Meisha had never seen the bottom end of the Climb, but her research since she’d left the Delve told her it should be there. Still, it took her a while to find it. She’d only traversed a portion of it in her search for Shaera—a search that had ended in tragedy. Now she had to lead an entire group to safety through the treacherous passage to the surface—if it still led all the way to the surface. Damn the Howlings anyway.
Kall stood at the base of a tunnel that slanted upward until it was almost vertical. Stone platforms jutted from the walls to form uneven rungs.
“I’ll lead,” Kall said. “Meisha and Talal come behind me, then Dantane and Garavin. Morgan, take Borl and bring up the rear.”
“Slow going,” Dantane commented, “with a dog and an injured dwarf.”
“Then we go as slowly as necessary,” Kall said. He pulled himself up onto the first stone ledge.
Meisha floated globes of shimmering fire ahead and behind them, so they would be unencumbered by torches. She could see nothing of Kall beyond his boots and the tail of his cloak, but she could sense the urgency in his movements.
“What will you do once we reach the surface?” Meisha asked. “Aazen and the Shadow Thieves will be long gone.”
“Cesira,” Kall said, hauling himself up another rung. “They’ll be going for the house. I have to be there.”
“And Varan?” Meisha asked.
“The Shadow Thieves will have him,” Kall said. “They won’t give him up easily.”
Neither will I, Meisha thought.
Below them, Garavin succumbed to a fit of coughing that echoed through the shaft. Kall stopped the group.
“How are you doing, old friend,” he called down.
Morgan answered him. “He’s spitting some blood, Kall. That silver light messed him up bad.”
“Hang on just a little longer,” Kall said. “We’re almost out of this shaft.” He closed his eyes and murmured a prayer to Dumathoin.
Don’t forsake your servant now.
Kall looked up. He could see an obstacle ahead. He motioned for Meisha to send a fire globe up so he could see.
“Son of a god’s cursed whore,” he hissed under his breath.
Staring him in the face was a rusty shield floating in a cloud of viscous fluid. The fire globe drifted higher. Kall could make out the edges of a gelatinous cube suctioned to the walls of the shaft.
“Is it alive?” Meisha asked. She touched the oozing substance dribbling down the walls.
“Alive or dead, it can still suffocate us, depending on how far up the shaft it reaches,” Dantane said.
Kall leaned closer to the cube. The slime distorted the objects within—relics of the creature’s last victims—but he could make out enough of the stone handholds inside the cube to pull himself through.
“Morgan, I need your rope,” he called down.
Morgan unhooked an end of silk cord from his belt and tossed it up to Kall. Tying one end of the rope around his waist, Kall handed the other to Meisha.
“When I pull the cord in three quick jerks, it means I’ve reached the other side,” he said. “The next person uses the rope to climb up. We pull Garavin and Borl up last.” He looked at Talal. “Big breath,” he told the boy.
Talal muttered, “Already drowned once today, why not twice?”
“Hold it in tight,” said Kall, “You don’t want a lungful of what’s up there. You won’t come back from it.”
Secured by the rope, Kall positioned himself in a crouch on the stone ledge and thrust up from the knees, into the gelatinous cube.
Sound and light instantly disappeared. Kall tried to lift his arms, but it was as if someone had attached sandbags to his muscles. His muscles burning and stretching with the effort, he gripped the next rung and climbed.
His face brushed something hard that felt vaguely like fingers—a lost gauntlet, perhaps, all that was left of one of the cube’s victims. Kall would have shuddered, if his muscles could have responded to the impulse.
His lungs burned. The rough stone grated against his injured hands. They would be raw and bleeding again soon. With a desperate shove, he broke through the slimy surface and hit his chest against a stone platform.
Coughing and spitting slime, Kall hauled his lower body out of the cube and onto the stone platform. He lay on his back gasping for a moment. His entire body was saturated with slime, but at least he could breathe air again.
Kall wiped his eyes clear and saw darkness, illuminated faintly by Meisha’s fire globes drifting below. The light filtering through the cube cast eerie green glows on the walls.
