the two men. They stood, held from behind, and looked past her like she wasn’t even there. She casually tossed a pinch of sleeping powder into each guard’s face. They fell in turn.
Trajan nodded his approval. Isabel knew it was about to become much more difficult to survive without killing. At least a dozen men were coming, footfalls in the distance, but getting closer, and quickly. Trajan deployed his men in a line, each loading a dart into his blowtube and facing the end of the hall. They waited patiently until ten soldiers and two witches stormed around the corner into the wide hallway.
Five blowdarts found five men, each of them toppling to the ground moments later from the potent paralysis poison coating the darts. Both witches raised their hands to cast spells over the fallen van of their guard force, but nothing happened.
“Look at what you serve,” Trajan said, pointing his club at the witches. “See the truth of them and strike them down!”
One glimpse of the true form of the Sin’Rath, coupled with the elimination of their magical charms, and the five men bringing up the rear of the witches’ guard set upon them with a kind of frenzied ferocity, as if killing them quickly might bring some measure of atonement for ever serving such loathsome creatures.
Two more of the Sin’Rath Coven fell screaming and cursing. That left seven.
After a brief conversation, the guards swore loyalty to Trajan and agreed to help locate Severine Karth and kill the remaining Sin’Rath. He sent one man to the upper levels to warn of the Regency’s approach, and instructed another to attend to the seven men left sleeping in the hall. He took the remaining three men with him, expanding the number of soldiers under his command to eight.
The wide corridor turned right without any change in size, then ran straight for fifty feet, ending at a large set of stoutly banded doors, closed and barred from the inside.
“Can you open those doors?” Trajan asked Hector.
“Not if the witches are on the other side.”
“They are, I’m certain of it,” said one of the guards.
They started to hear the muted sounds of fighting coming from levels above. Isabel felt helpless. Alexander would be able to see through the door, then open it with ease, but then, he wouldn’t be able to do anything without his magic. She was helpless because of the Goiri bone. With magic, she could burn a hole through the door.
“Hold this, Ayela,” Isabel said, handing her the Goiri bone. Ayela took it, nodding ever so slightly.
Isabel marched off toward the door … and then it hit her. When she stepped out of the null magic field, Azugorath slammed back into her mind. Isabel crumpled to her knees with a scream that filtered through the entire subterranean complex. Azugorath pushed harder and in several different ways than ever before, trying to capitalize on the first few moments of the attack to overwhelm Isabel … and it was working. She felt her control slipping. Azugorath was making inroads, moment by moment, worming her way into Isabel’s mind.
Then the psychic onslaught was gone … vanished in an instant.
Ayela raced up to Isabel, kneeling next to her.
“Are you all right?”
Isabel nodded, taking the cursed bone back from her and smiling sadly.
“I’ll be fine, but I can’t open that door.”
The muffled sound of the bar being thrown stopped them all, every eye on the doors as the bolt slid aside. The doors came open in a rush, twenty soldiers standing ready to charge any intruder. Seven witches stood behind them along with Severine Karth and several of his attendants, his man-at-arms, Erastus, among them.
Trajan stepped forth, his hands held wide, club held high.
“I am Trajan Karth, heir to the House of Karth, and I will be heard!”
The soldiers faltered … Trajan got closer.
“I only seek an audience with my father.”
“Attack!” one of the witches shrieked.
The commander looked to Severine for the order but the king hesitated. Trajan reached the line of soldiers and the men parted. With sudden quickness, he raced through the men and straight to his father.
The witches howled in fury, but they were too late. Trajan got close enough to his father for the witches’ magic to fail, revealing their true nature.
“Behold, Father,” Trajan said, pointing with his club, “the true form of the witches you have served for so long.”
Peti cried out to her sisters from one of the passages leading out of the room. “Come, we must flee!”