Kael was the first to sheathe his blade again. Aliisza put hers away a moment later. Only Kaanyr still held his before him.
Eirwyn closed the distance between them and stopped a pace or two from the cambion, staring hard at him. “If you’ve learned nothing from your time with Tauran and still intend to strike me, then do so. Otherwise, put your weapons away; you insult me when I mean you no harm.”
“For the moment,” Kaanyr replied, but he sheathed the sword and slipped his wand back within the folds of his tunic. “But like most of your kind, sooner or later you will not abide me.”
“Oh, pshaw!” Eirwyn said, cracking a grin. “Bluster all you want, but I have more important things to worry about than one half-fiend with a chip on his shoulder.” She stepped past Kaanyr then, as though dismissing him, and went straight to Tauran. She said nothing, just embraced him.
“I am so sorry,” Tauran said.
Aliisza cocked her head to one side, not understanding Tauran’s comments.
“Thank you, dear one,” the angelic woman replied. For a moment, immense grief crossed Eirwyn’s face, but then it was gone and the deva was smiling again.
“I wasn’t sure you’d even try to return to me, Eirwyn,” Tauran replied. He smiled at the other angel, but then his expression sobered again. “Others will be coming after us,” he said. “You cannot remain here, or you will be accused of collaborating. Micus already knows of our earlier conversation.”
“You let me worry about that,” Eirwyn said, waving his concerns away with her hand. “You have more important tasks before you.”
“What do you know?” Tauran asked. “What can you tell us?”
“As to the first question,” the elder deva replied, “I know much. I have been here long enough to have heard most of your conversation. So there’s no need to worry about formal introductions.” She winked at the other three.
Tauran grimaced. “Forgive me,” he said. “I have lost my manners.”
“That’s all right,” Eirwyn said. “As I observed, you have more important tasks before you.”
“Can you help us?” Kael asked. “We need to find someone. A priest of Cy—”
Eirwyn chuckled and took Kael by the shoulders. “Calm yourself, young one. I already told you I heard the entire conversation. I will do my best. And don’t worry,” she added, dropping her voice to a whisper, “your loyalty and devotion will do you proud. So stop berating yourself for your perceived shortcomings.”
Kael blinked and stared at the angel, obviously surprised. He said nothing, though, just nodded once.
“Now then,” Eirwyn said, growing serious and officious. “This clever priest of yours has snuck off with our beloved Tekthyrios’s body, has he? Let’s just see where he has ventured off to, then, shall we? I will need a few moments. And some room to work.”
She sat down cross-legged and closed her eyes. Very softly, such that Aliisza could hardly hear her, Eirwyn began to chant. As she did so, she began to rock back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm.
The alu watched the elder deva for a moment, but then Kael tapped her on the shoulder and drew her attention to Tauran, who had walked some distance away. Kaanyr stood next to him. The angel motioned for mother and son to join them.
“Eirwyn is one of my oldest and dearest friends,” Tauran explained in a soft voice once Aliisza and Kael had joined the gathering. “She is a mentor of sorts. She’s also one of the most powerful diviners in the Court. If anyone can track down Zasian, she can.”
“Yes, but can you trust her?” Kaanyr asked. “She is part of the Court, after all. For all you know, Micus sent her here to convince us to let down our guard. All that chanting and head-bobbing over there could just be a stalling tactic.”
“Vhok, that’s the most intelligent, thoughtful idea you’ve contributed to this journey yet,” Tauran said. “But in this case, there is no doubt I can trust her.” His face become somber. “She lost everything today,” he said, his voice weary. “She has more cause to want to see us succeed than just about anyone.”
“What do you mean?” Aliisza asked. “Lost what?”
“She does not serve Tyr,” Tauran replied. “She has devoted her life and her service to Helm.”
Aliisza turned to gaze at the woman, who still sat serenely chanting. “How can she be so calm? Her god is dead!” The alu felt sorrow wash over her, but she quelled it. I can’t ache for everyone who’s ever suffered, she thought.
