The Sentinel

CHAPTER 17

After two days of eighteen-hour marches on not much sleep, Arietta was so foggy-headed that she didn’t realize Joelle had stopped moving until she felt the heartwarder’s back against her chest. She quickly reached up and caught Joelle by the shoulder, steadying them both.

“My apologies,” Arietta said. “I wasn’t paying-”

“No need to apologize.” Joelle placed her hand over Arietta’s and left it there. “We’re beyond that now, don’t you think?”

Arietta allowed herself a hint of a smile. “I suppose we are.” In truth, she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the night before-except that it gave her a secret thrill to hear Joelle mention their intimacies. “But that doesn’t give me leave to run you over.”

Joelle shot her a sly grin. “Maybe that was the idea.”

Arietta’s cheeks grew warm. While it was true that she had developed a deep and passionate affection for Joelle, it was equally true that she was just growing accustomed to the idea of being in love with another woman. She cast a nervous glance back at Kleef and Malik, who were coming up the gentle rise behind them, then slipped her hand from beneath Joelle’s.

“Bad timing, I’m afraid.”

Joelle laughed. “Concerned about what our friends may think?” she asked. “I thought you were done worrying about your noble decorum.”

“I am.” Arietta stepped around to Joelle’s side, where their bodies would not be in such obvious contact. “But there’s a difference between following one’s heart and making a spectacle of oneself.”

“As you wish.” Joelle feigned a tone of disappointment. “I suppose I’ll just have to control myself until we make camp.”

By then, Kleef and Malik had joined them atop the rise. Malik looked from Arietta to Joelle with a smug little grin that suggested he’d seen what had passed between the two and knew exactly what it meant. Kleef simply avoided their eyes and stopped alongside Malik, his gaze fixed on their destination.

From this close, the Underchasm looked like the end of the world, an immense dark void falling away from the jagged edge of a grassy, windswept plain. Here and there, thumb-sized crags of gray stone rose out of the murk like islands out of a foggy sea. A couple of the crags were connected by pale lines that seemed to be ropes or bridges, and the largest was topped by a crownlike shape that suggested a castle and its turrets.

After a moment, Kleef worked his gaze across the grassy plain ahead, no doubt searching for an orc scouting party or Shadovar ambush. When he spotted neither, he frowned and said, “I don’t see anything.”

“Out in the Underchasm,” Joelle said. She pointed at the large stone crag with the crown of castle turrets. “That’s our destination: Sadrach’s Spire.”

“That’s where Grumbar’s Temple is?” Arietta asked, confused. “A castle aerie?”

“Grumbar’s Temple is beneath the castle,” Malik said. “Sadrach was a student of elemental magic. He kept temples to all of the Elemental Lords in his home.”

“That castle must be leagues from the nearest solid ground,” Kleef said. “How do we reach it?”

Arietta pointed at the pale lines she had observed earlier. “Across those bridges, I would wager.”

“Bridges?” Kleef’s face fell, and he turned to Joelle. “Is there another way across?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Joelle said. “Unless you can fly.”

“Or we wish to climb down and go through the Underdark,” Malik added. He cast a wary glance toward the angry sky, where a boiling red rift was opening between two banks of purple clouds. “But I do not think we have time for that.”

Kleef let out his breath, then said, “Well, at least we know where the Shadovar mean to ambush us.”

Arietta saw what he was thinking and nodded. “On the bridges.”

“How can you know that?” Malik asked. “The Shadovar are many things, but seldom predictable.”

“They are this time.” Kleef glanced back over his shoulder, toward a distant, brownish-gray blur-the orc horde coming over the horizon behind them. “Yder has been using the orcs to wear us down. When we reach the bridges, he’ll use them to push us into his trap.”

“So we destroy the bridges behind us,” Arietta said. No sooner had she said this than an even more alarming thought occurred to her. “Unless the Shadovar have already destroyed the bridges.”

Kleef was quick to shake his head. “They haven’t.”

“Why not?” Arietta asked. “It would prevent us from delivering the Eye to Grumbar’s Temple.”

“It would force us to try something desperate,” Kleef said. “They’d rather have us on the bridges, where they can anticipate our moves.”

