Unbroken Chain

by Jaleigh Johnson

  “No!” The scream ripped out of Ashok. He ran, his feet pounding the ground as he tore across the yard. “Don’t!”

  His brother turned to look at him, confusion in his eyes. Ashok slapped the blade out of his hands and tackled him. Lakesh cursed and fought back, his hands pushing at Ashok’s chest and shoulders. Ashok straddled and held him down with a hand pressed against his jaw, his fingers digging into Lakesh’s cheeks.

  “You won’t kill him,” Ashok growled.

  Lakesh slapped him across the face, getting dirt in his eyes. “Get off me!” he yelled. “Are you godsdamn crazy?”

  Ashok’s vision swam. He wiped the dirt away with his other hand and saw Skagi lying beneath him. Ashok’s fingernails had gouged red lines into his gray face.

  Stunned, Ashok’s arms went slack. Skagi shoved him off, and he landed on his back on the ground. Ashok looked at the bloody dirt caked under his fingernails, and his breath started to come fast. He couldn’t control it. The training yard started to spin.

  Above him, he heard voices, faintly, as if they echoed from the bridges far up the canyon wall.

  “What happened? Who’s hurt?” they said.

  He thought he heard Jamet’s voice, but he couldn’t be sure. He heard the wind echoing through the cave, and he could still smell the fire, though his father had put it out long before …

  “He came out of nowhere; he was like an animal,” said Skagi, as furious as Ashok had ever heard him. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

  Ashok couldn’t blame the warrior. Blindsiding him like that—he was worse than Chanoch.

  Then he heard Uwan’s voice.

  “All right, everyone get back,” he said. “Jamet, take your recruits inside the tower. Cree, take your brother and see to his face.” A pause. “Vedoran, help me with him.”

  Blurred shapes leaned over Ashok with their hands outstretched.

  Come with us, brother, the phantoms said. We’re going to throw the dice.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  WHEN ASHOK AWOKE, HE WAS IN THE CAVE. THE SCAR FROM HIS campfire blackened the floor, along with Lakesh’s blood. He reached up to feel the wound in his chest, the wound Uwan had given him, but it wasn’t there. His flesh was unmarked.

  “A dream?” he said aloud, his voice groggy with sleep. Slowly, Ashok sat up and rubbed his eyes. The cave was still there. He smelled the lingering smoke and blood. His weapons were on his belt, and he could hear the sounds of the enclave stirring for the new day.

  Everything was as it should be.

  Gods, please no, Ashok thought. Ikemmu—his deepest desires given form—all of it couldn’t have been just a dream.

  He heard footsteps coming down the tunnel. Ashok’s father came into the chamber, his red hair wild and dust-covered.

  “You’ve been out on the plain,” Ashok said.

  His father grunted. “Yes, while you were safe abed,” he replied.

  “Hardly safe,” Ashok said.

  “Lakesh. Yes,” his father said, waving a hand and dismissing Ashok’s brother. “We have more important things to worry about now. I’ve been scouting. There’s a party approaching the caves a few miles out. We don’t know how many there are or what they are, but it’s clear they’re headed this way. They know we’re here.”

  Ashok stood and faced his father. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  “You’ve heard the pack calling,” his father said, “when we sleep, and the caves are quiet?”

  “The shadow hounds?” Ashok said. “Yes. They’ve moved their hunting grounds closer to the cave. We’ll have to deal with them some day.”

  His father nodded. “That day is today,” he said. “I don’t want us hemmed in with a shadow hound pack to the north while enemies approach from the south. Take two of your brothers with you and get rid of the hounds. I’ll handle the threat from the south.”

  As his father turned to leave, Ashok said, “I’d rather go alone.”

  That brought a rumbling laugh from deep in his father’s chest. “If you want to kill yourself, go ahead,” he said. “I have other sons.”

  When he was gone, Ashok looked at the fire and blood stains on the floor and thought of the city of towers, already fading from his waking memory. If he concentrated, he could taste the Cormyrian wine, dry and smoky on his tongue, and smell the forge fires. He felt something clutch his chest, and he closed his eyes against the ache.

