“Not from where I stood,” Skagi said harshly.
Ashok nodded. “But it was trying to escape, which is what both snakes should have done when they got out of their cages. Something drove them crazy, made them seek out prey when they should have hidden from us.”
There was no dust storm to blame this time. Some other force was at work here. He needed to find out what.
“I’m going to the training grounds,” Ashok told Skagi. “I need to see how the snakes got out of their cages. Uwan will demand answers once he hears of this.”
Skagi nodded. He took the snake’s head from Ashok and peeled back its mouth to touch its fangs. Ashok thought he was looking for venom, but then Skagi clenched the snake’s head in his fist. Fangs punctured his flesh. Streams of blood sluiced between his fingers and ran down Skagi’s arm. The snake’s eyes burst. Its skull crumpled into an unrecognizable lump in Skagi’s grip.
Tossing the savaged corpse aside, Skagi said calmly, “I’ll come with you.”
He didn’t wipe the blood from his hands.
CHAPTER
THREE
DEEP WITHIN THE CAVES, MOST OF THE SHADOW BEAST CAGES sat empty. Olra had expected to fill them with the spoils from the caravan run—they were clean and ready with strong locks and new enchantments. One of the Camborrs—Ashok recognized him as Olra’s assistant—hurried up from the back of the cave to meet them.
“I heard,” he said tersely before Ashok could speak. “Ikemmu lost a fierce warrior today.”
Ashok nodded brusquely. “Take us to the snake cages,” he said, “now.”
The assistant led them over to the south corner, where a set of smaller cages had been crammed in one on top of another at waist height. The bars were evenly spaced, no more than three inches apart. “We had them both in the lower cage,” he said.
Skagi flicked the cage door with the back of his hand. Metal clanged, and the door swung back on its hinges. “Cage’s unlocked,” he said disgustedly. “Who opened it?”
The assistant faced them squarely, his head up. “I opened the door,” he said.
Skagi took a step forward, but Ashok put his body between the two of them. “Why?” he asked calmly.
“The snakes attacked each other,” the assistant said. “We thought at first they were fighting for territory in the small space. When they wouldn’t stop, Olra ordered me to put them in separate cages.”
“And that’s when they escaped,” Ashok finished for him. “They’d already gone mad. You couldn’t have stopped them.”
“I could have died trying,” the man said.
Skagi grunted. “So could the rest of us.”
“I’m sure Uwan will want to speak to you,” Ashok said. “As Olra’s assistant, you’re the best choice to replace her.” He said nothing about Olra’s final wishes. He would never be able to take the Camborr’s place, no matter how long he trained.
Skagi paused by the row of cages. “Footprints here, small ones,” he said. “Olra’s?”
The assistant shook his head. “The Lady Ilvani’s,” he said. “She came earlier, before the snakes escaped.”
“Ilvani was here?” A strange feeling crept over Ashok, a dread awareness. He remembered how Ilvani looked after the caravan attack, the terror in her face. The dust on her clothes.
She’d been out on the plain when the panthers went mad.
“Did she say anything?” Ashok asked.
“Nothing,” the assistant said. “She just walked among the cages.”
“And right after that the snakes went crazy,” Skagi said. He looked at Ashok, and Ashok knew they were thinking the same thing.
“We have to find her,” Ashok said, “before something else happens.”
They hurried out of the caves and returned to the huts, where a group of Guardians lingered to help put the forges back in order. Skagi asked them if they’d seen Ilvani, but none of them had.
“I’ll check her chamber,” Ashok said. “You go to the wall—tell Neimal to spread the word among the Guardians to be on the lookout for Ilvani, and tell her to seal off the caves. No one goes near the beasts until we find out what’s going on.”
“You really think she’s the cause of all this?” Skagi said grimly.
“I don’t know,” Ashok said. “As long as we keep her away from the beasts, we should be safe.”
“I’ll tell Neimal,” Skagi said.
Ashok ran to Tower Athanon. He found Ilvani’s chamber empty. A search of the tower turned up nothing, and none of the shadar-kai he encountered had seen the witch. Ashok checked the training yard and even ventured into the trade district where the markets were busiest.
