Unbroken Chain

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The carved steps up the valley wall were too steep for the nightmare, but when they cleared the caves the beast seemed to know exactly where he was going. That was a fortunate thing, for Ashok was still gripped by the frenzy of the battle and could not tell the beast which way to turn.

They climbed a steep, rocky hill, and Ashok had to hold on to keep his seat. The bumps and jolts returned some sense to him, and with shaking hands he put his weapon away. Newly aware of the pain from the dagger slash and the blood coursing down his body, Ashok pulled the mask away from his face and wiped his soiled hands.

He slid off the nightmare’s back when they reached the top of the valley. Weak, he stumbled and fell. His hands left bloody prints in the rocky soil from the deep gouges on his palms where he’d forgotten to hold the chain guard.

Looking down the valley, Ashok saw no movement at the cave entrance.

Not yet, but they would come.

He stood up. The nightmare waited silently nearby, his fire dulled but simmering beneath his flesh. Ashok felt the heat, the waiting. The beast wanted more of the battle.

“Let’s go,” he said but didn’t mount the beast. He trotted alongside, and they traced the rim of the valley back to find the others.

Black dust hung in curtains on the air, obscuring Ashok’s vision beyond a few dozen feet. Chanoch hailed him from a distance; he must have seen the nightmare’s stunted fire. Ashok followed Chanoch’s voice and saw them all huddled at the brink of a roiling darkness to the south. When he got close enough, Ashok recognized Negala’s bog, and the dust storm enveloping the surrounding plain.

“She’s cut us off,” Vedoran said when Ashok joined them. “We can’t circumvent the bog without trudging right into the dust storm.”

Ashok surveyed the group. Skagi and Cree were in the best shape of all of them-their wounds were superficial, but Ashok could see the exhaustion dragging down their bodies. They would be no good in a fight against the hag. Vedoran and Chanoch were one step away from collapsing from their wounds, and Ashok knew he looked no better to their eyes.

The most alert among them were the nightmare and Ilvani, who sat some distance away, watching the bog and the surrounding dust storm. Wrapped in his cloak, she dipped her head and peered into her satchel, whispering something Ashok couldn’t hear.

“Do we have any healing draughts left?” Ashok asked.

Vedoran shook his head. “It took all of them just to get us halfway up that tunnel. If that beast hadn’t shown up …” He looked at the nightmare, then at Ashok, with a strange mixture of awe and wariness in his expression. “Why did he come?” he asked. “How did he even know where to find us?”

“I don’t know,” Ashok said. “The nightmare seeks out death. He craves flesh. Maybe he knew that following us was the only way to get both.”

“It’s more than that,” Vedoran said. “That beast is connected to you. He knew to come for you.”

And I was never more his master than I was today, in that place of death and carnage, Ashok thought. I fed him as no one else could. The shame rattled through him. More than ever Ashok could smell the blood clinging to him. He tried to shake it off. He needed to focus, to find a way to get them all through the storm.

“What are our choices?” Skagi asked, coming up to the pair. Cree and Chanoch stayed close to the nightmare, as though drawing strength from the beast’s heat. He ignored their presence and whipped his tail impatiently.

“Fight through the bog or fight through the dust storm,” Vedoran said grimly.

“What are our chances?” Skagi asked, a smile pulling at his crooked lip.

“We’ll probably die in the dust storm or be killed by Negala when we get to the heart of the bog,” Ashok said. “Given the choice, I’d rather die facing an enemy.”

“My thoughts as well,” Vedoran said.

They turned and were surprised to see Ilvani standing near them. None of them had heard her approach.

“The green is calling,” she said matter-of-factly.

“The bog,” Ashok said, nodding. “A hag lives there.”

Ilvani looked at him as if he were a slow child. “It isn’t real,” she said.

“Real enough to kill us,” Skagi said. “Come on, we’re wasting time.”

Ilvani’s expression darkened. To appease her, Ashok tried to explain. “The witch created the bog in her mind and made it stretch across the plain.”

“Really?” Ilvani said. She looked toward the bog, and a strange expression spread across her face. An indignant look, Ashok thought, but for the utter coldness of her eyes.

She reached into her satchel and removed a sphere of blown glass. Sealed inside was a piece of what Ashok thought looked like red silk. The fabric rippled in an impossible wind.