“Nor would it be easy for them to undo Sadrach’s magic,” Malik said. “Those bridges have been there since the Spellplague. If they could be destroyed, I am sure someone would have done it by now.”

Arietta frowned. “Why would anyone want to destroy those bridges?” she asked, instantly suspicious. “There’s something you haven’t told us.”

“Nothing of concern,” Malik said. “Only that Sadrach and his servants were much changed by the Spellplague, and I doubt the nomads of the Shaar are fond of having them visit in the night.”

“Changed how?” Kleef asked.

Malik shrugged. “I know only what my god has shared with me, which is little enough,” he said. “But have no fear. He has promised to protect us.”

Kleef looked skeptical. “He’d better keep that promise,” he said. “Because if one of these servants so much as looks at us wrong, I’m throwing you to the orcs myself.”

Malik grew pale. “There is no need for threats,” he said. “We are all here to stop Shar.”

“Just remember that.” Arietta caught Kleef’s eye, then added, “But if Malik is right about those bridges being indestructible, we have a more urgent problem. We can’t allow ourselves to become trapped between the orcs and the Shadovar.”

“Good point.” Kleef glanced back toward the orc horde, then started toward the Underchasm. “We need to keep moving.”

It wasn’t quite what Arietta had meant, but she saw no harm in talking while they walked. She fell in beside the watchman and started through the tall grass.

“Actually, I was thinking of something a bit more unexpected,” Arietta said. “We need to find a way to pit the orcs and Shadovar against each other.”

“Perhaps you could ask Siamorphe to fly us across the chasm,” Malik suggested, squeezing in between Kleef and Arietta. “Surely, even she is more likely to grant such a miracle than are the Shadovar and the orcs.”

Kleef scowled at the little man’s rudeness, then turned to Arietta. “I hate to say it, but he has a point.”

Arietta shook her head. “It doesn’t take a miracle-not if we can make them see that their interests are no longer aligned. For instance, if Gruumsh were to recover his eye, what’s the first thing he would do?”

“Take horrible vengeance on Luthic, without a doubt,” Malik said. “But what good is that to us? Then Luthic would be dead, and Grumbar would have no reason to stay on Toril.”

“Wrong.” Kleef was starting to sound interested. “Grumbar wouldn’t let it go that far. He’d be honor-bound to protect his lover.”

“Which means he would have to stay on Toril,” Arietta said. “And that’s exactly what the Shadovar don’t want.”

“Wait-you want to give the Eye to the orcs?” Joelle’s voice was aghast. “Please tell me that’s not what you’re saying.”

“Not quite,” Arietta said. “I’m just saying that if we want to reach Grumbar’s Temple alive, we need to make the orcs see that the Shadovar are no more on their side than ours.”

The companions continued toward the Underchasm, refining Arietta’s plan as they walked. Malik favored trying to strike a deal with the orcs, then double-crossing them when the Shadovar arrived to interfere. Kleef thought it made more sense to challenge the orc chieftan to single combat and put the Eye up as the prize. In the end, they realized they needed to be subtler-that it wasn’t the orcs they needed to trick, it was the Shadovar.

They stopped long enough to make a few preparations, then resumed their march. Although they were now so close to their goal they could actually see it, the scale of the Underchasm made it difficult to estimate the remaining distance. For the next two hours, the swath of grassy plain in front of them never seemed to narrow, nor the stone crags out in the abyss to grow much larger or more distinct. Only the red rift in the sky appeared to draw nearer, becoming wider and brighter and driving the two banks of purple clouds down toward the horizon.

Every now and then, a blazing white vortex would form somewhere inside the rift and drop a swirling column of flame down into the Underchasm. The plain would shudder and the wind would boom and shriek, and sometimes there would come a blast of heat so ferocious that grass withered and dirt smoked. Other times, ranks of lightning would dance across the horizon, seeming to wall off some distant part of the world and cleave it away forever. Once, a sheet of blue ice dropped from the sky and sliced into the ground alongside them, opening up a mile-long fissure that immediately began to vent a curtain of frigid white fog.

Finally, the grassy plain began to narrow, and the rim of the Underchasm drew visibly closer. The nearest of the stone crags slowly swelled into a mountaintop, and the pale line that connected it to the lip of the abyss became an impossibly long bridge. A pair of stone pylons appeared on the brink of the chasm, serving as the entrance to the bridge and anchoring the thick, translucent cables that held it suspended in the air.

