chips of stone, and Siris rolled up just inside the reach of the other. He met its blow with his shield.
Terrors, but these monsters were strong . The shield’s magic gave out, and he heard a distinct crack . His arm felt numb, and the force of the blow hurled him backward.
Siris hit the marble floor with a grunt, his vision going black for a moment. He could feel the ground shaking, could smell the too-clean, too-sterile air of the God King’s throne room. He groaned, rolling over.
No. Don’t stop. It’s coming.
Siris growled and his vision returned. He was lying on the floor before the God King’s throne. His hip ached where he’d hit the ground. His head rang with pain.
Without his armor, he’d have been dead. He could barely feel his shield arm.
The golems were coming at him slowly, cautiously, stone tiles crunching under their feet. Siris climbed to his feet, then stumbled backward, moving up the steps toward the throne, flexing his fingers. That was when he realized both hands were empty.
The sword. He’d lost the sword.
He cursed, glancing to the sides. The Infinity Blade rested on the marble floor a short distance away from the throne. Too far for him to reach without exposing himself to the now-close golems, particularly with the pain in his hip making it harder for him to walk.
Dared he heal again? He glanced at his ring; its runes weren’t glowing. It hadn’t recharged yet. His hand brushed the throne as he moved, and there was a beep from the magical mirror on the armrest.
“Ring of Transportation,” the helpful voice said, “fifteenth generation, running service pack six. Please enter the password for activation.”
“Damn you!” Siris sputtered.
“Incorrect password.”
“It can heal too, right?” Siris asked, desperate as the golems closed.
“Rejuvenation sub-specialization,” the mirror chimed. “Seventh generation. Currently rebuilding injection from ambient compounds. New injection available in seven minutes.”
Terrors! Siris thought, leaping over the side of the throne’s armrest as one of the golems swung for him.
The room shook, and the throne exploded into rubble, the golem’s sword spraying chunks of metal and rock. Siris hit hard on the other side of the dais, and his hip screamed in pain. Where was the other golem? Why wasn’t it attacking?
He found it by following the sound of its footsteps. Incredibly, it had turned away from him and was lumbering toward . . . toward the Infinity Blade.
The beast’s emotionless helm—trailing a blackish smoke from the visor—was fixed on the fallen sword.
And on the slender figure crouching beside it.
“This should sell for a bit of gold,” the assassin said. She looked up at Siris and smiled a toothy grin, snatching the Infinity Blade and turning to dash away.
Siris cursed, running after her. Fortunately, both golems stopped paying any attention to him, and instead began charging after the girl. Were they leaving with her?
No. They were chasing her.
“You’re not with them!” Siris yelled.
“Enemy of my enemy and all that,” she called back, reaching a rope dangling from the window she’d come in through.
“Routines . . . damaged . . .” a voice came from behind. “Restarting system . . .”
“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Siris yelled. “I’m not the God King. I killed him!”
“He’s immortal,” the girl said, scrambling up the rope. She reached the window, then pulled her rope up behind her. “You couldn’t have killed him.” Siris stopped his pained running as the two golems lumbered up to the wall, glaring toward the assassin with smoking visors.
“If you think that,” Siris yelled, “then why in the hell were you trying to attack me?”
She couched on the window ledge and looked down at him. She’d stopped grinning, but now just shrugged, almost in a consoling way. Then she leaped out of the window.
I’ve been played, Siris realized. She was never trying
Liz Wiseman, Greg McKeown