“What is that?” he asked, but Ilvani put her satchel on the ground and strode away from him, past the nightmare, toward the bog. “Stop!” he cried. But she didn’t heed him.

He started to chase after her, but Vedoran grabbed his arm. The others hesitated as well.

“Wait,” Vedoran said flatly.

“She’ll be killed,” Ashok said, struggling. But he was too wearied to break the warrior’s grip. “What is that sphere?” he asked.

“If we’re very lucky, there’s magic in it,” Vedoran said. “Be still now.”

Ilvani took small, unhurried steps, Ashok’s cloak dragging behind her like an oversized shadow. Her bare feet were purple with cold. She walked with one hand gripping the cloak closed, the other holding the sphere out in front of her.

Ten feet from the first twisted trees, she stopped.

“Come out Negala, witch of the fell bog,” she called in a strong, clear voice. “Come to Ilvani, witch of Ikemmu.”

The dust storm continued to rage at the fringes of the bog. Ashok and the others waited in frozen silence. None of them had the strength to be stunned at Ilvani’s abrupt transformation. They could only stare. And hope.

Movement came from deep within the bog-a sudden, fast motion like a running deer. The trees peeled back under black shadows, and Negala the hag stood before Ilvani. Her hair curled in wet strands around her naked, withered body. She raised a spindly arm in greeting and smiled, exposing jagged teeth and an oily black tongue.

“You not called to Negala in long months, lesser one,” the hag hissed. Her amber eyes gleamed with malicious interest. “You brought a token?”

“A trade,” Ilvani said. “Your thoughts for mine.”

The hag cackled, her green skin flushing, and pranced from foot to foot in amusement. “Come forward,” she invited. “Gladly I show you my mind. How you frighten me in return?”

Ilvani stepped forward and held up the glass sphere between them. Eagerly the hag put her hands on the orb. They shut their eyes and fell into a trancelike concentration.

“Can she take that?” Cree whispered. “What if the hag takes over her mind? She could be lost in a storm just like us.”

“No she won’t be,” Ashok said, understanding at last what Ilvani intended.

“How can you be sure?” Cree demanded.

Ashok didn’t answer. He saw the hag’s forehead scrunch up in consternation. Her body began to tremble. She jerked her head from side to side and spat, convulsions wracking her body.

Lightning tore across the sky, and the black winds raged. The dust blew in cutting streaks, digging into their wounds. Having no cloak, Ashok covered his face with his hands. Through his fingers, he saw the hag bite her tongue and let out a pathetic wail. Negala’s head fell back, and black blood poured from her mouth.

Her arms fell from the sphere, and she faded back into the bog as the trees and brush reached out to absorb her. The green fell into itself and pulled back from the edge of the valley, consumed by the dust storm.

Ilvani stood amid the violence with her eyes closed. She put both hands on the sphere and raised it above her head. It glowed brilliant crimson and burst forth light in a blinding nimbus. The red arc rolled across the plain and slammed into the retreating bog. Fire enveloped the trees and burned them to ash. Deep within the illusory world, they heard the hag’s scream.

Then it was over. The bog disappeared, and the clouds absorbed the storm. The black sky faded to gray, and the dust cleared. They had visibility for miles across the plain.

Ilvani lowered the dormant sphere to her side. She turned and started walking back to the group. She paused in front of the nightmare and reached up absently to stroke his neck. The beast whickered and leaned into the touch.

Struck dumb, none of them spoke for a breath. Then Skagi muttered, “Pity she couldn’t have managed that feat in the tunnel.”

“That wasn’t magic,” Ashok said quietly, watching Ilvani lean her head against the nightmare’s neck.

“What was it, then?” Skagi said.

“Just what she said,” Ashok told him. “She showed the hag her thoughts, her memories.” He glanced at Cree. “She couldn’t get lost in the storm, because she still lives in that cell.”

Despite their exhaustion and still-bleeding wounds, Vedoran got the group up and moving to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the caves. After an hour with no sign of pursuit, Vedoran stopped at a copse of kindling trees. He leaned against one of them for support.

“We’ll make camp here,” he said.

“Will we be safe?” Chanoch asked.

Vedoran barely regarded him. “We’ll be dead if we go much farther,” he said.

Ashok agreed. “They’re not coming,” he said. “With any luck the hag moved the bog as we left her.”

They made no fire but spent the time seeing to their wounds. Ilvani lay down on the ground with Ashok’s cloak spread out around her and went to sleep.

