The Fractured Sky teo-2 Page 15

  Aliisza, came Tauran's voice. Aliisza, can you hear me?

  The alu was hesitant at first, leery that it might be a trick. But she knew the sort of magic being employed, and she doubted it could be used to determine her location.

  Yes, she answered. I hear you.

  Where are you? the angel asked.

  How do I know it's really you?

  Well spoken, Tauran replied.

  There was a long moment's silence, and Aliisza began to grow worried that she had miscalculated, that it was a trick, that soldiers with nets were closing in on her position right at that moment.

  Just when the alu was on the verge of bolting from her hiding place in panic, Tauran said, How can I prove it to you?

  Answer me this, Aliisza said. Tell me the name of the boy I saved, in the dream world where you kept me imprisoned. The one who worked for the tailor. Who was he?

  It was no boy, Tauran replied without hesitation. Lizel was a girl.

  Aliisza's relief cascaded through her. She sank back into the cool earth and sighed. Yes, she said. It's you. How did you find me-reach me?

  A little trinket Eirwyn gave me before we parted ways. I had forgotten about it until just now. Where are you? Can you come to us?

  I don't know where you are. I am hiding within the clearing. There are devas and archons everywhere. What's happened?

  Kael and I are safe, the angel replied. We are watching Micus. He and some of his warriors are concealed near the passage to the World Tree. Probably expecting us to make a break for it. There was a pause, and then, Where are you hiding?

  Under Tekthyrios's wing, she answered. Then, biting her lip, she asked, What about Kaanyr?

  There was another, longer pause. Micus's troops captured him. He's there, in the camp, very near you. I'm sorry.

  Sorry? You didn't help them, did you?

  No, Tauran answered. But I'm sorry they turned against you. I'm sorry it all fell apart like this. The angel sounded tired and defeated. Kael and I are considering offering a trade: me for Vhok.

  No, Aliisza replied. They won't agree, and you know it. They are sworn to uphold your many and sometimes ridiculous laws.

  I know, Tauran replied. His voice was without hope. But we have no other choice. There are too many of them. We can't free him by force, and I will honor my word to him to let him go back to Sundabar.

  Aliisza thought for a moment, then inspiration struck. I have a better idea, she said.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "How do you know they aren't hostile?" Myshik asked. Kashada saw the half-dragon reach for his war axe out of the corner of her eye. "They don't look like they're very happy to see us."

  The figures approaching them did seem wary. As they drew closer, Kashada saw that they resembled elves in appearance, though they had eschewed clothing and their deep brown skin mimicked the bark of a tree.

  Dryads, the Sharran thought with a mixture of distaste and surprise. A whole colony of them. Annoying little fey.

  On her other side, Zasian chuckled. "You leave that to me, young Morueme. In a moment, they will be falling all over themselves to please us." The priest pulled a pendant from his shirt and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, chanting softly.

  When Kashada saw that it was the silver skull of Cyric, she grimaced. Though she was grateful to Zasian for his timely rescue of her at the hands of the ghaele, it only made her further resent the necessity of associating with one of his ilk. He is merely a tool, she reminded herself. As Cyric is Shar's.

  Use him to achieve the ends you desire. Such thoughts were of little comfort when she felt so dependent upon him for seeing the plot through.

  Zasian completed whatever divine invocation he had engaged in and paused expectantly. The half-dozen dryads, who had slowed and stopped once they were within a few paces of the trio, broke into shy grins and closed the remainder of the gap, arms outstretched. They fawned all over the strangers in their midst, gently pawing at buckles, jewelry, and other shiny bits of outfit. They chattered and giggled like young girls, but Kashada could understand none of it.

  Zasian began another spell, murmuring softly as he caressed his pendant. When he finished that one, he let the thing slip back inside the folds of his shirt. He began speaking words that Kashada did not understand, but whatever the priest was saying, it made the dryads beam all the more. One of them replied, and Zasian nodded.

