“Your word is not fit to give! You’ve violated everything you stand for, Tauran. Now see reason.”
Tauran gazed at Micus a moment longer, then sighed, looking resigned, and hung his head. “Vhok …” he said.
To the Hells with this, Aliisza thought, feeling old self-preserving emotions rise up within her. Time to go my own way.
But the alu hesitated. She felt rooted to the spot, unwilling to leave Kaanyr behind. Or Tauran, or Kael, she realized. The price you pay for love, she thought in dismay, remembering Tauran’s teachings. She tried to shake off those new, vulnerable feelings. Blast them all! she silently admonished. I’m not under any oath! And Micus is a mule-headed fool!
Aliisza still hadn’t made up her mind when Tauran completed his command. “Micus and his two companions are not to be killed, but they are preventing you from aiding me.”
Aliisza’s stare flew to Tauran in disbelief. Behind him, Kael grinned and stepped deeper into the room.
Micus gasped. “Are you mad?” he demanded. “You’ll be—”
The angel’s next words were cut off by a warning shout from one of the archons. “Beware!” he said, fumbling for his sword.
But Kaanyr, already straining to get at Micus, reacted swiftly once freed. He had his scepter back in his hands in the blink of an eye. The cambion took two rapid strides forward and walloped Micus across the back of the head. A concussive thump accompanied the strike, and Micus grunted in shock and pain and sank down to one knee.
“Vhok!” Tauran shouted, dismay clear on his face at watching his former friend struck so viciously.
“He’ll live,” the cambion replied, turning toward the balcony. “Let’s get out of here before he realizes it.” He took a step toward the two archons blocking his way, swishing his mace back and forth with a malevolent grin on his face.
Aliisza smiled and pulled her own sword free. “Nice to have the old you back,” she said, stepping beside him to face the hound-headed creatures. Kael moved to join them as well.
“No!” Tauran said from behind them. “We go out this way!” As the angel finished his statement, a shimmering blur of a wall sprang up between the combatants, blocking the archons off from the rest of the chamber. Aliisza saw that the humming barrier consisted of dozens of razor-sharp blades, small knives and daggers, spinning and whirling. “We’re leaving. Now!” Tauran commanded.
Kaanyr snarled in frustration, eager to get at the archons, but with a huff he stepped back and turned to follow the deva. Kael nodded once at the two creatures before he, too, spun on one foot and dashed to the door leading out.
Aliisza risked a quick glance down at Micus, who was clutching his head with both hands. In the time it took the alu to look away from the archons, they disappeared from beyond the wall and reappeared on the near side. They rushed at her, blades raised. She cursed her foolishness and scampered backward, muttering the words of a spell. She made a quick sign in the air with one hand and backed through the doorway. A dense fog filled the chamber, obscuring her foes, and her from them.
Then she turned and sprinted after her companions.
The storm dragon hovered above a small clearing within the mist-filled woods for a moment then dropped through the opening in the canopy. He settled to the forest floor and released his two companions. Kashada slipped free of his grasp and found herself standing on soft, spongy ground. She stepped away and turned to look back at her companions. Myshik bulled his way free of the dragon’s foreclaw, all rippling muscle and stocky resolution.
Around the trio, the strange forest remained still. The howling storms and bizarre, color-streaked sky of before were gone. In their place, a pall had settled over the plane, a gray, misty world that whispered of dreary winters along a jagged coast. The damp weather permeated the odd trees and muffled distant sounds.
The trees, exotic in shape in their own right, became even more peculiar when viewed through the veil of mist. They took on twisted, warped forms half hidden behind curtains of gauzy light. They challenged the senses, thrusting from the ground at odd angles. The ground, too, varied from that of most forest floors. It surface, uneven and coarse, undulated into the distance like some ancient giant thing’s cracked and weathered skin.
A bird cawed not too far away, but the fog stifled its cry. Somewhere deeper in the distance, Kashada detected a muted conversation. The words were much too soft to make out.