Skagi snorted when he saw her. “Can’t blame the witch for being sleepy, can you, after that show on the plain?” he said.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised,” Cree said. “She knows as much about magic as Neimal.”

“I know it,” Skagi said. “Her and Natan could rule Ikemmu, if they weren’t odd in the head.” Cree shot him a look, but Skagi just laughed. “Not like it’s a secret,” he said. “Even Uwan knows.”

“Why is she like that?” Ashok asked. He watched Ilvani sleeping. “Did something happen to her?”

Skagi shrugged. “Nobody knows for sure, but most think it’s because of the family,” he said.

Ashok remembered Vedoran telling him that Natan and Ilvani’s lineage was valuable to Ikemmu.

“They’re all dead now,” Cree spoke up, “not that there were many to begin with. Skagi’s right-the story’s well known. When the first shadar-kai came to Ikemmu, they didn’t find the city deserted. There were two shadar-kai living in the ruins, a feral man and woman. The woman was heavy with child.”

“Who were they?” Ashok said.

“No-names. They couldn’t speak any language the shadar-kai knew,” Cree said. “The man attacked the shadar-kai on sight and was killed. The woman died giving birth to a son.”

“But the child lived,” Skagi said. “Stories say he grew up half again as feral as his father, got a child on a woman before leaving the city for gods know where. Never saw him again, but the woman carried her burden and gave birth to twins.”

“Natan and Ilvani,” Ashok said, understanding. “The third generation.”

“Raised by the mother in Ikemmu,” Cree said. “She saw them grown before she died on a raid to the Underdark side. They weren’t wild like their father and grandfather, but Ilvani obviously inherited some of their strangeness. Some say”-he hesitated-“you never know what to believe, but I suppose it’s possible that those who lived in Ikemmu before the shadar-kai may have shared their city with Natan and Ilvani’s grandparents. They may have witnessed whatever disaster befell the city.”

“How could they have survived, when so many others didn’t?” Ashok said.

“We don’t know that all or any perished,” Cree said. “If they were Tempus’s servants, he could have spirited them away and protected the shadar-kai who remained. Either way, Ikemmu looks on Natan and Ilvani with great pride. They believe the twins are favored children of Tempus.”

“Except Ilvani’s as unpredictable as a dust storm, and after what she’s been through it’ll probably be worse,” Skagi said.

Chanoch, who’d been listening quietly, said, “She’ll be fine once we get her back to Ikemmu. We’ll all be fine once we’re home. What say you, Ashok?”

Ashok nodded absently. “Yes, home.”

“Get some rest, all of you,” Vedoran said from across the camp. “I’ll take first watch and wake Skagi after.”

The conversation broke up, and Ashok went to Vedoran.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take first watch?” Ashok said. “You look like death.”

Vedoran shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Sleep while you can.” He glanced behind him to where the nightmare hovered at the edge of the camp. “Is the beast going to stay with us?”

“I don’t know,” Ashok said. “Right now, we’re not strong enough to deny him, if that’s what he wants.”

Vedoran grunted. “Sleep then. Let him help stand the watch.”

“Very well,” Ashok said, taking a dust-covered blanket out of his pack and spreading it on the ground.

When he slept, he dreamt of fire.

Neimal, the Sworn of the wall, saw them coming first. Her farsight stretched many miles across the plain, and she recognized the five, the nightmare, and the witch.

Gasping, Neimal sent her thoughts soaring across the city and up to the summit of Tower Athanon, where they connected one by one with the other Sworn. Thus linked, her voice touched them all, and wherever they were, whatever business they conducted, all paused to heed her mind voice.

Together, they touched Uwan, their leader, and pressed for the Watching Blade’s attention. After a breath, his answer came.

“What do you see?” he demanded of the witch on the wall.

“They’ve returned,” Neimal told him.

Uwan felt her agitated state through the link. “Did they bring back the missing?” he asked.

“One,” Neimal said. There was an ache in her mind voice of both pain and joy. “Ilvani comes home, but without her flock.”

In his chamber deep within Tower Athanon, Uwan closed his eyes, and with Neimal’s magic he reached for Natan.

“She’s alive,” he said.

Natan’s answer came not in words, but as a swell of joy he’d never felt from the cleric before.

“Praise Tempus,” Uwan said.