The Killing Song Part 18

"Good luck, if you live!" the goblin said as she pulled on the steering rod. The coach shot up into the night, and for the first time, Dandra actually looked at the Thronehold spectacle unfolding in the sky. Among the stars and moons, warriors in ancient dress battled goblins in the story of the first human settlement of Sharn. She looked at Singe.

"Do you think that's an omen?" she asked.

"I hope so!" He bent his head and gave her a kiss, then turned and sprinted in the direction of Vennet's mad cries with As.h.i.+ watching his back.

A cry from Natrac brought her around. The half-orc struggled against a knot of goblins trying to drag him down by sheer weight. Natrac stabbed at them, but they clung to the arm that bore his knife-hand. Dandra cracked her spear across their skulls, and they dropped, though not before one had sunk his teeth into Natrac's good arm. He howled and shook his arm so violently the goblin was flung away.

The bite was raw and deep, but Natrac just let it bleed. "Can you burn us a way through to the Gathering Light?" he said as they forced their way forward.

Dandra shook her head. "No! There are too many Adarans fighting and too many kalashtar-oh!"

A staring form, pushed by the dodge of a hobgoblin, fell against her. It wasn't the sudden impact that forced the gasp from her lips-it was recognition. Nevchaned's body was limp in her arms, his eyes fixed on Dah'mir. The old kalashtar was armed with a pair of heavy smith's hammers, but they hadn't done him any good. Rage and disgust surged in her, and she stared up at Dah'mir, still perched on the peak of the Gathering Light.

Natrac grabbed her arm and pulled her away. "The doors, Dandra! We can't fight Dah'mir!"

"I can give him something to concentrate on other than the kalashtar though!" She reached into herself and summoned up the drone of whitefire. There was no one between her and the dragon. If she could break his hold on the kalashtar- She didn't get the chance. Abruptly, the hot glow of intense firelight fell over the front of the Gathering Light and raked across the battle in the courtyard. A roar like a furnace filled the air. The battle cries of the Adarans grew quiet and even Biish's thugs froze. Her attack on Dah'mir forgotten, Dandra whirled around.

An airs.h.i.+p swooped down from the skies, slipping right in among the towers and buildings of Fan Adar. The light and the roar came from the fiery elemental ring that wrapped around the s.h.i.+p, supported by great curved beams arcing above, below, and to either side of her hull. She wasn't the largest airs.h.i.+p Dandra had ever seen-from her size and lines and the name Mayret's Envy written in elaborate script on her bow, Dandra guessed the s.h.i.+p was some wealthy aristocrat's private yacht-but she had a look of speed and maneuverability about her.

The projecting ring made it impossible to land the vessel, but her unseen pilot brought her right alongside the raised walkway, on the other side of the Gathering Light's sunken courtyard. The bugbears that had held the walkway pulled back from the heat, though they didn't pull back far. Partway between the bow and the great ring, a hatch opened in the side of the s.h.i.+p and a long loading ramp unfolded, stretching beyond the radius of the ring to reach the walkway. Two bugbears rushed forward to seize and steady the end of the ramp.

Vennet's voice rang out as clearly as if he'd been giving orders on the deck of Lightning on Water. "Make way! Time to load the cargo! Make way!" A cheer went up from Biish's gang, and a new flurry of violence erupted as the thugs pushed back the Gathering Light's Adaran defenders. Hobgoblins began racing up the ramp from courtyard to walkway, each with a kalashtar thrown casually over his shoulders. The bugbears from above met them halfway, taking two kalashtar at a time and lumbering across the loading ramp into the floating s.h.i.+p.

"Light of il-Yannah, no!" Dandra cursed. Across the courtyard, similar cries rose from the Adaran humans. Many of them began to fight their way back toward the captive kalashtar.

"Lords of the Host!" said Natrac. "That's what Vennet needed Benti for! He needed a second Lyrandar pilot to fly that thing!" He looked at Dandra. "What do we do now?"

"You die, Natrac!" roared a new voice. "This time, you die!"

Heavy feet pounded stone. Dandra and Natrac turned together as Biish came rus.h.i.+ng down the stairs of the Gathering Light, a jagged hobgoblin sword swinging in his hand. Goblins and hobgoblins alike jerked away from his charge. Most of the thugs around Dandra and Natrac took one look at the enraged ganglord and pulled away from the target of his wrath as well.

