The Binding Stone: The Dragon Below Book 1

by Don Bassingthwaite

The orc shouted triumphantly and spun away to lunge for the clustered cultists, his staff swinging. They broke at the orc’s charge, their chanting vanishing into a chorus of yelps as they ran for the stairs leading up to the rest of the ruined house. Only Fause, their wild-haired leader, held his ground, pulling a cudgel from his robes and meeting the orc with a frenzied counterattack.

  Geth whirled the other way. Ashi lay stretched out, scorched and stunned, and Singe was sinking back, but Vennet was still on his feet, swinging his cutlass as Dandra dodged and parried desperately. Geth snarled and leaped for him.

  The half-elf’s eyes widened at the sight of him. He threw one final slash at Dandra, then tried to scramble back away from Geth. “You don’t know how badly Dah’mir wants her, Geth,” he gasped. “He’s not going to let you rest. He’s already on his way!”

  “Not here yet though, is he?” Geth said. He twitched to the side in a feint.

  Vennet took it. He thrust out with his cutlass, but the shifter sprang to the outside of the blow and caught the blade with his gauntleted hand, forcing Vennet’s arm up high—and punching hard at the Lyrandar captain’s exposed side with his free hand. Vennet gasped and let go of his cutlass to twist around and punch back. Geth flicked the cutlass away and swept his gauntlet down to knock the blow aside. His left fist smashed into the side of Vennet’s face, jerking his head around.

  “For what you did to Natrac,” Geth growled, then grabbed the half-elf’s shoulders as he stumbled, bent him over, and slammed a knee up into his gut. “For betraying us.” He dragged Vennet upright and drew back his arm. “And for dumping me,” he roared, “in that damned water!”

  His arm and shoulder snapped forward, catching Vennet full in the face, and sending him reeling back, blood pouring from a shattered nose. The half-elf swayed briefly, then crashed to the floor.

  The entire structure of the old, ruined house around them groaned and shuddered. Dust and boards fell from above. Ashi stirred. Across the room, Fause went pale and dodged away from their mysterious orc ally to run for the stairs. Geth stared at Vennet’s fallen form in shock. “I didn’t hit him that hard!” he gasped.

  Singe had a scrap of torn cloth out and was trying to bind it around his wounded arm. He spun around and stared up at the ceiling, with one end of the cloth clenched in his teeth. “That came from up above! What’s going on up there?”

  The orc had gone as pale as Fause had. “Vvaraak’s wisdom,” he breathed, staring up as well. “The Servant of Madness.”

  Geth looked at him. “Who?” he demanded. “Who’s the Servant of Madness?”

  Dandra was the one who answered him. The kalashtar’s feet were sinking back to the floor. Her eyes were wide and terrified, her body stiff. “It’s Dah’mir,” she said. “I can feel him. Dah’mir is here!”

  “What?” Singe exclaimed. He yanked the makeshift bandage tight and spat the cloth out of his mouth. “How? He should still be days’ travel away!”

  Overhead, the fleeing cultists let out cries of surprise—and awe. There was a cascade of thumps as knees hit the old floor and then Fause’s voice rose in a wild, ecstatic chant of praise. Even over the chant, Geth could hear the measured pace of steady footsteps. “Grandfather Rat’s naked tail,” he hissed. He crouched down, ready for a new battle.

  “No!” said the orc. “You can’t fight him! Into the water—I have a boat nearby.” Gripping his staff tightly, he ran for the stairs and darted down them.

  Geth hesitated and exchanged a fast glance with Singe. He could guess what the wizard was thinking: could they trust the stranger? It didn’t seem to him that they had much choice. The orc had helped them. If the footsteps overheard really did belong to Dah’mir …

  “See to Dandra!” Geth grunted. He darted to Natrac and heaved the half-orc’s body over his left shoulder with a groan and a curse. He staggered back to his feet and turned around.

  Singe stood at Dandra’s side, murmuring to her, easing down her spear, and trying to get her over to the top of the stairs. Beyond them, Ashi was rising to her feet.

  “Singe!” shouted Geth.

  The wizard whirled and Geth could hear him try to gasp out the words of a spell, but the hunter was faster. She leaped, lashing out with a fist. Her blow spun him around and sent him sprawling. A snap of her leg sent a hard kick into the softness of his belly.