  When he opened them, he was standing on the Shadowfell plain. A hound struck him in the chest, its teeth gnashing, and found the tender flesh of his throat.

  “No!”

  Ashok sat up in his bed, screaming and clawing at his throat. A dark shape and a weight held him at the shoulders. He punched out with loosely clenched fists, rolled off the bed, and pinned the hound to the floor.

  “Cease, Ashok, cease! It’s Vedoran.”

  Ashok’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, and suddenly he could see everything. He was lying on the floor next to his bed with his hand across Vedoran’s throat. Vedoran held up his hands, showing that he had no weapon. He regarded Ashok calmly.

  “Do you know me?” he asked.

  Slowly, Ashok nodded. He sat up and took his hand away from Vedoran’s throat. The shadar-kai sat up gracefully, his arms still raised, making no sudden movements.

  “Is this a dream?” Ashok asked. He looked around, but the tower room was empty. Skagi, Cree, and Chanoch were not there.

  “Uwan thought it would be best if there were as few people here as possible, in case you had another nightmare,” Vedoran said. “I volunteered to stay with you—”

  “Is this a dream?” Ashok demanded again, cutting him off.

  “If I say no, it proves nothing,” Vedoran said reasonably. “That’s the power of the nightmare. You don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.”

  Ashok laughed faintly and put his head in his hands. They were clammy and trembling. “So I’m damned?” he said.

  “No,” Vedoran said. “You’re awake, and that’s a very good sign. You’ve been in a fevered sleep for a day. Most who have worked with the nightmare don’t last that long.”

  “Olra’s old master,” Ashok said. “He lost his soul.”

  “You don’t appear to be in danger of that,” Vedoran observed. “But your mind is another concern.”

  “Why did you stay?” Ashok said, looking up. “I could have killed you.”

  Amusement flickered across Vedoran’s face. “Not likely,” he replied.

  “I didn’t realize …” Ashok said, raising himself up and sitting on the edge of his bed. “He’s stronger than I thought, the nightmare.”

  “After this it will get easier, I think,” Vedoran said. “You’ve come through the worst and know what to expect. If you still intend to train the beast.”

  “Yes,” Ashok said. He looked at his hands, the blood still crusting the edges of his nails. “Skagi?” he said.

  “More embarrassed than hurt,” Vedoran assured him. “He was angrier at you for knocking him down in front of all the recruits. You took him completely by surprise. I’m sure he’ll want to pay you back in kind, someday.”

  Ashok nodded. “I deserve that and more,” he said.

  Vedoran stood up and straightened his armor. His black hair had come loose from its horsetail, making him look even larger as he stood over Ashok.

  “What did you see in your dreams?” he asked. When Ashok hesitated, he added, “If you don’t wish to speak of it—”

  “They weren’t dreams,” Ashok said. He saw his father, the hounds, Lakesh’s corpse. “They’re memories.”

  Vedoran nodded. “Of the time before you came to Ikemmu.”

  “Yes.” Lost in thought, Ashok wasn’t sure how much time passed, but when he looked up, Vedoran was still standing there, watching him. His eyes were impossible to read.

  “What is it?” Vedoran said.

  “Why do you not worship Tempus?” Ashok asked.

  Briefl
y surprised, Vedoran recovered and sat cross-legged on the floor next to Ashok’s bed. His scabbard scraped the stone. He unbuckled his sword belt and set the weapon on the floor next to him.

  “I feel,” Vedoran said, hesitating, “like I don’t want to be controlled. My father served Netheril, and then he escaped it, for the reasons many shadar-kai did—because he didn’t want to be a servant to a controlling empire ruled by a dark goddess. Ikemmu is not Netheril, but if he were alive, my father would see it in the shadows of these towers. Should we have come so far, only to have our choices limited now? To have our future decided by clerics who whisper an invisible god’s words in Uwan’s ear?”

  Ashok saw the burning was back in Vedoran’s gaze. With his fists clenched in his lap, the sellsword radiated such anger, a controlled fury that threatened to consume him from the inside out. Ashok didn’t know how he could stand it.