He ran up and down the streets, dodging vendors hawking goods from all across the mirror world of Faerûn. The scents of the market—exotic spices, meats, and thick perfumes—mingled with his blood and sweat. The humans, halflings, and dwarves shot him curious or alarmed glances as he ran past and were quick to clear out of his way. He stopped several of them to ask about Ilvani, but none of them had seen a shadar-kai that looked like her anywhere in the market.
As a rule, the other races in Ikemmu showed deference to the shadar-kai as the defenders of the city that sheltered them and made them wealthy, so the people answered Ashok’s questions swiftly and with apologies for not being able to aid him.
Defeated, Ashok headed back to the wall. He had to hope the guards found some trace of her, but he also knew that if Ilvani didn’t want to be found, she would not be, and there was nothing he could do to root her out.
When he got to the wall, one of the Guardians signaled him. At once he teleported to the top of the wall. Neimal waited for him.
“What news?” he demanded.
In response, the witch drew her sword and faced the portal. Flames shot up the blade with a sudden brilliance that dazzled Ashok’s eyes, and the portal activated.
“Ilvani is out on the plain,” Neimal said.
“On the Shadowfell? You let her go out there alone?” Ashok said sharply.
Neimal’s expression turned black. “Your message to detain her came too late. She asked to leave, and I have no authority to prevent her from coming and going as she wills. But you, Guardian, you I can detain forever.”
Ashok forced his temper in check. “I think Ilvani is in danger.”
“So Skagi informed me. I sent him to find you. Ilvani won’t answer the guards’ entreaties that she come back through the portal. They don’t want to have to force her, and neither do I,” Neimal said. She pointed with her sword at the active portal. “Go to her. She might listen to you, but you should know she’s not alone out there.”
“What?” Ashok cried. “Who’s out there?”
“The guards spotted the nightmare out on the plain within sight of the portal,” Neimal said. “It’s not the first time, either. They’ve heard its screams many times.”
If Ilvani and the nightmare came together, there was a good chance the beast would be affected by whatever caused the other creatures to go mad. Ashok’s insides twisted at the consequences of such a meeting. Ilvani’s magic was strong, stronger than that of any wizard he’d seen in Ikemmu, but the nightmare was a force of nature, the embodiment of the harsh, unpredictable Shadowfell landscape.
It was very possible they would destroy each other.
For the second time that day, Ashok came through the Shadowfell portal at a dead run. Sounds assaulted him—the roar of the constant wind and, above that, a distant, keening scream he knew well. He couldn’t see the nightmare for the clouds of dust drifting on the wind, but he knew the beast was close by. The portal guards stood at their posts, but they fidgeted nervously, their eyes fixed on the horizon. They were all warriors of Tempus—a threat to their city should have made their hearts beat with wild anticipation, for to them there was no greater glory than dying in defense of Ikemmu and Uwan, the Watching Blade.
The nightmare’s scream changed all that. It had the unearthly power to foster terror in the hear
ts of the shadar-kai, preying upon the fear that haunted them the most. To succumb to the nightmare’s scream was to believe that their souls were fading, becoming one with the essence of the Shadowfell, lost even to Tempus’s power. The Guardians heard the scream and feared that fate, but they kept to their posts.
“Where is she?” Ashok shouted.
One of the Guardians pointed, and when the dust clouds broke up, Ashok saw Ilvani standing alone on the plain. She was barefoot and wore no cloak, but this wasn’t unusual. What struck Ashok was her swaying stance and the knife she held in her hand.
The scream echoed again, closer, and the Guardians bared weapons. Instinctively, Ashok reached for his spiked chain. His hand clutched his empty belt. Cursing violently, Ashok remembered he’d left the weapon at the blacksmith forge. He thought of asking one of the Guardians for a dagger, but he realized it would be less than useless against the nightmare if the beast went mad and attacked them in earnest.
First he would find Ilvani; then he would deal with the nightmare.
He approached her cautiously, coming in well within her periphery so as not to surprise her. His stance was eerily like the first time he’d approached the nightmare in the training paddock. He had absolutely no idea what to expect.
