by James Wyatt
But the Blasphemer's end lies in the void, in the maelstrom that pulls him down to darkness.
For a moment she seemed to see the Blasphemer's leering face form in the black cloud of insects before her, and the words from her dream echoed in her mind.
She was the center of a mighty storm, her own Storm Dragon even without Gaven at her side. She drew another slow breath, feeling the energy of it build inside her like an elation she could barely contain. Holding that energy in her belly, she tumbled out of the center of the storm, turned to put the mass of the cloud in front of her, and let her breath out as a tremendous blast of flame.
Blackened husks swirled in the wind like cinders over a mighty fire, their droning silenced. Rienne surveyed the plain as Maelstrom whirled around her. Insects still flew here and there, but they had lost any coherence as a swarm, and they seemed to have lost their aggressive instincts as well. Rienne let Maelstrom slow its dance, cutting through a few last insects before coming to rest at her side.
Two dozen or more survivors walked or ran in the direction of the camp, some limping, some carrying a fallen comrade, one she noticed crawling on hands and knees. Kyaphar walked among the fallen, looking for any who might still be within life's reach. The fallen, Rienne was pleased to see, were few-at a quick count, only seven, and as she looked Kyaphar stooped over one of the seven and began tending the man's wounds.
She slid Maelstrom into its sheath and fell to her knees. Blackened chitin crunched on the ground beneath her, and even the sound it made was somehow wrong-like the words of the Blasphemer that could not have been words. She gingerly lifted one of the charred husks and examined it. It looked like no insect she'd ever seen, its six thick legs more like a spider's than the wasp it superficially resembled. It bore huge mandibles that pulsed with the poison inside, and the chitin plating its body had an unnatural purplish sheen.
"The Depravation," Kyaphar said.
Rienne looked over her shoulder and saw him standing behind her, concern etched on his face. "What's that?" she asked.
"We see it sometimes in areas where the influence of the daelkyr seeps into the earth from the Realm of Madness they call home. It happens when the seals of the Gatekeepers weaken, and madness leaks through, and in places where daelkyr or their brood that dwell in the depths of Khyber make their way closer to the surface. Usually its influence is slight, subtle, and slow."
"But with the breaking of the seal it's much worse," Rienne said. "Bad enough to generate swarms like this in a few hours' time."
"Exactly."
Rienne stood up and smiled at Kyaphar, even as tears welled in her eyes. "I'm glad you survived the battle, Sky Warden. I saw the airship go down."
"I tried to save Jordhan, but there was nothing I could do. I'm sorry."
"I understand. Thank you, Kyaphar."
The Sky Warden put his arms around her and her resolve broke. Tears streamed down her face and she shook with sobs as she thought of Jordhan-the dear friend who had aided and abetted her and Gaven on so many of their adventures, the greatest of which was their grand expedition to Argonnessen-lying dead amid the wreckage of his airship. Kyaphar held her as she wept, and only released her as the tide of grief subsided.
Drying her eyes, she thanked Kyaphar again and hoped that no one at the camp had seen Lady Dragonslayer break down so completely.
Free.
Gaven turned the word over in his mind as he made his way back to Chalice Center, trying not to look like he was in any more of a hurry than would be normal for people in the busy capital city. Ossa had renounced her House's claim on him, declared him free of Dreadhold. Free.
Don't get too comfortable with that idea, he reminded himself.
Mauren had stressed the point that he was still a fugitive from justice, still subject to arrest for any number of crimes. He still didn't have identification papers, let alone formal traveling papers, so he would have a hard time living anything like a normal life.
On the other hand, he was about to travel to Varna to face the Blasphemer. What kind of normal life was that? He had money in his pouch that would buy him a fast horse, he had Mauren's letter that would get him across the river despite Aundair's military presence there, and he had a sword on his back and the storm in his blood, even if his dragonmark was gone, off in the hands of House Thuranni somewhere. There was nothing normal about his life, and really never had been.
Still, somehow, it made a difference to know that he was free-in whatever limited, narrow sense of the word actually applied to him.
