The Core

Ashia and her sisters flung sharpened glass into the cluster, but one of the dama raised his staff, and a great gust of wind blew the weapons back at them. Most skittered off the women’s armour, but one embedded in a gap between the plates on Jarvah’s thigh. The girl made no sound, keeping pace with Ashia’s charge, but Inevera could see the wound ripple through her aura and knew it was serious.

Before the women could reach the guards, the other dama raised his staff, sending forth a crude but powerful blast of fire. It expanded quickly, catching two of the guards as it filled the hall.

Ashia and her spear sisters did not hesitate, ducking behind their glass shields and wading in. The wards on the shields absorbed the demonfire, and then they were amid the warriors.

There was a shriek as Micha crippled one of the Sharum with a spear thrust to the leg. A spatter of blood as Ashia spun her two-headed spear through a kai’Sharum’s throat. A grunt as Jarvah found a seam in the glass armour and ran another through.

The walls and carpets were ablaze now, but Inevera did not feel the heat, her warded jewellery absorbing the energy. The first dama sent another blast of wind at her as she advanced, but she parted it with a flick of her wand, collecting it behind her and throwing it back at the cleric.

They raised their staves defensively, wards flaring to part the wind much as Inevera had, but she followed the wind with a spell of her own, impact wards blasting apart the floor and knocking them from their feet. One lost his grip on his staff, and Inevera sent it spinning down the hall out of reach. The other held his tightly, fingers running like a flautist to manipulate the wards along its surface. Inevera raised her wand to kill him before he could release the gathering energy.

But then the door opened, and Inevera saw her mother. Asome stepped out behind Manvah, a hand around her throat.

‘That’s far enough, Mother.’

Inevera froze. The hora wand was warm in her hand, slick with her sudden sweat. Its power dwarfed that of even the great staves the dama carried – no doubt with demon bone cores of their own – enough to kill everyone in the palace.

But not enough to free her mother. Not before Asome snapped her neck.

‘I must say I’m surprised you took the bait,’ Asome said. ‘Did you really think it would be so easy?’

‘Let her go,’ Inevera said. ‘That is your grandmother, not some chin slave.’

‘Neither of you made the effort for her to know me,’ Asome said. ‘Why should I care if she dies? But I will let her go when you return my son to me. When you return my true grandmother.’ He tilted his head, eyeing Ashia. She was veiled, but though he had been a poor excuse for a husband, there was no mistaking her. ‘My “dead” bride.’

‘Three hostages for one?’ Inevera asked. ‘Your dama make poor sorcerers, but I thought they taught simple arithmetic in Sharik Hora.’

Asome smiled. ‘Enjoy the advantage while you can, Mother. Melan and Asavi taught us much about hora magic, if unwittingly. We narrow the gap each day. Magic is no longer the sole purview of the dama’ting.’

‘Against the direct teachings of the Evejah,’ Inevera said. ‘Suffer no sorcerer to live, Kaji told his people.’

Asome shrugged. ‘I am Shar’Dama Ka now, Mother. It’s time those passages were updated.’

‘Murdering your way atop the dais does not make you Shar’Dama Ka, boy,’ Inevera said. ‘You have betrayed all Krasia, put Sharak Ka itself in jeopardy, all for your own ambition.’

Inevera met her mother’s eyes. ‘Forgive me, Mother. The First War must come before even family.’

‘You are my daughter,’ Manvah said. ‘I would love you if you put out the sun.’

Asome’s aura spiked hot with anger. He jerked his head and Kasaad was shoved into the hall, stumbling on his peg leg. Behind him Cashiv grinned, a knife at her father’s throat. His exposed forearm was armoured, and he was careful to keep the heavier Kasaad in place as a shield.

‘Let us start small, then,’ Asome said. ‘Surrender my jiwah, now, or Cashiv will open your father’s throat.’

Inevera’s fingers itched to raise her wand, but it would do little good. She could not strike at Cashiv without risking her father any more than she could kill Asome without risking her mother. Down the hall, she heard reinforcements coming. They would arrive soon, dama wielding hora staves and many, many Sharum.

