of losing him. Then she thought about what she’d said … that killing Phane was worth any cost. With a lump in her throat and renewed resolve, she stepped farther into the null magic field and examined the door.
The locking pins were all that was keeping it from rolling aside into the wall. She tried to pry one free but it was wedged, so she went to work on it with her hammer, which had become heavier when she entered the area and lost its ability to change weight in midswing.
Hector started working on another pin. It was difficult and slow-going but before long they had all of the locking pins removed. At first the door wouldn’t budge when they pushed against it, trying to roll it sideways along its track. Only after Hector used his hammer like a crowbar against the teeth at the base of the door did it break free and start to slowly roll aside.
Beyond was a large circular room with a domed ceiling covered in gently glowing green lichen. In a heap before the door was a pile of bones. The creature had been large, maybe nine feet tall during its brief lifespan. It had died trying to escape the place of its unnatural birth.
Isabel knelt before the remains of the Goiri, looking into the empty eye sockets of the unnatural skull half-buried in debris, wondering about its brief existence. The sound of boots came reverberating down the hallway, followed by the flickering of torchlight that played across the fine dust swirling over the Goiri’s bones.
“Here they come,” Hector said. “My magic is gone.”
“Mine too,” Isabel said. “Hold your ground and don’t leave the area. If our magic doesn’t work, then neither does theirs.”
Hector drew his twin short swords and took his position to the right of Isabel. She drew a sword and a dagger coated with blackwort. Ayela stiffly moved off to the side and sat down against the wall, crying softly. “I was really hoping that these bones would reverse what Hazel did to me,” she said.
The soldiers approached, fanning out with the two Sin’Rath witches behind them. Isabel backed up like she was afraid, trying to draw the witches into the room. They stopped before the edge of the field, smiling fiendishly. The one on the right looked almost human, except her skin was an unnatural grey, her canines were long and sharp, protruding past her lips and her eyes were completely black without any pupils or irises. One sharp horn jutted from her forehead, curving over her jet black hair, her spiked tail flicking about behind her.
The other wasn’t nearly so attractive. She was hunchbacked, her right shoulder large and powerful, her right arm longer and stronger than the left, which looked like a child’s arm except that it ended in black claws as did the right. Her eyes were red, the color of glowing embers, and her teeth were all black and needle-sharp. Grey, tangled hair grew in patches on her mottled scalp and her face was misshapen, almost like it was made of wax that had melted slightly out of form and then hardened.
“Well, well … will you look at this, Agneza,” said the first witch to her sister in a very reasonable voice. “The Reishi witch has finally run out of places to hide.”
“Yes, Peti,” Agneza said in a mewling voice. “We should eats her.”
“Seize them,” Peti said.
The soldiers started moving forward, entering the null magic field and moving to surround Isabel and Hector, not seeming to notice Ayela sitting off to the side. Isabel made no move to resist.
Trajan approached her and stopped ten feet in front of her.
“Throw down your weapons and surrender. You have nowhere left to run.”
“Trajan,” Ayela said weakly.
He looked at her sharply, noticing her for the first time.
“Who are you?”
“I’m your sister, but that isn’t important right now.”
When he turned to look at the unconscious body that one of his soldiers had placed in the hallway, the true form of the witches caught his attention. He spun to face them, frozen in place and staring in disbelief as the effects of the magic broke.
“That’s what they really look like, Trajan,” Isabel said.
His men were all turning to look at the two hideous witches, muttering and gasping in dismay, conferring with each other to see if their companions were seeing what they were seeing.
“You’ve been under their spell, Trajan,” Ayela said. “Just like our father is, just like his father before him. Our