“How can she be praying?” Kael asked. “To whom?”
“I don’t think she is,” Tauran answered. “I think she somehow sensed before this even happened that she would need certain divine magic. She’s always been intuitive that way. She will sacrifice what little spiritual energy she has left to aid us, if she can.”
Aliisza looked over Kaanyr. “Good enough for you?” she asked.
The cambion shrugged. “If she’s actually doing what she claims and provides us with what we need. Besides,” he added, grimacing, “what choice do I really have?”
Tauran nodded. “She will provide us with what we need,” he said.
Eirwyn emerged from her meditative chanting. She looked thoughtful. “If this priest still travels within the flesh of Tekthyrios the storm dragon,” she said, “then you will find him within Deepbark Hollow.”
Tauran looked at the older angel quizzically. “The World Tree?” he asked. “Truly?”
Eirwyn nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It appears your quarry is planning to depart the House of the Triad.”
Chapter Eight
Though he longed to leap into the air and strike—he imagined that impulse was a bit of the dragon’s instinct bleeding into his own mind—Zasian forced himself to wait. No, his role would come soon enough.
The first sounds of combat grew louder, and soon, a horn rang through the forest. The tone was somber, urgent, and muffled. The clash of steel on steel accompanied it, and the screams of the wounded. Zasian thought he could detect the feral snarls of beasts, too, but he wasn’t certain.
Only when he began to feel the first subtle thumps did the priest of Cyric know his time was at hand. He launched himself up into the sky and raced forward, scanning the land below for a sign of what he sought. Between the thick fog and the heavy canopy of trees, it was difficult to see much, but he knew he wouldn’t need to pierce that veil in too fine a fashion. His quarry would be more than visible.
He spotted a small group of humans racing through the odd, twisted trees, leaping over the gnarled, angled trunks or ducking and scrambling beneath them. At first he thought they were chasing their foes, but then several dark streaks shot into view, sprinting after them. The streaks were all shadow, and lithe, like some sort of hunting cat. They made no sounds, and they closed the distance with their prey in a few bounds.
As Zasian glided past the point where the two groups became entangled he heard the screams of the humans, but he was already past the gap in the canopy and could not see the results of the conflict. Angling himself slightly to the right, he continued to search for something more suitable.
When the priest at last found what he sought, he banked around for a better look. At first, he didn’t see the creature at all, but rather the route the beast was taking. The trees near where it passed shimmied and shook from its bulk. Zasian angled into a shallow dive and zipped just above the treetops where it seemed to be moving, seeking a better glimpse of it. The first time, he did not spot much, but upon circling past again, he got a much better view.
The thing stood nearly as high as the treetops themselves, and it shuffled along in huge strides on all fours. Even looking directly at it, Zasian had a hard time picking it out from the surrounding foliage, for it was made of living greenery and blended in well.
On his third pass, the beast must have sensed him, for it rose up on its hind legs and roared. The sound it made reverberated through the entire forest and shook Zasian where he flew. It lunged at him and snapped its jaws, trying to latch onto h
is tail, but Zasian rolled completely over to evade the thing and swung back around behind it.
The creature, still on its hind legs, looked every bit like Zasian had imagined. Its thick body supported an ovoid head with small, round ears and a stubby snout. Its forelegs ended in wide, flat paws, which themselves sported long, curved claws. For all intents and purposes, it would have been one of the most massive dire bears Zasian had ever seen, except that it was all brambles and vines and greenery.
Zasian swooped in from the rear and raked his claws at the mammoth beast, slicing through numerous strands of the plant growth along the thing’s neck and back. The creature roared in fury and whirled around, but Zasian was already out of reach.
A cluster of long, javelin-like shards sliced through one of the priest’s wings. They gouged a series of holes in the thin skin and passed straight through, stinging his snout. One of the barbed projectiles nearly caught him in the eye.
