“Wait,” Rachel said. “Would you still spare ten of my friends?”
He gave her a flat stare. “I would if you provide the opportunity. Your comrades are running out of time. Even I cannot restore the dead to life.”
Rachel hung her head, hoping she looked defeated. “I’m afraid to come out. You humiliated me. You hurt my mind; you hurt my body; you crushed my hope. You wounded my faith in my magic. I wasn’t trying to anger you by coming to the lurkers. I just wanted to find a place where you couldn’t touch me. A place where I didn’t feel powerless. This was what I came up with.”
Maldor’s expression softened a degree. “An innovative option, but any kinship you have imagined between yourself and the torivors can only be based on a horrible misunderstanding of their natures. I mistrust this penitent charade, Rachel, but if you come out of there voluntarily, I pledge to forgive you. The cause you fought for is lost. Your people are on the run. The last rebellion has been crushed. It is time for you to choose a new cause. You fear what Lyrian will become under my rule? I offer you the position and power necessary to influence change. We need not be enemies. Come, Rachel, do not tarry in the shadows.”
“Will we be alone? I want to talk more.”
Maldor turned and made a gesture. “We will be alone.”
“You’ll still save ten of my friends?”
“If you emerge and provide the names, I will do everything in my considerable power to spare your favorites.”
I will go to him now, Rachel conveyed to the torivors.
The tenebrous figures stepped out of her way.
“Will you back away?” Rachel asked. “You frighten me.”
“Will you emerge if I depart?” Maldor asked.
“Don’t leave,” Rachel said, her voice quavering. “I want to talk. Just give me some space. I’m having a very hard day.”
“Understood,” Maldor said, backing down the hall.
Rachel walked forward to the threshold. She hesitated, waiting until he had retreated a good distance down the corridor. “Are you going to attack me with Edomic?”
“Not unless you attack me,” Maldor said.
“I don’t want to ever attack you again,” Rachel said, stepping across the threshold. “But I do want to show you a command somebody taught me.”
“Who?”
“Orruck.”
His eyes widened.
Her mind felt clear. She had prepared for this moment for hours. Really, she had prepared for this moment ever since arriving in Lyrian. She had prepared by discovering her talent for Edomic. She had prepared with long hours of practice at Mianamon and elsewhere. Her will had been strengthened by those she had loved and lost. Her will had been reinforced through the stalwart examples of heroes like Galloran and those who served him. Her resolve had increased as she beheld the evil that Maldor represented. Her faith had been armored by the prophecy Jason had retrieved. Even her recent failure to defeat Maldor had helped her prepare.
Without pause Rachel put everything into the command. Her life depended on this moment. It was not hard to muster genuine emotion. All her fear, anger, and grief. All her hope, faith, and love. Her desire to live. All the strength of will that she could summon.
She focused on Maldor’s pendant and uttered the command that would change stone to glass.
She felt the command succeed.
Maldor stared down in bewildered surprise.
The altered Myrkstone had a slightly different sparkle, but she could still sense power in it. Rachel had known the transformation alone might not be enough. She was ready.
Issuing suggestions in rapid succession, Rachel urged Maldor to lie down, to sleep, to run, to jump, to turn around, and to be silent. After he had almost obeyed her during their duel, Maldor had used that tactic on her, confusing her with multiple instructions. She knew that she was sharing the suggestions with greater subtlety and expertise than ever before.
Rachel saw Maldor struggling to resist her suggestions, but she did not pause to relish his temporary indecision. Raising her voice, using commands taught to her by Chandra, commands Orruck had forced her to practice in his presence, Rachel lifted the pendant off Maldor, slipping the chain over his head and into the air, then smashed it down to the floor.
The Myrkstone shattered.
Its quiet aura of power dissipated.
Recovering from the brief befuddlement of her suggestions, Maldor gaped at the particles and slivers of broken glass on the floor. Furious eyes found Rachel.
He barked a vicious command, drawing massive amounts of heat to her clothes.
Calmly, certainly, Rachel uttered the command he had used to disperse her fire attack. She had only heard the words once, but she had always been a quick study. Maldor crumpled as his command failed, clutching his stomach as he gagged and retched.
From his hands and knees, he glared at Rachel with enraged, bloodshot eyes. Then his expression changed, the fury melting into a terrified realization. Maldor was no longer staring at Rachel. He was looking over her shoulder.
She turned and saw a lurker emerging from the dark chamber, as agreed, a sleek sword held in each hand. The lurker silently walked past her and tossed one of the weapons to Maldor. The emperor dodged aside, letting the sword ring against the stone floor. The lurker continued toward him unhurried.
Paying no heed to Rachel, Maldor looked from the lurker to the sword on the floor. Extending a hand, Maldor issued an Edomic suggestion, telling the lurker to impale itself. Rachel could sense that in his desperation he was pushing much too hard. When the command failed, the emperor dropped to the floor and vomited.
The lurker kept approaching with measured, fluid strides. Wiping his lips, Maldor looked up, crazed eyes full of terror. The lurker had almost reached him. The emperor raised both hands, palms outward, his lips moving hastily.
The blade sliced down on a trajectory to divide Maldor’s head from his shoulders, but glanced away before reaching him. The torivor kept swinging. A barrage of potentially lethal strokes bounced aside as the sword struck a thin dome of energy that only flashed into view on impact. Each time the blade connected with the barrier, the dome gleamed blue white before fading from view.
The lurker kept swinging without hesitation. Maldor kept his palms raised, his expression concerned but determined, his gaze fixed on the lurker.
Rachel had expected the torivor to slay Maldor. But at least for the moment he was trapped. A brief, hysterical laugh escaped before her hands covered her mouth, tears warping her vision. Had she really done it? Would this hold him? Was she really going to live?