Page 164 of A Crown of Lies

“I’m sorry,” Ieduin said. He could feel himself slipping away already. He was as light as a leaf falling from a tree. “I think I’m going to have to be… a bad boy this time.”

“Don’t you dare!” A tear escaped to run down the side of Rowan’s nose.

Tofi suddenly appeared, kneeling in the dirt. “Tofi can save him. Tofi needs permission first. No time to explain.”

“What’s the cost?” Rowan asked, his voice raw.

“No time! He fades! Do you want him to live?”

Rowan’s throat worked, and he nodded.

“And you?” Tofi asked Rixxis. “Quickly!”

“Whatever it takes,” Rixxis agreed.

He looked down at Ieduin. “Yes or no?”

There was no question. He wasn’t ready to go. “Yes,” he croaked out.

Tofi slammed his palm to Ieduin’s clammy forehead. Searing pain burned through Ieduin’s body. He screamed, but he wasn’t alone. Rowan and Rixxis were screaming in pain right alongside him.

Fifty

Afternineteenminutes,aplume of dark gray smoke erupted from the highest tower of the underground stone palace. Aryn stood cautiously. It was a signal, but was it the one he’d been waiting on? Had Emmanthe succeeded in her takeover of the Shikami? If so, how?

Slowly, carefully, his hand on his sword, Aryn made his way down to the familiar fortress, only to pause at the entrance. A guard slumped against either side of the stone doorway, chests covered in blood, their throats slit. He passed them, only to find more dead in the entryway.

His feet carried him forward, through the many empty halls where he found more bodies, sometimes two or three at a time. He stopped counting a total at twelve.

The first live Shikami he encountered were outside the hallway near the fourth room. They stepped out of the shadows, their faces shrouded in black. Aryn drew his weapon, but they didn’t respond with theirs, instead halting where they were. More stepped out behind him and he tensed, ready for a fight.

“You have been summoned,” said one of the Shikami before him. “We wish for no more bloodshed. Will you come?”

Aryn eyed the Shikami around him. More had come out of nowhere, surrounding him. If he chose to fight, he might be able to take some, but not all. He sheathed his sword, untied it from his waist and held it out, spreading his arms wide. “I will go.”

The shadowy Shikami descended on him like Crows to a feast of flesh, stripping him of his weapons. He stood completely still, letting them undress him with mindless efficiency. They found all his hidden daggers, every last one, and took his coins, the vials of caustic liquid he’d brought… They even took his belt before quickly dressing him again.

“Come,” said one simply and turned, leading them all forward.

Cloth whispered through the empty stone halls, the sound like a thousand hungry rats in a tomb, all scurrying to one place. More Shikami came out of every room they passed, flanking him or walking silently behind. Soon, there were over a hundred of them, all flowing toward the large room at the center of the fortress.

Kneeling Shikami pulled aside curtains, and they passed into a massive hall of stone with dozens of columns. Each column had hundreds of alcoves housing a skull and a candle. At the front of the room stood an unassuming stool on three legs. Emmanthe sat upon it, her clothes blood soaked and shining. Crimson splashes decorated her cheeks and her forehead. She had a slash across her left cheek and another on her arm that had been hastily wrapped in bandages.

The Shikami ushered him forward, abandoning him a short distance from the stool.

Emmanthe gestured stiffly to the pillow at her feet. “Kneel.”

Aryn clenched his jaw. “No.”

Emmanthe’s lips curved up with a nearly imperceptible pride. He would have knelt for Omashii-Kuno. He’d never kneel on command again.

“You are no longer welcome here,” Emmanthe said after a short pause. “I revoke your access to this place, and to all things Shikami. You may not carry the Shikami sword. Our allies shall no longer accept your coin as currency. Never again will The Shrike be spoken of in these halls. Your name and service will be wiped from the roster, your work forgotten. Under penalty of death, I hereby banish you from this fortress, and all Shikami-controlled establishments within D’thallanar, the Yeutlands, and beyond. All of our protections shall hereby be removed, all your standing contracts destroyed, and you will be barred from placing future contracts. It will be as if you never existed.”

Aryn let out a shuddering breath, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders. The sudden lightness was almost staggering. He bowed his head to hide the tears welling in his eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”

“We accept the twenty Shikami coins you brought with you as a ransom for Saya Runecleaver.” Emmanthe turned her head as one of the Shikami came forward, placing the coins at her feet. “Bring her.”

Aryn turned at the sound of movement coming from the eves of the room, letting out a breath of relief at the sight of her. They’d dressed her in a worn gray tunic and thin slippers. Saya looked exhausted, and her hair was disheveled, but she looked unharmed. As soon as she saw Aryn, she broke away from her captors and ran to him, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his chest.

---