Brian McCLELLAN - The Autumn Republic

“This will kill a god?” he asked.

She raised her eyebrows as if to say, I hope so .

“That’s very reassuring, Pole. I don’t suppose you’ll get the pit out of here on your own so I can go help Tamas?”

She shook her head.

“All right. Stay close.”

Nila put a shoulder beneath Bo’s arm and they ran down the next two flights of stairs, spikes of hot iron as big around as Nila’s wrist raining around them.

“How the pit can she do that?” Nila demanded.

“Her primary element is earth. Every Privileged likes to get good at something that’s both effective and physically terrifying. Mine is ice. Those bloody bolts are hers.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs. She headed for the door leading outside, but Bo stopped her with one hand.

“There are worse things going on out there,” he said.

“What could possibly be worse than raining iron?”

“It’s not strictly iron. It’s compressed matter. Iron is just easier to say. And outside you’ll find a pair of gods fighting.”

“You’re joking.”

Something suddenly shook the building, followed by a deep groaning sound. “That would be them.” Bo grimaced. “Pit, be glad you’re not attuned to the Else like I am. I feel like I’m walking naked through a battlefield. I wish Adom would just kill her already.”

“Well, I think I would have preferred to remain ignorant of what’s going on.”

Bo limped on ahead, leading her through a series of servants’ rooms and out into the main hall of the first floor. “Keep close,” he said. “I’m losing strength. I can only do so much.” His fingers twitched and Nila ducked involuntarily as the ceiling above her exploded. The iron spike that plunged down through the ceiling would have impaled her from head to foot if Bo’s sorcery hadn’t slapped it aside, sending it clattering down the hall.

“What can I do?” she demanded. “I can’t form shields, I’m not that quick!”

“You’ll learn.”

“If I survive this!”

“Good point. Air, can you do air?”

“Only a little.”

“Air behind your fire. The hottest fire you can make. The fire will melt the iron, air will spread the molten metal around you.”

“And shower anyone nearby? That’s mad!”

“This is sorcery!” He stopped her with an arm across her chest. “Shit.” The building shook and they both nearly fell. “One of those bloody Privileged is trying to help Brude. I don’t know if it’ll do anything, but to pit with me if I let him.” He reached out one hand. Nila noted his fingers moving slower, his eyelids drooping. “Damn it, I’m getting tired. This damned leg!”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Privileged. There.” He pointed up and to his right. “Two stories up. Do you feel him?”

Nila reached out with her senses. She could feel that Privileged and she could sense something greater outside the building. It was thick and ominous, far stronger than the Gurlish magebreaker’s sorcery nullification. This turned her bowels to jelly.

“Okay,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Kill him.”

“How?”

“Be creative.”

Nila scowled. Reaching up, she flung her sorcery at the ceiling, her own fire splashing back to singe her clothes before melting through marble, wood, and plaster and boring a black hole right through the guts of the building.

She felt the Privileged wink out of existence, his light in the Else snuffed out. “I did it. I did it!”

“I’m very proud of you. Just don’t let it go to your head. He would have countered you if he had been paying any attention. Keep going, there are still two more of them. Lourie’s still on the fifth floor, but she won’t stay up there long.”

The iron spike came from nowhere, slamming through Bo’s shoulder and flinging him across the hall. His response was almost immediate, his fingers twitching even as he was thrown, spikes of ice flying through the air and impaling the Privileged who had appeared in the stairwell ahead of them.

Bo tried to wrench the spike from his shoulder, screaming as it seared his flesh. His wrists were suddenly pinned to the wall by air, and then a smaller spike went straight through the palm of his right hand.

Nila stared in horror as Lourie strode into the hallway, ignoring her comrade pinioned to the wall with ice like some kind of insect. Nila sneered, raising her hands, but was instantly batted down by an invisible fist.

Her head pounded as she struggled to regain her feet, and watched helplessly as Lourie approached Bo. The Brudanian Privileged stopped in front of him, then turned to regard Nila for a moment. “What are you, his apprentice? You should have carried extra gloves, little girl. A fight like this will burn them off.” She turned to Bo and put a finger under his chin. “I’ll make the offer one last time. But if you want to survive this moment, you’ll beg me to kill this imp you call an apprentice and you’ll laugh as she screams.”

Bo choked a couple of times.

“Well?” Lourie demanded.

“Nila,” Bo croaked. “Remember the magebreaker?”

“You’re not answering me,” Lourie said. “You have five seconds.”

“You have my answer, you bitch.”

Nila struggled to her feet and reached for the Else.

“And what is that answer?” Lourie said, tilting her head forward in a mocking manner.

“Burn,” Bo replied.

Nila tapped into all of her fury, spurred on by memories of her fear and helplessness at the hands of all who had abused her. She used that strength to wrench sorcery from the Else. It poured through her, more power than she could possibly hold. Lourie turned toward the danger, molten matter compressing into a spike above her shoulder and soaring toward Nila. But Nila threw air behind her fire just as Bo had said, and the spike melted to her flames and was splashed away by the air. She heard herself scream as the flames washed over Lourie and plowed on ahead, blasting through columns and walls.

It went on for several seconds before, with a thought, Nila extinguished it, her eyes on the ash that remained of the Brudanian Privileged.

Bo clung to the wall, his mouth slightly open. “Air, huh?” he said. “I’m really glad you figured that out. Now, would you come help me get this out of my shoulder?”

Tamas and his squad of soldiers went through the Diamond Hall, passing the shattered windows still unrepaired from the night of Tamas’s coup earlier in the year.

They moved through half a dozen large galleries, passing staircases and countless side rooms, but they met no resistance along the way. There was evidence of animals taking up residence in this wing of the palace – chewed curtains, birds’ nests, and scratched plaster walls. Tamas had heard that Claremonte’s headquarters had been in the royal apartments on the north side of the palace, near the throne room. Apparently this wing had gone untouched by his staff.

The battle seemed far away now, the palace almost peaceful. Tamas thought that perhaps he’d made a mistake.

Opening his third eye confirmed that he had not. Claremonte was still up ahead of him, beyond the two scepter-wielding statues that flanked the entrance to the Answering Room.

Tamas motioned for his soldiers to split into two groups and flank the doorway. They rushed forward, rifles at the ready, and took up their positions. Tamas moved forward to open the doors.

He sensed a flare of sorcery behind him and only his preternatural speed allowed him to dodge the ice spike that flew down the hallway and slammed into the door where he had been standing a moment before. Tamas whirled, pistol ready, and grunted as a second spike slammed into his shoulder, throwing him against the wall with enough force to make him see stars.