Gathering the rope about his waist, Kall pulled until it came taut three times. He hoped Meisha’s slighter weight would make the climb easier.
A tense moment later, a cap of black hair broke the surface, and Meisha crawled up beside him onto the stone ledge.
“What a wonderful experience,” the Harper said, flicking the substance off her fingers. Slime plastered her hair to her forehead, and her eyelashes stuck together in dark clumps.
The others followed slowly, until only Garavin and Borl remained. It took the combined strength of Kall, Morgan, and Dantane to haul the pair through the cube, Borl with his muzzle and nose tied shut with cloth. By the time the dwarf was clear of the creature, he barely breathed. Kall quickly unfastened the cloth that kept the dog from breathing in the slime, then turned to Garavin.
“Help me clean him off,” Kall ordered. “The slime will corrode his skin if it’s left alone.”
They laid the gasping dwarf down onto the stone platform. Garavin dredged up a grin for Morgan as the thief tried to wipe away the slime.
“Laerin would be chuckling if he could see ye playing nursemaid,” the dwarf said.
Morgan offered one of his halfhearted grunts. “Don’t get used to it,” he said.
“All right, finish up,” Kall said. “We have to keep moving.” He pointed to a tunnel angling away from the shaft. “Level ground, Garavin,” he said. “Easy going.”
“If it lasts.” Dantane said, always the voice of dissension. He nodded to the dwarf. “He won’t make another climb like this.”
“I’ll be looking after myself just fine, young one,” said Garavin sharply. He got to his feet unaided, but leaned heavily against the tunnel wall.
Kall exchanged a glance with Morgan. Garavin never lost patience with anyone. For the taciturn dwarf to do so now frightened Kall more than a little.
“We’ll rest here,” Kall said. “Dantane’s right. We don’t know how long any of us will last if we encounter another long climb.”
The others moved away to give the dwarf some room. Kall guided his friend back to a sitting position and settled beside him.
Garavin leaned heavily on him for support. When he looked at Kall, his pupils had dilated to two piercing black holes surrounded by a mound of wrinkles. He seemed to have aged a decade in the space of a moment.
“What happened, Garavin?” Kall asked, keeping his voice low. “Was it really Dumathoin on the bridge?”
The dwarf closed his eyes and breathed. The rough wheeze was barely audible. “It was … a power I’ve never felt before, lad—or could ever hope to feel again.”
“Did the power consume you from the inside?” Kall asked urgently. “Can you recover?”
“I think so,” said Garavin. “To live on—feels like Dumathoin’s plan for me.” He looked at Kall. “But we—none of us, have the guarantee of living through this passage.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll see to that,” said Kall.
Across the tunnel, Meisha listened with half an ear to their conversation, and used her remaining attention to direct the light globes down the tunnel to scout ahead.
“Stay back here, Talal,” she called out to the boy, who’d wandered halfheartedly to follow the globes. She heard the scrape of feet on stone and Talal’s voice, echoing back to them.
“The tunnel slants down!” he called out. “Spikes on the walls, but the bottom’s cle
ar.”
Through her exhaustion, the words came to Meisha sluggishly. Spikes on the walls.
Memories of her own trek through the caverns came rushing back from a buried place in her mind.
With an incoherent shout of warning, Meisha came to her feet. She ran in the direction Talal had wandered, knowing even as she skidded down the slant that she would be too late.
The boy’s foot touched a pressure plate identical to the one Shaera had encountered on her ill-fated journey farther up the Climb. Meisha heard Morgan shout as the thief recognized the danger, but her eyes were only on Talal.
She pushed off, using the slanted stone for leverage, hurling herself into the boy. They crashed together to the floor as rocks rained down on them.
“Meisha!” Kall shouted, but his voice was lost in the hail of battering stones.
Meisha heard Talal screaming in her ear. She felt the impact of the stones against her back, smashing ribs and bruising flesh.