In Chalice Center, he haggled with a horse trader as he had done in the years before Dreadhold, no longer caring if he made a strong impression in the man's memory that might help the authorities follow his trail-and he still spent entirely too much of Kelas's money on a magebred horse. Haggling had always been Rienne's specialty.
He thought of Rienne as he bought a saddle and bridle and other gear for his journey, and ended up paying far more than he should have because of his distraction. She'd been held in a jail in Thaliost-he didn't even know why. Jordhan had paid her fines and taken her away, and he didn't know where. Was she looking for him?
Or was she, as he was, drawn to the west by the call of her destiny? Aunn seemed to think he would find her, and the strange waking dream he'd had in Kelas's house suggested it as well-
A demon in man's shape stood before Rienne, lifting a curved sword as the sounds of the world's unmaking spilled from his mouth…
"Are you ill, master?" The shop clerk peered at his face curiously.
"No, I'm fine. Sorry." Gaven scratched at his neck-his skin was on fire.
"Strangest weather we've been having," the clerk remarked, turning to look out the window. "Clear and cold one minute, then clouds and rain, the rumble of thunder like the drums of war. Can't say I like it."
"Sorry."
"Well, that's autumn in Fairhaven for you. You know what they say, 'If you don't like the weather, wait a bell and it'll change.'" The clerk laughed.
Gaven paid for his supplies and hurried out to his horse. He bid Fairhaven and its mercurial weather farewell and rode out of the city, delighting in the wind on his face.
Kyaphar spent the night searching for more survivors of the battle and leading them, in groups of three to perhaps three dozen, to Rienne's camp. Rienne tried to rest, but each time a new group approached the camp she rose to greet them, speak to their leaders, make sure the wounded found care, and offer what comfort and encouragement she could. Two other sergeants found their way to the camp, and even a lieutenant, but no one was interested in relieving Lady Dragonslayer of her command. Besides Kyaphar, Rienne discovered one more druid among the survivors, a white-bearded man named Fieran. By dawn, she was in command of an army of just over two hundred and fifty, according to Cressa's enthusiastic report, and a council of two druids, four officers, and Rienne herself-with Cressa at her side as her aide-gathered in a large tent that someone had erected for Rienne's use.
Rienne decided to dispense with any pleasantries or introduction. She waited until the elders and officers were gathered in the tent, entered with no introduction or fanfare, and asked, "Who can explain to me what happened yesterday?"
Kyaphar frowned. "The Gatekeepers' seal was broken."
Fieran snorted into his beard. "Obliterated would be more accurate."
"What do you mean?" Rienne asked.
Fieran leaned back in his flimsy chair, steepled his fingers beneath his chin, and looked up at the roof of the tent. "Ordinarily, when we see one of the Gatekeepers' seals break, we observe a gradual process by which the energies of the Realm of Madness slowly begin to eat away at the seal, break it down slowly, until it is weak enough that they can push it aside, as it were. This was different."
"It was sudden, immediate," Rienne said. "What else?"
"It was completely undone. There is nothing left, no residue or remnant we could hope to use to begin repairing it. It is as though the seal simply never existe
d."
"And what happened when it broke, or vanished?"
"You saw it," Sergeant Kallo said. "You were there. The land erupted."
"Yes, that's what I saw. But I want to know why it happened. Did something emerge from the ground, pushing the rock out before it? What came out?"
"From what I could see," Kyaphar said, "what came out was madness and chaos. I didn't see a daelkyr come forth, or any of their brood. But I have never seen the Depravation spread so quickly or so far."
"So there is no horrible spawn of madness rampaging across the Reaches?"
Kyaphar shook his head. "Not as far as I could see from the air. But remember, I was dodging boulders spewed up from the earth. I could have missed much."
Rienne nodded, her fingers idly toying with Maelstrom's hilt. "Kyaphar, you told me before that the Blasphemer's path took him across the Reaches from Gatekeeper seal to Gatekeeper seal. The seal he broke yesterday was not the first, just the largest seal he has undone. But was it the last? Was this great seal his goal, or is there a greater prize?"
