Shadow Dagger Ch. 19

For anybody that wasn't a Magi, the flash of silver in Diazan's eyes was too brief to properly see. But Ashford knew and so did Jon.

"It shouldn't surprise you, Chieftain Jon, to learn that I'm a direct descendant of Jocelyn D'Ontorio san Tumari. Which means I am of the goddess' bloodline; a bloodline whose responsibility is to carry on Jocelyn's mission."

Ashford felt a cold fear clench his heart. The nightmares he endured every night for a month were becoming real. Jon, however, merely smirked.

"Is that right?" he asked lightly.

Diazan's smirk transformed into a hard anger. "I know everything about you, Jon D'Thelas san Ronar. I know your entire history. I know how to kill you."

"Then prove it," Jon said coldly.

Diazan growled and unsheathed his sword. His eyes burned silver as he gestured toward Jon. Ashford cried out a warning and prepared a deadly spell of his own.

The spell was merely a distraction, however. Diazan had conjured a harmless light spell that went off in Jon's face; a spell that was hard to distinguish from a flare of sunlight.

Diazan simply disappeared. He had obviously been studying how to use magic to enhance his battle prowess. Ashford used the same technique himself so he was able to spot Diazan as he covered the ground between him and Jon in a blink of an eye.

The light spell and the blazing charge had taken just a matter of seconds. An ordinary Magi would have been dead before he could blink.

Jon was no ordinary Magi.

The fight ended faster than even Ashford could see. All he knew was that Jon's sword was buried deep into Diazan's chest. Diazan's own sword lay at his feet.

"How?" he gasped.

It was only then that Ashford saw the runes disappearing from Diazan's body. Ashford recognized the runes as the runes for a 10th Tier protection spell.

In the seconds it took for Diazan to cast the light spell, cast the protection spell, and charge with his sword leading the way, Jon had used his own magic to disable the protection spell so his sword could do its work.

"Knowing something is different from actually doing it," Jon whispered. He pulled his sword free and Diazan's body fell lifelessly to the ground.

Ashford took a few moments to catch his breath. He didn't think Jon would ever cease to amaze him. From the muttering of the army behind him, it seemed that this fight scared them as much as it did Ashford. What had it looked like to a non-Magi eye?

"A brief fight," Dasan noted as he scowled down at Diazan's body. "This was the mighty Chieftain of the Desert Cheetah?"

Ashford turned back toward the city as he heard the gates swing open. A crowd of people were gathered around the entrance. A woman in bright blue silk stepped forward from the crowd and walked fearlessly toward Jon.

"Jon D'Thelas san Ronar, Chieftain of Raves, the goddess sends her greetings and bids you to follow me. She is waiting most anxiously for your arrival."

Jon glanced over at Ashford and nodded. Swallowing, Ashford nodded back.

***

The distant sounds of a large skirmish several blocks away assaulted Sophina's ears. She did her best to ignore the sound of steel clashing on steel and the faint cries of pain. The fact that the distraction was necessary did little to assuage her conscience.

Not only were Peron's men risking their lives, but the soldiers defending the city were her former comrades. They were only doing their job.

Another reason why Reynar has to die, Sophina thought bitterly.

She motioned with her hand and slowly turned the corner of the alley they were currently hiding in. The street ahead of them was clear; the soldiers predictably deserted their posts when they heard the fighting.

"It looks clear," Peron whispered from her right side. He hitched the traveling pack higher on his shoulders and scanned the area around them.

Raynolt crept along on Sophina's left side. Two of Peron's men brought up the rear. The rest were off fighting the guards just a few blocks away. Several Magi were with the men to provide cover when they retreated. Sanje and his men were creeping along in the shadows nearby.

They made it to the wall surrounding the city without incident. Sophina stopped and motioned Raynolt closer. "Is it warded?" she whispered.

Raynolt studied the wall and nodded. "I know these runes like I know the back of my hand. I will deactivate them long enough for your friend to make his way over the wall."

Sophina waited patiently as Raynolt began to cast his spell. She glanced nervously around but saw no sign of movement. Distant sounds of fighting let her know that Peron's men were still buying them enough time.

"It's done," Raynolt said. Here in the shadow of the wall, where the stars couldn't shine, Raynolt's silver eyes were disconcerting. He looked like a demon from her mother's stories.

