Unbroken Chain

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.

Briefly 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.”