Kleef removed his sword and scabbard from his back and, keeping one eye on the agate on Watcher’s crossguard, cautiously led the way forward. As the companions drew nearer to the bridge, the plain grew barren and lifeless, exposing a powdery brown loam that had been compacted into a network of foot trails. The trails converged at the bridge entrance, where a dozen wood poles stood, planted in a rough semicircle. Some were no more that waist-height, and a couple were as tall as Kleef. But all had a chain dangling from the top and a carpet of bones scattered around the base.

Lying chained to one of the shorter posts was a black-and-brown billy goat. When he noticed the companions, he staggered to his feet and turned to watch them approach. His eyes were wary and pale, with elongated horizontal pupils that reminded Arietta of the agate on Kleef’s sword.

Kleef stopped a few paces away and asked no one in particular, “What’s this? An offering?”

“Or perhaps a gift,” Malik suggested. “If the nomads leave food here, Sadrach’s servants will have less reason to visit their camps at night.”

Kleef studied the goat for a moment, then went to his side and kneeled next to his head. The goat shied away, but Kleef reached out and gently drew him back, then began to fiddle with the iron collar around his neck.

“Are you mad?” Malik demanded. “You will turn Sadrach’s servants against us if you steal what is meant for them!”

Kleef continued to work on the collar. “Sadrach’s monsters have nothing to be angry about,” he said. “The only ones I’m stealing from are the orcs.”

He looked back the way they’d come, to where the orc horde had become a churning mass of flesh and iron, spreading across the plain behind them. Arietta could already see the advance guard out in front, distant knots of stooped shapes that left ribbons of trampled grass in their wake, and she knew it would not be long before the first scouts arrived at the bridge.

“Kleef’s right,” Arietta said. “The first orcs are going to be here within the hour-and there’s no need to appease them.”

She retrieved the top of a human skull from among the bones surrounding one of the tall poles, then filled it with water and kneeled down in front of the goat. The beast fixed his eerie eyes on hers, and for an instant she felt as though she were staring into the heavens themselves, a realm of iridescent clouds and mountains the color of molten gold, of endless silver waterfalls and alabaster palaces reflected in shimmering lakes.

Then the goat lowered his nose, and the image vanished from Arietta’s mind so quickly she was not even sure she had seen it. The goat drank until the skull was empty, then nosed the makeshift bowl from Arietta’s hands and turned his gaze on Kleef. A moment later, the iron collar finally snapped open, and the goat bleated in what may well have been gratitude.

Kleef pointed in the direction opposite the approaching horde. “You’d better hurry,” he said. “You don’t want those orcs catching sight of you.”

The goat looked from him to Arietta, and a tree of lightning snaked across the red sky. A heartbeat later, a peal of thunder crashed over the Underchasm, so sudden and loud that Arietta found herself curled into a ball on the still-shuddering ground, with dust billowing up around her and no clear memory of how she had gotten there. Kleef was next to her, and Malik and Joelle were close by, also on the ground and looking frightened and confused.

Only the goat remained standing, his eerie eyes watching them with an expression that seemed both expectant and mocking. He shook the dust from his coat and trotted over to stand between the stone pylons that served as the gateway onto the bridge.

Kleef looked over at Arietta, his brow raised in bewilderment. “What do you make of that?”

“I have no idea.” Arietta returned to her feet. “But did you notice that his eyes-”

“Look like Helm’s Eye?” Kleef stood and retrieved Watcher, then turned the agate on the crossguard upward and spent a moment examining it. “How could I miss it?”

“Then perhaps we should take that as a sign and keep moving,” Joelle said, joining them. “We aren’t all that far ahead of the orcs.”

Malik also joined them, and they stepped between the pylons with the goat. For a moment, they all stood waiting, looking down at the beast and half-expecting it to lead the way.

Finally, Malik let out an exasperated snort. “It is just a stupid animal that does not have the sense to run from its own destiny.”

The goat looked up at him and bleated.

“Sadrach’s servants are going to eat you alive,” Malik said. “That is your destiny.”

The goat lowered his horns as though he were going to butt Malik, then simply backed away and looked at Kleef.