Most, but not all. Dandra sensed rather than saw the movement behind her and tried to dodge. It was too late. A heavy club swung by a lean hobgoblin smashed into her shoulder and sent her staggering. Natrac tried to steady her, but a goblin grabbed at his arm, holding him back. Dandra fought past her pain and jabbed her spear at the goblin. He yelped and let go, but more thugs found renewed courage and crowded in-only to be thrown back as Biish burst through their ranks. He leveled his sword at Natrac and at her. "You should have run again, Natrac!"

The half-orc thrust his tusks forward. "I'm through running, Biter." He dropped into a defensive stance, knife-hand at the ready.

Until the airs.h.i.+p came down, Singe had lost track of Vennet in the swirl of fighting. A trio of hobgoblins had come at him and As.h.i.+, backing them into a cl.u.s.ter of Adarans gathered around a pair of stunned kalashtar. By the time blood stained Singe's rapier, the chaos of battle in shadows had turned them around.

The flying s.h.i.+p arrived like dawn. The goblin who had been tying up Singe's rapier with a pair of flas.h.i.+ng daggers flinched at the sudden glare. Singe stayed focused, sliding his blade past the creature's faltering guard and into his chest, before looking up to study the s.h.i.+p and read the name on her bow. He bit off a curse and blocked the swing of a hobgoblin's sword. As.h.i.+, fighting beside him, gave free vent to her emotions, however.

"Rond betch! What's this for?"

Singe made a guess as he fought. If Dah'mir was going to stay in the city with them, skycoaches would have done the job. "To take the kalashtar out of Sharn!"

He thrust and the hobgoblin fell back clutching his leg. As.h.i.+'s opponent dropped as well. Singe grabbed the hunter and pulled her toward the corner of the courtyard where the captive kalashtar were being held. "We have to hurry or-"

Vennet's shouting voice cut him off. "Make way! Time to load the cargo! Make way!"

Through the fighting, Singe caught a glimpse of Vennet waving his cutla.s.s, then lost him again as the battle heaved in response to the command. A hobgoblin carrying a kalashtar appeared on the ramp, climbing up toward the walkway and the airs.h.i.+p. Singe tried to picture how many captives he had seen from above. It couldn't have been seventeen, could it? "Dah'mir doesn't have all his captives, yet!" he said.

"I think he does," said As.h.i.+. "Look on the walkway!"

Singe looked and cursed. The angle from the sunken courtyard hid some of what was happening above, but he could see bugbears carrying more limp kalashtar in from the shadows. Three ... four. Enough to make up the difference. Biish's people must have made some captures as they drove the kalashtar toward the Gathering Light.

They needed to break through the line of guards. Singe drew a shallow breath. "As.h.i.+, be ready to move," he said, then focused on a thick tangle of goblins and Adarans, pointed his fingers, and hissed a spell.

Like grain before a scythe, the whole tangle crumpled to the ground. As.h.i.+ choked. "Dead?"

"Asleep. Move!" Beyond the fallen combatants, only a few startled goblins separated them from open s.p.a.ce. Singe raised his rapier high and charged with a scream. The nerve of the goblins broke and they dived aside. He and As.h.i.+ burst through into the clear at the bottom of the ramp to the walkway.

Less than five paces away, Vennet whirled around. The half-elf's eyes opened wide in a face speckled with blood. There were still hobgoblins carrying kalashtar up the ramp behind him, but a wild grin split his lips and he spread his arms as if in invitation. "You're too late, Singe!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "It's over!"

Singe leaped for him in grim silence. His rapier darted forward, but Vennet folded his arms and brought his cutla.s.s around to beat the thin blade down. Singe let his rapier drop with the impact, then twisted to the side and cut upward. A gap opened in the white fabric of Vennet's s.h.i.+rt, and a b.l.o.o.d.y crease in the flesh of his side. Vennet gasped and jumped back, his smiling lips peeled back in a snarl. As.h.i.+ stepped up to Singe's side, and Vennet's eyes darted between the two of them before narrowing sharply. "Dabrak!" he screamed.

On the ramp above, a bugbear with a nasty-looking axe in either hand turned, and his large, hairy face lit up pleasure. Letting loose a bellow, he sprinted down at them, axes held low and ready to strike.

