A beam of orange energy shot from Xeries's hands, howling as it soared toward Korox. Then, just as suddenly as it had been conjured, the beam dissipated, splashing harmlessly against the chest of the king's black steed.
'But-but that-that was-was the-the finger-finger of-of death-'
His echoed words were cut short as the Warrior King leaped from his saddle. Korox hurled himself forward, both hands on the hilt of his enchanted blade. Like a bird of prey he descended upon Xeries, screeching as he dropped from the heavens to take vengeance on the master of the Obsidian Ridge.
His feet hit first, knocking the arch magus to his back and crushing bones as the withered man absorbed the force of Korox's impact. Then the king's blade came down, slicing through flesh, pus, and the withered black heart at the center of this ruined wizard.
Korox dropped to one knee, placing all of his weight down on top of the frail arch magus, holding Xeries to the stone plinth.
'But-but my-my spell-spell…' gurgled Xeries.
Korox's lip curled up as his hatred bubbled over like a pot left too long on a fire.
'I see you've met my wife,' he said, shrugging his chin up at the statue. 'She looks after me, even in death.'
The Warrior King twisted his blade, and Xeries convulsed in pain, hissing through blackened teeth. Xeries tried to focus his eyes on the king through all of his pain, but it was clear he was having a hard time. He reached up, opening his mouth to say something, perhaps cast a spell. But it was no use. His whole body trembling around Korox's blade, the tormentor of Erlkazar let out one final breath-a sound like wind chimes crashing to the ground- then he slumped back, dead at the feet of the king and queen.
Inside Xeries's private chamber, the dying gasps of nearly three dozen women echoed off the walls. Their faces bent upward in smiles of relief. Together, each of them released their hold on life, falling finally into a well- deserved rest. Had there been anyone in the chamber to listen, they would have heard all of those final breaths used to utter the words, 'Thank you.'
At long last, the chamber was silent.
Chapter Thirty-seven
The black beasts stopped dead in their tracks-even those in the middle of chewing a soldier to pieces. They closed their fanged mouths. They retracted their scything claws. They stopped moving, and all of them, every single one, sat down on their haunches and hung their heads, right in the middle of the battlefield. They were like obedient dogs, all of which had seemingly been told to lie down.
Silence settled over the blood-strewn grounds surrounding Klarsamryn. The ring of metal and cries of dying men slowly faded It was calm in the heart of Llorbauth for a brief moment.
Then a shout went up across the line of soldiers. Hope had returned.
'Cut them down!' shouted King Korox from behind the battle. He hobbled back toward the fighting, returning from the edge of the courtyard and the now-lifeless body of Arch Magus Xeries.
Every soldier within earshot hacked down upon their stationary foes. Not a one of Xeries's beasts moved, not a muscle, as King Korox, Lord Purdun, Captain Kaden, and all their men fell upon the enemy.
The beasts that had terrorized Erlkazar only moments before died by the dozens. They did not whimper. They did not cower. They simply waited their turn to be slaughtered.
Their blood ran in rivers across the parched earth.
The Matron could hardly believe her eyes. One moment the end was near for the ruler of Erlkazar. The next he had taken the field. His troops had not suffered as many casualties as she had predicted, and they now outnumbered her assassins more than twenty to one.
'Assassins of Waukeen!' shouted King Korox, as his men surrounded them. 'Your treachery here today will not go unpunished. Throw down your weapons, and you will be tried justly. If you resist, you will be killed.'
The Matron's face burned with anger and frustration. 'Do not listen to him! The throne is ours! Take the king! Take Llorbauth by force!'
Quinn stared up at the three huge floating gemstones. A line had been chiseled into the ground, connecting the base of each to the others. The space in between the rubies described a triangle, large enough to fit nearly fifty men, if they were standing shoulder to shoulder.
Coming a little closer, Quinn reached out to touch the nearest stone. A narrow thread of magical energy lifted away from the ruby and connected with his hand. When it touched him, he could feel every hair on his body stand on end. It was like being too close to a bolt of lightning, yet at the same time, the power coursing through his body was somehow invigorating.
He placed his entire palm on the humming ruby. A hundred other strands of magic reached out to him, creating a thin barrier of energy between his skin and the surface of the stone. As he pulled his hand away, the narrow threads stretched and combined, reaching across the distance to keep contact with his skin. The farther away he got, the fewer, thicker strands connected him to the ruby, until finally he broke the connection and the energy receded back into the floating stone.
Stepping inside the inscribed triangle, he made a connection with the first ruby then reached out his other hand to the second of the three stones. Another stream of energy lifted off its surface and attached itself to his hand.
This time though, as soon as it touched him, his feet were lifted from the ground, and he began to float in the air. He wobbled a bit, his balance a little shaky, as he was sucked in deeper toward the center of the triangle. The third ruby reached out to him as well, lifting him higher into the air as it added its energy to that of the other two. More and more of the magical threads touched his skin, like hands holding him aloft.
It was an extraordinary experience-hanging in midair, suspended between the humming rubies, weightless and free to move as he pleased. By lifting his hands over his head, he could rise toward the ceiling. By lowering them to his sides, he would drop back toward the floor A shift to his right or left would move him around the triangle.
The closer he was to the center, the more control he had. At the edges, he would lose the connection to one of the rubies, and he'd drop a few feet. If he lost the connection to more than one, then he'd fall back to the floor altogether.
His feet touched the ground, and he stepped out of the triangle. Being inside was rather exhilarating, but it was also quite tiring. His heart was beating very quickly, and he sat down, a rest to catch his breath.
'I think this belongs to you.'
Quinn spun to see a man watching him from the other side of the triangle. His face was warped and cast in an orange glow from the humming rubies and their magic. In one hand he held Quinn's bladed gauntlet.
It took him a moment, but Quinn eventually recognized him. 'Jallal.'
'Put this on,' Jallal demanded. 'Perhaps it'll prolong your inevitable death. I'll enjoy it more that way.'
He threw the weapon at Quinn, tossing it into the triangle.
Tiny threads of energy shot from the gemstones. The magical strands wrapped themselves around the blades, slowing the gauntlet and lifting it high in the air. Reaching the ceiling, it came to a stop, suspended between the rubies at the highest point in the room.
Taking two large steps, Quinn leaped into the triangle, his arms held high over his head. He could feel the gemstones' magic take hold of him and shoot him into the sky. As he reached the ceiling and his weapon, he kicked his legs out and spun his body around in a somersault. Grabbing his gauntlet as he passed, he flipped over, landing feet first on the ceiling.
Standing upside down, he strapped the gauntlet to his wrist and motioned at Jallal. 'I don't know how you got here,' he said. 'But if you want a fight, then I'm happy to oblige. Come and get me.' '
Jallal stated up through the orange light, a look of confusion on his face. Then his eyes narrowed, and he stepped across the inscribed line on the floor. The moment he made contact with two of the rubies, he was lifted
