'It wasn't my choice.' Ayaan shook her head. 'Sarah, just listen. They'll kill you. I don't care what kind of magic you've found, they'll find a way to get around it. You only have one chance to survive.'
'Ayaan never worried so much about survival,' Sarah said. 'I don't know who you are. I know who you serve, though.'
Ayaan closed her eyes and said a brief prayer. He is Sublime, she recited, the Tremendous. 'I thought as you did originally. Now I've come to understand. The world is in bad shape, Sarah. There are fewer living people every day, and more of the walking dead. I used to think there was one answer to that problem: shoot them all. Now I know better. Somebody has to rebuild this planet.'
Sarah licked her lips. 'The Tsarevich. You really want to live in the world he wants to make?'
'Yes,' Ayaan said, without hesitation. 'Because I've seen the alternative. Come on. You have to stand up. I can't carry you.' She helped Sarah up to her feet. The girl looked pale and weak but she didn't collapse. Was that just the result of good training? Had Ayaan taught Sarah how to be tough? Or maybe the girl's magic was just that strong.
Magic. Ayaan's world had always been predicated on the idea that magic was dangerous at best and a sure route to damnation. Now she was a magical being herself. She didn't want to admit that Sarah's anger had shaken her faith. But it had.
'Just be quiet. You can achieve nothing by talking now,' Ayaan said, letting Sarah lean against her.
'When they give the order to kill me, will you blow my brains out?' Sarah asked. 'Or will you let them cut off my hands and my lips and make me one of their soldiers?'
There were worse fates. Ayaan said nothing.
She lead Sarah deeper into the encampment, into the throng of cultists who were busy preparing for the Tsarevich's great metamorphosis. The living and the dead were busy unloading several crates of equipment from the back of the flatbed. Others labored at assembling strange contraptions Ayaan could not recognize. A narrow scaffolding made of aluminum poles was already rising from the carpet of bones, far closer to the Source than Ayaan thought safe. A work crew was putting together what looked like a giant metal coil as thick as her arm while others tested vacuum tubes and then fit them together in various metal cabinets. It looked as if they were preparing for a rock concert.
The crowd parted as a long wooden crate was brought forward. A cultist with a crowbar bent to open the crate and reveal a pair of metal spikes, each of them ten feet long and wickedly curved. Their tips looked sharper than icepicks.
Erasmus waved at Ayaan and walked over to stand next to her. 'It won't be much longer,' he said. 'Wow, did you ever really think we'd make it this far?'
'Yes,' Ayaan said. 'I believed. This is Sarah, by the way.'
'Uh. Yeah. Hi.' The cheerful werewolf didn't seem to know how to talk to the girl. He looked instead at the two metal spikes. 'Nice to meet you, I guess.'
'It isn't mutual,' Sarah spat but Erasmus was unwilling to take the bait. He just shrugged off the venom as if his fur made him invulnerable to hatred.
'I think I see how this works,' Ayaan said as the work crew bolted one of the long spikes to either side of the scaffolding. 'The Tsarevich will climb up there and grasp these poles. The energy will then flow through him like an electrical current.
'Yeah, kinda,' Erasmus said. He scratched at his face with his inch-long fingernails. 'Look, Nilla's ready to go.'
Ayaan looked where he pointed. The blonde lich was moving steadily toward the Source. Two female cultists followed behind her. Each of them carried a spool of wire which they unwound as they walked. The loose ends of wire connected to the scaffolding.
As Nilla approached the zone of exclusion where any undead thing would catch on fire Ayaan wanted to rush forward and drag her back. Erasmus knew better, however. 'It's okay. This is why we needed her so much. You'll see. Nilla is the only one who can actually go to the Source. As far as we know she's the only dead person ever to get close enough to touch it.'