  "They are more than happy to lead us where we need to go," he explained to his companions. "But they would welcome us to their village as guests first. They have invited us to rest and partake of whatever meager fare they can provide."

  As if it somehow understood, Myshik's stomach let out a pronounced rumble.

  Zasian and the dryads chuckled. "I think they're taking that as a yes," the priest said.

  "Is that truly necessary?" Kashada grumbled. She did not relish the idea of spending any more time than needed among the pesky creatures. She was already fighting the urge to fling their infuriating little hands away from herself. "We will lose precious time."

  Zasian turned toward her. "It is, in fact," he said, "for reasons you will come to understand soon enough."

  Kashada sighed, thankful that her veil hid the frown she knew she wore. His smugness and condescension were wearing thin. "I suppose a bit of rest would do me good," she said, hoping she sounded agreeable. "My body's just not used to all this activity after so long confined within my prison." She batted her eyes at the priest, hoping he got her little dig.

  Zasian's level stare told her he had, but otherwise, he did not react. "Very well, then," he said, turning to the dryads. He said something with a warm smile, and the dryads eagerly led the three of them into the village.

  The entire population of the little woodland community could not have numbered more than two dozen or so, but they were more than enough to make the tiny hut feel crammed beyond reason after a couple more of Zasian's charming spells brought them all merrily under his sway. The dryads prepared a simple meal for their guests that consisted of some type of greenish paste served on sections of thick leaves and garnished with giant ant abdomens.

  Kashada watched as Myshik looked at his for a few moments, then shrugged and grabbed up an ant abdomen. He split the carapace with his teeth, sucked out the soft flesh within, then used half of it as a scoop to shovel mouthfuls of the green stuff as fast as he could past his lips and tongue. He hardly seemed to taste the fare at all.

  Kashada tried not to make a face as she turned to Zasian. "The fact that he seems to think it delicious gives me pause," she said. "What exactly is this?"

  The priest looked thoughtful as he finished a bite, then he said, "I think it's some sort of fermented moss." Kashada nodded and had a bite halfway to her mouth when he added, "But it also might be caterpillar flesh."

  Kashada did make a face, then, and she set the food back down uneaten. "I am no longer hungry," she said as gently as she could. "Perhaps one of you two would like to finish mine? I think I'd like to rest for a bit, now."

  Myshik had his face pressed against his leaf, licking the last dregs of the paste from it. "I'll take yours," he said. He leaned over and snatched the leaf from her lap and began devouring it.

  Zasian laughed. "Suit yourself," he said. "There will be plenty to eat that's more to your liking when we get where we are going next."

  Kashada rose to her feet and glared down at the priest. "Just let me know when it's time to go," she said, hoping her sour tone conveyed her overall displeasure. "The sooner, the better."

  At a word from Zasian, two of the dryads took Kashada by the hands. The mystic allowed them to lead her out of the overcrowded hut. She was forced to tread carefully so as to avoid stepping on anyone's feet. She followed her escort along a curving, swaying rope bridge to another shelter.

  Not rope, Kashada realized as she ran her hand along one of the flexible rails of the bridge. What is this? Woven silk? Webbing? How odd!

  The dryads showed her into the hut, wh
ere a soft mat made of more of the thick, soft leafy material lay in the middle of it. They gestured and said several things, but Kashada just tried to smile and nod, then shooed them out of her way.

  She lay down on the mat, and weariness washed over her at once. She had not realized how exhausted she was until that moment. She knew she would not be able to sleep so long as the constant, silvery glow of the environment intruded on her. The chattering dryad dinner party a stone's throw away only made it worse.

  Kashada gestured and muttered a phrase of arcane power. The illusory shadows surrounding her grew and thickened. She gestured again, and the shadows wrapped themselves around her like a cocoon. Once safely inside their embrace, Kashada smiled and drifted off.

  Kashada did not know how long she had slept when she came awake to gentle shaking. Disorientation made her start, but she gathered her wits quickly and unfurled her shadows to see who was disturbing her rest.