Kleef laughed. “I’d like to kill Malik, too,” he said. “But Joelle keeps saying we need him.”

He led the way onto the bridge itself, with the goat close behind. Malik followed, and Arietta and Joelle brought up the rear, walking side by side on a thin metal deck barely wide enough to hold a donkey cart. As they moved away from the anchoring pylons on the rim of the Underchasm, the deck began to shudder and bounce beneath their footfalls. But the translucent suspension cables, which looked more like twisted glass than any sort of metal, remained taut and unmoving. Arietta thought about the weight of the orc horde pursuing them and wondered if the structure was as indestructible as Malik had implied. She tried to take comfort from the goat, which seemed completely at home on the bridge, trotting along close on Kleef’s heels and nonchalantly peering between the support lines into the abyss below.

When Arietta finally gathered the courage to look for herself, her heart sank. Hundreds of feet below lay a gray blanket of shadowstuff, its surface an indistinct zone of slowly expanding murk. She looked back at the rim of the Underchasm and saw a dark stain creeping up the wall, just a little above the shadowstuff itself.

“It’s started,” Joelle said, also peering over the side of the bridge. “Time is against us.”

Arietta looked toward the center of the Underchasm and found herself inclined to agree. Though she could see a second bridge curving out from behind the mountaintop ahead, it quickly narrowed into imperceptibility, and she could not tell which of the distant crags it led to-or how many more such bridges there might be between them and Sadrach’s Spire. But they clearly had a long walk ahead-and plenty of trouble to face along the way.

They continued along the bridge at a steady but unhurried pace, deliberately giving the orcs time to close the gap behind them. Given the rising sea of shadowstuff and the uncertain distance to their destination, it was a nerve-racking way to travel-but far better than running headlong into a Shadovar trap.

Soon enough, a line of distant figures appeared on the bridge and rapidly began to swell into the stooped shapes of running orcs. As the column grew longer and more distinct, the decking began to tremble and thrum beneath the pounding of hundreds of hobnailed boots. Arietta looked back to check on the ever-growing column and was surprised to find the orcs running down a slight incline. It didn’t make sense, but that was definitely the way it appeared.

Whether the bridge had always run at a slight downward angle or had simply begun to sag beneath the weight of the horde, she could not say. But after a while, the suspension cables began to hum and shimmer, and when she looked over her shoulder again, she found that the orc column extended a full league behind her, all the way back to the chasm rim.

And the front of the column was only three arrow flights away-close enough to make out the gray-yellow ovals of individual faces. Arietta turned forward again, where a jagged wall of stone-the first of the stony crags they had seen from the plain-now loomed over the far end of the bridge. They weren’t close enough yet to tell how the suspension cables were attached to the mountainside, but it looked as though the bridge simply entered a tunnel that had been cut into the sheer face of a cliff.

Kleef and the goat were now traveling side by side, with Malik three paces behind them and Arietta and Joelle bringing up the rear. Joelle’s brow was furrowed in concentration, and she was glancing back and forth between the orcs behind them and the crag ahead. No doubt, she was wondering the same thing as Arietta-whether the tunnel was where the Shadovar were waiting to ambush them.

Joelle caught Arietta’s eye. “Is it time?”

Arietta nodded. “I think it is.” She looked forward again, then yelled, “Kleef, let’s move along!”

Kleef glanced back at the long line of orcs, then drew Watcher from its scabbard and set off at a brisk trot. The goat continued to keep pace, loping alongside him with an oddly wolflike gait. Malik lasted perhaps a quarter of a league before he began to fall behind, and Arietta and Joelle soon found themselves half-dragging him along by the arms.

The decking growled and shuddered as the orc vanguard broke into a full sprint. Arietta glanced back and felt her heart rise into her throat. The leading orcs were less than two arrow-flights away and coming fast.

“Why the big eyes?” Joelle asked, looking over at Arietta. “This is the plan … right?”

Arietta nodded. “Right,” she said. “As long as we don’t let them catch us before we reach the Shadovar ambush.”

“And there is the weakness in … your mad plan,” Malik said, huffing for breath. “They are going to catch us whether we let them or not.”