"I don't think-" Kyaphar began.
"There is a greater prize," Fieran interrupted. "At the city by the lake of kings."
"Varna?" Rienne asked. A sick feeling took root in her stomach, a gnawing dread. She seemed to hear the splash and rush of the river beneath the screams and shouts of battle.
"Indeed."
"What is that prize? Was the city built over a seal?" That seemed like an unwise strategy, and it ran counter to her impression of the other seals, which she had thought were all far from cities or even villages of the Reaches.
"No," Fieran said. "It's far worse than that. At the city by the lake of kings, it is said, the Blasphemer will unmake the world."
CHAPTER 39
Aunn sat in the back corner of the Ruby Chalice, the hood of his purple cloak pulled down to shroud his face in shadow. It would have been so much easier to just put on an innocuous human face, round and flushed with drink, and blend right in with the rest of the evening crowd. The temptation was strong, but he fought it, clinging to his new sense of identity. Instead, he wore his true face but hid it in shadow and distance, staying on the fringes of the crowds.
Five days had passed since Gaven left Fairhaven-Aunn figured he was probably almost half way to Varna. Aunn had spent the time working with Mauren and Ossa to unravel the strands of Nara's plot, but he took every chance he could to stop in the Ruby Chalice in hopes of seeing Cart and Ashara. It was the only place he could think of they might return to, if they were looking for him. He had tried a more active search for them, but after they created a significant buzz by walking arm in arm through the city, on the day Gaven had left, they seemed to have disappeared from public view. As far as he knew, Mauren was still ignorant of Ashara's involvement in the Dragon Forge, but he wasn't sure how long that could possibly last.
Aunn had led the Sentinel Marshal to the basement of the old cathedral, where they found Kelas's office ransacked, stripped bare of any clue to what he was involved in. Aunn suspected that either Janna Tolden had taken everything with her, or Nara had sent Vec to do the job. Since then, Mauren had arrested Kharos Olan and Bromas ir'Lain, two of Kelas's co-conspirators. Their involvement in the scheme had been almost exclusively financial, though, and they didn't have much additional information to offer. Janna Tolden and the half-orc from Droaam remained at large, to Aunn's and Mauren's increasing frustration.
Vec proved to be a tricky quarry. An individual changeling was almost impossible to track down, of course. The fact that he was an agent of the Royal Eyes made the situation much more complicated. In theory, the Royal Eyes should have cooperated with a Sentinel Marshal trying to prevent the assassination of the queen. In practice, Mauren had met nothing but resistance. She and Ossa were at the Tower of Eyes now, still trying to arrange an interview with Thuel, but Aunn didn't expect a breakthrough after five days of stalling and posturing.
He sighed and swirled the wine in his glass, watching the light from the candle on his table filter through the golden liquid. It reminded him of the Eye of Siberys, which sent his thoughts back over all the events and plots of the past year. For just a moment, the whole room seemed bathed in the golden light, and he felt an inexpressible sense that there was a purpose at work in it all-not just Nara's sinister plot, whatever it was, but some contrary intention. He felt as though he were seeing his own path laid out in the swirls of golden light, his own part in the Prophecy. He smiled as peace washed over him.
A woman draped in blue appeared in the doorway, and Aunn watched as she scanned the crowded room. When her face turned toward him, his heart leapt-it was Ashara. He adjusted his hood just enough that she could see his gray face, and she hesitated. He waved and let his face suggest Kelas's features for an instant. Ashara smiled and made her way to his table.
"Aunn, thank the Fire and Forge," she said, collapsing into a chair across from him. "We've been looking for you for days."
"Where's Cart?"
"He's waiting in the square. If I don't come out in a moment, he'll come in. We've found it's best not to be seen together."
Aunn nodded. Separately, neither of them was distinctive-most people had a hard time telling one warforged from another. It was their obvious affection for each other that drew attention.
"What happened to you?" Ashara asked. "We agreed to meet back here for dinner, and you never came."
"My trip to the Tower of Eyes didn't go as I'd planned."
"And so you're not trying to be Kelas any more."
"Right. Oh, there's Cart."
