and began climbing towards the guest quarters above him. Rock and debris shifted beneath his feet. The air was cooler now, and he could feel a light breeze brushing against his cheek.
Grunting, Cole hauled himself up over the edge of the shattered ceiling and onto the seventh floor. Just ahead of him the Obelisk’s roof had been split open, revealing a blue sky overhead. Smoke and dust still drifted through the air, obscuring his view. It seemed to be blowing from the east, so he plunged into it, pulling up his hood to shield his face and mouth. Either side of him collapsed rooms poured their destroyed contents across his path. He was forced to climb over the wreckage of four-poster beds, ornate dressers, grandiose armoires that had spilled their contents everywhere. His boots trampled silk gowns and gold-trimmed jackets into the filthy debris as he clambered across them. The wind grew stronger and the dust began to clear…
The Tyrant of Dorminia bled into view.
The Magelord was gazing out at the city, his back to Cole, scarlet robes and cloak fluttering out behind him.
He edged closer, as silent as a ghost. The yards closed between them. Fifteen. Ten. Five. He reached under his own cloak, placed a hand on Magebane’s hilt. This was it. One thrust and it would all be over.
‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
He froze. Salazar didn’t turn around. The Magelord’s voice was calm, measured. Cole’s mind raced. Should he charge, stick the bastard before he had the chance to react?
‘The White Lady sent you, did she not? A knife in the back. That was always her style.’
Salazar turned to face him.
Cole stared from beneath his hood. The most powerful man in the north seemed small up close. Small and very ancient. His skin was sagging and lined with wrinkles and he leaned on a cane, apparently unable to carry the weight of his withered body without support.
Tick tock tick tock.
The instrument at his belt, Garrett’s timepiece, reminded him of the folly of judging this man by his wretched appearance. He was a despot. A Godkiller. A Magelord.
‘I’m not here because of the White Lady,’ Cole said grimly. ‘I’m here because of the people of Dorminia. I’m here because of what you did to me.’
Salazar raised an eyebrow. ‘And what have I done to upset you, young man?’
Cole threw back his hood. ‘You had my father killed.’
The Magelord didn’t react. He simply stared at him. His eyes were sunk so far back in their sockets he looked as if he hadn’t slept in months. ‘Illarius,’ he said eventually. The ancient voice betrayed no emotion.
‘Illarius Cole,’ repeated the young Shard. ‘A hero. A hero you murdered for daring to stand against you.’
The Tyrant of Dorminia cocked his wizened head slightly. ‘Is that what they told you?’ he asked softly.
Cole could feel the anger rising within him. ‘That’s the truth! Don’t try and manipulate me. Your magic won’t work. My father’s legacy protects me.’
For the first time he saw a flicker of emotion on Salazar’s face. ‘You have Magebane, then.’
Triumph flooded Cole. He tore the glowing dagger free of its sheath and brandished it before him. ‘Yes. A hero’s weapon. And it will be your death.’
That pronouncement wasn’t met with the sudden fear he expected. Instead the Magelord closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he looked tired. So very tired. ‘You are aware Magebane’s power functions only for you. Did you ever question why?’
Cole shrugged. ‘What does it matter?’
‘The weapon you hold is tied to your father’s blood, which you alone share. It is bondmagic.’
‘No – that’s not true!’ Cole felt anger take hold. Bondmagic was something only Augmentors used.
Salazar raised the thin cane on which he leaned and pointed it at Magebane. ‘The blade is an alloy of unique potency. Abyssium is rarer than dragon’s teeth.’ He lowered the cane and leaned on it once more. ‘The process of enchanting the weapon was complicated. It took me ten days spent in isolation. It is perhaps my finest work.’
Cole’s mouth dropped open as the implications of what he was hearing sank in. ‘You created Magebane?’ he asked in astonishment.
Salazar nodded. ‘After a cabal of wizards attempted to have me assassinated, I decided the city must be purged of those with the gift.’ The tyrant sighed and shook his head. ‘It was not an easy decision. There was a time when I defied the very gods to protect my brothers and sisters from persecution.’