The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [241]
Xemeth appeared bored now. “You think I don’t know this, Sareth? Believe me, I understand far more of demons than you do. I cared only to distract both demon and Scirathi so I could get the scarab. Oh, and one more thing. You might like to know it was I who told the Scirathi about the gate artifact the Mournish possessed.”
Sareth was shaking now, beyond words.
“Why, Xemeth?” Grace said, surprised at her own words. “Why do you want the scarab?”
He turned his disconcerting gaze on her. “Tell me, northwoman, is it not the least I deserve after what I have suffered—what I have suffered all my life? Always I was second to Sareth’s first, and when I wanted the one thing he couldn’t possibly have, I was denied that as well.” He stroked the scarab. It probed his finger gently with slender gold legs. “Once I drink the blood of Orú, I will become the greatest sorcerer alive. Even the demon will not stand before me, and I will imprison it again.”
At last Sareth found words. “Vani would be ashamed of you.”
Of all the words Sareth had spoken, none of them had seemed to penetrate Xemeth but these.
Xemeth cringed. “Is she here in Tarras?”
Sareth nodded, and once again Xemeth touched his face. If he had been plain to look at before, what would Vani think of him now? But Grace knew it wasn’t his looks that had made Vani turn him away. She believed she was fated for Travis. However, something told Grace that was knowledge Xemeth didn’t have.
Xemeth stumbled back from the pedestal. He seemed suddenly lost, shaking his head, muttering. Sareth cast a glance back at the others; this was their one chance, while Xemeth was distracted by thoughts of Vani. Durge raised his sword. Travis reached into his pocket.
Ready, sister? Lirith’s voice said in her mind.
Grace tightened her hold on the Weirding. Ready.
As one, they moved forward.
“Stop!” Xemeth cried, holding up the scarab.
The golden radiance was like a wall. Sareth, Travis, and Durge stumbled back. Lirith cried out, and Grace felt a sharp jab of pain as the threads of the Weirding were ripped from her mind. She reeled away from the others.
“What are you thinking?” Xemeth shrieked. “That you can stop me now? Do you know what this is? What I hold is a scarab, the greatest relic of power that remains from Morindu the Dark. With a drop of Orú’s blood, sorcerers have thrown down mountains, boiled seas, and blackened the light of the sun with plagues of locusts. You cannot possibly stop me.”
Sareth lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the golden radiance. “The demon, Xemeth. Where is it?”
“It is free,” Xemeth said in triumph. “My spies in the palace overheard Melindora’s little plan this morning, so I opened a gate to the Etherion above. And this time the demon was strong enough not merely to reach through the gate, but to pass through entirely. It is weak and slow after millennia of starving here in its prison, and it will have to consume much before it remembers its true power. All the same, it is a demon. Even now, I imagine it is disposing of the Scirathi as well as Melindora Nightsilver and her companions. Then, once it is finished but before it grows too strong, I will bind it again—with the power of the god-king Orú!”
Xemeth lifted the scarab high, tilted his head back, and opened his mouth. His fingers tightened around the glistening scarab, crushing it. Three dark red drops dripped from the jewel into Xemeth’s mouth.
The transformation was sudden and shocking. Flecks of gold light—faint at first, like dim fireflies—fluttered beneath his skin. They grew brighter, swarming all over his face, his neck, shining through the fabric of his robe, until Xemeth’s entire form shone as brilliantly as the scarab.
He threw the crushed jewel aside and thrust his arms out.
“Yes,” he cried, his voice thundering in the cavern. “Yes!”
The gold specks danced over the right side of his face. First bone and teeth appeared, then muscle and skin. The sparks dimmed to a soft, gold corona that encapsulated him. He smiled—and the expression touched both sides of his face. Slowly, he reached