“Remember,” Zasian said quietly in the deep, rich tones of the storm dragon’s voice, “this is not a fight we need to win, nor do we even want to try. The object is to distract them long enough for you to slip past and enter the caves. Are we clear?”
Kashada nodded. Myshik scowled in displeasure, as if the concepts of deception and subterfuge were the most unnatural things in the world. His attitude made plain his constant desire to fight, to prove his mettle and prowess.
Kashada chuckled inwardly. He will learn in time, the shadow-mystic thought.
“Where do these caverns lead?” Myshik demanded, almost sounding petulant. “Why are we going there? Will they lead us to Vhok?”
Kashada again questioned Zasian’s decision to keep the half-dragon around. Myshik was barbaric, filled with battle-lust and always craving treasure. She had said as much at her rescue, suggesting that she and the Cyricist simply leave the creature within her prison sphere. But Zasian had refused, claiming to hate wasting resources. He argued that he could imagine a host of different situations where having the winged hobgoblin around would be useful.
Kashada wondered if the priest would come to regret his decision in time.
“They lead to another place,” Zasian answered, “where there is much wealth for you to claim in the name of your clan.”
Myshik’s eyes brightened considerably at the mention of potential riches. “If that is so, then I care little for where we go.”
“I thought so,” Zasian said.
The priest looked to Kashada.
She nodded, letting him know that she was ready.
“You both know what to do,” he said. “Begin.”
The pair turned and left him then, moving deeper into the misty woods.
Kashada led the way, listening for the sounds of the faint conversation she had detected a moment before. She cast a simple spell as she walked, one that permitted her to tread upon the shadows as if they were solid surfaces. The magic quelled the noise of her passing and she glided along, reveling in her freedom.
I spent too long in that damnable sphere, she thought, shuddering. The Dark Goddess herself would hardly have fared better in such a stretch of time.
Beside the woman, Myshik strode with solid, purposeful steps, yet his footfalls remained soft.
So, Kashada mused, he does know the value of subtlety. Perhaps he will be of some use after all.
At one point, the woman caught a sound and held her hand up to signal Myshik to halt. She stood very still, listening. The voices she had detected before were stronger, though still too distant to make out words. They were moving in the right direction.
Kashada knelt down next to the half-hobgoblin to discuss their plan. “Remember,” the mystic said as they rose and prepared to separate, “our signal must be strong so that Tekthyrios will hear it. But do not get too caught up in the fight. The idea is to fool them and send them running about in confusion, not go toe to toe with them. Understand?”
Myshik’s red eyes squinted at her and he smirked. “I am not a fool,” he said sourly. “The cunning as well as the strength of a dragon flows through my veins. I know my purpose.”
Kashada smiled, though she knew the barbarian could not see it behind her veil. “Very well,” she said. “See you on the other side.” She turned to go then, stepping lightly through the undergrowth and leaving the half-dragon to carry out his own part of the scheme.
Kashada kept the voices to her right as she circled around to the left. She wished that Zasian had been willing to wait until nightfall to conduct their plan. So man
y more shadows to work with. He’s waited twelve years for this, she thought. What’s the hurry now?
A few more steps carried Kashada to a low ridge. Beyond it, on the far side of a trail winding through the woods, a trio of figures rested upon a fallen log. She noted their slender, coppery features and woodland clothing and nodded in satisfaction. Elves.
A patrol, she decided, and far from home.
They sat huddled in discussion, but she noted that they kept a vigilant eye on each direction of the trail. Though they sat, they held their postures erect, wary. They were watching their surroundings carefully.
A bit spooked, are we? Kashada thought. This will be fun.
The shadow-mystic studied the environs near the three elves and selected an area of gloom directly beneath them, where the shadow of the log against the ground was deepest. She focused her mind and let her fingers dance a delicate pattern in the air. She felt the energy of her magic connect with the shadow and watched as it began to move.
The shadow wriggled and expanded. It grew darker and spread.
