Wrath of the Storm (Mark of the Thief 3)

A familiar heat lit within my chest and quickly spread through me. I had been shivering before. Interesting that I hadn't known how cold I was until now.

The instant the bulla's power reached the Divine Star, its healing powers began to flow through my chest down to my legs and arms. The warm magic seeped into the bones of my wrist, strengthening them and bonding them back together. Making me whole again. A quick, painless wiggle of my wrist confirmed that.

I was still trapped, and I doubted the bulla could get thousands of pounds of rock and brick off me. But I knew something that could do it.

Magic can always sense other magic in the area, and I used that power to search for the Malice nearby.

The bulla had originally been given to Julius Caesar, filled with Venus's powers. Upon Caesar's death, Venus's power left the bulla, and Diana replaced the magic with her own, hoping it would be used in her war against the gods. The fact that I had the bulla and was using it to stop that war probably infuriated her.

As a rule, having a god furious with you is not a good thing. How well I understood that.

Nor did it help that I had the Malice ... more or less. The Malice came from the god Mars with the power to end that war. To end any war, really. Use of the Malice guaranteed its bearer victory in battle.

If Diana resented my having the bulla, I could only imagine how she felt about the Malice. But she had no claim upon that amulet. I did. The key to finding it had been given to me. She'd have to destroy me to get it back.

What a pleasant way to begin a day -- with the reminder that one of the gods had specifically targeted me for destruction. I grimaced, deciding that at least Diana would not kill me here.

I felt the Malice's magic slightly below my right hand. I pressed that hand downward and heard a shift in the rocks around me. They were more delicately balanced than I had imagined. Perhaps my right hand was keeping them in place.

So, more carefully, I lowered my hand farther and felt a small quake of rocks tilting overhead. It was difficult to imagine myself in a worse position than my current one. If she could see me now, Aurelia would rightly accuse me of great stupidity.

"Picture where you want to go," I whispered. That was what Radulf would say. Indeed, that was how I had gotten myself here in the first place, for better or worse. Where did I want to go?

Home.

I didn't have a home of my own, but I could go to Radulf's home. I pictured my room there, with the frescoes of Minerva in battle with a draco, the statues that lined his hallways, and even the triclinium, where he and I had eaten as we faced off in numerous battles of will.

But most clearly of all, I saw Radulf's atrium. Painted in the rich colors of Rome and surrounded with tall marble columns made to look like serpents climbing the walls. Considering the cruel serpent that had trapped me down here, it wasn't the most welcoming thought, but anything was better than this.

My left hand had finally healed enough to clasp the bulla. I held to it tightly as I pictured the atrium, every detail of the room so sharp in my mind that I could hear the steady drops of water falling into the pool. It must be raining outside. How I missed water. Now that I was awake, I was terribly thirsty. When was the last time I'd had a drink? It felt like months.

I reached for the Malice again, and this time the rocks above me shifted. My predicament was becoming clear. Any more movement, and those rocks would fall, crushing me.

It had nearly cost my life to get the Malice the first time. For all I knew, it would still cost Radulf his life, and maybe others whom I loved. I would not let that be in vain. I refused to leave the Malice behind.

I closed my eyes again and let Radulf's atrium come into focus. That's where I would go, disappearing completely from this rubble before it collapsed.

Had I ever been this tired? I didn't think so, not even when I was a slave in the mines of Rome. But I could not allow myself to sleep now. If I did, I might never wake up.

I pushed all my weight downward while the fingers of my right hand searched for the metal edge of the Malice. Rocks continued crumbling above me. I felt their weight and used the bulla's strength to push against them. I couldn't give much magic to the effort -- what little I had was needed to get me to the atrium.

Then my fingers touched the Malice, and with one more stretch downward, my hand closed around it.

"Go," I whispered, clenching my eyes shut.

Rocks tumbled above me. Smaller pebbles moved out of the way for the larger boulders, but I wasn't there to see what happened next.

I heard running water and briefly opened my eyes, long enough to see the painting of the serpent inside Radulf's atrium. Someone called my name.

And I fell asleep again.

I awoke in a dark, silent room and would've thought I was back in the rubble again except for the soft bedding that covered me. I stirred a bit and felt a cup press against my lips.

"Drink this."

I accepted the cool water that slid down my parched throat, restoring life as it flowed. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

"Careful. Not too much too fast." And the cup was removed.