The warforged stood in the doorway, scanning the room. He spotted the blue of Ashara's cloak and strode over to join them.
"Aunn?" he asked, staring at the unfamiliar blank face.
Aunn stood, smiling, and extended a hand to Cart. The warforged pulled him into a clumsy embrace that threatened to squeeze the breath from his lungs.
"We were concerned," Cart said. "Have you seen Gaven?"
It still came as a surprise to Aunn that anyone would be concerned for him. "Yes," he said, blinking. "He's on his way to Varna."
"Varna? Why?"
Aunn shrugged. "The Prophecy draws him on, as always. Listen, there's a Sentinel Marshal in town-"
"Yes, we've spoken with her," Ashara said. "And the Kundarak with her," Cart added. "You have? When?"
"A few days ago," Ashara said, looking to Cart for confirmation. "The morning after we saw you last," Cart said.
Aunn thought back over the last several days. He had first met Mauren and Ossa the same morning, and he'd been with them for most of that day. They must have met Cart and Ashara just before that. Aunn thought it strange that the Sentinel Marshal had never mentioned Ashara.
"You told them nothing about the Dragon Forge?" Aunn asked.
"I told them enough to get them off our backs," Ashara said. "I told them it was a catastrophic failure that led to my disgrace and excoriation."
A sick feeling clutched Aunn's gut. "You admitted that you were responsible for it."
"I suppose so. What of it?"
Suddenly Aunn understood much of what had been confusing him for days. He had wondered why the Sentinel Marshal seemed to be moving so slowly, unwilling to make any direct move on Jorlanna or House Cannith. He suspected now that she wanted to avoid causing too much alarm until she had Ashara in custody.
"Mauren knows what the Dragon Forge did," Aunn said.
"Mauren? The Sentinel Marshal is a friend of yours?"
"I've been working with her to stop Jorlanna. It would have been better if you had cooperated with her as well."
Ashara's eyes were wide with fear, and Cart rested his hand on top of hers.
"It's not too late," Aunn said. "I'll tell her you're willing to help-tell her all the ways you've already helped. I couldn't have undone the magic of the Dragon Forge without you."
Ashara shuddered and looked down at the table, seeming more vulnerable than Aunn had ever seen her
before.
Cart squeezed her hand. "He's right," he said. "It's better this way."
"I should have listened to you," Ashara said, smiling at Cart. "But I was too afraid."
"Fear is a gateway for the Dark to enter the world," Cart said.
Aunn cocked his head at that-it didn't sound like anything he'd heard Cart say before. He glanced at the runic mark on Cart's forehead, reassuring himself that this was the right warforged. Imprinted at the creation forge, those marks were unique to each individual warforged. Satisfied, Aunn smiled to himself. Cart was proving himself more complex-more "many-layered"-with each passing week.
"So what about you?" Cart said. "You've been working with the Sentinel Marshal? What have you learned?"
"It's starting to come together-at least, I think it is." Aunn sipped his wine and gathered his thoughts. "Kelas sent me to the Demon Wastes to stir up the barbarians, to get them to strike eastward. I know that Nara was behind that mission, and I'm pretty sure the goal-or one goal-was to get Aundairian troops as far away from the capital as possible. Most of our army is either in the Reaches already or guarding our borders with Thrane and Breland. But rather than leave the capital entirely unguarded, the queen hired mercenaries, quite a lot of them. Now, normally, if you want to hire mercenaries you go to House Deneith or House Tharashk. But the queen's not in a position to deal with the dragonmarked houses right now, especially not Deneith."
"So she's hired mercenaries from Droaam," Cart said. "Led by the half-orc who was at Kelas's council."
"Exactly. A whole company of minotaurs, disciplined and ferocious, marched into the city today. As far as I know, Janna Tolden is still involved in the plot as well, and even though she's been discharged in disgrace, she still commands devout loyalty from some number of soldiers. So our working assumption is that the entire military forces of the city, with the possible exception of the palace guard, are more or less directly under Nara's control."
"So you think they're going to seize the palace?" Cart asked.