Zasian issued a rumble from deep within his chest at the pain, but he did not otherwise react. The injury was superficial and did not affect his flying at all. He circled around for another go at the creature. The wood elemental dire bear had dropped to all fours again and began charging through the woods after other prey.
As he closed in, Zasian lined his flight path up with the path the bear-thing was taking. He let loose with a powerful blast of lightning from his mouth. The jagged bolt of energy ploughed through the thick, gnarled plant growth all along his opponent’s back. Bits of vine and earth flew in every direction, and the massive thing reared up in agony. As Zasian swooped past, another clump of spikes smacked against his flank, but they did little more than sting. The dragon’s thick hide protected him from harm.
Zasian circled around for one more attack. He could see that his assault was taking its toll. The creature thrashed on the ground where he had hit it during the previous pass. It bellowed in anguish as it rolled back and forth, and smoke rose up from the deep wound on its back. It was knocking trees aside in its throes, and Zasian could see more of the humans gathering near the beast. He suspected some might even be trying to heal the thing.
He swooped in low, aiming for the newly made clearing, and raked the entire area with a swipe of his massive tail. The satisfying thunk of scale on flesh and the abrupt screams of several of the defenders let him know that his attack had been effective. He circled once more, scanning the area. Numerous unmoving figures lay scattered around. The giant wooden bear still thrashed, but its movements had become feeble and sporadic. It wouldn’t survive much longer.
That ought to do it, Zasian decided.
The priest selected a tree from among those still standing at the edge of the clearing. It was larger than most, and it jutted at just the right angle, toward the dying creature. He rolled toward it and flew hard, zipping just to one side of the trunk. As he soared past, he slapped at it with his tail. There was a tremendous booming crack, and the tree splintered in half, leaving a jagged stump. The rest of the tree toppled over to one side.
The jarring impact sent agonizing pain up the storm dragon’s spine. Zasian was fairly certain that he had fractured bones. He gritted his teeth and spun away, trying to climb.
Fighting the pain of his injury, the priest gained altitude. He climbed in a spiral, circling above the ruined tree. When he was high enough that he could not even make out the clearing for the fog anymore, he spun over and dived.
No! Tekthyrios screamed from within the confines of his mind prison.
Yes, Zasian replied. Your usefulness has ended for me.
As he plummeted down toward the clearing, the priest began to cast one final spell. The jagged spike he had created came into view, and Zasian angled toward it. At the last moment, he finished his spell, releasing the magic. Just as the wyrm’s body plunged down atop the sheared-off tree, impaling itself upon it, Zasian felt himself recede from sensation as a dragon. He coalesced into his own form, freshly recovered from the pocket dimension where he had secured it. When the rejoining was complete, the priest found himself trapped inside the belly of the beast.
The impact slammed Zasian hard, jarring him even within the relatively protected environs of the dragon’s stomach. The blow left him woozy, but even in his muddled state, he heard the horrific howl of agony reverberate through Tekthyrios’s body. The priest felt the creature shudder once, then the dragon wretched, and Zasian was thrown clear.
He landed atop a mound of coarse earth and bounced to the far side of it, sliding into a gully. The cool dampness of the soil felt pleasant against his scorched skin. Still unsteady and in pain, Zasian rose up onto his knees and peered back at his handiwork.
Tekthyrios thrashed feebly, impaled upon the sheared-off tree. The dragon’s eyes rolled back in his head and he gave one plaintive cry. As Zasian watched, he struggled to get his clawed legs beneath himself. He tried to lift himself free of the deadly spike. After several unsuccessful attempts, Tekthyrios gave up and sagged back down, his head lolling to one side.
“Priest,” the dragon gasped, his eyes closed. “You will … pay,” he said, his last word little more than a death rattle in his chest.
Zasian watched for a moment to make certain the dragon was truly dead, then wove a quick spell of healing to cleanse away the acid burns he had endured while within the beast’s belly. Once renewed, Zasian turned and trotted into the mists, seeking his companions.
