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Chapter 22



Rada was covered in blood. Her clothes were practically soaked in it, red from fingertips to elbows. Yet the poor warrior she’d been trying to help had died anyway, and from the look of things the rest of them would be following him into the great nothing momentarily.

“Keep fighting!” Jagdish roared.

The warriors were panting and drenched in sweat, but they kept going, long past any rational man’s breaking point. Rada didn’t know for how long they had fought—it seemed an eternity, hunched over, legs cramping, backs aching. The demons kept clambering up the rocks, and the warriors kept hitting them with their swords. Yet it seemed for each one they cut or smashed, two more were ready to take its place.

“No man quits!” Gotama shouted as one of his men faltered. He grabbed that warrior by the neck and shoved him back toward the edge. “Did I grant you permission to die yet, Nayak Tarsh?”

“No, Phontho!”

The old man sliced a tiny demon in half, then kicked both pieces over the side. “Then get back to work.”

Karno ranged back and forth across their narrow perch, tirelessly picking up the slack whenever a warrior’s arm failed and he was about to be overwhelmed. He must have killed hundreds of the things with his hammer by now, and was as covered in white blood as she was in red. Yet there was no pile of demon corpses below them, because the demons were as quick to carry off their own dead as they were human bodies. For what dark purpose, she couldn’t understand.

“Rada, does the mirror speak?” Karno demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Then make it.”

“I can’t.”

Karno stopped his relentless killing to come to the center of the circle, where she was still kneeling next to the warrior she’d been powerless to save. He placed one hand on her shoulder. “Look at me.”

She did.

“If it wanted you here, you are its bearer. Take command.”

“How?”

“You are the smartest person I know. Figure it out. Do so quickly or we will all die.”

Then Karno went back to smashing demon bugs with his hammer.

With shaking hands, Rada opened the torn satchel and dumped the piece of priceless black steel onto the bloody boulder. It sat there. Reflective side down. Pitch black and fearsome.

She’d not experimented with the thing. Oceans, she’d barely looked upon it since taking possession! When last freed it had absorbed a man’s arm. The last time she’d stared into it, something inside had stared back. Vikram Akershan had cautioned her to never touch it with her bare hands, because just like a black steel sword, it would judge her worthiness, and there was no mercy upon those it found lacking.

A warrior screamed in pain. A demon had gotten through.

“I can do this.” Rada picked up Asura’s Mirror in both hands, cringed, then closed her eyes tight, waiting for it to punish her for her insolence.

When nothing happened, she slowly opened her eyes.

Then the damned thing bit her. She yelped in surprise more than pain, but the warriors were too busy fighting for their lives to notice her minor injury. It had pierced her palm, deep enough to draw blood, but it seemed to have stopped there. She imagined it cutting off all her fingers and blood spraying from the stumps, but it just sat there, seemingly content.

Rada hurried and flipped it over, revealing the polished side. All that was looking back at her was her own battered, filthy, blood-splattered reflection.

Just like the first time, the longer she looked into the mirror, the more it seemed to draw her in. Even as warriors fought desperately all around her, the sounds of violence faded. The blue sky behind her reflection seemed to darken, until it was like unto the night sky, filled with stars.

It was as if she was alone in the dark.

Then that thing was there, watching from inside the glass.

The Asura.

It had form, but not substance. There was a suggestion of a beautiful woman’s face, but coldly emotionless, seemingly unmoved by their terrible plight.

Black steel had incredible powers, but there was no record of this device in the Capitol Library, so she had no idea what it was capable of. It had to be able to do something. “You wanted me to come here. Now we’re surrounded by demons. Save us, please.”

As before, it didn’t speak with words, as much as fragmented whispers that were in the mind rather than the ear.

The mirror needed to be here because of the demons.

Containment initiated.

“Wonderful. Please, hurry. The warriors can’t hold much longer.”

Except then Rada got the distinct impression that the mirror didn’t care what happened to them in particular, only that it be delivered to where the demons would be.

“What about us?”

The Asura had tested her blood…and found it lacking.

Denied.

“I’ve tried to live an honorable life. I’ve fulfilled every obligation ever given to me.” And then all of her guilt over the casteless genocide came crashing back. That had to be why the black steel thought she was unworthy. “Is that it? I did what I could! I tried to make that right. I tried to tell the truth. Please, don’t condemn these men because of my weakness.”

Except the Asura ignored her pleas. The ancient thing was without pity. She had to try some different tack. She thought back to everything she’d ever read on the topic. Black steel would destroy itself rather than fall into evil hands, and there was no greater evil than demons. “Help us that we may help you.”