“No,” she whimpered, when Talal’s screams abruptly cut off. She felt the boy go limp in her arms. In Meisha’s mind, all she could see were Shaera’s dead eyes, all she could hear was the prayer to an unknown god the girl had whispered in the dark. Talal had no one to watch over him. He was alone in the dark.
Shaera’s blood-covered visage … Varan’s ruined eye … Laerin’s blood on a demon’s claws.
Something inside Meisha broke. Without thought or hope, she called the fire.
Flame blazed from her eyes, her mouth, from every wound torn open by the falling stones. Meisha’s pain disappeared, replaced by raw burning—a heat that should have incinerated her body but did not. The fire did not even singe her clothes. Instead the flames shielded her, casting away the falling stones or burning them to smoking blisters before her eyes.
Meisha had never experienced this kind of release. The power within her swelled, and for the first time in her life, she felt nothing could harm her. The fire consumed all, taking thought and emotion and turning the world black inside her mind. Safe in the flaming cocoon, she could exist as one with her element and never have to feel the pain of the world again.
Is that what you want?
Dantane’s words echoed in her mind. “Yes, oh yes!” she screamed, crying tears of black flame.
Let me stay this way, always.
“Meisha!”
She heard the voice near her ear, frightened but insistent, distracting her from her paradise. Meisha tried to ignore it. The fire beckoned her, seductive and soft, a lover’s touch that banished all her memories. She did not even recognize the voice calling her.
“Meisha.”
Hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her and sending waves of cold through the inferno. Meisha shuddered at the icy touch.
“Go away,” she snarled, hearing the flames in her own voice. “Leave me be!”
The hands shrank back, and for a moment Meisha thought they would retreat. Then she felt the slap across her cheek, sharp and brutal. The hands shook her again, harder.
Meisha reared back, prepared to burn her attacker to cinders, when she heard the choked cry of pain. The voice spoke her name again, this time in anger.
“Meisha—stupid, flame-kissing Harper—have done!”
Meisha opened her eyes. The flames drained out of her body, leaving her weak and quivering. She collapsed on top of Talal, who squeaked in fresh agony.
“How many ways are you trying to kill me!” the boy screeched, pushing her off and scrambling away.
“You’re alive,” Meisha said wonderingly. “The cave-in … I thought it had killed you. It killed her—Shaera.”
“Is she all right?” came Kall’s voice from somewhere above her head.
“Babbling something, but I always knew her mind was addled,” Talal said. The boy snorted, but his eyes were filled with concern when he looked down at her.
“How?” Meisha asked.
“Your fat bulk shielded me from the worst of it,” the boy said, grinning. “Got a nasty bump, though.” He touched his head and winced. “Your back’s going to have some pretty scars on it.”
He reached under her arms and felt for broken bones as Kall and the others approached.
Meisha caught Talal’s wrist and saw the blistering burns on his palm. Her eyes filled with misery. “I burned you,” she said bleakly. “I could have killed you.”
“You could have killed us all,” said Kall, as Garavin knelt beside her and muttered a prayer. “But you didn’t.”
Meisha looked at Dantane. She felt the dwarf’s healing wash over her, closing the worst of her injuries. Talal was right, she thought. Some of the scars would never heal.
“I felt the power,” she told the wizard. “The element. I was fire. I wanted it so badly.”
Dantane nodded, understanding, but Talal scoffed. “Showing off was what she did,” he said. “Boom! That’s all you sorcerers are about.”
Meisha touched the boy’s wrist. “Thank you for telling me when to stop,” she whispered. This time, moisture trailed down her cheeks rather than fire.
Talal’s face scrunched up at the sight of the tears. He looked more panicked than he had when she was on fire. “Get me out of here, Lady, and we’re even. Sune’s teats, I swear this is the last time I’ll ask.”
“Can you continue?” Kall asked her.
With Talal’s aid, Meisha got to her feet. “I can,” she said.