Singe's rapier wavered between the two threats-and in that instant, Vennet pressed forward, cutla.s.s chopping down. Singe pushed himself to the side and the curved blade cut the air just past his arm. He saw As.h.i.+ turn to take on Dabrak, her s.h.i.+ning honor blade meeting his two axes blow for blow and block for block.

Singe turned himself to focus on Vennet. The half-elf's wild swing became a cut at Singe's ankles. The wizard hopped back, stabbing at Vennet's outstretched sword arm. Vennet s.n.a.t.c.hed it clear. The two men circled each other for a moment, then Vennet flung himself forward once again.

This time Singe met his blow before it fell. Rapier and cutla.s.s grated together as Singe's block and the momentum of Vennet's attack pushed the blades high. Their forearms locked together, muscles straining. Vennet sneered into Singe's face. "You can't resist me," he said. "I command the wind itself! I'll steal the air from your lungs-yours and your false-marked b.i.t.c.h!"

His eyes were bright and spittle flew with his words. There was a stink of decay around him, an odor of infection that brought memories of healers' tents after battle, of rotting wounds and gangrene, flooding into Singe's mind. He choked on the stench and Vennet grinned. "You can't stand against the power of a true Siberys mark!"

Singe clenched his teeth. "Are you as blind as you are insane, Vennet? You don't have a Siberys mark!"

He thrust hard with the words, heaving with all of his strength, and Vennet went staggering back. He glared at Singe with such rage and hatred that the wizard felt a chill spread through him. Singe brought up his rapier, ready for another attack- The cry that came down from the top of the ramp only made him colder. "Captives are on board!"

Vennet's eyes opened wide with terrible triumph. "Too late, Singe!" He thrust out his hand. "Storm lash my enemies!"

The howling wind that burst from Vennet was no stronger than the power Singe had seen and felt Vennet display in the past. Mad words made the sudden gust no greater. The wind was still more than strong enough to send Singe stumbling backward, blown before its force. As.h.i.+ was caught in its path, as well. She cried out in surprise and through narrowed eyes, Singe saw her grab for the nearest solid object to steady herself. That object happened to be Dabrak, but even the big bugbear staggered in the face of the wind. Beyond hunter and thug, goblins screamed as the gale sent them tumbling.

The wind only lasted a moment, vanis.h.i.+ng with an abruptness that left Singe reeling, but a moment was all Vennet needed. By the time Singe had regained his feet, the half-elf was at the top of the ramp and onto the walkway.

Curses and the clang of metal on metal behind Singe marked the resumption of As.h.i.+ and Dabrak's duel. Singe didn't even look back at them-legs pumping, a spell ready on his lips, he raced up the ramp after Vennet.

He was just in time to see Vennet dash up a loading ramp and vanish through a hatch into the airs.h.i.+p's interior. A bugbear, apparently not fast enough to get out of Vennet's way, was huddled on the walkway at the end of the ramp as blood gushed from a wound across its belly. The other bugbears and hobgoblins who had helped load the kalashtar onto the s.h.i.+p were all staring in confusion, but Singe's appearance, rapier drawn, sent them scrambling out of the way. The end of the loading ramp was already swinging away. Singe leaped the gap between it and the walkway without looking down. Three fast strides carried him the length of the ramp, and he threw himself through the hatch, ready for an ambush.

The hatch opened into a small hold. The only light was the fiery glow that fell through the hatch from the elemental ring. In the dimness, Singe could make out some crates, a few barrels-and a number of silent, unmoving figures. Standing, sitting, or lying in whatever position they had been placed, Dah'mir's kalashtar captives stared at him with unblinking eyes before-one by one-looking away beyond him and back toward the presence that held their minds prisoner.

There was no use trying to free them. Singe had seen Dandra in this state. The kalashtar would do nothing of their own volition until Dah'mir released them. Moving cautiously, he stepped further into the hold. He couldn't see any sign of Vennet, but there were pa.s.sages leading fore and aft, rectangles of deeper darkness amid the shadows.

Then from the pa.s.sage leading fore came noise. An exclamation in Goblin, cut short by the rending of flesh. A body falling. Vennet's voice, softly. "Storm at dawn, didn't I tell you not to wander around on board?"

