Chapter 296: Shaking Foundations
The entire Tangled Tower trembled with the force of impact and magical energy unleashed by Nyrielle’s confrontation with Hamdi. On the floor above, Zedya had just finished seeing the last of their luggage removed from the carriages and was preparing to bring it down to Nyrielle’s temporary quarters when she felt the surge of her lady’s dark energy from the floor below.
"Little Lenny," the amethyst-eyed vampire said as she took a seat on her coffin-like daybed. "Send four of your men to escort our drivers and the wagons to the stables and then bring everyone here as quickly as possible. I want all of our people where I can see them."
"At once, Madame Zedya," the bearish captain said, quickly giving orders to a few of his men. "Madame Zedya," he asked a moment later as he took a position behind her where he could guard her back should the need come. "What’s happening?"
"I don’t know," the vampire said. "Mistress Nyrielle can borrow my eyes whenever she wishes to see through them, but I can’t do the same with her unless she chooses to show me something. All I know is that our host has ascended from the deeper levels and..."
As the tower shook, a loud rumble and a rain of dust from the ceiling interrupted their conversation, prompting the two to share a concerned look. The tower had been built from tens of thousands of tons of black granite, reinforced by iron-bound timber, and it had stood as an icon of the strength of the Tangled Wood for centuries. Just what was happening below to make the entire tower tremble?
A floor below, the sitting room had transformed from a place of fading opulence into a scene of carnage and devastation. The chair that Ignatious sat in had become a strange island of the room’s former stately appearance as Nyrielle fought to keep Hamdi from reaching him, but very few of the room’s other furnishings remained intact after several minutes of intense confrontation.
Bookshelves had fallen from the walls, their contents strewn across the floor. Many of the oil lamps in the room had fallen to the floor, some shattering and spilling burning oil onto the loose pages of books that had been shredded by Nyrielle and Hamdi’s fight. Dark smoke had begun to fill the room, lit from below by the flames reflecting off the broken crystal and crumpled silver serving ware.
At the moment, Nyrielle and Hamdi stood a few feet apart, both of them breathing heavily and covered in wounds.
Hamdi’s embroidered tunic had been torn from shoulder to the opposite hip and a deep, bloody gouge marred his powerful chest. The wound was by far the most dire and had he not abandoned his dignity to throw himself aside at the last instant, Nyrielle’s ax would have buried itself so deep in his chest that his heart would have been cleaved in two.