Nicci didn’t understand what was happening. Cal swallowed the poison fungus and turned to the barricade, as if in a trance. Two men lifted the crossbar as he stood at the door, trembling.
Nicci realized they were going to let this man out into the sun. Mrra’s tail thrashed, and a low growl filled her throat, but Nicci rested a hand on the furred shoulders to calm her. “What is he doing?” Nicci asked Cora. “You’re letting him out? What about the zhiss?”
The old woman turned to her, and Nicci saw tears filling the wrinkle tracks in her cheeks. “We’ve had to do this every month. It is the only way we keep the zhiss under control.”
The men pulled hard on the heavy doors and opened them to let an axe blade of sunlight spill into the gloom. Cal turned to the gathered people. “Farewell. I—” His voice cracked. He dashed into the bright morning, pulling the hood over his head like a man darting into a downpour. The Hidden People pressed closer to watch.
Once away from the great building, Cal paused out in the open sunshine, filled with wonder. Turning slowly, he pulled down his hood and lifted his face to the sky. He squinted in the blinding sun, but reveled in the warm light.
“What is that man doing? Why is he sacrificing himself?” Nicci fought back the urge to push past these people and rush out to rescue him. “What will he accomplish? The zhiss will feed on him.”
Cora narrowed her eyes. “We are counting on it.”
The man walked placidly to the middle of the plaza near the toppled statue of Kurgan, where he stripped off his gray robe and tossed the garment away. His pale skin was milky, translucent, his face filled with rapture. He spread his arms, felt the sunlight, touched his bare chest. “This is my payment! Oh, what glory the sun is!”
Inside, the muttering people fell into a hush as Nicci heard a buzzing sound that grated her teeth, her spine. Mrra’s growl grew louder, and her ears flattened.
Flowing among the high buildings like a shapeless predator, the black swarm approached, thousands of black specks. Cal kept his eyes closed, refusing to look at the deadly cloud as he drank in the sun. The swarm swirled and knotted, then rolled forward, picking up speed.
“They’ll drain him dry,” Nicci said. “You said that if the zhiss feed on human blood, their numbers will increase dramatically.”
“Not with our blood.” Cora gestured outside. “Watch.”
Obviously agitated, the black cloud was ravenous as it closed in on its victim. Cal faced it and knotted his hands into fists. He howled in defiance as the zhiss swarmed over him, covering his body like a thousand biting black flies, coalescing as they had done around the two unfortunate deer. Within moments, the man was just a vaguely human shape cloaked in black.
Flailing about, Cal dropped to his knees and then collapsed face-first onto the flagstones. More zhiss pounced in to drink deep of the blood. The buzzing grew louder, like a brewing thunderstorm.
Once they had gorged themselves, the individual specks rose up from the body like fat raindrops. The dark red globules wavered, a cloud heavy with Cal’s blood. But instead of drifting off, as they had done after draining the deer, they became discolored. The crimson from Cal’s blood turned a sick brownish purple. Hundreds, thousands of the floating zhiss swelled, wobbled like drifting pustules, and burst in the air, splattering dark stains across the plaza. Every one of the zhiss that had fed upon Cal suffered, swelled up, and died.
“Because we spend our lives eating the poison fungus, our flesh and blood is deadly to them,” Cora explained. “Individually, the zhiss have no minds, only instinct. This is how we keep the swarm in check. Cal just destroyed a good part of them. We choose a new sacrifice every month to curtail the growth of the cloud.” The old woman continued to stare longingly into the sunshine. “The zhiss learn their lesson for a time, and then they forget.”
Nicci watched the flickering black cloud disperse, the surviving zhiss aimlessly flying away from the desiccated body.
“All of our generations have been a sacrifice,” Cora continued. “Someday, I will draw the marked token, and I’ll go out to surrender my life just as Cal did. We only hope there will be enough of us in Orogang to keep the zhiss from prowling elsewhere.”
When part of the black cloud wandered toward the palace, the Hidden People swung shut the door and lowered the crossbar into place.
Asha came up, her eyes sparkling. “It is our sworn duty, even if no one else knows what we do.”