Quick footsteps moved back aft along the pa.s.sage. Singe darted to the farthest side of the hold and crouched down among the unmoving kalashtar. Vennet reappeared, his cutla.s.s and ruined s.h.i.+rt dripping new blood.

A spell rose in Singe's mind, and he lifted his hand, tracking the mad half-elf. He would only have one chance to catch him. He didn't relish the idea of hand-to-hand fighting in the hold, and the spell had to be precise or he'd risk harming the kalashtar. He focused his concentration, pointed his fingers-then held back the spell at the last moment as sudden shouts of alarm erupted from outside the s.h.i.+p and Vennet leaped to throw a lever beside the hatch. With a groan of steel and wood, the loading ramp began to fold itself back into the s.h.i.+p and somewhere a bell rang. Singe felt a tremor pa.s.s through the airs.h.i.+p, a surge of power from the elemental that drove it, and caught his breath. They were moving!

But he could still stop this. Vennet was still leaning against the frame of the slowly closing hatch, watching whatever was happening outside. His body was a perfect silhouette. Singe focused his concentration again ...

"Aahyi-ksiksiksi-kladakla-"

The killing song was right in his ear. Singe sucked in his breath and jerked his head around. A hand shot up. Cold fingers grabbed his. Moon's face looked back at him in the dim light-but the intelligence behind the pin-p.r.i.c.k eyes was like nothing human or kalashtar Singe had ever seen.

"When the blue moon is full and bright, the servants will come to the master," whispered Virikhad. "Dah'mir must succeed."

Silver-white light flared around Moon's fingers and agony tore through Singe's hand. He yelled-he couldn't have held it back-and against the glare of the light he saw Vennet spin around in surprise just as the hatch slammed shut. For a moment, the hold was in darkness. Moon's hand fell away.

Then another light blossomed, an everbright lantern carelessly torn open in pa.s.sing, and Vennet was rus.h.i.+ng at him. "You!" he screamed. "Storm at dawn, how?"

Singe tried to lift his rapier but Moon's weight had s.h.i.+fted on top of it. He tried to cast the spell that had been on his tongue only moments before, but his injured fingers couldn't form the gestures. Vennet pounced on him, one hand squeezing around his throat before he could try to speak another. "Treachery! Murder!"

The other man's weight bore Singe backward. His skull cracked against something-a crate, a barrel, the wall-and sparks flashed inside his head. A fist or maybe a foot drove into his belly, then Vennet straddled him, pinning one of Singe's hands to the floor under his knee as he slammed his head back again, screaming all the while. "Mutiny! Mutiny, Singe! I know you did it! I know you turned my crew against me. When did you start? Was it back in Yrlag? I should have left you on the dock. But I was greedy, wasn't I? Greedy!"

Singe tried to strike Vennet with his free hand. He punched. He clawed. He tore at Vennet's pointed ear. Vennet just jerked his head away and punched him hard in the shoulder. Singe's arm fell, numbed. He bucked at Vennet's weight. The half-elf slammed his head back a third time, even harder. Sparks gave way to shadows as Singe's vision swam from the impact and the madman's grip around his throat.

"You've got no respect for authority, Singe. No respect for power. You think you're clever, don't you?" Vennet's voice rose and broke into a screech. "I don't have a Siberys mark? I'm blind and insane?"

A knee crushed into Singe's chest. A hand slapped against his forehead and forced his head back. The hand that had been around his throat withdrew. Air rushed into Singe's lungs. The shadows cleared from his vision- -just as Vennet's fingers dug into his face. Fire burned in his left eye and even though he howled at the pain, he could still hear a terrible wet, ripping noise. He sank back into shadows, although somehow he was dimly aware of Vennet staggering away from him and flinging something across the hold.

"Who's blind, Singe?" Vennet demanded. "Who's blind?"

He had a sensation of fingers twined in his hair dragging him to his feet, of being forced to walk, of tripping on stairs, of a sudden burst of cool air and wind. A woman's shout of surprise. Dah'mir's oil-smooth voice. Then someone pushed him and he was falling- Biish roared again. The sword swept around in a flat arc, forcing both Natrac and Dandra back a pace. Dandra tried to slide forward again behind that swing, but Biish turned the blow around faster than she would have thought possible and she had to drop to avoid it. There was no parrying that heavy blade-it would shear right through her spear shaft!