As he spoke, Sanje and his Magi Victus appeared suddenly from the shadow of the wall. Several of them carried ropes and grappling hooks.

"Are you ready?" Sophina asked Sanje.

Sanje tugged the hood of his cloak tighter around his face and nodded. He wasn't much for words. He grabbed his rope near the end of the grappling hook and let it slide down his hands to give it enough slack. He whirled it quickly through the air and flung it high in the air. His men followed his lead.

Sophina whistled under her breath as several grappling hooks soared high into the sky; much higher, she knew, than a normal person could have thrown it. The hooks disappeared over the top of the wall.

Sanje tugged his rope and it quivered with tension. Nodding, he wasted no time in scrabbling up the side of the wall. Sophina could only watch in awe as several dark forms disappeared into the shadow of the wall quicker than she could blink.

She stopped herself from biting her nails as she studied the top of the wall. She thought she saw a flash of movement as the Magi Victus jumped over the top. She could hear a muffled cry and a thump. This noise repeated itself several times.

A dark form appeared over the top of the wall and made a fist. The moonlight was bright enough to allow Sophina to make out his form against the night sky. She turned to Peron.

"Are you ready?"

Peron shifted the pack on his shoulder and nodded. "Don't miss me too much," he whispered. He chuckled to himself and moved toward one of the dangling ropes.

Sophina grabbed his arm to stop him. "I have to know; why are you doing this? I know I paid you a lot of gold but this is insane. Why are you helping us?"

Peron cocked his head and studied her face for a long moment. "If I say it's because of you, would that make you want to sleep with me?"

Even if it was too dark to see, Peron had to know that she rolled her eyes. His quiet laugh confirmed this for her. "Sophina, I'm a warrior. It's all I know. It's all I've ever known. It's what I love to do. Besides, I still want my revenge on Reynar."

"You're crazy, you know that?" She couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice.

Peron patted her shoulder. "Everybody knows this. Are you just now figuring that out?"

"Thank you," she whispered. She meant it from the bottom of her heart.

Peron smiled and turned back to the wall. Sophina grabbed his arm again. His eyebrows were still lifting in surprise when she crushed his lips against hers. His eyes were as round as an owl's when she pushed him away.

"For luck," she said simply.

Raynolt cleared his voice from behind her. "We don't exactly have all day."

Peron looked like he had just been run over by a stampede of horses. He touched his lips and shook his head in wonder. "Is there any chance--"

"Go," she told him, pushing him toward the wall. "And come back alive. Remember the plan."

"I will see you again," he swore. He turned back toward the wall and scrambled up the rope as neatly as any Magi Victus, albeit a bit slower.

"What do you think the odds of him succeeding are?" Raynolt asked conversationally.

Sophina turned away from the wall and starting walking back. From the top of the wall, a horn blared suddenly. Peron's men would know to pull back immediately.

"The God be with you," Sophina whispered under her breath. "Or we're all doomed."

***

Jon paid little attention to the glass buildings around him or the stone tiles beneath his feet. If anything, this city only served to prove to him that his guess was right. He hadn't wasted his time.

The goddess just had to be Jocelyn.

Nothing else made sense. Only she could have orchestrated this whole thing. Only she could have created this city. How she did it, without the help of the true-born, Jon didn't know. But he knew it was her.

Their guide took them through the center of the city. Blank faces stared at them from doorways of shops and from tribesman walking by. They had to know what this was about.

"There's something wrong with these people," Ashford whispered. He sounded scared. Jon couldn't blame him.

"Forget about them. Just think about what lies ahead. Do you remember everything I told you?"

"Of course. I'm ready, Jon."

Their guide turned her head and smiled vaguely at them. "Our city is more beautiful than Astuari, is it not?"

"It depends on how you define beauty," Jon said, carefully keeping his voice light and even. He didn't know how these people would react if he was too aggressive. How many of them could use magic?

Their guide's face crinkled in confusion. "Beauty doesn't need a definition. It simply is. See how that's buildings shaped? It's a work of living art, not some dead and lifeless stone your people use. Nothing here is just solely for function."

Jon nodded. "In that way, then yes, it's indeed beautiful. But if you define beauty by the soul something possesses, then it's sadly lacking."

The guide's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Jon gestured vaguely to the people watching them walk past. "I've seen more life in corpses. This beauty you speak of is hollow and without meaning."

