounce my judgment. You have sought to enslave the people of my Empire and to usurp power to which you have no right. The penalty for your crimes is death. You wished to claim a weapon of irresistible power? Then have it!”
He made a sharp gesture, and the specter vanished, his final words echoing off the walls.
“Hardly a threat,” said Taldrane. He seemed personally offended. “Who knew that our First Emperor was such a fool? I…”
Twin blue lights blazed to life in the helm of the giant black statue.
And then, to Caina’s horror, the statue started to move.
The huge form stepped backwards off the dais, moving as smoothly and easily as if it were wrought of flesh and bone and not of gleaming black stone. The statue lifted its greatsword, both hands clasping the hilt. The statue stood twenty feet tall, and the huge sword was easily twelve feet long, the stone edges gleaming razor sharp. Of course, the weapon had to weigh at least a ton, if not more, so the sharp edges were almost unnecessary.
The statue gazed at them, the lights of its eyes sweeping back and forth.
“What is that?” said Hulagon.
“Remember when I thought the statues might come to life?” whispered Caina, watching the towering black shape.
“Perhaps,” said Hulagon, “I should not have laughed when you…”
The colossus moved.
It attacked in utter silence, its boots making no noise against the floor despite its immense bulk. The stone sword swept in a dark blur, and three Magisterial Guards simply disintegrated, the greatsword ripping them apart in a spray of blood and organs and twisted black metal. The dead men, or pieces of the dead men, fell to the floor, and then the screaming began in earnest.
“Stand fast!” roared Taldrane, raising his huge mace. He sprinted towards the statue, casting a spell as he ran. “Stand fast! Stand fast and fight!”
The Magisterial Guards obeyed, moving together in a defensive formation as their decurion bellowed orders. The surviving mercenary prisoners did not, and they sprinted for the doors to the outer chamber, screaming at the top of their lungs. As they did, the animated statue whirled, and it leapt into the air, soaring over the heads of the Magisterial Guards.
It landed like a thunderclap, and the ground shook with such force that Caina lost her footing and fell, as did most of the Magisterial Guards. The mercenaries, with their hands bound, fell upon their backs and sides. The men screamed, and the animated statue simply trampled them underfoot.
“Run!” said Hulagon, scrambling to his feet.
“Wait!” said Caina.
“Are you mad?” said Aetius. “For once, the Kagari is right. We need to get out of here.”
“No,” said Caina, backing away from the doors. “Listen! It only went after the mercenaries when they fled. If we run, it will kill us. We need a distraction, a…”
“Attack!” roared Taldrane, and he charged at the statue, the Magisterial Guards fanning out around him. Caina wondered at the sheer suicidal folly of the attack, and then she realized the master magus’s plan. Taldrane cast a complex and powerful spell as he charged, something to dominate and control the colossus. The Magisterial Guards struck from the right and the left, hammering at the statue’s legs while Taldrane flung his spell at the statue.
It didn’t work.
Caina felt the backlash of power as Taldrane’s sorcery shattered against the ancient spells binding the statue. The colossus trampled through the Magisterial Guards, crushing them with its boots and huge sword, and it slaughtered two-thirds of them in an instant. Taldrane fell back, fear upon his face, and the statue’s helmeted head turned towards him.
Caina saw their only chance.
“Run!” she shouted to Aetius and Hulagon, and together they sprinted towards the bronze doors. Behind her came the sounds of screaming and crunching metal and snapping bone, and Caina dared not slow down. She tore through the doors, Aetius and Hulagon a half-step-behind her, and skidded to a halt before the plinth holding the Sword of Nicokator.
Caina spun around the plinth, throwing the cowl of her shadow-cloak back over her head, and looked back into Nicokator’s burial chamber. The last Magisterial Guard went down, crushed beneath the statue’s boots, and Taldrane hammered at the statue’s leg with a two-handed blow of his mace, all of his spell-enhanced strength driving the weapon. A blow like that from a veteran battle magus could crush a man like an insect.
It didn’t even leave a scratch on the statue’s gleaming knee.
Caina yanked the Sword of Nicokator from the plinth, the blade blazing with crimson light. Again that horrible despair thundered through her, demanding that she take the Sword and kill herself, that she end her wretched and miserable life of lies and shadows and knives. This time, though, she didn’t need to do anything with the Sword.
She simply dropped it, the despair vanishing from her mind, the blade’s light winking out as the Sword clanged against the floor. The sigils blazed to life upon the bronze doors, and they started to groan shut as the warding spells reactivated themselves.
Taldrane whirled, stumbling away from the statue, and his eyes met Caina’s. Rage twisted his face, and he sprinted towards her, moving with spell-augmented speed. He hurtled forward like a galloping horse, and his sorcery-enhanced speed would carry him through the bronze doors before they sealed once again.
The colossus was simply faster.
It reached down, its stone fist closing, and Taldrane’s head vanished in a crimson spray. His armored body hit the floor with a clatter and bounced a few times, sliding to a halt.
The bronze doors closed with a boom, sealing away Taldrane’s corpse with the mortal remains of the First Emperor.
***