‘Do not, daughter,’ Kasaad said, drawing a sharp breath as Cashiv pressed the blade to his neck. ‘The Deliverer forgave me. My soul is clean.’

Inevera looked into her father’s aura and knew it to be true. In his Sharum days, he had been a drunk and a coward, but now he was ready for death and Everam’s judgement. His spirit looked to the lonely path, ready to walk it for his family’s sake. He knew Asome saw him only as khaffit – expendable. Manvah had true value. His grandson would never kill her.

‘It will never be clean after what you did to Soli!’ Cashiv’s muscles bunched, but Asome threw out a hand, staying him.

‘I will go, Damajah,’ Ashia said.

Inevera fell deep into her breath and shook her head. Sharak Ka must come first. The dice said Ashia still had a part to play. Kasaad did not. ‘You tried to murder your wife once already, my son. You will not have another chance.’

Asome dropped his hand and Cashiv’s blade flashed, drawing a hot line of blood across Kasaad’s throat. Inevera screamed as her father fell, choking on his own blood. The moment Cashiv lost Kasaad’s body as a shield, Inevera raised her wand, blasting the life from him. The warrior was thrown down the hall to land in a smoking ruin, but the damage was done.

Manvah made a choked sound as Asome pulled her in close, shielding himself with her body as he dragged her back inside. His men closed ranks to cut off pursuit.

‘Kill them!’ Asome shouted, kicking the door shut.

Inevera let them go, glad to have Manvah out of harm’s way as she raised her hora wand. With her free hand, she spoke to her Sharum’ting.

Leave no survivors.

I am a fool, Inevera thought as they returned, singed and bloody, to her wing of the palace.

They had taken a heavy toll, leaving a trail of dead Sharum and dama throughout Asome’s halls, but it was nothing compared with the numbers at her son’s command. Already his guard would be tripled. There would be no second chance, now that his trap was sprung.

Only Asome, Manvah, and the spear sisters lived to bear witness to what happened, but it made Inevera’s failure no less complete. She had been arrogant, letting anger guide her instead of the cold reason of the dice.

Now her father was dead, and it was doubtful she would see her mother alive again. Asome had confirmation of something he already suspected – that Ashia was alive.

And in return, what had she gained?

Nothing.

‘Damajah.’ Ashia bowed as they returned to her private chambers. ‘May I go to my son?’

Inevera’s eyes flicked to the girl, not yet twenty years of age, and saw the fear in her. Not for herself – she had been willing to die this night, in battle or in sacrifice. But the encounter with her husband had her worried over her son. Inevera could see Asome’s image, hovering over her like a haunting spirit. Ashia knew he would willingly kill every man, woman, and child in Krasia to have Kaji back.

Inevera reached out and Ashia stiffened, her aura shocked. Did the Damajah mean to embrace her?

But Inevera did not put her arms around the girl, instead pressing her hand against Ashia’s robe where it had been cut by a Sharum spear in their escape. The wound beneath had healed, but Inevera’s hand came away wet with blood.

She knelt, drawing free her dice and rolling them in her palm, coating them in her niece’s essence before she cast.

‘Everam, giver of Light and Life, your children need guidance. How can I best protect your honoured son Kaji asu Asome am’Jardir am’Kaji, that he and his mother might serve you in Sharak Ka?’

The glow of the alagai hora brightened, and she threw, watching coldly as they fell into a complex pattern. It took her long moments to decipher it.

—She must seek the khaffit through the father of her father, and find your lost cousin.—

Inevera blinked. That Abban still had a part to play was no surprise, and sending Ashia out of Everam’s Bounty might well be the only way to keep her and Kaji safe. Ashia’s father’s father was Dama Khevat, who had once been in command of the monastery, and was likely there still.

But cousin? What cousin?

She cut herself this time. The dice said her cousin, not Ashia’s. Perhaps her own blood might provide answers where Ashia’s could not.