The Fractured Sky teo-2 Page 13

  "So he's still running loose," Kael said, whacking his blade against a nearby tree in frustration. "We're not done, yet."

  "It appears not," Tauran said. "And what's worse, he left the dragon behind, so he's more difficult to find, and I think he's left the House of the Triad, making that difficult job even trickier."

  "Why did he come here?" Aliisza asked. "What is this place?"

  Tauran sighed and began walking in an ever widening circle around the dragon. As he surveyed the area, he explained. "Some of those who fought here today are eladrin, fey creatures. Those here have dedicated themselves to being champions of good across the cosmos. They are a bit more free-spirited than most of us who dwell here within the House, flaunting our laws when such strictures do not suit them, but Tyr abides them because they are dedicated to defending this place."

  The angel stopped and knelt down next to a patch of earth, tracing his finger through something there. "It would seem that whatever happened to Zasian, here is where he got up and walked away."

  Kaanyr moved next to the angel and peered down where he indicated. A set of bootprints wandered off through the underbrush. They would be easy to follow.

  Tauran stood again. "It doesn't appear that he's injured, so he's moving rapidly. But these kills are very fresh. He can't be far ahead."

  "Then we should not tarry," Kaanyr said, sensing that the end of his servitude might be near. He loosened Burnblood in its scabbard and gestured for the angel to lead the way. "Let's go."

  "You!" Myshik snarled as Zasian walked into view. The draconic hobgoblin scrambled to his feet and reached for the war axe strapped to his back. "Where is Tekthyrios?" he demanded, drawing the axe back as if to strike at the priest.

  Beside the half-dragon, Kashada shifted her gaze back and forth between the two. Her eyes, peering out from behind that shimmering veil of black cloth and shadow, glittered in amusement.

  The shadow-mystic had been genuinely grateful to Zasian for rescuing her, but afterward, he noted something dangerous in her demeanor. She had appeared flustered at first, at least until she managed to redeploy her shadow-illusions. Even afterward, she became aloof, and he caught her staring at him more than once. She would bear watching, he decided.

  "The storm dragon is no more," Zasian answered, stopping a few steps out of Myshik's reach. "And if you don't put that down, the same will hold true for you."

  "How then will I cleave you in twain to avenge his death?" Myshik asked, a taunting smile appearing on his lips. He took a single stride forward, and Zasian finished the spell he had begun before he and Kashada had joined the half-dragon.

  Myshik's eyes bulged when he realized he could not move.

  Zasian watched, smirking, as the hobgoblin strained to break free of the repulsive magic. You truly are a simpleton, whelp of Morueme. Always two steps behind the rest of us. As bad as the half-fiends and their fool angel. "Are you done, yet?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

  "I could heave this blade such that it would lop off your head, Banite," Myshik growled. He continued to struggle and did not notice Kashada step behind him.

  "Yes, but you don't know what other little tricks I might have up my sleeve," Zasian replied and nodded to the shadow-cloaked woman. She nodded back and stepped closer, planting what Zasian assumed was a dagger against the small of the hobgoblin's back.

  Myshik froze, and his eyes rolled as he tried to peer back over his shoulder at the woman. Her free hand snaked up and took hold of the axe. He resisted for a moment then arched up straighter. Zasian chuckled, imagining how she was pressing her point home. Myshik released the axe and Kashada tossed it to the side. She did not move away from the half-dragon.

  "Have you heard the saying, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' Myshik?" Zasian asked. "I believe the nomadic tribesmen who roam the desert near your home use it often, as do the genies in various parts of the cosmos."

  Myshik glowered, but he did not say anything.

  "Yes, I killed the storm dragon, but you never served him. It was me in control of his flesh and blood, me to whom you swore fealty."

  The half-dragon's eyes widened the slightest bit as that realization sunk in.

  "I shouldn't think that it would matter too much to you what happened to Tekthyrios," Zasian continued. "I don't believe your father or uncle would be too keen to hear that you were in the service of a storm dragon. The storms and the blues never have gotten along too well, have they? Always squabbling over territory, domains, or some such, right?"