Her move gave Natrac an opening, and he jumped in to slash at Biish's side with his knife-hand. Biish grunted at the blow, but the knife just sc.r.a.ped on metal. Through the gash that it opened in Biish's coat, Dandra caught the flash of a mail s.h.i.+rt. Biish punched out with his off-hand. Natrac dodged back, but another swing of Biish's sword forced him back even further. For a moment, the hobgoblin's back was to her. Natrac's knife might not have been able to penetrate Biish's mail s.h.i.+rt, but her spear could.

Before she could rise to strike, though, hands grabbed for her. She kicked, felt her boot strike something soft. The hold on her fell away, but the opportunity was lost-Biish and Natrac had turned in their deadly dance. More of the hobgoblin's thugs closed around her. She swung her spear desperately, striking with point and shaft wherever she could. Closely pressed, there was no room for her dodge and no opportunity for her to concentrate even for the moment it would take to bring her powers to bear. For every goblin she struck down, two more seemed to appear. All she could do was fight and shout. "Adar! Adar!"

"Bhintava Adarani!" Suddenly two forms fought with her-the two Adaran humans she had rescued earlier! They carved through her attackers with hard precise blows, one wielding a pair of short curved blades, the other striking only with stiffened fingers. One of them met her eyes for an instant and grinned at her with a mouth bloodied by some earlier blow. Dandra clenched her teeth, shortened her grip on her spear, and renewed her attack, using the unexpected aid to fight her way closer to Natrac.

The half-orc and Biish still looked like they were dancing. Biish's sword swung. Natrac dodged back, then slipped inside Biish's guard to strike quickly, before darting away once more. The hobgoblin's arms showed half a dozen nicks, but nothing that slowed him-it would take a lucky blow from Natrac's knife-hand to pierce the chain s.h.i.+rt.

But only a single connecting strike from Biish's heavy blade would bring Natrac down. And Natrac was tiring. He stumbled as he stepped back away from Biish. The ganglord saw his opening and let out another roar, raising his sword over his old rival. "Die, taat!"

"No!" cried Dandra. She thrust back a goblin's feeble strike then drew in her will, focusing her power into a single thread of vayhatana to s.n.a.t.c.h the sword from Biish's grasp before it could fall, even though in her gut, she knew it would be too late.

And it was-for Biish.

Natrac uncoiled from his feigned weakness like a bent sapling springing straight. With all the strength of his arm and shoulder behind it, his knife-hand punched up under Biish's jaw. The blow snapped his toothy mouth closed, pinning lower jaw to upper. Biish's eyes opened wide. His body stiffened.

Natrac planted his hand against the hobgoblin's stunned face and jerked the knife free. A spasm shook Biish and he collapsed backward. His sword, untouched by Dandra's power, fell from his grip to ring on the stones of the courtyard.

For a moment, the goblins and hobgoblins fighting around them froze in shocked disbelief. Then a hobgoblin who had been moving to attack Dandra shouted and fell back. More shouts rose on the air as panic spread through the courtyard, and suddenly, the gang members who had been fighting to breaking into the Gathering Light were fighting to escape.

A hiss like a steaming kettle, as loud as if the ocean itself were boiling, broke from the peak of the hall's roof. Dandra twisted around to look up at Dah'mir. His thin, feathered form was shaking and his acid-green eyes flashed as he stared down at her and Natrac. Dandra's belly tightened with fear at the prospect of the dragon's rage-then tightened even more as she realized that he was laughing. Dark wings spread, and Dah'mir sprang from the roof to arc high over the courtyard. A new cry from the Adarans broke through her fear.

She spun around to see the loading ramp of Mayret's Envy slam closed, and the s.h.i.+p start to rise, gathering speed with every moment. Still laughing, Dah'mir settled onto the rail. His hiss turned into a mocking call that drifted down from above. "Too late! Too late!"

But the cry that truly cut into Dandra's soul was As.h.i.+'s desperate shout from across the courtyard.

"Dandra! Dandra, Singe is on the s.h.i.+p!"

