The Queen of stone

CHAPTER THIRTY — ONE

The Ossuary Droaam Eyre 20, 998 YK

You will have no answer from me," Harryn said. "I know you for what you are, and I pity you."

So much for talking our way out of it, Thorn thought.

The woman laughed. "Bold," she said. "I like you. If there were more time, I should like to keep you. I think you'd sing a different tune after I'd had a taste of you. But the moons grow closer with each moment, and there is much to do. Kurlun, take them. The rest of you, keep them bound in this place."

The wolves and rats spread apart, forming living walls to seal off the alleyway. Any doubts as to Kurlun's identity were dispelled as the trollbear lunged toward them. It moved with terrifying speed, and sparks flew from the stone as Thorn leaped over its blow. She brought the myrnaxe spear down on the troll's hand, hoping to pin the beast to the ground. But to her surprise and dismay, the flesh beneath the trollbear's ragged fur was as hard as iron, and her strike slipped aside. Surprised, she was unprepared when the beast lashed out with the back of its hand. Its strength was astonishing, and even this glancing blow sent Thorn staggering into the heaped statues.

Stormblade fared better. "For Galifar!" he cried, and lightning flared around his blade. Thorn didn't see the stroke, but she heard the impact and the troll's hiss of pain. She knew the legends of that sword, the blade that struck with the force of a thunderbolt and shattered all lesser weapons. Hope soared as the tales flashed through her mind, and she pushed herself back to her feet, searching to land the perfect blow. Then the troll turned, slashing at Harryn, and Thorn saw that the wound he had inflicted was almost completely healed.

For a moment she considered fleeing. Using her magic, she could easily vault over the piled statues and disappear into the darkness. The thought struggled to take hold, and then it was gone. Thorn had been sent to claim the Stormblade. She was too close to victory to surrender, and if something had happened to Beren, she intended to salvage her mission. She leaped at the troll, landing a solid blow where its kidneys should be, but once again she was unable to pierce its hide. The best she could do was scratch it, and scratches healed instantly.

Stormblade was holding his own, but it couldn't last. The sorceress laughed as the troll's claws tore Harryn's tabard from his chest and left deep gouges in his armor. The blows that missed sent scattered fragments of stone goblin flying across the hall and seemed to shake the floor. The trollbear dug its claws into Harryn's armor, grabbing the knight and pulling him close. Stormblade had no room to bring his sword to bear, and the troll set its jaws against either side of Harryn's skull.

Thorn didn't try to fight the troll any more-she couldn't hurt it. Instead, she studied the sorceress and listened to the vibrations in the rock and the sounds in the hall. The Aundairian smiled at her.

"You've seen reason," she said. "You have a choice. Tell me where to find Queen Sheshka, or watch Kurlun crack your friend's head between his teeth."

"It's not Sheshka you need to worry about," Thorn said. She smiled, and it was all she could do to keep from laughing.

"Then what should I be concerned about?" The sorceress flexed her fingers again, tracing patterns of fire in the air. "You can't beat Kurlun."

"That's what the hydra is for." Sheshka's voice rang out from behind the sorceress. She stood on the back of the great beast, which was stone no longer. Eight heads snapped forward, and gouts of steaming acid burst from the hydra's many mouths, engulfing the trollbear. The creature howled in agony, releasing Harryn from its jaws, and the knight slammed both feet into the troll's chest, rolling free from its grip.

The sorceress was stunned. The hydra was huge, and it had left a trail of shattered stone in its wake, but distracted by the battle with the troll, no one had seen or heard the black-scaled hydra approaching in the shadows. As she watched the troll collapsing, whimpering in agony as its flesh melted away, the Aundairian was even more surprised when Thorn's spear passed through her throat. Thorn hadn't been idle-she had turned her attention to the wizard, recognizing the tell-tale signs of shielding magic and anticipating the sorceress's next move. The Aundairian never had a chance to release a spell; she crumpled to the ground as Thorn pulled the spear free.