The mirror seemed agreeable to that.

“Oh thank you, mighty Asura!” Then Rada realized that words had appeared on the polished black steel, superimposed over her image. “What’re these?”

Partial access.

The words moved and were then replaced by more words. To someone who loved books more than life itself, this was the most miraculous thing Rada could imagine. It was a page that changed. It was like many books in one. How many words could one piece of black steel hold? What could the Library do with magic like this? Unfortunately, without her glasses the words were too blurry to read.

Thankfully, the ancient being that lived in the black steel device must have had some small measure of mercy, because it sensed Rada’s frustration at being unable to read it and made the words larger so that she could see them. “Thank you.”

The letters and numbers were archaic, the ancient predecessor to the current legally mandated alphabet. Fortunately for Rada, she was a Senior Archivist, and a damned good one, schooled in older texts, so with effort she could decipher all the words.

A warrior fell atop her, crashing about, desperately trying to keep a demon’s razor legs from his throat. She was knocked over and crushed beneath him, but that pain seemed far away, and she remained focused on the mirror, even as Karno killed the demon and hoisted the warrior off her. “Are you alright, Rada?” he shouted, but his voice seemed to be coming from very far away. Karno’s stone face broke, displaying concern for her well-being, but he had no choice but to leave her lying there and return to the battle.

Rada could make no sense of the rapidly moving words. There were numbers at the top, which she recognized well enough, and they seemed to be subtracting. Three hundred. Two hundred and ninety-nine. Two hundred and ninety-eight. And so on. “What’s that for?”

Containment.

From the speed the numbers were changing, they’d probably be dead long before those numbers ran out. The warriors were gasping and wheezing. Their arms had to be on fire. “You told me what to do before, when the raiders attacked. Tell me what to do now.”

But the Asura did not have an answer, for it didn’t know either. Except Rada was beginning to realize that this thing was somehow broken. Maybe the Asura trapped in the black steel had decayed with age, like an elder whose brain had gone to fog. Its abrupt warnings to keep her from being murdered by the wolves of Sarnobat must have been some leftover instinct. In this more complicated situation, the Asura seemed almost as overwhelmed as she was.

“Then why’d you send me here?”

Probability.

Warriors were being cut. Blood droplets landed on the mirror. Two hundred and fifty-five. There was no time to fully decipher the words that were rapidly crawling across the mirror beneath the numbers. She focused on one but was once again denied as unworthy. The Asura made an unapproving tone, as if to say that would require full access to its powers, foolish unworthy child. Rada hurried and picked another and received the same negative answer. “Oceans! Do something.”

The Asura had fulfilled its purpose. Now it could only be directed to act.

Rada had to calm herself and focus. The letters may have been archaic, but she could make out enough of them to reason out their meaning. The mirror had given her promptings before, telling her when to duck or fall. She’d been worthy of those blessings. Perhaps there were more blessings that existed at that same level?

“What part of you did that?”

One word seemed to float above the others, and Rada was fairly certain that it would translate to defense. “Yes! Perfect.” From the warrior’s distant cries, Rada knew they were out of time, so she picked the very first words that appeared.

Execute.

The world came rushing back, and Rada found herself lying flat on her back, next to a warrior’s corpse, with the Asura’s Mirror resting upon her breast.

The fighting had stopped.

“What in the salty hell is this?” Gotama whispered.

The fighting had stopped, but not from the demon’s lack of trying. The vicious things were still scratching their way up the rock, only they couldn’t seem to make it over the edge. The remaining warriors were shoulder to shoulder, and as they struck at the demons their blades bounced off something unseen. It was as if a barrier had been inserted between the two sides, made out of the world’s hardest and clearest glass. Rada stood, and slowly turned in a circle, realizing as she did so that the impassable barrier seemed to form a circle around them.

“Don’t hit it!” Jagdish shouted. “Calm yourselves. It’s protecting us.”

The warriors were clearly terrified of this witchcraft, but it beat being ripped to pieces. The demons kept coming, only now they were crawling over their own bodies, and up into the air, the terrible points of their claws clacking hard, against a wall of hardened air. They kept swarming, and the mob of bugs kept rising around them, seemingly hanging onto nothing at all.

“Did you do this?” Karno demanded.

“I think so,” she answered.

Every warrior took an unconscious step toward the center, as the demons continued crawling up air. They were now surrounded ankle high, and more demons were still angrily trying to get in.

“I’ve heard of something like this,” Jagdish said. “It is some manner of shell, where a thin layer of air becomes hard as steel. Ashok’s woman, Thera, supposedly created such a thing in the graveyard of demons using her illegal god powers. She was safe in the center of a clear dome that even Ashok wasn’t strong enough to break through.”