  “But this city,” Ashok said. “It’s different from any place I’ve ever known. I’ve seen places that were numb to the gods’ influence. Maybe the shadar-kai weren’t meant to walk unguided. Maybe we need some hand to keep us from wasting ourselves.”

  “Are you thinking of taking the oath? Of embracing Tempus?” Vedoran said. His voice was neutral, but Ashok read his stunned expression. Ashok was hardly less affected himself.

  What would it mean if he swore loyalty to Tempus? Would Uwan and the others truly accept him as one of their own? The implications of what he considered roiled inside Ashok. His father and brothers, they would all be dead to him, as he was to them. His old life and everything he had been would be washed away. Then could he finally escape those caves, the memories of blood and fire?

  Vedoran waited, tense beside him. Ashok chose his words carefully, sensing that for Vedoran, more rested on his answer than idle conversation.

  “I think,” he said, “that I need to learn more about this god, so I know what I’m swearing my life for.”

  “All that you need to know of Tempus rests in Uwan,” Vedoran said bitterly. “You see how the recruits look at him, the worship in their eyes. Now you’re becoming one of them.”

  “I’ve decided nothing,” Ashok said.

  Vedoran nodded, but Ashok saw the anger and—worse—disappointment in his eyes. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” Vedoran said. “Whatever memories you battled in your sleep, Ikemmu must seem a paradise by comparison. But beware, Ashok, of putting your faith in this city and in Uwan. You may come to regret it.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  VEDORAN LEFT HIM TO REGAIN HIS STRENGTH, AND WHEN ASHOK awoke again, he didn’t remember dreaming. Nor did he know the day; he heard no bells tolling, and the room was empty.

  Ashok sat up. There were fresh clothes lying at the foot of his bed. He checked his armor to make certain the parchment sheets hadn’t been found. As he was donning the bone scales, there came a tentative knock at his door.

  “Come in,” he said, his voice still rough from sleep.

  A dark one entered the room with a trencher of bread and meat and a cup of water. He handed Ashok the food.

  Ashok thanked the creature and bit into a chunk of bread. The bland crust tasted amazing. He couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last. He scooped up the pink meat and juices with his crust and ate it all while the dark one waited.

  The little humanoid shifted from foot to foot, his right hand clutching the knuckles of his left. He was a bit shorter than Darnae, but he walked in a stooped manner, his shoulders, arms, and knees curling inward toward his stomach. His eyes were dark and watery in a pudgy face.

  When Ashok had finished the food, the dark one said in a low voice, “Lord Uwan instructs me to give you a message.”

  “What is it?” Ashok asked.

  “I’m to say that if you’re feeling up to the task, you should come to Lord Uwan’s chamber. For a private meeting.”

  The food settled heavily in Ashok’s stomach. “I’ll come now,” he replied. “Do you know what it’s about?”

  The dark one’s expression turned sly. “I wasn’t to say,” he said.

  “But you do know,” said Ashok.

  The creature’s eyes gleamed wickedly. “Perhaps,” he replied.

  Ashok thought of pressing the point, then decided against it. He already knew what the meeting was about—of course he did. He was being summoned to answer for his actions in the training yard. Better he hear it from Uwan himself instead of the creature.

  The dark one led Ashok out, and they climbed the winding steps. The walk seemed to take forever. When at last they stood before Uwan’s door, the dark one left Ashok. He knocked on the door and immediately heard Uwan’s voice beckoning him inside.

  Ashok saw the painting first, the beautiful cityscape above the long rectangular table. He was surprised to see most of the chairs at the table filled, and even more shocked to see the occupants.

  Uwan sat at the head, of course, but Vedoran, Chanoch, Cree, and Skagi all occupied places down the table. At Uwan’s right hand sat Natan. There was an empty chair next to the cleric that Vedoran, seated on the other side of him, pulled out and indicated for Ashok.

  “The time has come for you to decide your future, Ashok,” Uwan said. “Sit down. We have much to discuss.”

  Uwan leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table top. In the middle of the table, spread out, was a map of the Shadowfell plain. Ashok recognized the Aloran Tor and several other landmarks. By their locations, he could tell his own enclave was about a six day journey to the north.

