He saw the Rike emerge into the chamber, his face wet with sweat, his expression tortured with worry. The serpents began to converge on him.
“Lukias!” Annon shouted. “The serpents! Shut the door!”
“You survived? By Seithrall you are blessed! Do you have the torc? It repels the snakes.”
“Yes, but they are coming at you! Their venom is—”
“—Fatal, I know! Use the torc. The activation word is Iddawc. Put it on, now!”
Annon stared at the Rike, cringing by the door. He then stared at the torc in his hand. Would it harm him to wear it? Would it subvert him? He did not know. Erasmus had given his life for their quest. He was willing to do the same. The snakes slithered with a frenzy to reach Lukias. The door was ajar. Had Lukias truly come to save them? Or was he there as a spy to reclaim the Arch-Rike’s treasures? He did not have time to reason things through. He needed to trust his own judgment and take a risk.
“Nizeera,” Annon shouted, loud enough so that Khiara could hear him as well. “If the torc harms me or my mind, keen three times.” Inside his mind, he thought to Nizeera, Then help Khiara escape this place of death.
Annon felt the great cat panic as he fastened the torc around his own neck.
“There are reports that the Arch-Rike has made an embassy outside the city. This is a rare occurrence and a sign of the gravity of the situation. His personal ship left the port before dawn and was seen to be sailing westward. He is a great pragmatist and I am certain he would not have left the city himself unless his own persuasive voice was necessary to interrupt the war’s violence. I have not found a more moral being than the Arch-Rike of Kenatos. A moral being, by my definition, is one who is capable of reflecting on his past actions and their motives—of approving of some and disapproving of others. He is always learning.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
The torc was cold around Annon’s neck. Breathing heavily and fighting off a wave of sudden nausea, he waited in the echoes of his own mind for some sign of power or acknowledgement of the beings trapped inside the device. Finding none, and feeling himself quite alone in his thoughts, he invoked the command word.
Iddawc.
The taste of the word in his mind invoked feelings and memories: the cold dark well of Drosta’s Lair. The ravening hunger to kill that came from the blade he had taken. Cold sweat gathered across his brow. The word Iddawc contained fear, like a man cupping poisoned water in his hands and about to drink of it. Invoking the word in his mind made Annon shudder.
The blue gems in the torc began to glow dimly.
He felt the stirring of energy, the portent of power. The metal of the torc was uncomfortably hot. He felt the gathering power; the sudden surge brought tingling gooseflesh down his arms. The serpents recoiled. Nizeera’s mind went black with fear and she crouched, head low, tail limp, ears flat. The serpents fled the circular chamber, disappearing into small crevices made from the designs on the lower edge of the wall near the floor that had been invisible before. In moments, not a single serpent remained.
“Well done,” Lukias said triumphantly, breathing a sigh of relief and staring at Annon. “I knew you would tame it easily. What a gift you have, that strength of will. Not many could have done that, Annon.”
Khiara floated down and came forward, her expression wary. She approached Annon and touched his cheek with the back of her hand, as if testing for a fever. “Tell me your name.”
“Annon of Wayland,” he said. “What is it, Khiara? My mind is my own.”
“Can you prove that?” she asked, her expression darkening. She rounded on Lukias. “How did you get here?”
He held up a hand calmingly. “You feel aggressive. It is the magic from the torc. It affects us differently than the beasts. I feel it myself. My heart is racing. I have the urge to smash something. It is a physical reaction to the torc’s power. When the serpents are beyond its radius of influence, the power will lessen.”
She scowled and took a step toward the Rike. “Answer my question. How did you get here?”
“I freed myself from the bonds. It took a while, as you can imagine. Erasmus was thorough. I had a choice to make. Face the Arch-Rike and perish or help you escape. The Arch-Rike is here in Basilides. There are at least fifty soldiers immune to fire marching this way. If you wish to live, as I do, we must go. This instant.”
A shiver of dread went through Annon. “The Arch-Rike is here?”
“I assure you that he is here in person. Basilides is a carefully guarded secret, Annon. When you overcame it, he summoned his personal legion to fight you. I will take my chances with Tyrus and the rest of you. We must go. Now!” He gestured at them with his open palms.