“How long does this effect last?” Karno asked.

“Who knows? Enjoy the opportunity to rest our arms and bandage our wounds.”

The warriors were all drenched in sweat and struggling for breath. Frightening magic or not, they’d be thankful for the lull. Except the demons were still accumulating against their barrier, and they were now waist high. The triangular creatures were repeatedly slamming their underbellies against it, and Rada could only hope that it held up under their increasing weight.

“Karno, Jagdish, come and look at this,” Rada said, holding out the mirror.

“Is that black steel? Did you have that in my house? Are you a wizard?”

“Later.” Karno held up a hand to silence Jagdish. “What did it tell you, Rada?”

“It’s confusing, but I think it knew these things would be here, or at least the probability of them. Something like that. It’s here to contain them no matter what. That’s what it cares about, but I think I persuaded putting this defensive magic over us first.”

“What does this mean, contain?” Karno asked suspiciously.

Rada turned the mirror so the two of them could look into it. “Careful, don’t touch it. The Asura gets angry.”

The demons were now chest high and climbing. Gotama rapped his knuckles against the invisible wall, then gave an appreciative whistle. “Librarians are certainly far more capable than I was ever led to believe.”

Jagdish was looking into the mirror, mouth agape. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“The words it is showing now, I think, are all the ways it can defend itself or its bearer,” she said as her eyes flicked across the mirror, mind desperately trying to record all the precious ancient knowledge in the still-moving words. “I don’t know what the subtracting numbers are for.”

It was nearing a hundred now.

“I think I know what that is.” Jagdish reached into his uniform and pulled out his treasured pocket watch. He was inordinately proud of the little device and had showed it to her many times before. Flicking it open, he tapped the glass over the mechanical arm. “That’s a clock like this, only in finer measurements, and counting down rather than up. But counting toward what?”

“Containment, I think. Whatever that is.”

The noise of the demon claws was unbearable. It was a horrible, endless, scratching.

“If this witchcraft breaks, we’ll be buried alive!” shouted one of the warriors, as panic began to overcome rationality.

Gotama took the young man by the arm. “Don’t worry, lad. We’ll only be buried alive briefly.”

“Better to cut our own throats than be dragged away by that!”

Then Gotama smacked the warrior across the cheek. Not particularly hard, but enough to get his attention. “Enough. Keep your head. Tend your brothers’ wounds and wait your chance. Let the wizard do her business. She’ll get us out of this.” Gotama turned toward her. “Right?”

“I’m doing my best.” Rada paused, because for a moment she thought the growing darkness was her being sucked back into the mirror again, but then she realized it was because the demons had now covered most of the dome and were putting them into the shade. The idea of the terrible things blotting out the sun filled her with dread. Then the image within the mirror changed. “That’s new. What is that?”

“A map,” Karno stated.

It was like a beautiful painting, but marked with dots that glowed like fireflies, and covered in words of places that no longer existed. “My goodness. Not only can black steel become a book, but it can also be a book with pictures? Is there anything this marvelous material can’t do?”

That is what you’re thinking about right now?” Jagdish said, exasperated, as bloodthirsty demons scurried around on top of the invisible dome only a few feet overhead, and an ancient device counted down toward some mysterious end. “I know those shores. That’s the northern coast of Vadal, so that red light is where we are…but what the hell is that?”

A bright line was growing across the map, heading toward the spot that Jagdish had indicated as their location, as if watching an artist dragging a paintbrush perfectly straight. It couldn’t possibly have represented a real thing, because nothing in the world moved that fast. The line crossed much of the continent over the span of a few heartbeats. It appeared it would reach the red mark…

Twenty.

Nineteen.

Eighteen.

…just as the mysterious counter ran down.

“Look!” A warrior pointed upward.

It was difficult to see through all the wriggling bodies, but there was something high above them. The boulders began to tremble beneath their feet. The light that was sneaking between the demons turned into blinding beams.

The horde must have realized something was wrong, and as one they stopped their incessant attacks against the barrier and looked up as they sensed their impending doom.

Seven.

Six.

The line upon the map hadn’t been a representation. There really was something ripping a hole through the sky while crossing the entire world. It was a spike made of coiled lightning, trailing hurricanes.

Four.

Three.

The earthquake knocked them from their feet and scattered the demons. Karno moved his body between Rada and the incomprehensible wrath from the heavens. The act would make no difference against such force, but he was a Protector to the end.

One.

The world turned to fire.


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