The guide scowled and turned back around. Ashford looked nervously at Jon. "Was it wise to antagonize her like that?"

"Probably not," Jon admitted. "I just wanted to see her reaction. I wanted to know if any surprises await us."

"Did you learn anything?" Ashford whispered, his voice barely registering over the sound of their boots stomping on the stone tiles.

"She shows more life than these people. I think that means she's a Magi."

"Oh great," Ashford moaned. "I'm starting to think we won't get out of this alive."

Jon patted him on the shoulder. "Just remember the plan. I will make sure you survive."

"We're here," the guide said suddenly. Her eyes were still narrowed in anger. She had stopped in front of the palace Jon had spotted earlier from the top of the ridge overlooking the city.

"Lead the way," Jon said, as polite as he could.

Her guide crossed her arms over her breasts. She swung her dark head angrily. "Your men must stay behind. The goddess has asked to see only you and Ashford Caulston."

"Be on your guard," Jon warned Dasan.

The big tribesman merely grunted and turned around, his hand falling on the handle of his sword. Jon turned back toward the guide. "We're ready."

She lead them through two massive doors of rainbow colored glass. Tribesman guarding the doors, their faces blank, never even glanced at Jon. Jon mentally prepared himself for any contingency. He knew he could defeat Jocelyn in a fight but he was worried about Ashford. He just hoped he had taught him enough magic over the past two months.

Jon paid little attention to the rich decorations adorning the walls of the palace as their guide lead them deeper into the building. They past several large courtyards and fountains. Jon saw more tribesman standing guard in every hallway, their faces as blank as stone.

Finally, after nearly twenty minutes, their guide stopped in front of two doors of solid oak. She grabbed both handles and pushed the doors inward. Jon and Ashford followed behind her.

She led them through a large room with a long carpet laid out beneath their feet. Several cushions made for sitting were scattered along the glass walls. Torches hung on chains that ran from glass column to glass column.

But Jon kept his focus on the end of the room. This large throne room was empty save for a figure sitting on a large throne of pure crystal. As they drew closer, Jon could make out her features.

He stopped walking. Ashford stopped next to him and their guide turned around, her face carefully blank. "Is there something wrong, Chieftain?"

"Who are you?" Jon demanded of the person sitting on the throne.

A severely wrinkled old woman laughed wheezingly. Her teeth were crooked and nearly black. "I'm the goddess you've been so desperate to meet."

"No, you're not," Jon snarled. A blinding rage had overcome him. She still wanted to play games, did she?

"What's wrong?" Ashford whispered. "That isn't her?"

The guide offered her arm to the goddess. The goddess smiled kindly at her and used her arm to gingerly step off the throne. Their guide led the old woman over to them.

"Of course I'm the goddess," the old woman said pleasantly. "I have been for many years now. I inherited the title from my mother. Just as my daughter will from me," she added, patting their guide's forearm.

Jon felt a cold sweat break out over his forehead. Could he have been wrong? Had he just wasted everything on a hunch?

"No need to be so shy," she laughed. "Please, tell me, why were you so desperate to see me?"

"I thought..." Jon trailed off and shook his head. "I wanted to know what you told King Reynar about--"

"Ahh," the goddess said, her eyes widening. "I knew somebody would come one day asking about that. How about I make you a deal?"

"What deal?" Jon asked cautiously. What was going on here? Something didn't feel right.

The goddess smiled up at him, revealing those horrifying teeth. "For a kiss, I will tell you everything you want to know."

Jon froze. He felt a sudden tension in the air as the goddess stared at him with a heated intensity. Those eyes...he knew those eyes. They were as dark as night and burned with a bright passion and a desperate yearning.

"It can't be you," he whispered in shock.

The tension in Jon's shoulders increased as the goddess' smile spread slowly across her face. "I was never very good at deception, was I? Asking for the kiss was a bit much, I suppose."

Jon reacted without thought. He seized his magic and prepared a spell of holding in his mind. He shaped the spell in his mind and released it.

At least, that's what he tried to do. No sooner did he seize his magic than the goddess' eyes turned silver. An unfamiliar net of runes materialized in the air before him and settled over his head.

Jon's magic had been cut off.

Ashford's cry from next to him told Jon the same thing had happened to him. He couldn't believe it. Stopping a Magi from using his power was impossible!

The goddess smirked and contemptuously waved a spell of holding over them both. The runes wrapped around Jon's body and held him perfectly still.