“Ilvani,” he called.
She didn’t answer. She continued to stare into the dust clouds and listened to the nightmare’s screams. Cold wind gusted across the plain and blew grit into Ashok’s eyes.
“Come back to the city with me. Whatever’s happening, we’ll help you, I promise.”
“I couldn’t get them out. My fault,” she said. Ashok saw her clearly now, and what he saw shocked him more than Cree’s vacant eye socket.
She’d slashed the long sleeves of her dress. Blood-caked scraps dangled from her elbows. Dozens of ugly cuts covered her forearms. Ashok seized her wrist—she dropped the bloody knife—to see how deep the wounds went. Luckily, most were superficial, except for a particularly nasty slash on the back of her hand.
“Ilvani, what have you done to yourself?”
“The stains—I couldn’t get them out, so I had to tear the dress,” she said, sounding contrite. She bent to retrieve the knife. “I’ll try some more.”
“No!” Ashok kicked the weapon away. “Ilvani, why did you do this? I’ve never seen you cut yourself before.”
“You’ve never seen me at all.” Contrition turned to irritation. Her mood shifts, at least, were familiar.
Ashok ripped off a piece of his own sleeve and wound it around her right arm. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “Give me your other arm.”
He expected her to ignore him, but she held her arm up without complaint. Ashok knew then that something was terribly wrong. Ilvani hated to be touched.
“You should cut them off,” she said. “They’re not worth anything.”
“If I did that, you’d regret it, especially when it came time to—”
Suddenly he stopped wrapping the bandage. The shallower cuts on her left arm—she hadn’t made them at random. Ashok saw symbols, repetitive patterns, but they were nothing he could decipher. He started to ask her about them, but a loud scream shattered the air and made Ashok spin. He grabbed again for a weapon that wasn’t on his belt.
The nightmare was almost on top of them.
Ashok shoved Ilvani out of the way and dived aside as the stallion charged past them, fiery hooves striking sparks off the ground. A wall of heat came in his wake, hot enough to make Ashok’s eyes water. He’d forgotten the speed, the raw elemental force that surrounded the beast.
The nightmare made a wide circle and came at them again. The stallion’s eyes were full of swelling hatred, but as he got closer, Ashok saw the beast leaping and bucking, his neck muscles straining as if against an invisible goad. Foam dripped from his mouth, and his eyes glazed over—the hatred was there, but with an undercurrent of desperation Ashok had never seen before. The nightmare, usually a creature of deadly grace, at that moment behaved like a tormented animal.
He’s trying to resist the madness, but he’s not in control, Ashok thought. The nightmare was far more intelligent than the panthers or shadow snakes, yet something about Ilvani’s presence drove them all into a killing frenzy.
Ilvani stood up. Ashok tried to put his body in front of her, but she shoved at him. “Let it take me!” she yelled.
Ashok grabbed for her again, but she dodged, tripped, and fell directly in the path of the nightmare’s deadly hooves. He couldn’t get to her in time.
“Tempus!” The name ripped from Ashok’s throat.
Sparks flew as the nightmare skidded and reared a breath from caving in Ilvani’s skull. For an age, he stayed suspended in the air, his fire drifting over them. Lying on her back, Ilvani watched the flames. They reflected in her black eyes like stars.
Finally, the stallion came down and retreated, but he tossed his head and snorted in furious agitation. His entire body shuddered. Ashok came toward him, but the nightmare let out a short, sharp screech and struck the ground with his hooves.
“It’s your own fault,” Ashok said with black humor. “You wouldn’t leave me alone. How does it feel to have your power turned back at you, a force that gnaws at your mind?”
The nightmare snorted a breath of foul steam on the air. Hands raised, Ashok tried again to approach the stallion. Red eyes, huge and rolling, followed his movements, but the nightmare didn’t retreat this time. The flames coursing through his mane slowly dimmed to a deep blue line. Ashok put his hand against the nightmare’s flank and felt the heat so intense, it bordered on pain.
The promise of pain, the constant threat of oblivion. Ashok had almost forgotten how the nightmare’s presence affected him. A part of his soul reviled the beast, but another part felt as though it were coming home.