Arietta looked forward, toward the end of the bridge. They were so close to the crag that all she could see was the square maw of a tunnel entrance surrounded by a jagged wall of dun-colored cliff. To her surprise, the bridge’s suspension cables were not anchored to the stone by any sort of device. Instead, they emerged from the crag as a cluster of huge, limpid crystals that came together in a twisting mass of glasslike cable, then kinked sharply upward.

Arietta stopped and leaned over the side of the bridge, peering down toward the foot of the cliff. With the Shadowfell emerging out of the depths of the Underchasm, it was impossible to see the bottom of the crag. But she could see enough to tell that its base was narrowing instead of expanding, and she did not like what the shape seemed to suggest.

The crag wasn’t a mountaintop at all; it was an earthmote. And it wasn’t supporting the bridge-the bridge was supporting it.

The growl in the decking swelled to a rumble, and the hum in the suspension cables began to rise and fall in pitch. Malik grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her toward the tunnel.

“This is no time to sulk,” he said. “Your plan may be a reckless one, but it is certainly better than giving up!”

Arietta started forward again, half-expecting to find herself plunging into the Underchasm at any moment. With its suspension cables of living crystal and earthmote anchoring piers, the bridge was a marvel of elemental magic. But the earthmotes of Faerûn had fallen many tendays ago, and now the ones on the way to Sadrach’s Spire were dragging the bridge down instead of supporting it. Could that be because the air primordial, Akadi, had already left Toril?

And if Akadi was already gone, how long could it be before Grumbar followed? Arietta had only to look at the fiery rift in the sky to know that Abeir and Toril were parting fast, and it seemed obvious that the earth primordial would need to make his choice soon-perhaps even before Arietta and her companions had a chance to deliver Luthic’s token of love.

The companions had closed to within fifty paces of the cliff face when Kleef finally drew up short and raised his sword, the hilt turned to display the glowing agate. The goat stepped in front of him, his body positioned crosswise between him and the mouth of the tunnel. His head was lowered and his tail twitching, and Arietta half-expected the beast to break into a charge.

Arietta and the others stopped behind Kleef and peered into the murky depths ahead. The tunnel was the same width as the bridge and a little higher than Kleef was tall, with a tiny square of light at the far end that suggested it was both straight and long. There were no figures silhouetted against the light, but Arietta knew better than to think the tunnel empty. Even if there were no niches or alcoves along the walls, the Shadovar could be lurking within the shadows themselves, waiting to emerge until the companions had entered their trap.

She turned to Malik. “Are you ready?”

Malik shrugged and reached inside his robe. “Does it matter?” he asked. “Your foolish plan will either save us or kill us, and the time has come to find out which.”

He withdrew the Eye of Gruumsh from its hiding place, and Arietta sensed its profane gaze on her, a cold nettling touch that made her feel sick and weak and vile. When she looked away, the touch became an icy chill that raced down her spine in a shiver of fear and revulsion. Had Arietta not experienced the sensation twice before, she might have cowered in terror or fled in a blind panic. As it was, she merely looked behind them and saw that the orcs were more frenzied than ever, battering and shoving each other in their lust to reach the Eye first.

Good.

Now that they had it in sight, they wouldn’t want anyone else leaving with it-not even their Shadovar allies. The orcs in front raised their bows and began to loose on the run. Their arrows rarely landed on the bridge and fell short when they did, but Arietta knew that would change all too soon. She stepped to Malik’s side, then motioned for Joelle to take the opposite flank.

“Hold the Eye over your head,” she said. “Make certain it’s looking in their direction.”

Malik did as she asked. The orcs broke into a roaring battle cry, and the decking began to shudder with the fury of their charge.

“This will never work,” Malik complained. “We are only inflaming their lust for our blood.”

“Give it time,” Arietta said.

She took her bow off her shoulder, then watched as an orc loosed an arrow in their direction. The shaft dropped a dozen paces short and came sliding along the bridge in their direction. She nocked her own arrow and returned the attack.

Her shaft took its target high in the chest and sent him sprawling into the warriors behind him. Half a dozen fell, and Arietta saw three figures tumble out beneath the suspension cables and plummet into the Shadowfell far below. She loosed another arrow and downed a second target, with much the same effect as the first, and the orc charge became more of a churning snarl.

“Now, Malik,” Arietta said. “Let them see what happens if they keep coming.”

