Caina. I thought so. There’s a reason to live. I’m feeling generous, so I’ll do you a favor. That loud spell.”
“Loud spell?” said Kylon, not understanding.
Morgant sighed. “That spell that makes your voice louder. Cast it on me, now. No, don’t argue, just do it.”
Kylon shrugged and cast the spell, the air around Morgant’s mouth rippling.
“Rolukhan,” said Morgant.
“Who is this?” said Rolukhan, puzzlement in his voice.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Morgant. “I’d like to speak to the Lieutenant of the Inferno. Kindly fetch him, if you please.”
“I am the Lieutenant of the Inferno,” said Rolukhan.
“No, you’re not,” said Morgant.
Rolukhan chuckled. “Do you insult me, Shipbreaker, by having a madman address me?”
“Oh, I am a madman,” said Morgant, “and the Kyracian definitely meant it as an insult, but unlike you I’m not a self-deluded fool. Now, be a good little servant and summon the Lieutenant of the Inferno for me.”
“What are you talking about?” said Rolukhan, menace filling his words. “I am Malik Rolukhan, Master Alchemist and Lieutenant of the Inferno…”
“I know who you are,” said Morgant, “and you’re not the Lieutenant of the Inferno. The nagataaru in your head is the true Lieutenant. You, Malik Rolukhan, are merely its slave. Its puppet. You are its beast of burden.”
“You speak of matters beyond your comprehension,” snapped Rolukhan.
“No, I don’t,” said Morgant with glib cheer. “You’re just the nagataaru’s meat puppet, a witless toy dancing on its strings. You’re its donkey. You ought to rearrange that stupid gaudy turban of yours to make donkey ears. Now, be a good little beast of burden and run along and fetch your true master. Maybe if you’re polite, I’ll let…”
Rolukhan’s roar of fury all but deafened Kylon.
“Kill them!” thundered the Master Alchemist. “Kill them all!”
The Immortals shouted in response.
“Right,” said Morgant. “We should run now.”
Kylon nodded and ran after Morgant. “Why did you do that?”
“Made him angry,” grunted Morgant, his coat flapping around his legs as he ran. Even in the heat of the Hall of Forges, the man never seemed to sweat. “Angry men make stupid mistakes. Like you almost did.”
Kylon swallowed. “Thank you.”
“Bah,” said Morgant. “If you get killed, Caina shall do something foolish and suicidal, and I need that clever brain of hers to get Annarah out of the Inferno. Faster!”
They sprinted to the barracks. The smiths waited, bearing their massive hammers in their hands, and Kylon heard the clatter as the Immortals poured into the Hall of Forges. Nasser, Laertes, and Malcolm stood at their head, weapons in hand.
“It seems,” said Nasser, eyeing Morgant, “that you irritated our adversary.”
“What can I say? I am an artist,” said Morgant.
Through the haze of the light from the furnaces, Kylon saw the pale gleam of the Immortals’ eyes.
“Did you see Azaces?” called Nerina.
Kylon shook his head, and he sensed the disappointment and regret in her wraithblood-fractured aura.
“All right, lads,” said Malcolm. “Time to fight! Let us pay these bastards back for every whipping and every beating!”
The smiths bellowed and raised their hammers, and Kylon set himself and took the valikon in both hands.
Chapter 19: Subjugant
Deeper and deeper Caina went, following the undead into the darkness of the Halls of the Dead.
She moved as fast as Annarah’s injured leg allowed. Urgency thrummed through her mind. She had to hurry. The others were fighting for their lives in the higher levels of the Inferno, and Caina had to help them as soon as possible.
They might be dead already. Kylon might be dead.
Her mouth pressed into a hard line.
If Kylon was dead, by all the gods she would avenge him and his wife, would make Rolukhan regret ever having set foot in New Kyre.
Something else thrummed through her, far stronger than even the urgency or her growing terror.
The dark, necromantic aura radiating from below.
It grew stronger with every step, the tingling against Caina’s skin growing sharper and more painful. She gritted her teeth and pressed on, ignoring the discomfort. It only happened in the presence of supremely powerful sorcery, and it appeared that the Subjugant Bloodcrystal qualified.
“You are in pain,” said Annarah.
“So are you,” said Caina.
Annarah hesitated. “I…have a spell, if you wish. It might shield you from some of the effects.”
“No,” said Caina. “Thank you, but no. I need to be able to sense whatever spells are nearby. A little pain is a small price to pay for that.”
They kept going, descending more stairs and walking through dusty galleries carved with Maatish hieroglyphics. More and more undead followed them, hundreds of the creatures, until a small army of