  Myshik frowned, but eventually he nodded. "But why?" he asked. "Why the disguise, the trickery?"

  "In due time, whelp of Morueme, in due time," Zasian answered. "For now, just know that I am no friend of Vhok's. He was a tool to me, nothing more. In fact, he still serves me in that fashion, though he does not yet realize it. Also know that I do not serve Bane. That lie was a necessary part of my deception with Vhok." Zasian paused and studied the half-dragon, gauging his reaction. Myshik had stopped glowering. So far so good, the priest decided. He continued. "You have two choices to consider now. One is to take a stand, try to fight against me, and die as a result. That is no threat, it is a certainty. It isn't, however, a particularly appealing result to me, because despite your stubbornness and rather simple outlook, I find you useful.

  "Which brings me to the other choice. Serve me, as you had been serving me when you believed I was a storm dragon. The terms will be the same. Do as I ask, willingly, eagerly, and I will make certain you receive generous compensation for your efforts. Plus, you get the opportunity to thwart Vhok, make him one miserable demonspawn. That ought to convince you right there."

  "I accept," Myshik said.

  "What?" Zasian said, taken aback. "No need to think about it? No deliberations over which choice is the lesser betrayal to your conscience?"

  Myshik smiled. "As you said, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' What is there to think about? My uncle gave me very clear instructions."

  Zasian's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Perhaps he is more cunning than I gave him credit for. I will have to watch him, he decided. He nodded to Kashada, who stepped back from the half-dragon and slipped her dagger back into her belt.

  Myshik relaxed and moved to pick up his axe. He stopped before he actually took hold of it and glanced back at Kashada. "You're not going to use me for target practice when I scoop this up, are you?" he asked.

  "Does she have a reason to?" Zasian asked.

  "No," Myshik replied, "but I wasn't sure if she knew that."

  "I don't think we need fear a reprisal from you," the priest said.

  Myshik gave him an even stare for just a little longer than Zasian thought appropriate, then he lifted the axe from the ground. He slipped it back into its spot upon his back and turned to face the other two. "So, what is your intention?" he asked.

  "Kashada and I have business elsewhere," Zasian answered. "We must take a journey, one that is likely to be a bit treacherous."

  "Yes, this cave you have brought us to," Myshik said. "But where does it lead? Where are we going?"

  "Follow me," Zasian replied. He turned and began to walk through the mist-filled forest, pushing past the foliage that sprouted up from every direction. The dampness clung to everything, and the sounds of its dripping echoed softly through the woods. The priest could see a faint path winding among the odd, rolling ridges of ground. Zasian picked his way along it, listening for sounds of pursuit or ambush.

  "This ground is odd," Myshik commented from behind Zasian. "What is this place?"

  Zasian smiled. "It's not really ground at all," he said. "We are passing from the House of the Triad into the World Tree. This is the veil between those two places."

  Myshik was silent for a moment, then he exclaimed, "It's bark! This is a branch!"

  Zasian grimaced. "Yes, but lower your voice, Morueme. There are a few enemies still around-and new ones on our trail-that will not take kindly to our passing through here."

 
The priest grinned as he imagined Vhok and the others pursuing him, trying to catch up before he slipped away. Stay close, cambion, he thought. I am not finished with you yet.

  They walked on in silence for some time longer, Zasian keeping a watch ahead as he followed the path. It wound between the rounded, rolling ridges of the rich, brown, woody substance and the twisted, angled trees.

  Not trees, Zasian reminded himself. Branches. Twigs, perhaps.

  The surrounding terrain grew higher and steeper on either side of the path, forming a narrow defile. As the trio descended into the canyon, it began to rain. The patter of drops from the gentle downpour caused little more than a whisper on the spongy ground.

  Zasian pulled the hood of his cloak up and around his head, shielding him from the moisture. "Keep an eye out, now," he cautioned the other two in a soft voice. "Other things live on the World Tree, and some of them are not friendly. Sometimes, even the tree itself becomes your enemy."