  “I’ve summoned you here,” Uwan said, glancing at Ashok and his companions, “because you’ve all proven yourselves to be exceptional warriors. I’ve watched you train, seen your strengths, your weaknesses and your faith.

  “I have a journey that should you undertake it will require all of your efforts working in concert. I am not ordering you to complete this task. Every shadar-kai in this room who volunteers for this mission will do so of his own free will.” Uwan glanced meaningfully at Ashok. “Will you consider the mission I propose?”

  “Yes, Lord Uwan,” Chanoch said at once, and Skagi and Cree were quick to add their assent.

  “I will consider it,” Vedoran said.

  Ashok looked at Uwan. He had not expected such a proposal at all. He felt off balance, as if everyone in the room knew more than he did. A journey outside Ikemmu? He’d not been outside the city’s walls since the day he’d tried to escape.

  “Will you consider this mission, Ashok?” Uwan repeated, when the silence stretched.

  “Yes,” Ashok said uncertainly. He didn’t know what to think.

  “Thank you,” Uwan said. He addressed Natan. “Will you tell them, my friend?”

  The cleric nodded and cleared his throat. “Thank you for agreeing to hear Uwan’s request,” he said. “My own tale is a simple one. I am a servant of Tempus, and I have been blessed with the gift of Sight. The warrior god has chosen to grant me visions of what will come to pass in Ikemmu’s future.”

  He paused. Ashok felt Vedoran stiffen beside him. He stared down at the table, his black gaze boring holes in the map.

  “Several nights ago, Natan received such a vision,” Uwan said. “Tempus showed him that Negala has returned to the plain.”

  “The bog witch?” Skagi said. “Close to Ikemmu?”

  Uwan shook his head. “Many miles distant,” he replied. “The city is in no immediate danger.”

  “Who is Negala?” Chanoch asked.

  “That’s right, you’re probably too young to know her,” Skagi said, which made Chanoch’s face flush with embarrassment. “She’s a hag, a creature twisted by the shadows.”

  “She’s like the nightmare, in human form,” Ashok said quietly. He remembered his father telling him a tale of encountering the witch. Her bog was merely an illusion, a part of her mind she could alter at will.

  Uwan looked at him sharply. “You know Negala?” he said.

  “No,” Ashok said. “But I know what she
is. She moves her swamp around the Shadowfell according to her whim. She’s an annoyance, nothing more.”

  “Bog may be an annoyance, but you can still die in it,” Skagi said.

  “Agreed,” Uwan said. “She must not be underestimated, as this mission will take you straight across her domain.”

  “Why?” Vedoran spoke up.

  “Shall I tell them?” Uwan said, speaking to Natan.

  The cleric shook his head. “If you please, my Lord, I’ll do it,” he said. Natan leaned back in his chair, and the lines on his face made him look ancient, though Ashok guessed he couldn’t be much older than himself.

  “A little over a month ago,” Natan said, “a decision was made that instead of dispatching an entire caravan to search the Shadowfell for beasts to capture and train, it was more feasible to send out a smaller scouting force to search for hunting grounds, watering holes, anyplace the shadow beasts might be likely to gather. Such a force could range farther than a caravan and be able to return to the city faster with its intelligence.

  “We sent out a band of ten shadar-kai,” Natan said. “Our best scouts. One of them was my sister, Ilvani. Their party disappeared. They never returned to the city.”

  Natan paused as if to gather himself. Uwan continued in his stead. “We dispatched patrols to search, but their trails went cold. No bodies were ever found. I believe, and Tempus has confirmed it in Natan’s vision, that some or all of the party are still alive. They were taken prisoner.”

  “You believe Negala has them?” Vedoran asked.

  “No,” Natan said. “I saw the hag’s lands in my vision, but Tempus pointed me beyond them. Somewhere on the other side of the bog is where we will find our people.”

  “We’ve had wizards watching with farseeing spells, waiting to see any sign of Negala’s bog,” Uwan said. “Patrols have been ranging far out from the city, and a few days ago, they saw the bog had appeared.”