"How did you-"

The goddess held up her hand, cutting Jon off. She turned to her daughter. "Esmy, prepare the rooms for our guests. I wish to have a chat with them first."

"Yes, Mother," Esmy replied reverently. She didn't even glance at Jon or Ashford as she swept from the room.

As soon as she left, two guards walked in from the door across from the throne. Jon spat on the floor as Dasan and another one of Jon's lieutenants walked toward him.

"A Magi, huh Dasan?" Jon growled.

Dasan's face twisted in disgust. He stopped in front of Jon and casually backhanded him across the face. Jon spat out blood and stared back at Dasan.

"I was so glad to hear that you promoted my son to such a lofty position," the goddess said, smiling. "Well, he's not really my son. Nor is Esmy really my daughter. They're several generations removed, of course. But still, I consider them my children."

"What have the years done to you, Jocelyn?" Jon asked calmly. "You're hideous."

A flash of intense anger crossed her face before her benevolent mask slipped back on. "Jon, I can't tell you how long I've waited to hear my name on your lips again. It takes me back years."

"Years that haven't treated you kindly," Jon said, hoping to score another hit.

But Jocelyn only chuckled. "You're ignorant of so many things, Jon. I should be the one who says the years haven't treated you kindly."

"Obviously you're eyes are as decrepit as the rest of your body, Jocelyn."

Jocelyn sighed. "You're usually so good as seeing beneath the skin, my dear Jon. Perhaps the years have robbed you of your intelligence. I will have to educate you. I despise this form anyways."

Jon turned his head in disgust as Jocelyn grabbed the hem of her white robe and pulled it over her body. Jon forced himself to turn back to see what she was attempting to do. Her body was as wrinkled as her face. The flesh hung off of her body like ill-fitting clothes.

"Watch closely," she purred. Her eyes glowed brighter as she started to move her hands over her body. She shaped the runes with a deft touch he had never seen her use before. Runes, whose purpose Jon didn't know, began to cover her entire body.

The runes glowed brilliantly as they appeared to sink into her flesh. The silver glow now appeared to be emanating from within her flesh. Jocelyn arched her back and cried out as the silver glow consumed her.

Jon squinted as the glow became too much to look at. He could only make out a ball of silver in front of him. This continued for several minutes as Jocelyn's screams became louder and shriller.

Suddenly, the glow vanished completely. Jon blinked rapidly to dispel the dots the glow had left in his vision. When his sight was finally returned, he grunted in shock.

The Jocelyn from his memories was standing before him, except for the wisdom and experience in her eyes. She appeared unconcerned about her nudity as she stretched like a cat waking from a nap.

Her hair was as black as night. It rose up from her forehead high above her and fell sharply down her back. Her skin was as smooth and pale as river stones. Her large breasts hung heavy on her chest and were tipped with dark nipples.

"Do you like what you see?" she teased him.

"How did you do that?"

Jocelyn shook her head. "We have the power of creation at our fingertips. You were content to barely scratch the surface. I, on the other hand, dug deep. I simply altered my physical structure. The power of creation is a wonderful thing, don't you think?"

"Actually, I'm disgusted to see the perversion you have--"

Jocelyn held up her hand again and silenced him. She glanced at Ashford and raised her eyebrows in surprise. "How rude of me to ignore your companion! Tell me, Magi, am I beautiful?"

"As beautiful as the moon," Ashford grunted, his voice sounding raw and emotional. "And as deadly as a bolt of lightning."

Jocelyn threw back her head and laughed. "Thank you, Magi. That's a most fitting description. Perhaps I will spare your life...if you continue to amuse me."

"You should be worried about me," Jon said, his voice as cold as the winters in Devers.

Jocelyn glanced at him and smirked. "Jon, surely you can see I'm not the same Magi you knew two thousand years ago. In fact, there has never been a more powerful Magi who wasn't a true-born. I could kill you now as if you were a child."

She wasn't bragging. Jon heard unquestionable confidence in her voice. She was simply stating a fact. For the first time since Jocelyn captured him all those years ago, Jon felt truly afraid.

He felt powerless.

"If you really don't fear me, then why not release the holding spell on us both?"

Jocelyn narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She looked at Jon and then Ashford and nodded. "Fine," she said, waving her hand. Jon felt the spell release from his body.