  Like someone waking from a bad dream, Dandra blinked and started to turn away, but Ashi grabbed for her. For a moment the hunter’s hand raked the air and it seemed that Dandra might dodge away from her, but the cord that hung the yellow-green psicrystal around the kalashtar’s neck snapped tight. She jerked back with a strangled cry.

  “No!” Geth yelled. He managed a stumbling step forward even as Ashi wrenched on the cord and hauled Dandra into her grasp. Dandra tried to strain away—

  —and the cord around her neck snapped. The psicrystal flew free.

  Geth stretched out his right hand and snatched the crystal out of the air, clenching the steel-cased fingers of his gauntlet tight to keep it from slipping through. He spun back to Ashi and Dandra. The Bonetree hunter had her arms wrapped around Dandra, lifting her off her feet and squeezing her in a crushing grip.

  “Let her go!” Geth roared. He stuffed the psicrystal hastily into his pouch without looking and started to let Natrac slide to the ground.

  “No,” called a deep, oil-smooth voice, “hold her. Give up your struggle, shifter—there’s nothing more for you to fight for.”

  Geth spun around.

  He had seen and heard Dah’mir in Dandra’s memories, but even memory paled in comparison to the majesty of the man himself. Robed in black leather set with priceless dragonshards, just as Dandra had first seen him, the tall, pale-skinned man stood at the bottom of the steps. The gloom of the chamber made his acid-green eyes seem to shimmer. His presence was almost overwhelming—Geth gasped as it washed over him. His gut clenched. Dah’mir was right. There was nothing more to fight for! His grasp on Natrac tightened …

  Then he gasped again as the stones of Adolan’s collar grew shockingly cold. A new clarity burst inside his mind, driving back Dah’mir’s power. Geth shook his head, blinked, and looked at Dah’mir again.

  The green-eyed man’s presence was strong, but not so overwhelming as it had seemed a moment ago. There were cultists crowded onto the stairs behind him, peering down like a gang of children. A woman in dirty green robes stood at Dah’mir’s side. Her face was sharp and almost feral, though it had the look of having once been plump and joyful. Her tall body was hunched and crooked. Beneath smudges of dirt, her skin was dusky; her hair, clumped and matted, was shot through with gray.

  It took a moment for him to recognize Medalashana—the kalashtar bore only a distant resemblance to Dandra’s memories. Geth drew a sharp breath.

  Dah’mir’s eyes narrowed. Geth’s heart skipped. He glanced quickly at Dandra and Singe. The wizard was still down. Dandra was still folded in Ashi’s arms—but she was no longer struggling. She had frozen, staring at Dah’mir as if he was the center of her world.

  “Shifter—” said Dah’mir.

  Geth whirled, bared his teeth, and snarled.

  Medalashana howled in outrage. “Dah’mir! Let me take him! I’ll shred his mind and lay his thoughts out before you!”

  Geth flinched at the venom in the kalashtar’s voice, but Dah’mir held up a hand to her. “Hush, Medala. We have the one we came for. He’s nothing. If he wants to defy me, let him.”

  His raised hand made a pass in the air. A flash of light seemed to grow out of that gesture and arc across the chamber. It took on a shape as it moved: a spectral claw, gnarled and inhuman.

  Geth froze, then dodged to one side. The claw drifted after him. Geth growled and swatted at it with his gauntlet, but his fist passed right through it, leaving a chill on the metal.

  On the ground by Ashi’s feet, Singe raised his head. His lip was swelling where Ashi had hit him. “Get out, Geth!” he slurred. “Run—”
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  Ashi kicked him hard and he collapsed once again. Geth swallowed. His eyes darted from Dah’mir to the open square in the floor and the water beneath. If their mysterious orc ally was down there …

  Dah’mir’s other hand made another gesture and a soft, ugly word passed between his lips. The claw swooped around abruptly and slid through Geth’s chest.

  The shifter gasped and staggered as a terrible ache seized his joints and nausea worse than he’d felt even on Vennet’s ship wracked his guts. His skin burned with a sudden fever heat. His vision blurred—he could only just make out the spectral claw as it drifted away from him, then faded into nothingness. He blinked, straining against a growing brightness in the air.

  Medalashana was watching him with naked glee, Dah’mir with distant interest. Ashi seemed to wear an expression of anger and disgust.