Groggy voices woke to a confused chorus around Dandra-kalashtar released from Dah'mir's power as the rising airs.h.i.+p bore the dragon away. She heard Nevchaned close at hand, heard Natrac babbling some kind of explanation at him, heard As.h.i.+ shouting. The voices just slipped away. Dandra's eyes were on the airs.h.i.+p as the vessel soared up. Her mind was flung out in kesh, groping desperately.

Singe? Singe? Answer me, Singe!

Then something fell over the side of the airs.h.i.+p. A body. The light of the elemental ring flashed on blond hair. "Singe!" Dandra screamed.

She wove vayhatana almost without willing it, and a skein of light she saw only inside her mind stretched up into the sky-stretched and stretched, but still didn't quite reach the falling wizard. Dandra thrust against the ground, pus.h.i.+ng herself up as high as she could to meet him, as if an extra pace's distance could make a difference. It couldn't. It didn't. Singe plummeted down.

Then suddenly she wasn't alone. Other minds reached out to hers. It was less than kesh, but also more. She recognized minds-Hanamelk, Nevchaned, Selkatari, and others-and it seemed as if their psionic strength flowed into her. She glanced down from the sky for an instant.

Hanamelk, looking tired and disheveled, stood with his hand on the statue that stood in the center of the courtyard. The statue's crystal eyes glowed a thin, haunting blue. A misty tendril of the same color leaped from Hanamelk to Nevchaned-and from Nevchaned to Selkatari at the doors of the Gathering Light, and from Selkatari to a man Dandra didn't know but who stood with his eyes on her, and from him to another kalashtar, and from her to yet another.

And from all of them, tendrils reached out to her.

Hanamelk's voice echoed in her mind, words spoken at the speed of thought. We know what you did for us. Use our strength as your own.

Glance, recognition, and words took less than a moment. Dandra lifted herself, looked up again-and this time reached out to Singe with ease. Vayhatana wrapped his body. His fall slowed and stopped. For a moment, he floated in the sky, midway between the towers of Sharn and the Thronehold spectacle still unfolding high above, then Dandra drew him carefully down to the courtyard before the Gathering Light.

As his body came closer, the strength lent to her by the other kalashtar faded, until it was her power alone that supported him. The loss of their strength left her feeling as weak as she had ever felt, but the joy that filled her made up for it. Singe lay stiff within the coc.o.o.n of vayhatana, but she could sense his movements. He was alive-but it wasn't until he drifted down into the light that spilled from the Gathering Light that she realized something was wrong.

The hair that fell into the light was blond, but touched with red. The clothes were none she had ever seen before. And the face-pale with terror-that came into view wasn't that of a human man, but of a half-elf woman!

Natrac's eyes opened wide and he choked out, "Benti?"

The carefully spun vayhatana vanished, spilling the woman the last few paces onto the stone of the courtyard. Dandra lifted her face to the sky, desperately seeking the rising spark that was Mayret's Envy.

But the night was full of sparks as the final spectacle of Thronehold burst into a colorful rain of fire. Across Sharn cheers and applause rose like the wings of a hundred thousand birds.

In Fan Adar, one voice rose in a wail of loss and fury.

CHAPTER.

19.

Thin lines of smoke rose in the south. Dusk was approaching and the sinking sun's light rendered the smoke pale, turning the lines into bright scratches against the southern sky. Geth thought that if he strained his eyes, he could even make out the dying fires that gave rise to the nearest lines of smoke and the dark forms that lay scattered around them. He knew that was his imagination. The flat places of the Shadow Marches were deceiving. It was too easy to see what he wanted to see and too tempting to believe it, almost as if some vast impersonal force lurked just beneath the waterlogged ground, ready to trick the unwary traveler.

He twisted and looked to the east. The blue moon of Rhaan was already a handspan above the horizon. Its changing face was still a few slivers short of a perfect circle. Two more nights, he thought. Two more nights and on the following day, Rhaan would rise full, cresting the horizon just as the sun sank.

He ducked his head. The sky vanished, replaced by the thick leaves and branches of the tree he had climbed-the highest point for any distance around. He crawled carefully back to the gnarled trunk, then half-clambered, half-slid out of the canopy and down to the ground. "Less than a night's travel behind us," he said.

"Khaavolaar." Ekhaas's ears pressed back as she kicked dirt over the remains of their own tiny fire. "They're still gaining on us. This is madness."