One of the elves noticed the effect and gave a startled shout. The three of them leaped from their seats and backed away.
The shadow rose from the ground, deepening until it had become black as midnight. It changed shape and divided until four blobs of darkness separated themselves from one another. The blobs lengthened and crouched as the three elf scouts pulled their swords free and went into defensive stances. One of them put a horn to his lips and blew a long, plaintive note.
Calling for reinforcements, Kashada realized. Good. Myshik is bound to hear that. Can Zasian?
The blobs became feline in shape, lithe hunting cats on the prowl. One of the unearthly beasts let out a yowl, a haunting cry that made the three elves shiver.
One of the scouts lunged at the shadow-cat closest to it, but the magical beast shifted to the side, dodging the blow. The cat leaped at its attacker as if it were pouncing on a rabbit.
The elf screamed and fell back as the shadow engulfed him. The other cats rushed at his companions. The group became a swarming, chaotic fracas. Snarling cats tumbled, bit, and raked at the elves while the scouts frantically sliced back at them.
Kashada waited and watched, listening to the raucous sounds of battle.
A shout from her left caught the mystic’s attention. She glanced in that direction and spied four more elf scouts rushing through the forest, following the trail. They reached their beset brethren and joined the fight.
Excellent, Kashada thought, and she crept away, moving to swing wide of the elves’ position and get around them, heading toward the cave where she and Myshik were to meet Zasian.
She reached a point where she was certain she was out of sight of the roiling fight behind her and started walking faster. She had taken perhaps half a dozen steps when a figure popped into view directly ahead of her.
Like the others, the figure had pointed ears, angular features, and a slender build, but unlike them, she wore a delicate set of plate mail and stood with a noble bearing. A radiant aura surrounded her. Kashada squinted at the bright light and faltered to a stop.
“What trouble are you causing in my woods, witch?” the woman asked, brandishing an incandescent sword.
Zasian waited for the sign that his two minions had begun their attack. Tekthyrios stirred, struggling against his cerebral bondage again. The effort to keep the dragon’s consciousness contained had become almost an afterthought to Zasian. He had mastered the art of it quickly, and despite a few instances of sudden, sneaky efforts to catch him off guard, the storm dragon had ceased trying.
But as he waited, Zasian idly toyed with Tekthyrios, taunting the storm dragon with the knowledge of what was about to happen. When the creature at last understood the priest’s plan and his own fate, he began anew the effort to break free of his captivity.
No, Zasian whispered to the dragon. I need your skin a little while longer.
Tekthyrios did not answer, but he continued to hammer at the barrier blocking him from control of his body.
There’s nothing you can do about it, Zasian conveyed.
Perhaps, the storm dragon replied, surprising the priest. But you will not escape quite so easily as you think.
Are you certain? Zasian asked. Who will tell them what has become of us? You? What will they do even if they figure it out? Come after us? By the time anyone finds you here, we will be long gone.
Nonetheless, the dragon projected, yours will come due. I think not, Zasian replied. The Black Sun’s plot is unfolding nicely.
And I am safely a part of it, Zasian thought privately. How many can make that claim? Others may believe they serve the Prince of Lies, but few truly understand the depth and breadth of his schemes. Sooner or later, Cyric’s going to succeed at something magnificently terrible. Where better to be standing when the world comes crashing down than at his right hand?
A shout of alarm in the distance brought Zasian out of his ponderings. The attack had begun.
Time to get to work.
Chapter Seven
You did what was necessary,” Kael said. His voice echoed within the eerie silence of the storm dragon’s temple, along with the faint but steady dripping of water in the distance. “It’s the right choice in your heart. That is most important.” The holy warrior knelt next to Tauran, who sat cross-legged with his chin resting on his hands, staring at the floor.
“Perhaps,” the angel replied, his voice glum. “But I broke Tyr’s law. I disregarded the High Council’s direct orders. I am a criminal.”
Kaanyr, reclining next to Aliisza a short distance from the two, snorted. “Yes, he’s the scourge of the cosmos,” the cambion said with a chuckle.