He nodded. “Let’s go, then. There’s still a long climb, and the Shadow Thieves are waiting.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Keczulla, Amn
5 Marpenoth, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)
When Kall emerged from the Bladesmile estate and saw the black cloud hanging in the sky above the Gold Ward, he didn’t realize it was alive. He’d been on guard for a Shadow Thief ambush, but the portal room, both in the Delve and the estate, was deserted, the gates active and waiting. He’d been certain it was a trap, but there was no sign of the Shadow Thieves or Varan.
When the black cloud shattered, the birds scattered throughout the city, some dropping from the sky impaled with arrows, others on fire, reeling wildly in the air like dying phoenixes. Kall knew at once where they’d come from.
“Take Garavin to Waukeen’s temple,” he told Morgan and Talal. The dwarf still walked in a haze, his strength depleted. Kall didn’t know how long it would take for him to recover from his experience. “Meisha, Dantane. Come with me.” He offered no other explanation; he simply ran toward his home.
He was almost to the line of dark hedgerows that led up to the main entrance when Meisha and Dantane caught up. With surprising strength, the Harper yanked him down behind the hedge while shadows moved in front of the burning house.
Kall grabbed her by the front of her jerkin, both in fury and to steady himself. “If you’re not going to help me,” he snarled, “get out of my way!”
Meisha glared at him. “Clearly you’ve forgotten whom you’re speaking to,” she said, nodding to the house. “They have Varan. I will merrily tear your home apart to find him if it pleases you, but I would rather not die until Balram is writhing safely in the deepest Hells.” She leaned close. “I have held myself in check; now you will do the same. Remember your promise, Kall.”
They held each other’s gaze, and then, jarringly, Kall’s face split in a grin. “Fine—tear the place apart. But clear a path for me first. Remember the garden?”
The guards stationed at the double front doors were shocked when they saw Balram and his two companions re-enter the hall, bleeding from scores of scratches and bites. At the same time, light—bright as a bonfire blaze—filled the vertical windows aside the front doors.
“What was that?” asked Balram, one hand covering his bleeding ear.
Elsis ran to the window. “The fire must have spread faster than we anticipated,” he said. “The hedgerows are ablaze.”
“What?”
The guard pointed to the twin lines of fire burning up to the carriageway.<
br />
“Bloody gods,” Elsis murmured, flinging one of the doors open to get a better view. “What is that?”
He saw a man striding up the path. His cloak was torn apart, his armor soiled with blood, and his hair and skin were scorched by fire. Yet he walked as if the fire itself propelled him forward. A rush and roar sounded in the distance, and a woman stepped onto the path behind him. From her hands, a ball of fire bloomed and exploded down the walkway, chasing the man hungrily.
Elsis watched, his mouth agape, as the flames closed in, and still the man walked forward. He didn’t even glance over his shoulder, though the heat must have been unbearable.
Just before the flames reached him, the woman made a gesture with her hands, pulling her palms apart and spreading her arms wide.
The fireball split. Each half streaked aside the man and past him, exploding in Elsis’s face, driving the guard back into the doors and through. The front of the house collapsed, folding in on itself as the structure absorbed the brunt of the explosion. The rubble buried those of Balram’s guards not consumed by the fireball.
Kall mounted the steps and crossed the shattered threshold of his home. He saw Balram come out from behind one of the pillars, bloodied and flush from the fire.
Kall noted the bites and scratches. “I see you’ve met my wife,” he said.
Balram did not speak. His gaze flicked to Dantane and Meisha as they flanked Kall in the doorway.
“Welcome home, Kall,” said a voice from the doorway. “Now step forward.”
Kall smiled. “Am I to be forever finding you just over my shoulder, Aazen?” he asked.
Aazen stepped around them, kicking aside glass and debris to make a path. He half-led, half-dragged Varan in the crook of one arm. In the other, he held a long dagger at the wizard’s throat.
Meisha stiffened, but Kall motioned her and Dantane to step forward ahead of him. He kept his back to them and his eyes on Aazen as they moved fully into the hall. “You’re a hard man to find, Balram,” Kall remarked as Aazen circled around to join his father. “And I’ve been looking for you a long time.”
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