The nightmare felt it too. Slowly, the stallion stopped his restless pacing and pawing. His fetlocks cooled to a deep black color. Under Ashok’s stroking fingers, he became almost as docile as a pet.
Ashok heard Ilvani get to her feet and come to stand behind him. The nightmare followed her every movement. His nostrils flared as if the beast scented something terrible in the air.
“Easy,” Ashok said, moving his hand up the nightmare’s neck. “Whatever it is, it’s not going to master you.” He turned his head to meet Ilvani’s gaze. “You’re both stronger than that.”
It was a lie. Ilvani didn’t look strong. She looked frail, desperate, and utterly alone.
“Natan,” she said.
The way she said her brother’s name pierced Ashok’s heart. “He’s not here, Ilvani.”
She put bloody hands against her face. Her shoulders heaved with abrupt, violent sobs. “Why can’t you just leave it alone?” she cried. “Let the fire burn, let it pound me into the ground. Natan, it hurts. I can see them all, but not you. Not you.”
Ashok didn’t know what to do. He stood between the two wild creatures and knew he couldn’t control either of them. But he kept his hands on the nightmare. The only person Ilvani was in danger of hurting was herself.
“Ilvani, look at me.”
When she looked up, she wore a vacant expression. Ashok wondered if she saw him at all. Bloody fingerprints covered her face, and there was dirt on her cheek from her fall. I should take her to Makthar, Ashok thought. Her wounds weren’t life-threatening, but if left alone, they would soon be infected and cause her more pain. Of course, if they did, she would hardly notice. Ilvani’s entire world was one degree of suffering or another.
“Ilvani,” Ashok said. “You know what’s happening, don’t you—why the shadow beasts are going mad when you come near them? Does it have to do with those symbols on your arms?”
The witch blinked and focused on him. She watched his hand rhythmically stroking the nightmare’s flank, so close to the low blue flame. “The telthors are angry,” she said, “restless. Their hands are all over me. They leave black marks, grabbing, pulling, wanting. The mountain wants, the r
iver wants, the trees want. I can’t listen to them if they’re everywhere.”
Ashok sighed. He should have known better than to expect coherency from her. “Let’s get back to the city,” he said. “We need to find Neimal.”
The witch might know what the symbols on Ilvani’s arms meant. If they could solve that puzzle, it might lead to an explanation for the rampant madness.
“You stay here,” he said to the nightmare, “unless you’d like to go back in your cage?”
The nightmare snorted and shied away, but he didn’t go far. The message was clear: I’ll be waiting for you.
The guards sent word ahead to Neimal, and the witch waited for them on the other side of the portal. When she saw Ilvani’s arms, she said to Ashok, “You must tell Uwan what’s happened. He’ll want to know that Ilvani is hurt.”
Ilvani was an important symbol in Ikemmu, a mystical link between the shadar-kai and Tempus. She had become even more precious since they’d lost Natan and his visions from the warrior god. Unfortunately, it also meant the city saw her less as a person and more as a prophet. Having been in a similar position, Ashok knew that wasn’t the kind of regard Ilvani needed right now.
“I have to talk to you, but I don’t want to involve Uwan in this yet,” Ashok said.
Neimal’s eyes widened. “That’s not for us to decide. You must—”
“Do you see these symbols?” Ashok showed her Ilvani’s unbandaged arm. “Do you know what they are?”
Neimal gently traced the symbols with the pad of her thumb. Ilvani’s gaze drifted back and forth between the two of them. Silent tears continued to drip down her cheeks, leaving watery tracks in the blood and dirt. The witch’s gaze darkened. Seeing her expression, Ashok couldn’t tell whether Ilvani’s wounds or her tears disturbed Neimal more.
“You’ve never seen her this bad before, have you?” he said.
Neimal looked at him. “Never.” She let go of Ilvani’s arm. “She came to me earlier, raving about spirits of the forest, mountains, and water. She hadn’t cut herself. Ilvani never cuts herself.”
Unbroken Chain: The Darker Road Page 5