  The defile grew narrower and narrower, until Zasian felt his shoulders brushing against the sides as he walked. Just when it seemed that the walls had closed together too much for them to continue, the canyon ended in the entrance to a cave. The path vanished into the darkness beyond.

  "Here we go," Zasian muttered, half to himself. "A bit of light, and…" He muttered a quick prayer, waved his hand over the head of his mace, and the weapon glowed with the light of day, illuminating the passage. "Kashada, Myshik, wish this unhappy place a fond farewell. We're beyond its reach, now." And with that, he ducked into the narrow opening and entered the blackness.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Where are we going?" Kaanyr asked as he trailed after the angel. "You seem to know what this place is and why Zasian would come here."

  "It is a doorway between worlds," Tauran replied, his gaze still turned toward the ground. "This part of the House borders on the World Tree. I think Zasian is going to try to travel along it to reach another plane."

  Kaanyr caught sight of a second set of booted prints in the soil, smaller and more delicate than the first. "It doesn't look like he is alone," the cambion said, pointing.

  Tauran stopped and knelt down, again running his finger through the depression. "I think you're right."

  "Look," Aliisza said, pointing a bit farther down the path. "There's more over here. It appears someone engaged in a scuffle."

  The angel rocked back on his heels, gazing into the distance, deep in thought. "This makes things quite a bit more interesting," he said, pulling on his chin. "Where did he get an ally?"

  "From the same place as before," Micus said from above them.

  Kaanyr flinched and darted to the side, ripping Burnblood free. He peered upward and spotted the angel standing upon a thick branch in one of the odd, sloping trees. The cambion's companions reacted just as quickly, jumping into defensive postures and freeing their weapons.

  "From among the conniving fiends he calls friends," Micus continued, "like the ones you're wandering around with, Tauran."

  The sound of footsteps behind Kaanyr drew his attention away from the deva in the tree. He spun and saw three hound archons fanning out to surround him. Two more materialized just behind them.

  "It's a trap!" the cambion shouted. "They're surrounding us!" He backed away, considering his options. He risked a quick glimpse in other directions. Perhaps a dozen more dog-headed warriors stood on guard; a handful more instantly appeared as Kaanyr watched.

  The enemy had position; the group was encircled.

  "Time to surrender," Micus said. "You cannot keep running, Tauran."

  "Micus, look around you," Tauran said, his frustration evident in his tone. "Look what has happened here! Isn't it obvious now that we have to find this priest? We have to stop him."

  Kaanyr took a couple more steps back, away from the archons and toward his companions. The hound-headed warriors followed him, wary. As he retreated, the cambion reached into his tunic and pulled a wand free. He made the decision to speak the command word and fire glowing missiles at the nearest foe, but he couldn't quite muster the will.

  Damn it to the Nine Hells! he silently seethed. "Tauran!" he growled softly, hoping the angel would understand without tipping his enemies off that he could not attack them. "What's the word?"

  "Micus, this is the proof we needed!" Tauran said, ignoring Kaanyr. "Isn't this enough to go back to the High Council and convince them?"

  "The High Council is already convinced," the other angel replied. "They know something is up, just as you said. But they also believe it is very unwise to trust these two. They have given me explicit instructions to bring them back to the Court. With your help or without it." Micus's last words were slow and deliberate.

  Wise up, you fool of an angel! Kaanyr thought. They're never going to listen to you! Give the go-ahead!

  "I gave them my word, Micus," Tauran said. "I must honor that."

  "No, you must not," Micus replied. "Not to them. You have other duties, like obedience and loyalty. Those must come first."

  "I'm sorry, Micus. I don't see it that way."

  "Then you leave me with no choice," Micus said, his voice sounding weary. "I'm sorry, too. Take them!" he shouted. "You know your orders!"

  Kaanyr snarled, and he almost didn't hear Tauran's voice ringing through the din of battle cries as the archons rushed at him.

  "Fight, Kaanyr! Fight and flee!"