The rest was chaos. The healing powers of the troll were no match for the acidic bile of the hydra, and soon bones were all that remained of Kurlun. Rat and wolf howled and snarled, and Thorn carved a path through the storm of claw and tooth. A clap of thunder echoed as Harryn's blade struck the dire wolf. Then the hydra was upon the unfortunate creature, two separate heads tearing it apart and swallowing the pieces.

It was over within moments. The corpses were still shifting as the hungry hydra devoured them. Sheshka slid down from the creature's back, keeping her eyes closed. She ran a hand along the hydra's nearest neck, murmuring in a language Thorn didn't speak.

"Now I'm embarrassed," Thorn said. "I leave you alone for a few minutes and you come back with a hydra. The best we could do was a wretched troll."

"There was nothing wretched about that troll," Sheshka said. Her serpents seemed limp, her movements sluggish. "That was a war troll of the Great Crag, one of the personal host of Sora Maenya. I'm certain you noticed the skin of steel, and the speed at which it healed."

"I've never been an expert on trolls."

Sheshka staggered, falling against the side of the hydra, and Thorn took a step forward.

"What's wrong?"

"I'll be fine," Sheshka stammered, though her voice quavered as she spoke. "Used more… energy… than I anticipated."

"You saved us." Thorn glanced over her shoulder, where Harryn was staring down at the bones of the troll. "Stormblade. Are you injured?"

"I've suffered worse," he said. He ran his fingers across the new gouges in his armor.

"Then I'd consider it a personal favor if you thanked our savior."

Sheshka's vipers all turned at once, shifting to look away from the knight. Stormblade hesitated, but he approached the two women and dropped to one knee, laying his sword before him.

"Lady Sheshka-"

"Queen Sheshka," she said softly.

Thorn was skilled at reading people-tells were as vital as spells, and she always watched others' emotions. Harryn Stormblade was a stern and serious man, and he hid his feelings well. But he was taken off guard. Something ran deeply between these two.

"Queen Sheshka," he said at last. "I thank you for the risks you have taken on my behalf. There is no token of my gratitude I can give that I haven't offered before. I am unaware of much, and I trust you will forgive my ignorance."

"Will you forgive me?" she said. Her serpents peered backward over her shoulders, as shy as vipers could be.

Stormblade hesitated, but his voice was firm. "No."

"You'd be dead if not for her," Thorn said. "Twice."

Harryn looked at Thorn, and she could feel the storm twisting within him. "I know nothing of this. Centuries have passed. Perhaps things-and people-have changed. But I am still living in your yesterday, and I cannot change how I feel so quickly." He looked at Sheshka. "I am sorry, my lady-your majesty-but I cannot forgive you yet."

A few of the snakes hissed quietly, but Sheshka looked at him kindly. "I understand."

Thorn didn't, but she had other concerns. "Sheshka, I need to get Harryn back to Breland. I know that you have troubles of your own-"

"Let us travel north together," Sheshka said. "I can call a winged messenger and send word ahead to Cazhaak Draal. We can have you astride a wyvern and on your way back to Breland within three days."

"Can you bring your scaly friend?" The hydra was sniffing around the alley, looking for more corpses.

"He's too large to fit through the tunnel to the surface. I fear I shall have to petrify him again. I don't want him to starve."

"What about the moons?" Harryn Stormblade had risen to his feet, and his voice was grim.

"What do you mean?" Thorn said.

"How many moons are in the sky?"

Thorn hesitated. "Six."

"Don't you see? It's happening again. This is why I have been restored." His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. "The Wild Heart reaches out to the world above. Tonight, as the six moons pass over his tower, the Moonlord will taint them with his magic, and that evil will spread to all the skinchangers. That cannot be allowed to happen. This is destiny."

"And yet you failed before," Sheshka said. Thorn could tell that the ghosts of the past were haunting the conversation. "You were stripped of your identity and left for dead. But the world survived. The soldiers of the Silver Flame did what you could not. This is not a task for one man… or two women."

