The Catalyst paused.

  He sensed a new being nearby, a being of vast power, a being he should recognize. He turned slowly and quested out with fingers of power to locate and identify the newcomer. Somewhere above him, not far, and yet somehow not close either.

  Akillik.

  The air outside of the tower shimmered like the convergence of fifty rainbows and the young god stepped through. His Wheel blurred with speed as it raced in his hands. His eyes, serious as death, drew the Catalyst's gaze, and he laughed with the carefree abandon of a child.

  The Catalyst laughed with Akillik, their voices merging and becoming indistinguishable as they exulted in the pure chaos of magic unleashed. The Catalyst threw his arms wide and welcomed Akillik like a brother.

  Here faced him a being he had once feared, a being who understood. Here was a worthy adversary. Together they could battle for glory and, regardless of who won, destroy everything and leave behind this mortal shell forever.

  "Well met, Kevlin," Akillik said as he drifted nearby.

  "That name no longer applies to me."

  The Catalyst threw out one hand and a torrential flood of raw magic roared out of him to consume the fickle god.

  The Wheel in Akillik's hand flared with blinding light and eye-numbing darkness, and the Catalyst's magic dissipated. Akillik laughed again but no mirth reached his dead-serious eyes.

  "You cannot hurt me. The time has not yet arrived when you can breach the realms."

  The Catalyst shouted, "I will destroy you!" He unleashed another wave of raw power to rip the insolent godling to shreds.

  Again his power melted away and Akillik hefted his fast-spinning Wheel. "Want to make a bet?"

  The Catalyst grinned. Of course. That was the key to defeating this challenger. He must break the power of the Wheel.

  "I do!"

  Akillik raised one eyebrow and hefted the Wheel, which began to slow. "Say the words."

  "If it spins true, we fight."

  Akillik grinned in turn, and madness danced in his eyes. "Very well, but I choose the consequences if the Wheel spins against you."

  Behind Akillik, the air shimmered again with rainbow light. The Catalyst sensed other beings. They hovered close and he caught glimpses of them, beings he knew so well and yet never expected to meet.

  Salawin stood with arms folded, a stern frown on his face, his Sword of Truth strapped to his back. Serigala, in her form as the Lady Jagen, the Huntress, hovered closest, with an arrow already half-drawn on her legendary bow.

  The youthful En'Lil floated on air beside her, his eyes wide, his face remarkably innocent. Beside him, Kamen stood as solid as the mountains among which he dwelled. His clean-shaven face looked peaceful and his eyes, although blazing with power, looked calm.

  Asherah, goddess of the sea, the lovely Lady who claimed the hearts' devotion of every dedicated Meinarr sailor, stood in a flowing blue-green gown that fluttered as if from invisible currents. Her hair glittered like reflected sunlight through distant waves, and her eyes looked like the sea at the leading edge of a storm. She held one hand half-raised toward the Catalyst, as if preparing to grant a blessing, or perhaps level a curse.

  Farther back, barely sensed in the distance, hovered two other figures. One carried a naked sword and, when the Catalyst caught a glimpse of him, a single drum beat in his soul. The chilling sound shook his confidence just a little with remembered fear.

  Even farther back, a dark-cloaked figure clutched long lengths of burning chains that slowly writhed like serpents. The Catalyst caught the tiniest glimpse, but it was enough to shake him to the core. Then the hooded figure, dread EnKur himself, faded away.

  "Do it," Lady Jagen said in an urgent whisper. "Let us end the threat here and now." She drew Her famous bow and fixed the deadly hooked tip of the arrow on the Catalyst.

  Akillik leaned forward, his eyes wide with anticipation, and licked His lips. "Say it."

  "Spin the Wheel!"

  Living fire burned out through every pore and encased the Catalyst as he cast his fate into the hands of Akillik's infamous Luck.

  The young god howled with laughter and threw the Wheel high into the air where it alternately burned like a miniature sun, or sucked all light from the sky.

  It descended toward them, slowing, and then slowing farther. The Catalyst exulted. It was going to spin in his favor.

  With a final half-turn, the Wheel stopped.

  Black.

  The Lady Jagen shrieked a triumphant cry and loosed her terrible arrow.

  Akillik caught it.

  Lady Jagen knocked a second arrow so fast it seemed to appear in Her hand. She drew, aimed the shaft at Akillik's forehead, and released all in the same fluid motion. The arrow leaped across the short distance, but vaporized just before touching Akillik.

  He waved a dismissive hand. "Enough. I said I choose the consequence."

  The other gods drew nearer, their excitement nearly palpable. Lady Jagen said, "Kill him."

  The Catalyst drew back a pace. She spoke so quietly, and yet her voice bored into him with such power it shook him to the center of his soul. Even riding the uncontrolled wave of wild magic, he felt fear.

  Akillik waved the other gods back and turned to face the Catalyst. He no longer laughed.

  "First he suffers. Then he dies."

  The words tore into the Catalyst's mind. They echoed the words of the prophecy spoken by Ah'Shan, and filled him with chill dread.