“Be quiet,” Aliisza scolded. “He turned on his own kind to rescue you from a very unpleasant fate. Whatever else you may think of Tauran, you at least owe him a little gratitude for that.”
“I wouldn’t be in such a situation in the first place if it weren’t for him,” Kaanyr replied. “It was his idea to parade us before all the angels in the heavens. What did he think would happen?”
“I don’t think he expected them to turn on him,” Aliisza said. “He feels betrayed right now.” And I know that feeling all too well, the alu silently added.
“Well, he’d better get over this and stop his moping,” Kaanyr said. “It won’t take Micus and the rest of them long to hunt us down. This isn’t a safe place for us to remain.”
Aliisza nodded, but she didn’t answer. She was thinking about what Tauran had revealed in his plaintive conversation with Micus. He had used the words “tragedy” and “catastrophe.” She glanced out at the churning sky beyond the edges of the temple. The clouds around the sacred dwelling of the storm dragon still billowed and tumbled, obscuring her sight, but at least they didn’t roil with sickly color and jagged lightning quite as much as before.
Aliisza recalled the fractured sky heaving overhead as they had fled the great marbled city. The whole mountain upon which the Court rested had heaved beneath their feet. Everywhere they ran, the inhabitants were in a panic. She saw many of them crumpled, sobbing, while others merely wore ashen, grim expressions.
Something terrible has happened, she realized. Something that threatens to tear apart the very fabric of the House of the Triad’s existence. And Tauran is convinced that Zasian is responsible for it.
Eventually, the horrid chaos that had engulfed the plane and shook the Court to its foundations had abated. A level of calm returned that permitted the quartet of fugitives to escape. Aliisza had no doubt that they would not have survived in the open sky otherwise.
The alu rose to her feet and walked to where Tauran and Kael sat, each in silent contemplation. She squatted before the angel and gazed at him. His expression was sorrowful to behold. He seemed to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders and knew he was on the verge of dropping it.
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
The angel looked back at her w
ith eyes filled with the deepest sadness. “Helm fell before Tyr,” he said. His voice, usually so rich and confident, sounded weak, like a frightened child’s. He could not hold her gaze and returned his own to the floor in front of him.
“What? I don’t understand. Tyr defeated him? Isn’t that what you wanted? An end to the bickering between them?”
“Not like this,” Kael said when Tauran would not answer. “Tyr slew him.”
The words crashed against Aliisza like a storm-tossed wave. One god had slain another. “How is that possible?” she breathed. “Your gods don’t do that.”
“Not often,” Kael conceded. “Certainly not by choice. Whatever drove him to do it … the ravaging of the House was both his fury and his sorrow.”
Tauran looked at Aliisza again, and she saw something new in his face, something she had never thought to see in an angel’s visage. Shame. “Tyr, and many of us who serve him, will not see it this way,” he said quietly. “But he has fallen from grace today. No matter how much power and wisdom he wields, the Maimed God took a misstep in his decision to debate Helm, and the results have weakened the entire House.”
“Cyric drove him to it,” Kael added. “There can be no other explanation.”
Tauran nodded. “Perhaps that is true, but even so, Tyr made the choices he made. I love him like no other”—at that point, the angel’s voice cracked—“but today, I look upon his glory and find it tarnished. He has betrayed my trust.”
Aliisza found the deva’s words stunning. “You can’t just turn your back on him,” she said, surprised by her own conviction. “He is your life, your whole reason for being. You can’t just cast all that away.”
“What would you know of such things?” Kael said coldly. “You, who have never served any higher ideal in your long, corrupt life.”
Aliisza stared at her son but said nothing. The alu was surprised how much his words stung. He is wounded, she realized, perhaps embarrassed. He blames us for some of this.
“Leave her be, Kael,” Tauran said. “She may not have devoted much of herself to greater causes before, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t learning. Remember, she is still here of her own accord, by choice.”
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