  Zasian loomed over her. "It's time," he said softly. "There is work to do."

  Kashada sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Very well," she said. "Give me a moment to collect myself."

  Zasian rocked back and stood up. "Take a few moments," he said. "Myshik and I are journeying on ahead, but I want you to remain behind for a bit longer."

  Kashada gave the priest a sharp glare. "What scheme are you concocting? This was not part of our plan."

  Zasian gestured in the air, trying to reassure her. "I only want to get a little bit ahead, so that our guides cannot see what you are doing."

  Kashada did not stop glaring. "And what would that be?"

  Zasian smiled. "I want you to leave behind a little surprise for our pursuers," he said. "Something to make sure they don't catch up too fast, but also to make it clear that they are on the right path."

  Kashada thought for a moment, then she returned the priest's smile. "I think I know just what to do."

  Zasian and Myshik departed with a pair of dryads to guide them along their way. Before leaving, the priest had explained to the remaining dryads that Kashada wished to remain for a while longer in order to learn how to prepare the fermented moss.

  You will pay for that, Kashada fumed. She watched as her companions departed, then she turned to her hosts. They had gathered together, cooking supplies in hand, and awaited her with eager, expectant expressions. She resisted rolling her eyes and motioned for them to begin.

  The dryads swarmed around, chattering and laughing incessantly. Kashada pretended to watch. She began a spell, keeping her movements subtle and whispering the arcane words. The shadows draped across her body darkened and spread out. They grew thicker, more rigid, more substantial. They cocooned her body, but unlike before, when she had manipulated them merely to aid in her rest, the new ones hardened and formed a shell of darkness. She breathed another phrase, and the gloom deepened. It began to glow very faintly in the silvery light of the plane, a purple hue that was nearly black.

  One of the dryads stopped her work and stared at Kashada, mouth agape. When she noticed the mystic returning her gaze, her eyes grew wide and she cowered, shouting something in a shrill voice. The other fey creatures halted their tasks. Some watched their guest, dumbfounded, while others began to scramble to escape her presence.

  Kashada smiled, then she laughed. "It's much too late for that," she said. Then she uttered the final phrase of her spell.

  The purple-black shadows expanded from her body in a great sphere. The dryads shrieked and tried to flee. One attempted to meld into the great branch upon which the tree-house had been constructed. Another dived toward an open window to escape. Most of the rest flailed and clamored to slip through the doorways.

  None were fast enough.

  The blackness engulfed all of the dryads. Its boundary soared outward, catching each and every one of the elflike women in its embrace. They wailed and babbled in their odd, woodland language and staggered around, blind. Kashada laughed, for she could still see. The world had turned a beautiful, shadowy plum to her eyes.

  One dryad shuffled toward Kashada, a small dagger in her hand. The dryad felt for the woman, and Kashada did nothing to evade her. When her hand brushed against Kashada's arm, the dryad stabbed at her, trying to ram the dagger deep into the mystic's flesh.

  The blade struck shadowstuff and snapped.

  The dryad wailed in dismay and fell away again.

  The dryads thrashed and flailed as the arcane gloom did its work. Tendrils of the stuff wrapped around limbs, encircled waists, coiled around necks. It grappled with those trapped inside it, enveloping them with darker, firmer umbra.

  Kashada laughed as the fey fought against the snaking tendrils. She smiled as the one who had tried to stab her clutched at her own throat, gasping for breath. Kashada walked among them, watching in delight as one by one the dryads' struggles grew weaker, then stopped altogether. The shadowstuff continued to wind itself around them like black, gauzy funeral wrappings. Tighter and tighter it wove, until each dryad was nothing more than an oblong lump of black within the purple nightworld Kashada had created with her magic.

  Finally, the spell finished its work and vanished, returning the surroundings to their original silvery hue and brightness. Kashada sighed. She had so enjoyed watching the transformation. It had been particularly satisfying to see the wretched fey succumb to her magic. She was only sorry there hadn't been more of them to ensnare. All in all, though, she was content.