Stormblade's voice rose with his retort, but Thorn wanted to hear another voice. She took a step back, giving Sheshka and Harryn room to argue, and ran her fingers along Steel's hilt.

I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten about me.

"I've been busy," she muttered. "What do you think?"

Intriguing. Much about lycanthropy remains a mystery. As Sheshka said, some lycanthropes are driven to murder and depravity, while a few live solitary, peaceful lives. We know that during the Silver Crusade, the curse became far more contagious, and its victims more violent. Harryn is attributing this to the work of the Moonlord… and saying that it could happen again. If so, the surge was contained before. But according to the records, most of the lycanthropes exterminated during the purge were humans and shifters-infected people of Aundair and Breland. These trolls and ogres are another matter.

"And that time, we had a united kingdom," Thorn murmured. The Church of the Silver Flame might have provided the soldiers, but under old Galifar, the church was expected to pursue supernatural threats across the breadth of the realm. Now, the bulk of the military force of the church was aligned with Thrane. Even if the Keeper of the Flame made the offer, the Brelish wouldn't welcome the presence of Thrane troops. And if Breland stood alone, how long would it be before other nations took advantage of its weakness? The Cyran refugees could see an opportunity to seize land for their people. The Darguul goblins were always a concern. Even Thrane might use the presence of the plague as an excuse to cross the border in force.

"Stormblade!" she called.

Harryn paused in mid retort and glanced at her. "Yes?"

"Say that I agree with you. What must be done?"

"Queen Sheshka says we are already past the midnight hour. If the threat is real, the ritual must be underway. The Moonlord will be in the tower of shadows."

Thorn nodded. "And where is that, exactly?"

"I don't know."

Sheshka's snakes hissed derisively.

"That could explain why you didn't find it before," Thorn said.

"The text I found was unclear," Harryn said. "The tower is a relic of the first age of the world. It is difficult to translate the writing of fiends. It seemed to say that the tower was destroyed long ago, but its shadow remains-and the tower itself remains in the shadow."

Thorn was about to make a clever remark about wasting time searching for destroyed towers when Steel whispered in her mind. Such a thing is possible, he said. The fiends of the first age possessed immense powers. It would operate on the same principles as your gloves-pulling a pocket of space out of the world. The question would be finding the portal.

"So you're saying that the castle is in a shadow?"

"Exactly," Harryn said.

Possibly, Steel qualified.

"So with six moons in the sky, we're going to look for… a shadow."

"According to the text, it's the shadow of the tower," Stormblade said. "The ghost of a shadow."

"Well, that makes it-" the words died in her throat.

The ghost of a shadow. When she and Sheshka had traveled across the city, they'd passed through a patch of unnatural gloom. The shadow of a building-with no building to cast it. "I know where it is."

Stormblade smiled-the first time she'd seen a gentle expression on his face. He struck his hip with an armored fist. "Destiny! Let us fight, then, Thorn of Breland. Together, let us fight for Galifar."

You'll have to tell him sometime, Steel said.

"Yes," Thorn said. "For Galifar. Sheshka, this isn't your battle. If you want to stay here, I understand."

The medusa's serpents were coiled proudly about her head. "I will join you, sister Thorn. I am not the child I was. And while I do not understand why the Daughters would welcome this darkness, I do not believe that it belongs in our lands. You may fight for Galifar… but I seek to defend Droaam and Cazhaak Draal."

Thorn called the myrnaxe from the glove and raised it in the air. "Very well, my friends. Let us see what fate has in store for us."

As they prepared for the struggle ahead, one thought lingered at the back of Thorn's mind. If Sheshka were correct, Sora Teraza had stolen Stormblade's identity so long ago. And Sora Teraza had told her where to find the petrified knight.

Were they following the path of destiny… or dancing to the tune of Teraza?