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“Oh, what you must have done to them,” he whispered to himself.
Many beasts had already escaped to run loose in the city, but others snarled and cringed in the tunnels. Some whimpered as Ivan held up his hands, unleashing his gift with a crackle of energy. He lashed out with the magic that ground these animals under his mental boot heel.
“You will all return to your places!” Ivan gestured with a boulder-sized fist. Two leopards snarled, then slunk back into the dim tunnels toward his cage. A speckled boar snorted, stuttered forward, but retreated. The chief handler released more magic, trying to wrangle the unruly creatures.
But three tawny shapes moved in the opposite direction, as if attracted by Ivan’s voice—the troka of spell-bonded panthers that had been pitted against the half-stone warrior Ulrich. They glided forward, their golden eyes bright, their ropelike tails flashing. The panthers moved in unison, each step perfectly matched, their predatory gaze fixed on Ivan.
He faced them, defiant, holding up both fists. His face twisted with the strain of releasing his gift. The sand panthers bared their saberlike fangs, and the ominous sound from their feline throats seemed more threatening than an actual snarl.
“Back to your cages, damn you!” Ivan roared. He flexed his biceps, gritted his teeth. A surge of his gift rippled through the air. Other combat animals in the chamber whimpered and scattered, running back to their familiar pens.
But the troka of panthers merely twitched, each one able to deflect the chief handler’s control. They crouched back, enduring the pain and refusing to move.
Ivan’s face grew ruddy with the effort; then he reached to his waist and pulled out a long gutting knife. “All right, then. It looks like I’ll have new pelts for my wardrobe.” He raised the blade.
Then the panthers were upon him.
They sprang in unison, driving at him from the front and from each side. An astonished Ivan flung up his muscular arms to defend himself, but the snarling cats raked their claws down his chest. Fangs bit into his biceps, crunching and tearing. One panther bit the base of his neck, severing his spinal cord; another bit his shoulder and tore out a huge hunk of red meat that dripped with blood. Crimson spray gouted from the severed blood vessels. The third panther ripped open Ivan’s belly and dug out his intestines, shaking her head like a kitten with a long strand of yarn.
Ivan screamed and fought, but the sand panthers mauled him until their tan fur was matted with rich red liquid. Flicking their tails in satisfaction, the three panthers left their bloody mess and bounded off into the night and freedom.
Bannon pressed his back against the rear wall of his cell, waiting for the nightmare to be over.
CHAPTER 49
Alarms summoned the ruling council in the dead of night. At the upper level of the plateau, Nicci and Nathan rushed out of the grand villa. Below them, the streets of Ildakar filled with frenetic activity, as if the city had been called to war.
Nicci had both of her daggers, expecting violence, wondering if Mirrormask had finally staged his all-out revolt, since he had not acted during the bloodworking that raised the shroud. Nathan retrieved his ornate sword from his room, ready to fight, though he didn’t know what enemies they might face.
“The combat beasts are loose!” called a humorless but reliable guard named Stuart, who had taken the place of High Captain Avery. Now wearing the red shoulder pauldron, he led a squad of armored guards, raising swords as they all ran down the streets. “We need every fighter. Call the archers and crossbowmen. The arena animals are on the rampage—the rebels set them free.”
Nicci said to Nathan, “Let’s join them, Wizard. This is something we can support—for the sake of those who cannot fight for themselves … the innocents.”
“You called me ‘Wizard,’” Nathan said, with a surprised smile.
“I have always considered you a wizard, even if you’re an ineffective one,” she said. “I know you can use your sword, even if you can’t use your magic.”
The city guards and the duma members were converging near the arena and the tunnels where the animals and fighter trainees were kept. Fleshmancer Andre, whose studio was near the area, had arrived first, perplexed. Sovrena Thora and Wizard Commander Maxim were also already there.
Nicci hurried forward, summoning her magic, while Nathan drew his sword and kept pace with her. They heard the shouts of frightened people in the streets, the growls and roars of rampaging animals. Arriving on their heels, the wizard Quentin looked only partially dressed, and Elsa bustled up from a side street, tugging to adjust her purple robe. Damon was the last to arrive.
“Where’s Ivan?” Thora bellowed. “He must get his creatures under control!”
Spotted leopards, spiny wolves, and scaled swamp dragons milled about, attacking anything that moved. A combat bear and a monstrous bull crashed forward, attracted by the screams of fleeing people. A woman chose the wrong direction to run, and the bull gored her with its split horns.
Spiny wolves bounded out, leaping at anyone they encountered, while Stuart’s city guards fought them with swords, clubs, and gauntleted fists. But the wild beasts were trained to kill, and more guards died than animals.
Among the city guard and the wizards who fought the unleashed animals, Nicci saw young Amos and his ever-present companions, all three young men carrying their iron-tipped wooden staffs, which they used to smash the rampaging animals. But Bannon wasn’t with them.
The three young men looked eager to assist in the fight—not to help the city but for the opportunity to shed blood. Amos darted in and swung his wooden staff to bash the skull of a writhing leopard that rolled bleeding on the street after its side had been slashed open by a sword. “Got one!”
Jed and Brock sought their own targets.
Nicci seized Amos’s half cape as he flitted by, dragging him to a halt. “Where is Bannon? I thought he would be with you.”
The young man shook off her grip. “Not now! We have important work to do.” He flicked his gaze away, not wanting to meet hers. “He’s fine. Don
’t worry about him.” Amos dashed off with great exuberance, and Nicci was too busy to demand more of an answer.
The combat bear lumbered forward, a titanic mass of claws and fur. Maxim, Thora, and Damon stood together, releasing magic and hurling attacks, all of which slid harmlessly off the protective runes on the monster’s hide.
Elsa did not use her gift to attack the bear directly, but made the ground in front of it crackling cold, transferring temperature from the street; at the same time, a gush of heat flared up next to the charging bull, making the beast rampage in a different direction.
The combat bear stumbled across the bitterly frozen ground and came at Elsa. She attempted to work another spell, but Nathan tackled her to the side. The bear charged past, then turned back to come at them again.
Nathan held up his sword and braced himself. “I already fought your brother, monster! Now I’ll fight you!” He swung the blade, tracing a complex taunting pattern in the air. The bear swatted at him, but Nathan used the razor edge to split the bear’s paw to the middle of its forearm. The creature roared and yanked back its bloody arm.
Nicci dove in, jabbing hard with both daggers, stabbing opposite sides of the creature’s neck. She succeeded in cutting the bear’s throat. Pushing in close, Nathan plunged his blade into the beast’s side, working through the layers of muscle and fat, driving the steel all the way to the hilt. The titanic bear crashed to the ground.
Maxim and Thora continued their fight with magic, using secondary effects to divert or hamper the rampaging animals.
Emerging from the tunnels, two hooded figures shouted at the crowd, “For Mirrormask! Bring down the oppressors.”
Maxim’s face twisted in a disappointed scowl, and he flung his hand sideways, invoking his petrification spell. The two cheering rebels crackled, froze, and turned into white stone.
Quentin released magic that sent a tremor through the street, cracking the flagstones as the enhanced bull charged forward. Its left hoof fell into the widening crack, and the foreleg snapped as the bull was carried forward by its momentum. Trapped, the beast shook its head from side to side, trying to plunge its branched horns into soft flesh. The bull lurched ahead again, its broken foreleg upraised. People scattered out of its way.