  She spoke, then, in a language few would understand in the normal world. Her voice carried, ringing loudly and clearly to pierce the veils of shimmering shadow that still surrounded the dryads. "My pets," she said, "I have a task for you. Others come along the path that I followed to arrive here. You will wait and watch for them, and when they appear, you will destroy them."

  Before she left, Kashada took up flint and steel and ignited a bit of tinder. She then lit an oil-soaked rag wrapped around one of her long-bladed daggers and walked among the tree houses, setting them ablaze. She fired the strange, silky ropes that made up the bridges and ladders. She looked back once and watched as the little dryad community became charred ruins.

  Kaanyr sat cross-legged and stared at the ground. The sullen glare he had leveled at his two guards had done nothing to make him feel any better, so he gave it up. That and the fact that holding his head up while it was encased in so much iron exhausted him. The strange harness held a thick metal brank in place in his mouth, keeping his tongue flattened so that he had no way of speaking. Kaanyr's jailors had locked the thing behind his head, where he could not see.

  Even if he could study the security, it wouldn't make a difference. Thick leather bags wrapped tightly around his hands kept them secure, as well. He sensed that he was clenching some sort of round object, like a ball, in each hand, which forced them into fists. He could barely move his fingers within the confines of the bags. To further restrain him, they had fastened metal manacles to his wrists, and those were locked to a metal belt that encircled his waist.

  There was no way he was going to work the brank harness free, even if he could see the fastener.

  Nor could he unlock the thick chain that held him fast, one end around his neck, the other around a large tree. His jailors were taking no chances.

  The hound archons who had captured Kaanyr had said nothing to him. He came to from his blackout feeling woozy and disoriented. It took a few moments for him to remember where he was. By that time, the warriors had subdued him with rope and threats of worse if he even tried to resist them. Other than that, they simply escorted him back to the clearing where the ambush had begun.

  No one's even asked me any questions, Vhok thought. Wasn't that why they wanted to capture us so badly? To see what we know about Zasian?

  Recalling the traitorous priest made Kaanyr scowl. The cambion still couldn't decide at whom he was angrier. Though most of his woes could be traced back to Zasian's underhanded manipulation, Kaanyr knew he was still responsible for setting the events in motion in the first place.
<
br />   Aliisza was right, he thought glumly. I became so caught up in seizing Sundabar from Helm Dwarf-friend that I grew careless. But they're still bastards. All of them. Zasian and Helm can rot in the Abyss. And Tauran and Kael. And Micus and Tyr. All of them! And you can toss that no-good alu in with them, too.

  Kaanyr had spent the first part of his captivity anticipating a rescue from Aliisza, but as the time dragged by and it grew dark, he began to doubt that she would return for him. The logical part of him realized there was no way his lover could overwhelm an entire camp of astral devas and their hound archon minions. That would just get them both caught.

  But damn it, I want her to try! I'm still supposed to matter to her, despite what happened here. It's still her, isn't it?

  Kaanyr snorted then, an expression of resignation. Of course it's still her. And she's long gone by now. She and her two holier-than-thou fops have left me here to rot. Hells, I would have done the same thing to her.

  "Good evening, Vhok," an angel said as he approached the cambion. "I imagine you are hungry." He was one of the two who had captured him earlier.

  An archon stood behind the deva holding a tray of something that smelled delicious. He set it on the ground near Kaanyr as the angel squatted down next to the cambion.

  "I want to take this brank harness off you, Vhok, but if I do, I have to have your vow that you will not speak, only eat. We can't have you attempting to cast any spells. Do you understand?"

  Kaanyr eyed the food, which consisted of a thick slice of roasted meat, a slab of cheese, a hunk of bread, and some berries still on a snip of vine. The aroma of the meat and bread made his mouth water, but he hated giving in so easily to the wretched celestials. He looked away from the tray and back at the angel and made no gesture at all.