  The room spun around him. Geth stumbled under Natrac’s weight, then reeled sideways, blinded by the light and disoriented by fever. He tried to focus his thoughts. The hole in the floor. Escape. The water under Zarash’ak was horrible, but the idea of dropping dead from whatever plague-curse Dah’mir had placed on him was worse. He staggered forward, one step after the next.

  The ache in his joints seemed to penetrate all the way into his bones. A mewling whine crawled out of his throat as he stumbled again and a horrible thought wrapped around him. He wasn’t going to make it …

  He pitched forward and fell—fell until he splashed into darkness and water’s cool embrace.

  Ashi looked away as the shifter plunged into the foul waters below Zarash’ak. She heard a splash and then silence. Both the shifter and the half-orc would sink and drown. Her gut clenched and she fought to keep anger and disgust from her face. It was wrong for such a strong and powerful warrior to be struck down without a chance to defend himself. To die as Ner had died …

  The raw strength of her hidden emotions drew the attention of Medala. The woman stiffened and wheeled toward her. “Dah’mir!” she seethed. “Your savage disapproves!”

  Dah’mir lifted his handsome face and raised an eyebrow. “Do you, Ashi?”

  The hunter ground her teeth together, trying to guess what best to say, then simply spoke what was in her mind. “He was a good enemy, Revered,” she said. “For an outclanner, he showed bravery and commitment to his friends, too. He deserved to die fighting.”

  Medala’s face twisted in a vile grin and she barked out a coarse laugh. Dah’mir’s lips pulled into a shallow smile as well. “He was fighting me, Ashi,” he said. “Is that less of a challenge than facing you over steel?”

  Ashi’s fist tightened. She said nothing for a moment, then bowed her head. “No, Revered,” she admitted.

  Dah’mir’s smile grew deeper.

  “Ashi, haven’t I always said you are as bright as you are strong?” He folded his hands and paced across the room to her, Medala stalking along at his heels. Ashi felt her captive stiffen in her grasp as he approached. By her feet, the blond wizard stirred again. The hunter quickly put a foot down hard on the small of his back.

  Dah’mir ignored him to examine the woman, taking her chin in one hand and forcing her head up. Her breath quickened as she met Dah’mir’s green gaze. “Ah,” the pale man murmured softly, “you just can’t help yourself, can you?” Dah’mir’s hand fell away. “You can let her go, Ashi. She won’t go anywhere.”

  Dandra released her hold cautiously, but the woman did nothing more than turn to stare at Dah’mir with doe-eyed fascination.

  Beneath Ashi’s foot, the wizard shifted and struggled to climb to his feet. He twisted around to glare at Dah’mir. “Twelve bloody moons!” he cursed, outrage on his face. “What have you done to her, fiend?”

  Dah’mir stepped back sharply, gesturing for Ashi to let him rise. She reached down and dragged the squirming man to his feet, but kept a tight grip on him. Dah’mir moved back in front of him. Unlike the woman, the wizard didn’t succumb to Dah’mir’s mere presence—but Dah’mir didn’t seem surprised or bothered by that. He simply gave the wizard a level look. “This is how it will be,” he said. “You will come with us. If you attempt to use magic, I will know and I will give you to Medala.”

  He lifted one finger and Medala’s eyes blazed. The sound of a chime seemed to ring in Ashi’s mind. In her hands, the wizard’s body tensed as tight as a bowstring and he screamed. Dah’mir’s finger fell, but the chime and the wizard’s screams both continued to ring in Ashi’s ears. Medala stared at the man like a dolgrim stared at a wounded rabbit. “Medala!” Dah’mir spat.

  The sound of the chime broke off abruptly as the woman cringed. The wizard collapsed in Ashi’s arms, gasping for breath. In the wake of his screams, the chamber seemed deadly silent. Dah’mir folded his hands and bent his head to the shuddering man. “Apologies,” he said. “Medala sometimes tries too hard to please me. If you’ve ever tried to train an animal—” he shrugged “—you know how it can be.”

  There was a groan as Vennet sat up from the floor and touched his bloodied face—and then a gasp as he realized who stood before him. He struggled to his knees and bent his head. Blood pattered from his nose to the floor. Ashi found a bitter pleasure in the injuries that the shifter hand inflicted on him. Vennet might have freed her on his ship and arranged the trap that had finally brought down her quarry, but she was glad the shifter had bested him. Vennet was a good fighter, but he was a bad enemy.

  The half-elf snuffled awkwardly around his broken nose. “Dah’mir! Medala! We weren’t expecting you for another two days! How did you get here so quickly?”