Kashada chuckled and initiated the delicate, intricate gestures of a spell.
The elf advanced several more steps and raised her glowing, preternatural sword with both hands. As she closed the distance between them, she kept her milky, iridescent gaze on the mystic.
Kashada found those strange, opalescent eyes unnerving. She nearly lost her concentration and her spell and had to take a step back as she completed the incantation. She wanted to stay well clear of that incandescent blade’s reach.
Near the warrior’s feet, beneath a thick clump of ferns at the base of a large tree, shadows began to writhe. Tendrils of them thickened and darkened. The tendrils then snaked outward from beneath the ferns and lashed at the elf’s ankles, rapidly encircling them.
The elf paused in her advance and stared down at her feet as the tendrils grew to become grasping black tentacles. The tentacles thickened and climbed like unholy vines. In the span of a couple of heartbeats, they had engulfed the woman’s legs and hugged her waist, squeezing tightly.
Kashada smiled, though she knew her adversary could not see the expression. “Don’t scream,” she advised. “You’ll lose your air faster that way.” She giggled then and started to turn away.
The aura that surrounded the elf blazed brighter, hurting Kashada’s eyes. The glow pulsed once, twice. The third time, the mystic felt her magic dissolve as the black appendages disintegrated and vanished.
Kashada gasped.
“What were you saying?” the elf asked, stepping closer and raising her blade high again.
Bitch, Kashada thought and spun away. The glowing sword arced down and sliced very near the mystic. She felt hot, shadow-sapping energy warm her skin where the blade passed. She darted to one side and sought a spot of deeper darkness.
The warrior hoisted her weapon high again and stalked after Kashada, following her step for step. “Don’t run, witch. You’ll lose your air faster that way.”
Kashada spied a small draw where water rushed through during wet weather. A large branch, fallen from some nearby tree, had become wedged there, and debris had piled against it in rainy days past. The resulting natural lean-to protected a dark recess. The mystic dived toward it, engaging her magic.
As she hit the ground beneath the debris, the servant of Shar saw the world change around her, becoming faint and faded. At the same time, the shadows deepened, firmed, became more substantial. Of the elf woman and her wicked sword, there was no sign.
Kashada lay for several moments where she had landed, catching her breath. Then she rose to her knees and peered out. In almost every way,
the shadow-forest mirrored its material counterpart, with the exception that everything sat absolutely still. No branches swayed in the breeze, no birds flitted from limb to limb, no rain fell. All was dim, unearthly silence.
The mystic smiled and crawled out from beneath the dead branch. She climbed to her feet and scanned her surroundings, seeking some sign that her adversary had found a way to follow her. Satisfied that she was alone, Kashada turned and followed her original path, making her way toward the cave.
Zasian did not mention there would be ghaeles in the woods, the shadow-mystic thought. Just as he failed to mention in Sundabar that I would remain imprisoned within that Shar-forsaken sphere for twelve years, she added sourly. Such oversights will come back to haunt him, she vowed. Blessed Shar will make certain he has his day of reckoning. Cyric cannot protect him from that.
As Kashada neared the point where she suspected she was to meet the others, she sought another place of deeper shadow. She spied a felled tree ahead. The massive trunk had snapped from its stump perhaps five feet up from the forest floor and still rested against the rotting base, forming an angular, offset arch. Beneath that span, welcome darkness invited Kashada. She quickened her pace and stepped beneath it. She slipped one of her daggers free and flipped it around to grasp the blade end. She took a slow, calming breath and shifted.
The forest came alive again. Green replaced faded silvery gray. Leaves danced and whispered as breezes ran through them. The smell of earth and decaying wood filled Kashada’s nostrils. Somewhere, a bird chirped.
The Sharan held still and peered around. She saw no sign of the ghaele. Somewhere in the distance, a horn wailed, a distressed call for help. Perhaps the ghaele had heard it too and had gone to assist whoever was sounding it.
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