“I know what you do,” Nicci said. “But you don’t know how to destroy them. If you’re all committed to destroying them, why don’t you send fifty people out there in a single sacrifice? If you each destroy as many of the zhiss as Cal did, then surely that would eradicate the whole swarm.”
“We’ve tried that, many times,” the old woman said, shaking her head. “Some of the zhiss are fooled, but the others flit away. Many of us died, and still the black cloud returns.”
Asha pulled on Nicci’s arm, pleading. Her pale cheeks were streaked with drying tracks of tears. “You are a great sorceress, Nicci. Can you help us? Can you find a way to destroy the zhiss?” She hung her head. “Or will you just leave us?”
After growing impatient with these sullen, passive people, Nicci had almost made up her mind to set off on foot. She could not ignore the threat that General Utros posed, but now she also had a different perspective on the danger posed by the zhiss. If the deadly black cloud ever left this ruined city and swarmed overland to engulf other human settlements, doubling in size each time, the entire world could be covered in a black, blood-drinking shroud.
Nicci recalled what the witch woman Red had written in Nathan’s life book, long ago: And the Sorceress must save the world. She had accepted that mission for her own reasons. After Richard showed her a different way to live, a different role to play, her heart of black ice had melted enough to allow love and duty.
And the Sorceress must save the world.
Nicci saw the tentative hope on their faces. “I will find a way.” She let no doubt creep into her voice or into her heart. When Nicci made up her mind to do the impossible, she usually succeeded. “I will find a way.”
CHAPTER 23
With an escort of a thousand mounted soldiers, General Utros headed north in search of his lost capital. At the front of the expedition, he rode an imposing black stallion fitted with a black saddle of embossed leather with polished brass studs.
Utros maintained a brisk pace, searching for old imperial roads, which had weathered away over time. They had crossed this terrain fifteen centuries before, but the details of the landscape were fresh in his mind.
“It seems like only months ago, beloved Utros.” Ava rode a bay mare beside him. The painted, hairless sorceress sat high in her saddle, her fingers woven into the horse’s mane. Her loose blue gown rippled in the breezes.
Ruva rode an identical bay mare on his other side. “But now the roads are overgrown, and forests cover the lands that we once dominated.”
“We will conquer them again.” Utros ran a finger under the gold mask to wipe away sweat. He nudged the stallion with his heels. “And this time, I will do it for myself, not for Iron Fang.”
Fifteen centuries ago, with the entire army behind him, he had led a slow march across the continent, subjugating town after town. Some foolish leaders resisted, and they all di
ed. More importantly, the vanquished rulers served as a lesson. Utros made sure they were executed in the most hideous and painful ways, slowly eviscerating the upstarts, burning them alive over low fires until they were smoked like venison sausages hung for the winter. The tales of the atrocities spread swiftly, which extinguished defiance among those who might consider resisting.
It was a careful strategic calculation. Unlike Iron Fang, Utros was not a sadistic man, and he did not enjoy causing such pain, but he realized the military necessity of it. After he committed just a few horrific atrocities, the other leaders could not surrender fast enough, and thus he saved lives. When his army rolled onward and his legend grew, he easily vanquished the next city and the next with little bloodshed. Even large walled citadels threw open their gates when his army marched near.
Until he reached the most difficult target: Ildakar.
Now the hot sun shone down on the soldiers as they rode back to their lost capital. Many of these men were conscripts recruited from conquered towns, and they had never seen Orogang, while others were hardened members from the imperial army, originally trained in the great capital city. They had families, sisters, wives, and mistresses back home—all long dead now, just as the soldiers themselves should have died in the natural order of things. Those men remembered Orogang, and Utros could sense their excitement as they rode toward the familiar gray mountains, knowing they were getting closer, mile after mile.
He thought of Kurgan’s enormous palace, with its towers and banners, its crystal windows, its plazas and statues, and the sunken amphitheater from which the emperor would address throngs of his citizens. Great bronze bells would ring fanfares to celebrate Kurgan’s every announcement. Conquered cities and kingdoms would send tributes, and such new wealth would pay for all of his extravagance.
The twin sorceresses couldn’t wait to see the city with their own eyes. “My sister and I only knew our small village,” Ruva said.
“Is Orogang grander than Ildakar?” Ava asked.