  “When you contacted Medalashana last night and told her about your plans, I decided to leave my escort behind and travel ahead,” said Dah’mir. He offered, Ashi noticed, no further explanation. She was found herself disappointed. The terrible sound that had announced his arrival had been like nothing she’d heard before. If she wanted to know more, though, she wasn’t going to learn it from Dah’mir.

  Vennet’s mouth opened as if to ask another question but then closed again. He fumbled at a pocket, then seem to scrape together the courage to look up at Dah’mir. “Lord,” he said respectfully, “this is yours.” He held out the crystal band—and cringed back as Medala darted forward and snatched it away with a cry.

  “Captain d’Lyrandar,” said Dah’mir as if nothing had happened, “you’ve been of tremendous service.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve found that men of such faith as yours, however, do not give their services away. Name your price.”

  Ashi saw Vennet’s throat work as he swallowed. “Power, Dah’mir,” he blurted. “Power and your blessing!”

  Dah’mir’s full smile was a radiant thing that made even her heart lift with joy. “Greed is honest. I anticipated your request, Captain d’Lyrandar.” He reached into his robe, then extended his closed hand to Vennet. “Make what power you can of these,” he told him. He opened his hand to reveal two dragonshards—one midnight blue, the other dawn gold, each of them as thick as Ashi’s thumbs and twice as long.

  Color drained from Vennet’s face as he took the crystals. “Dah’mir,” he said in awe, “this is more than—”

  Dah’mir waved his hand dismissively. “Consider it a down payment on future services, then. Cunning and strength of the Dragon Below be yours.”

  The green-eyed man touched him on the shoulder, then gestured for him to rise. Vennet climbed to his feet and bowed his head humbly.

  “Whenever you need me, lord, just send word,” he said, then turned and walked out of the chamber, a vaguely stunned look on his face. The cultists who had crept down the stairs after Dah’mir reached out to touch the half-elf as he passed, as if something of the Dragon Below’s blessing might rub off on them.

  As Vennet climbed the stairs, Fause thrust past him and threw himself at Dah’mir’s feet. He groveled, smearing his face against the floor. “Dark master!” he babbled. “A blessing! Please! A blessing!”

  Dah’mir looked down at the wild-haired man, then stretched o
ut a foot and pushed at him. Fause toppled over, squirming in ecstasy. Dah’mir raised an eyebrow. “Find me boats, Fause,” he said. “We’ll be returning to the marshes. And prepare your followers to accompany us. I’ll need a new escort.”

  “Yes, dark master! At once!” babbled the man. Ashi stared at him in loathing.

  “They play at power,” murmured Dah’mir to her. The green-eyed man stood close—possibly closer than he had ever stood to her before, close enough that Ashi could smell a slight metallic, acrid odor clinging to him. “They do not live with the Dragon Below. They are not the pure servants that the Bonetree hunters are.” He bent down and retrieved the huntmaster’s sword from where she had dropped it in her final charge and returned it to her. “I am pleased with your service. When we return to Bonetree territory, you will be the new master of my hunters.”

  “Thank you, Revered,” Ashi replied tightly. “And until then?”

  Dah’mir touched the groaning wizard, then the woman who had been Ashi’s quarry for so long. “They are in your charge,” he said. “Guard them and see that they survive the trip into marshes. The children of Khyber await their return to the mound.”

  His touch lingered on the woman. “Especially your return,” he told her blank, staring face. “I’m very curious to learn how you slipped free of my control, Tetkashtai.”

  Ashi blinked, but touched her lips and forehead as Dah’mir glanced at her. “I will watch over them, Revered,” she said obediently.

  CHAPTER

  11

  “Come on,” Singe said with frustrated patience. “Come on, eat.”

  He held a little chunk of meat to Dandra’s lips. He wasn’t exactly sure what kind of meat it was—fowl, snake, or something else—but it was cold and weirdly greasy. At least it was soft and shredded easily under his fingernails. “Eat,” he urged Dandra again.

  She paid no attention to him. Her eyes were on Dah’mir, watching the green-eyed man in rapt fascination as he laughed and spoke with Fause and the other cultists around the fire of the night’s campsite. Virtually all she had done for the last two days was stare at him. Singe pushed the food against her unresisting lips. Her mouth finally opened and she took the meat, chewing it absently.