  The boundless depths of magic surging through the Catalyst evaporated like the mist before a blazing sun. Bereft of magic, the Catalyst stumbled, slipped over the edge of the yawning gap in the floor, and fell.

  Akillik grinned, and his eyes flashed with the same eye-numbing blackness as his Wheel. Every nerve in the Catalyst's body screamed in unison, as if every ounce of his soul was dipped in living fire.

  Darkness rolled out from Akillik and consumed him.

  # # #

  Kevlin screamed so hard his voice cracked. Every breath burned, as if fire had singed his throat and lungs. His fingers and toes throbbed with sharp stabs of pain. It felt like they were encased in ice and freezing with agonizing swiftness.

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  He tasted blood, and his skin screamed like every piece of flesh had been rubbed raw with stones, but he heard nothing. His own screams echoed in his skull from a distance, but his ears felt like his head had been packed in wool.

  Rough hands grabbed his shoulders, and Kevlin blinked open his eyes. Drystan and Jerrik stood over him, their faces frightened. They shouted at him, their mouths moving, but no sound reaching his ears.

  Kevlin frowned. Why were they looking at him like that? What happened? He remembered nothing. His mind registered only the unending pain that threatened to cast him back into welcome blackness.

  His brothers hoisted him to his feet. He looked around and gaped. Soldiers lay unconscious in a jumbled pile across the room. The keisara lay unmoving not far away. Blood smeared the floor around her and merged with her cranberry dress, making it look like her entire body was bleeding out.

  How did they all come to be here? Complete devastation met his gaze wherever he turned. Cracks webbed the floor, and sections had fallen away in large blocks. The outer wall gaped open over a stomach-turning drop down to the plateau and then on to the Tamerlane Sea below. The waves crashing against the cliffs looked blackened, almost charred.

  Then he saw Indira.

  He remembered.

  It all came crashing back in like a sledgehammer blow to the forehead. Kevlin rocked backward and would have fallen had his brothers not caught him. Memories pounded his awakening mind with truth he could not accept.

  He tried to force the memories aside, deny them, but the truth blazed through his mind like living fire. With the truth came sounds, as if whatever had been blocking his ears melted away. Distant screams echoed throughout the city. The entire empty shell of the tower groaned as if it were dying.

  Kevlin witnessed his actions, like a living nightmare. He cried out in horror as he remembered shattering the tower, raining destruction up on the city, and overwhelming the palace's defenses. How many people had he hurt or killed? How could he have embraced such insanity?

  Outside the tower, smoke covered the inner city in a pall, while gigantic pillars of living fire towered over the city, still trying to vent the deadly concentration of magic he'd leveled against Harafin.

  Then he remembered the worst part.

  Kevlin groaned with horror as he slowly lifted his eyes to Indira. She stood not far away, with Adalia hovering in her shadow. Tears streaked her alabaster skin, and fear haunted the depths of her beautiful, dark eyes.

  Kevlin sagged against his brothers' support. He had really done it. He had tried to kill Indira.

  He wanted to leap out through the broken wall to the welcome bliss of death and end the horror of the memory, but even as he crouched to stand, the air in front of him shimmered with rainbow light. Akillik stepped through, his Wheel held motionless, with the light-consuming blackness still at the apex.

  Jerrik cursed, and Drystan reached for a long-knife. Akillik ignored them both. He laughed with pure joy.

  "Kevlin, I told you I'd own your soul."

  "Wait," Kevlin said. "I wasn't myself. Please stop this." He gestured at the devastation he'd caused. "Please, let me try to fix this."

  Akillik's laugh faded and he hefted the Wheel, drawing every eye. "You spun the Wheel, Kevlin, not me. No one escapes the consequences."

  Even as Kevlin opened his mouth to protest, the magic that had drained away so abruptly when the Wheel spun against him, returned like a tidal wave and tore through the already breached defenses of his mind.

  # # #

  Indira watched in horror as Kevlin's eyes, clear and sane for that one brief instant, rolled back into his head. A scream of despair turned into a maniacal laugh.

  Akillik joined the laughter before fading from view. She barely believed her eyes. Could she really have seen Him? More important, what had He meant?

  Kevlin threw back his head and howled with insanity. Fire burned in his eyes and danced around his hands. Indira's heart sank.

  She had lost him again.

  # # #

  Kevlin's mind flooded as the magic roared through the breach and, unstoppable, assaulted his mind. The remembered horror of what he'd done when in thrall to the Tai Pari gave him the strength to withstand it for a single heartbeat before it hurled his mind out over the brink into insanity again.

  Tia Khoa! Help me!

  He connected with the stone and desperately grasped for its protective assistance.

  Thou hast been given the tools thou dost require to succeed.

  The thought gently swept through his soul, bringing with it a hint of calm reassurance. Then his mind was torn away by the torrent, his hold loosened by despair.

  That was useless!

  It hadn't helped. In his most desperate hour, all it could give him was empty reassurance? He very nearly cast aside the final tether to sanity and surrendered to the inevitable.