Keeping the Eye high in the air, Malik stepped to the side of the bridge and held it out over the Underchasm. At the same time, Joelle raised both hands toward the orcs.

“Stop!” she yelled. “Stop, or he’ll drop it!”

Whether or not the orcs comprehended Joelle’s exact words, they understood the message, and the column came to a slow, lurching halt. The warriors in front nocked arrows or loaded their slings and stood just seventy paces away, their angry glares shifting back and forth between the Eye of Gruumsh and Arietta and her companions.

A murmur rolled forth from deep in the column, and Arietta soon saw warriors scrambling to make way for a huge orc in ornate plate mail. Following close behind him was a lanky, one-eyed orc with a finger bone through his nose.

“Kleef, it looks like the chieftan and his shaman are coming,” Arietta said over her shoulder. “Any sign of the Shadovar?”

“Not yet,” Kleef replied. “Just stick to the plan. They’ll be out.”

Arietta watched as the chieftan and his shaman shouldered their way to the front of column, then continued forward at a walk, leading the rest of the column behind them. Arietta allowed them to approach to within fifty paces before finally nocking an arrow.

“Close enough,” she said, raising her bow. “We can talk from there.”

The chieftan continued to approach, his long tusks glistening with saliva and his crimson eyes burning with malice. Arietta dropped her aim and let fly, putting the arrow through the thin metal of the bridge decking where his foot was about to come down.

The orc snapped the arrow beneath his boot and continued to approach, the shaman still at his side-and the rest of the horde at his back. Arietta nocked another arrow and aimed at the chieftan’s head.

“One warning is all you get,” she said. “Any closer and you die first.”

The chieftan paused, then locked gazes with her and signaled the column to wait. He leaned toward his shaman and appeared to ask for a translation, then started forward again. The shaman walked at his side, making a show of gesturing at Arietta and the Eye as he spoke, but Arietta suspected it was all a ruse. The chieftan’s quick reaction to her threat suggested he had understood exactly what she had said. He was just pretending to need a translation in order to work his way closer.

After a few steps, the chieftan growled something to the shaman, and the shaman called out, “If you return Gruumsh’s Eye now, Hadarog will give you quick deaths.” His voice was deep and raspy, but with a brittle edge that made it seem as though he were in pain. “But for every minute you make him wait, you will suffer an hour.”

“Or we could just drop the Eye into the Shadowfell and let Shar have it,” Arietta replied. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to return it to Gruumsh-when the time suits her.”

A flash of alarm shot through Hadarog’s red eyes, but he recovered quickly and managed to mask his concern as he pretended to listen to his shaman. The two orcs were less than forty paces away now and still coming, and Arietta had no doubt that the chieftan intended to attack once he drew near enough.

After a moment, the shaman said, “Hadarog says the choice is yours. The Shadovar are our allies, and he is certain the Mistress of the Night will return Gruumsh’s Eye as soon as she receives it.”

Arietta cocked a brow. “Is that so?” She drew her bowstring back and shifted her aim to Hadarog’s left eye. “Then go ahead. Call the attack and see how Gruumsh rewards you in the next life.”

Hadarog finally stopped, his heavy jaw clenching in anger.

Arietta smiled. “You didn’t become a leader by being stupid, I see.” She let the tension off her bow, but kept the arrow pointed at the orc’s face. “If you let Shar have the Eye, she’ll use it to make a slave of Gruumsh.”

The shaman started to translate, but Hadarog silenced him with a snarl. He took another step forward, then asked, “What you want?”

“Not much,” Arietta said. “We give you the Eye, and you give us a five-minute head start.”

The shaman spoke to Hadarog in their own language. Arietta would have liked to know what they were saying, but her language magic only worked when she touched the subject-and the last thing she wanted to do right now was get close enough to an orc to touch him.

After a short conversation, the shaman said, “Hadarog says you would do better to let him kill you now. The Shadovar are waiting to ambush you, and you have no place to go.”

“Not yet.” Arietta kept her gaze fixed on Hadarog. “But once you have the Eye, that will change.”

Hadarog narrowed his red eyes. “Change how?”

“The Shadovar can’t allow you to return the Eye to Gruumsh.” Arietta needed to be both quick and direct in her explanation, as she would not have much time to make Hadarog doubt his allies. “Once Gruumsh has his eye back, he’ll retaliate against Luthic for stealing it-and then Grumbar will be forced to stay and defend her.”

