Gúrdu started swaying from side to side as he took another wheezing breath. The green flames in the lanterns flared again, whipping and sputtering in a wind that didn’t exist anywhere else. A low, growling hum rose from the raug’s throat.
“The Cycle will not turn for the Cu’ón as was foreseen. It will break beneath the fires of return. She will shatter the bones of the darkpool cages and will not remain to see the world rebuilt. Blood runs both ways. To choose one is life. To choose life is chaos.”
A wet, hacking cough wracked the Oracle’s chest. He struggled to draw another breath as his huge body trembled, every muscle taut and rigid.
Cheyenne gazed around the room. This doesn’t look good.
“To shed her skin.” Gúrdu coughed again, but his next breath never came. In its place was the same wet gurgle.
How do I know if this is normal or if he’s choking on fucking sticks? She tightened her fists and leaned forward, ready to jump up and at least try the Heimlich if things didn’t get better soon.
Then the raug’s head whipped back, and a shrieking howl in all those otherworldly voices burst from his gaping mouth. “The Cu’ón delivers his scion into ruin and decay. Blood bonds with blood. The phér móre is the sword. If it does not sail true, the scion will be their doom. The bridges and the river will both fall. Destiny runs both ways. The rot runs blood-deep. The rot shadows the bridges. The rot is her blood and her only path to claiming what was always hers from what he had no right to freely give!”
Another howl came from all around them now. Gúrdu’s body bucked and convulsed on his huge wooden platform.
“Shit.” Cheyenne leaped to her feet. “Gúrdu? You can—”
“This is the only way! And you will tremble before the sacrifice, daughter of L’zar, daughter of the Cu’ón, the Dark Grinning Weaver.”
Gúrdu’s meaty hand jerked away from his knee and swiped across the room, sending out a spray of hissing orange sparks. Cheyenne leaped back over the cushions. “Hey!”
“Your blood will burn in the Heartfire. Your blood will ignite the cleansing storm!” The raug’s other hand did the same, sweeping aside some unseen force but moving like someone else had taken control of a body that didn’t fit. The flames in the lanterns blazed higher and burst at the center with black light as Gúrdu’s gesture tossed the first two rows of cushions into the air with his uncontrolled magic.
Cheyenne batted aside a cushion that had flown at her and shook off the thick cobweb that clung to her arm. “Time to turn this thing off, Gúrdu. Can you hear me?”
“Your blood will bond to blood! Your blood runs through the heart! Cut out the heart! Cut out the heart!” The Oracle lurched forward and clapped his hands together with an ear-shattering boom. A ball of black fire churned between his palms when he drew them apart, the rest of his body still convulsing and making those awful sounds.
“That’s it. We’re done.” Cheyenne slipped into her drow form and conjured two churning orbs of black energy. “Sorry in advance.”
Gúrdu howled with dozens of voices and lurched forward again, his eyes and gaping mouth blazing with black fire as the flames between his hands grew larger, sparking with silver light. Cheyenne drew her arm back, meaning to throw an attack, then the dark flames in the lanterns roared into burning columns reaching toward the ceiling.
A loud crack came from behind Cheyenne, followed by a jagged streak of blinding silver light that raced for the prophecy-possessed Oracle. The shockwave made the halfling stumble forward, but she couldn’t look away from the sight of Maleshi dropping back into normal time and sending a fist wrapped in silver light into the side of Gúrdu’s face.
The screaming and howling cut off instantly, along with the Oracle’s black flames and the dark fire burning in the lanterns. The entire room plunged into darkness, and in the sudden silence, the heavy breathing of all three sounded incredibly loud.
Normal yellow flames returned to the lanterns, lighting the room again.
Cheyenne blinked and swept her gaze around the room until she stopped at the Oracle’s platform again. “What the fuck?”
Maleshi loomed over Gúrdu, who now lay on his back with his huge hands splayed out beside him. She straightened, smoothed her hair away from her face, and let out a long, hissing breath. “I’ve been wanting to hit this Oracle for centuries.”
Chapter Eighty-Two
Gúrdu’s gray, clawed hand lifted and swiped at the general’s calf.
“Don’t even try.” Maleshi stepped back and glared at him. “You deserved it.”
“I wasn’t finished.” With a few light coughs, he groaned and pushed himself back up until he sat cross-legged on the cushions again, his eyes glowing orange-brown once more in the low light. “And you know better than to cut off the source before it’s done.”
“Spare me the pompous thread lecture, Gúrdu. You’re not in any position to be meddling with shit you don’t remotely understand.”
“Oh, but I see all of it, Maleshi. I do understand.” He wiped the corner of his mouth and chuckled at the nearly black blood smeared across the back of his hand. “And now so does L’zar’s daughter, I think.”
The general dismissed the raug Oracle with a sharp hiss and jumped off the platform. “Speaking of L’zar’s daughter, you can put that away now.”
“Yep.” Cheyenne killed the black spheres of drow energy in her hands, then shoved them into her pockets and looked at Gúrdu. If he had eyebrows, I might be able to read that expression a little better. At least I get a nod of approval. I think. She glanced at Maleshi and shrugged. “Any chance you won’t punch me in the face too?”
“You know, maybe
