Darkness Splintered

because I wasn’t about to hang around waiting for another bolt to hit me. I scrambled to my feet and ran to the right of the Raziq. Amaya surged through their midst, still spitting her bullets as she returned to me. The minute she thumped into my hand, I swung her with every ounce of strength and anger within me. Steel connected with energy and the resulting explosion was brief but fierce and would have knocked me off my feet had it not been for my grip on my sword. Amaya wasn’t going anywhere; she had a soul to devour, and devour she did. It took barely a heartbeat, but that was time enough for the rest of the Raziq to rally. Again that dark energy cut across the silent watchfulness of the temple’s fields, but this time it felt stronger – wider – than any of the others.

Amaya, shield! I dropped to one knee and held Amaya in front of me. Lilac fire instantly flared out from the tip of her blade and formed a curved circle that encased me completely.

And just in time.

The dark energy hit the barrier, and with enough force that it pushed me backward several feet. Amaya screamed in fury, her shield burning and bubbling where the Raziq’s energy flayed her. She held firm, but I had to wonder for how long. Not very, I suspected.

Damn it, where were the priestly remnants? Why weren’t they intervening? The Raziq were the reason we were all in this mess – they were the reason the priests were dead. Did they not realize that? Did they not want to avenge that? I know the Aedh were supposedly emotionless beings, but they were not above pride and they certainly weren’t above anger. Surely to god the priests had to feel something about their demise.

But if they didn’t know or care?

Maybe it was time to remind them of their duty to protect the gates.

“Killing me won’t solve your current problem, Malin.” I had to shout to be heard above both Amaya’s screeching and the thunderous impact of the dark energy against her shield. I had no idea where the Dusan was, but she was still very much active if her bellows were anything to go by. “As long as there’s one key left, you – as an Aedh priest – cannot be free from the responsibility of caring for the gates. If you so desperately want to close them permanently and therefore end your servitude to the gates, then you’re better off trying to sweet-talk me.”

“‘Sweet-talk?’” The voice was feminine, and decidedly pleasant. There was none of the malevolence I could feel in the dark energy, yet it nevertheless sent chills down my spine. Malin could charm the pants off a spider even as she dissected it piece by tiny piece. She’d dissected me once. That time, at least, she’d put me back whole, though not entirely the same. This time I suspected she would not be so generous. “You defy us at every turn, you do not take our threats seriously, and you expect us to simply accept your games of misdirection? Since when did insanity become a thread in your being?”

“I suspect it happened the day you lot entered my life.” It was probably not the wisest thing to say, but hey, what the hell? It wasn’t like she could get any angrier. Although the fresh burst of energy that hit Amaya’s shield very much suggested I was wrong. And the fact that she was no longer screaming was an ominous sign that her strength was weakening.

Is, she muttered. If there was one thing my sword hated, it was admitting she wasn’t all-powerful. Yours must draw soon.

Her drawing my strength was the very last thing I wanted right now, but again, until Malin and the rest of the Raziq calmed down a tad, it wasn’t like we had another choice.

Presuming, of course, they would calm down.

“And insanity aside,” I continued, “it doesn’t alter the fact you still need me to find the final key.”

“Not if we have decided that pursuing the remaining key is no longer viable or necessary. Not when it would be easier to simply destroy the gate itself.”

My body went cold. If they did that, then heaven help us all. Hell would be unleashed on both the fields and on Earth, and I very much suspected neither world would survive.

But would the fates and the priestly remnants allow that?

The continuing silence – at least when it came to the priests – very much suggested they might.

“You can do that?” I said, voice hoarse.

“We can now. With two gates open, the magic that prevents its destruction is muted.”

“But how would destroying the last gate free you from their service? The other two are still active, even if they are open.”

“Which is precisely why we have concluded destruction might be the better option.” I could hear the smile in her voice, even if I couldn’t see her. “The gates are all linked. If you can destroy one, you destroy them all.”

“The mere fact you make such a threat shows just how far the Raziq have fallen.” Azriel’s voice cut across the noise and the anger that filled the temple grounds as cleanly as sunshine through rain. Relief made my arms shake, and tears stung my eyes. I blinked them away furiously. It wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. It was still him and me against all of them.

“You no longer deserve the name of ‘priests,’” he continued, voice ominously flat. “And you certainly no longer have the umbrella of its protection.”

“Do not make idle threats, Mijai.” Any pretense of civility had finally been stripped from Malin’s voice. It was evil personified – nothing more, nothing less. “We both know you would not dare to violate the sanctity of this place.”

“Not without the permission of the fates,” he agreed. “And that we now have.”

With those words lingering ominously in the air, he appeared.

And he wasn’t alone.