Hadarog scowled and looked to his shaman. The pair held a brief, testy conversation that Arietta knew could come to only one conclusion. Whether they believed her or not, they would want to recover the Eye themselves and claim the credit for returning it to Gruumsh. The only thing they could be debating now was whether Arietta and her friends were trying to trick them.

Arietta glanced back at Malik, who groaned on cue and let his hands drop a few inches.

“If you do not hurry, my weary arms will make their own choice,” he warned. “The Eye is as heavy as a boulder. I cannot hold it another minute.”

Arietta nodded, then turned back to Hadarog. “Do we have a bargain?” she asked. “Or shall we fight and let Shar sort it out?”

She pulled her bowstring back, making it clear who would be the first to die if Hadarog chose to fight.

Hadarog glared at the tip of the arrow for so long Arietta began to fear he might fight. Then, finally, he met her gaze again.

“No fighting. Yet,” he said. “Leave the Eye, and we give you a head start. But you’re wrong. The Shadovar don’t care about the Eye. They only want you stopped.”

“We’ll see.” Arietta shot him a smirk, then called over her shoulder, “All right, Malik. Bring the Eye over.”

“At last!” Malik drew the Eye back toward his chest, then stepped to Arietta’s side and whispered, “What now?”

“Buy time,” Kleef said, also whispering. “Here come the shades.”

Resisting the impulse to look back at the tunnel, Arietta kept her attention fixed on Hadarog. “Back away fifty paces, then we’ll put the Eye on the bridge and leave.”

Hadarog shook his head. “Give the Eye and leave now. We will give you your five-minute lead.”

“I don’t think so,” Arietta said. She continued to hold the arrow on her bowstring. “As soon as we’re far enough away, you’ll just snatch the Eye and attack us anyway.”

“Glomred keeps good track of time.” Hadarog clapped his shaman-Glomred-on the shoulder, then attempted a smile that came out as more of a snarl. “Honest.”

Arietta scowled, pretending to think. “Let me ask my friends.”

She leaned toward Joelle, pretending to consult-then saw Glomred’s single eye go wide with alarm. The shaman turned to Hadarog, pointed past the companions toward the earthmote, and spoke rapidly in their own language. Arietta glanced back and saw the Shadovar rushing out of the tunnel, their tall prince leading the way. Yder’s steel-colored eyes went straight to Kleef.

“Fool!” the prince said. “You are going to lose the Eye either way. Bring it to us, and Shar will reward you all.”

Kleef’s shoulders sagged, and he spoke over his shoulder to his companions. “I don’t know if this is going to work,” he said. “I think he knows what-”

“It’s going to work,” Arietta said, realizing that Yder still had a hold on Kleef. “You mustn’t let him into your thoughts. You won’t.”

Arietta spoke the last two words in a tone of command, and Kleef’s shoulders immediately squared. He raised his sword and braced his feet.

“You want the Eye?” he asked. “Then come and get it.”

Yder’s eyes flashed silver. Then he raised a hand and sent five tentacles of shadowstuff writhing down the bridge.

A furious bellow erupted from Hadarog’s direction, and the bridge began to shudder and bounce as the orc horde resumed its charge. Arietta saw Kleef raise Watcher and step past the goat to meet Yder’s shadow tentacles, then she looked back at Hadarog.

The orc chieftan had drawn a huge two-handed sword and was no more than twenty paces away. But Glomred worried Arietta most. The shaman had drawn a dagger of sharpened bone and was jabbing it into his own thigh, at the same time gesturing in their direction and calling out to Gruumsh in his own language.

Arietta shifted her aim and loosed.

The arrow took Glomred square in the chest, piercing his chain mail hauberk and sending him staggering back. As he struggled to stay upright, the shaman managed to curl his fingers into the shape of a claw, and Arietta felt something icy and sharp rake down her ribcage.

Her left side erupted into deep throbbing pain, and her bow arm went weak. She staggered back, watching in horror as a trio of Joelle’s white darts burned through Hadarog’s ornate armor and failed to slow his charge.

Behind her, Malik asked, “Now?”

