“Come,” Ti’an said.

And forgetting the dim, struggling shadows behind him, Travis followed.

41.

The floor heaved as one of the gigantic statues struck with its fists, and Grace fell hard to her knees. The taste of blood filled her mouth; her teeth had clamped down on her tongue. She tried to get up, but the floor kept bucking and rolling like an angry sea.

“Travis, stop!” a voice cried out. It was Vani.

Grace managed to look up. Ti’an stood before Travis, gold skin gleaming. He was making no effort to run from her, but was instead staring with a rapt expression. As Grace watched, he took her hand, and together they began to walk toward the steps at the far end of the hall. The statues, many of them just stepping off their pedestals as they awoke, lumbered out of the pair’s way as if in deference to their mistress—or was it their master—then moved to join the others in the attack.

Grace stared after them. Why hasn’t she kissed him like she did Avhir? What’s she doing with him?Then, with a jolt of dread, she realized where it was Ti’an must be leading him. She’s taking him to the throne room.

Before she could consider what that meant, a shadow fell over Grace. She looked up, and rational thought fled her. A statue loomed above her, its multifaceted eyes glowing crimson. It bent down, reaching for her . . .

Strong hands grabbed Grace’s serafi, dragging her to her feet, pulling her out of the way. The statue’s fingers closed on thin air. It rose up, opening its mouth to let out a soundless cry of fury. Grace turned around and gazed into Farr’s grim, handsome face. He opened his mouth as if to say something.

Grace’s eyes grew large. “Run!” she shouted, grabbing his hand and pulling him to one side as another statue reached for them. They sidestepped a blow from the female statue that had tried to crush Grace, then ducked between the legs of one of the falcon-beaked men. They made it to the wall and pressed their backs against it, panting.

They’re big and slow, Grace. If we just keep moving, they won’t be able to get us.

Certainly they could not touch Vani. Holding Nim tight, the T’golmoved so quickly her outline blurred, slipping in and out among the statues. She paused a moment, deliberately drawing one of the statues toward her. Then, as it bore down on her, she seemed to vanish; the statue collided with another. Stone arms broke off at the shoulder; a head toppled to the floor, cracking open like a melon. The statues collapsed in a jumble of stone, and a cloud of dust rose into the air, illuminated by shafts of sunlight from above.

“Larad!” Farr shouted. “Use the Imsari!”

The Runelord could not move as swiftly as Vani, and he had been caught between two approaching statues. He fumbled with the iron box that contained the Stones, but then his gray robe tangled around his ankles and he fell to his knees. The box tumbled to the floor.

Operating on instinct, Grace reached out with the Touch. However, there was nothing to reach out to. The statues were not alive; they had no threads. And the strands of the others were only the faintest wisps shining in her mind, far too delicate to grasp. Her magic was no use. She looked at Farr, but he shook his head. Blood sorcery was as weak as witchcraft; he was powerless as well. She gripped Farr’s arm as the two statues bent over, reaching for Larad.

With a loud crack, the heads of the two statues collided with one another. The colossi stumbled back, away from Larad. The Runelord gaped for a moment, perhaps astonished he was still alive, then he scrambled on his hands and knees, reaching for the box. He opened it, drew out one of the Stones, and held it high.

“Sar!”

A gray-green flash. The two statues stiffened and went still. For a moment they rocked back and forth, then they toppled over, crashing against one of the spider-eyed females. All three smashed against the floor.

You did it, Master Larad!she tried to send the words across the Weirding to him.

Grace wasn’t certain he had gotten the message, but he staggered to his feet and looked at her, a satisfied expression on his scarred face. However, the reprieve was brief. More statues had lumbered toward them. There were still over a dozen of them, and they were coming all at once. One seemed to notice Grace and Farr leaning against the wall. It lurched toward them, falcon beak clicking, and they were forced to run.

“We must flee back into the dome!” Vani shouted. She seemed to blink out of existence as one of the statues swiped at her, then reappeared behind it. “If we retreat over one of the bridges, they will not be able to follow. The spans are too slender.”

Energy surged in Grace. Yes, that was where they had to go. That was where Ti’an had taken Travis.

“Come on,” she hissed to Farr and started running.

Though not as swift as the T’gol, they were able to dodge past the statues that lumbered toward them. In moments, both Grace and Farr were past the statues, as was Vani.

“ Sar!” Larad chanted again, his voice ragged, holding Sinfathisar aloft. The Stone flared with gray-green light, and another statue ceased moving. It fell with a boom!

Why do the Imsari still work when other magic doesn’t?Grace wondered, her logical mind operating despite her fear. She didn’t know, but she was glad Larad was still able to wield the Great Stones. The Weirding had faded to a wisp of what it had been, an old cobweb in a corner, and Farr was no longer able to call the morndarito him; blood sorcery had ceased functioning as well.

Then why was Ti’an able to animate the statues?the scientist in her asked, still pressing for answers. She didn’t know, except . . .

Ti’an drank directly of Orú’s blood, and Orú was the most powerful sorcerer who ever lived. The Imsari are incredibly powerful as well, and incredibly ancient.

It made sense that the oldest magics would be the last to go: those powers that were deepest, and closest to the source of all magic. Except they would still fade, wouldn’t they? The rifts in the heavens would keep growing, and soon even the eldest magics would cease functioning.

There was no time to think about it. Larad turned and ran, catching up to them. The statues reacted slowly to this change in tactics. They milled about in a tight knot, colliding with one another, knocking chips of stone off their bodies. Then, one by one, they turned around, eyes flaring crimson, and started after their prey.

Vani led the way across the hall, Grace and Farr just behind, followed by Larad. When they reached the foot of the steps that led up to the arch, Vani hesitated. Avhir’s shriveled body still lay there on the floor.

Grace thought of his bronze eyes and how they would never shine again. Avhir had feared kindness, and in the end a kiss had killed him. “He’s dead,” she said. “Just like Ky—”

“Do not speak them!” Vani flung the words at Grace like knives. “Do not dare to speak those names!”

Grace bit down on her tongue. Vani’s face was hard and ashen, but her gold eyes were dry. She started up the steps, Nim in her arms. The others followed.

Vani was right, Grace thought. Kyleesand Avhirwere words that no longer had meaning. But Travisstill meant something; Grace had to believe that. Because if Travis was gone, then there would be no one to speak the Last Rune. There would be no one to stop all words, all names—and all the things they stood for—from ceasing to be.

Panting, they bounded up the last of the steps. The arch flashed by, the dome soared above them. The beams that shafted down from the high windows were red as copper, like rays from a dying sun.