  As his grip on sanity slipped like a sailor sucked under by a rip tide, another mind touched his own.

  Control, Kevlin! Ukko's beard, man, remember your training.

  Like a rock upon which he could stand and rise above the torrent, the thought came from Jerrik. With it came the huge warrior's strength, reinforcing the link to sanity and pulling his mind back from the brink.

  Discipline your mind.

  Drystan's voice rang with authority as it joined them. Calm assurance radiated through the link to Kevlin as Drystan adding his absolute self-control to the battle for Kevlin's sanity

  You control your destiny. No force, no matter how powerful, can compel the resolved mind against its will.

  With the added strength and discipline of his adopted brothers, Kevlin erected new mental barriers. The reinforced battlements of his mental fortress rose over the savaged ground of his mind.

  The magic fought his efforts, like a rogue wave and attempted to swamp his will again. For a moment, he hung by a tenuous thread of pure stubbornness.

  What if I can't control it? Kevlin cried as he desperately fought to remain in control.

  Better we die than surrender, Drystan said calmly.

  Die if you want, Jerrik's voice radiated through the conduit. I need to finish my date.

  Kevlin gripped his head between his hands and swayed like a drunken sailor as he fought to withstand the onslaught. He populated his mental ramparts with an army of Donarri berserkers and swift-striking Einarri spearmen. He leaped off the turrets and led the counterstrike, tearing at the magic and commanding it to obey.

  It struck again, a mighty blow that pounded his head like a hit from Leander's hammer. He dropped to his knees under the onslaught, but focused his thoughts on Indira.

  I will not surrender. He repeated the phrase over and over, using it like a shield against the pain and despair.

  Then the tide turned and Kevlin, standing on the rock of his brothers' strength and discipline, weathered the storm. The magic receded and submitted to his control.

  He had won, but what price would he pay for the previous defeat?

  Kevlin blew out a breath and staggered to his feet. He hurt everywhere, but once more he stood in control. Magic filled him, but now flowed placidly like a gentle, healing river of strength.

  What a mess.

  The air shimmered with rainbow light, and Akillik appeared again. The Wheel now spun fast in his hand, and he glared angrily at Kevlin.

  "You can't beat me," Kevlin said and stood to face the youthful god.

  "Ah, Kevlin, maybe taunting him isn't such a good idea," Drystan whispered.

  Akillik floated close to Kevlin and raw power radiated from him like a wave of heat. Kevlin held his ground.

  "No one escapes the consequences," Akillik, repeated. He grinned and leaned closer. "It will all be blamed on you."

  Then he snapped his fingers and disappeared. The tower swayed and the floor tilted. Stones groaned, and everyone started sliding toward the broken outer wall.

  Kevlin's swordbrothers both clutched at gaps in the floor to arrest their movement. Adalia screamed and grabbed onto Indira's robes. Indira stood on the tilting floor, unmoving, her eyes locked Kevlin.

  He wanted to run to her, to think of some way to apologize, but there was no time. He understood Akillik's words all too well. The god intended to give calamity one final, tiny push and complete the devastation Kevlin started.

  Kevlin hardened the air under his feet to keep from sliding farther and wrapped tethers of air around everyone else in the room. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated. His memories were cloudy, ethereal, like nightmares, but he remembered enough.

  He threw his mind back down the length of the tower and through the lower levels of the Underground Palace, to the bedrock of the mountain below. There he found the surging, molten lava driving toward the surface and about to breach the lowest levels.

  He could not stop it.

  The titanic struggle against Harafin in the battle for the palace had resulted in cracks fissuring the entire bedrock of the mountain. The lava poured up through those cracks, driven by the strength of the earth, a power no man, no matter how he may be endowed with actinic energy, could hope to arrest. The cracks burst open wider, and the lava drove upward in an unstoppable tide that would inundate the entire city and kill every living being in a flood of fiery death.

  Kevlin refused to give in to the terror that threatened to scatter his thoughts and leave him a screaming wreck. He could not face the responsibility for so much death. He would not allow it to happen.

  The ground was saturated with wild magic. Kevlin wrested control of it and, following a prompting that came with an unexpected wave of peace, he focused that tremendous power against the rocks of the palace foundations.

  Magic roared through Kevlin like a river of living strength. It strained his weakened control and he shook with the effort. He wasn't sure he could to this.

  He had to.

  Kevlin let go the fear that urged him to hold back, and committed to the effort. He gave himself to this one desperate attempt to save these people, committing to it as completely as he had to the insanity of chaos. If he failed, he deserved to die ten thousand times over for mass murder. Better to die in the effort and perhaps save a few.

  Such magnitude of living power proved unwieldy, and Kevlin applied it clumsily. He directed it against the stones of the mountain and fused the smaller cracks in an attempt to shepherd the lava into controlled channels.

  It was almost enough. As the lava surged upward toward the surface, Kevlin's senses touched on Harafin's last legacy, and he seized the tiny chance it provided.

  Molten stone exploded up out of the earth.