Arietta and Joelle answered together, “Yes!”

The Eye of Gruumsh’s dark hunger vanished as Malik slipped the orb back into its hiding place, and then Hadarog was in front of them, his huge sword sweeping across the bridge at neck height. Arietta felt Joelle’s hand on the back of her collar, pulling her down, and they landed on their backs side by side.

Arietta shifted her bow to her right hand and pushed it beneath the orc chieftan’s feet as he charged past. She managed to hook his far ankle. Then, as he tried to take his next step, she jerked the bow, pulling his front foot from beneath him.

Hadarog slammed down face-first, so hard the decking jumped.

A few paces beyond the orc chieftan, Kleef and the goat were making a stand against the Shadovar, Kleef’s sword flashing and whirling as he hacked limbs and blocked shadow magic. The goat danced through the shadow warriors’ legs, butting and bleating and somehow not getting himself killed. Malik was nowhere to be seen, of course, though Arietta could not imagine where he had found to hide.

Behind her, the roaring of the orc horde was approaching fast, and the bridge was shaking beneath their feet. She felt Joelle push her toward the orc chieftan.

“Take him!” Joelle said, jumping up. “I’ll slow the others.”

Arietta dropped her bow, then rose to a knee. She felt as though her entire side were peeling away from her ribs. She glanced down and saw nothing but blood and flaps of hanging skin, and her vision began to narrow.

She reached for her sword anyway, but by then Hadarog had rolled into a sitting position and was bringing his own blade around at chest height. Arietta went cold and weak inside and knew she was going to die-until she saw Malik pulling himself up over the edge of the bridge, a black dagger in his hand and his gaze fixed on the back of the orc’s head.

Hadarog seemed to sense the attack coming and leaned away at the last instant, and instead of sinking into the back of the orc’s skull, the dagger opened a long gash along the side of his neck.

It didn’t matter. The color drained from Hadarog’s face in an instant, then the sword slipped from his hands and went spinning between the support lines to tumble down into the Underchasm.

A deafening roar sounded from the direction of the orc horde. Malik glanced toward the cacophony, and his face went pale with fear. For an instant, Arietta thought he would use his Chosen ability to vanish again-which would have been the smart thing to do, given that he was still carrying the Eye.

Instead, Malik clambered over Hadarog’s body and pulled her to her feet. “I should never have doubted you,” he said, tucking the black dagger back into his robe. “Your plan is working beautifully.”

Arietta glanced back and found Joelle racing toward them at a sprint, with a long line of orcs just a half-dozen steps behind her. She took Arietta’s arm from Malik, then stepped past Hadarog’s corpse to take a position close behind Kleef. Malik positioned himself in the center of the group, his ability to vanish so effective that were he not pressed against her, even Arietta would not have known where he was hiding.

“Now, Kleef!” she said. “And make it fast!”

Kleef quickly pivoted to one side, then used the flat of Watcher’s blade to send first one, then two shades stumbling past them toward the charging orc horde.

The result was instantaneous, a cacophony of sizzling shadow magic and clanging blades, punctuated by the screams and squeals of dying orcs. Kleef pivoted toward the opposite side of the bridge and, aided by some timely butts from the goat, sent three more shades staggering into the fray.

After that, the battle quickly became the chaotic three-sided melee that Arietta had hoped for. Kleef killed another shade, and the goat knocked one off the bridge into the Underchasm. Malik slipped away from the group and vanished into the general confusion, and the orcs continued to push the fight back toward the earthmote. Finally, there was just Yder ahead, standing in the mouth of the tunnel, less than a dozen steps ahead.

Yder studied the companions for a moment, glaring, then raised his hand and sent a disk of shadow spinning down the bridge toward them.

Kleef leaped to defend them, bringing his sword around to deflect the attack. The disk divided on Watcher’s blade, then hit the support lines beneath the suspension cables.

Arietta felt her stomach rise into her chest, half-expecting to feel the bridge fall away and find herself plummeting into the Underchasm below, but that didn’t happen. Sadrach’s magic was still too strong, and it was the shadow disk that dissolved into a spray of darkness.

Yder smiled, displaying a mouthful of long, white fangs.

“Not yet,” he said. “But soon.”

The Shadovar stepped back into the tunnel and vanished into the murk.