  There we go, the cambion thought, smiling as he raised the wand. That's what I like to hear.

  He uttered the magical phrase to trigger the wand and sent four glowing missiles streaking directly at the nearest hound archon. The arcane projectiles whistled through the air and slammed into the creature with staccato popping sounds. The warrior barked in pain and twitched away, stumbling to the ground.

  Kaanyr didn't waste time watching to see how badly he had injured that one. He spun to another, swinging Burnblood. His smaller, lighter blade whipped toward the canine head, but the archon knocked it away with his sword. That was just what Kaanyr had hoped the creature would do, and he spun back around, getting inside the sword's reach. He rammed his enchanted blade into the archon's chest.

  Before the warrior could even gasp and go wide-eyed, Kaanyr had his boot planted against the archon and yanked his sword free again. He leaped away as three more of the dog-headed warriors tried to close with him. He leveled the wand at them. Just the gesture of aiming the wand made the trio draw up, and Kaanyr used the delay to leap into the air and begin rising, drawing on his innate magic to escape their reach.

  The creatures recognized the feint and renewed their efforts to come after him, but Kaanyr sent a volley of shrieking missiles in their direction, and it was enough to get him beyond their blades. He spun in place to scan the rest of the battle. He could see his companions, three isolated pockets of resistance within a swarm of archons. He had faith that Aliisza could extricate herself. Of the other two, he cared not a whit.

  Tauran had commanded him to flee, and flee he would.

  And I won't stop until I get well away from him. For good.

  The cambion reached into his tunic and fumbled free a bit of gauzy fabric wrapped around a tiny glass tube sealed with wax. Kaanyr didn't waste time with the seal. He simply snapped the tube in half, freeing the smoke that had been trapped inside. As the two arcane components merged together, he swirled the whole thing around himself.

  Kaanyr transformed, becoming insubstantial. He felt odd, disembodied, but he had experienced such before and ignored the sensations. He could see in every direction at once, all around, above and below. He watched the hound archons struggle in vain to see where he had gone, and he wanted to laugh, but he had no voice.

  Vhok continued to rise into the air, sliding through the foliage of the strange, twisted, angled trees. He could not travel very fast, but he did not care. He was virtually invisible, particularly with the swirling mists all around, and every moment that he slipped farther away from the fighting made him feel safer, more at ea
se.

  When he was well above the tree tops, Kaanyr searched for some landmark, a direction by which he could navigate. He wasn't sure where he wanted to go, but he wanted to disappear silently and completely from Tauran's grasp forever.

  He initially considered the World Tree. It was nearby and it offered so many possibilities. But that was where Tauran had intended to go, and Kaanyr did not want to risk a reunion with the angel.

  No, he decided, I think another direction entirely is in order.

  He had just begun drifting toward the nearest edge of the great, forested island-intent on reaching its underside to hide-when he saw two angels rise from the trees and fly in his direction. Like Tauran and Micus, they were astral devas, and it was clear to Kaanyr that they were homing in on him.

  Damnation, he thought.

  Before the cambion could react, one of the angels gestured at him, and his spell of gaseousness dissipated. In corporeal form once more, Kaanyr plummeted. He got his wits about him in time to invoke his levitating ability before he crashed into the canopy below.

  Apparently, that was precisely what the two angels expected him to do, because in the next instant, he heard the second one speak a single word. It echoed in the cambion's mind like a thunderbolt.

  Everything went black.

  Myshik and Kashada followed close behind Zasian as they moved along the passage between planes. The shadow-mystic's footfalls, already faint, became lost amid the clomping of Myshik's boots.

  The walls of the passage remained close at hand on either side of the trio, and Zasian imagined he could have forgone the light and felt his way easily enough. The tunnel twisted and turned occasionally, ascending at times and dipping sharply at others. Once, it grew so narrow that Myshik was forced to slip free from his breastplate to squeeze through.

  "What catacomb do you lead us to?" he grumbled as he tugged his armor back on. "You said nothing of tight spaces before."