The Shard Axe: An Eberron Novel (Dungeons & Dragons)

by Marsheila Rockwell

  Eddarga saw the opening and took it, jumping forward to skewer Sabira through the shoulder, her mindblade creating a second deep wound mere inches from the first.

  Sabira dropped her own weapon and lunged forward, gritting her teeth against the pain as Eddarga’s blade slid through her and erupted out her back. She grabbed the duergar’s wrists with both hands, planted her feet, bent her knees, and heaved.

  The assassin had been so focused on the threat of the magma, she hadn’t noticed when Sabira led her into a field of thin, needle-sharp stalagmites. So when Sabira half-lifted, half-threw her, not toward the molten rock but away from it, for an instant, she didn’t resist.

  That instant was all Sabira needed to get the duergar airborne. As she left the ground, Eddarga lost her grip on her mindblade and it winked out of existence, leaving a gaping hole in Sabira’s shoulder. The assassin’s flight was shortlived and ended badly as she came down in the middle of the stalagmites, breaking several of them beneath her as she fell. But not enough of them.

  One protruded from her shoulder, a mirror image of Sabira’s own wound. Another pierced her thigh, and a third, the largest, sprouted from her stomach like some obscene subterranean plant.

  Satisfied that Eddarga would not be going anywhere, Sabira retrieved her shard axe, then strode over to where the Noldrun woman lay pinned to the cavern floor, a ghastly insect on display for the curious. Blood trickled from the gray dwarf’s mouth as she glared balefully up at Sabira.

  Sabira felt a tickling at the back of her mind and was momentarily overcome with a strange urge to dig at her eyes. But Eddarga was too weak to sustain the mental attack and Sabira shook it off without difficulty.

  “I’ll take that,” she said, reaching over to pull the dragonshard ring off Eddarga’s finger. “Just in case you decide you want to try that little trick again.”

  “This isn’t over,” Eddarga wheezed.

  “It is for you,” Sabira replied, raising her urgrosh above her head, ignoring the fire that lanced through her arm as she did. “I’m going to make sure you stay dead this time.”

  And then Sabira brought the axe-blade down on Eddarga’s neck, a clean blow. The bald and scarred head bounced across the floor twice before landing with a small plop in the advancing magma. Sabira watched as the head caught fire and sank into the molten rock, flesh melting around black eyes that were still open and staring, sightless, into oblivion.

  Sabira hurried over to where Aggar had managed to prop himself up against the base of a thick pillar, a rock feature formed when a stalactite reaching down from the roof of the cavern and a stalagmite reaching up from its floor joined in the middle. Most of their side of the cavern was filled with magma by now and all the exits had been cut off. She helped Aggar to his feet and, supporting him with her good shoulder while he limped along, they made their way to the last bit of high ground.

  Once there, Sabira turned to survey the lake of molten rock that was slowly encroaching on their little island.

  “Well, I guess this is it, Agg. It’s over. There’s nowhere left to go.”

  Aggar, leaning heavily against her, laughed.

  “Yes, there is.”

  “Dolurrh?” Sabira scoffed. “That thought almost makes me wish I believed in the Silver Flame.”

  “Not there,” Aggar said, twisting the last of his golden rings, one that looked newer than the rest. “Maintenance.”

  Sabira’s stomach dropped into her feet like it was made of cold iron and a wave of nausea threatened to drown her. And then they were standing in the middle of a room filled with all manner of pipes, machinery, and dials.

  Aggar reached over to pull a white lever marked “Risia.”

  At her questioning look, he explained that he’d had the engineers construct dozens of portals to Risia, the Plane of Ice, in the tunnels and caverns below Maintenance. When the magma reached those planar doorways, it would be channeled away and never reach the city.

  “Now it’s over,” he said.

  Yes, thought Sabira, I think it finally is.

  And then she sank to the floor, her back against the wall. Aggar levered himself down beside her and the two, too exhausted to go any farther, settled in to wait for one of the engineers to find them.

  EPILOGUE

  Sar, Nymm 28, 998 YK

  Krona Peak, Mror Holds.

  It is clear that the sole perpetrator of these murders was Eddarga Noldrun, also known as the assassin ‘Nightshard.’ Therefore, this Council finds Aggar Tordannon innocent of all charges. Aggar, you are free to go, with our apologies to you and the entire Tordannon clan.”

  When Torlan Mroranon had finished speaking, Aggar, standing fully clothed in front of the semicircle of thrones, nodded his head graciously. The small matter of his having disappeared while in custody had been deliberately overlooked once Sabira had testified about her experiences beneath Frostmantle and had shown Nightshard’s ring as proof. If the Council had needed additional evidence of the truth of her statements, the teams of engineers working to clear out the cooled and hardened magma beneath the city and diverting what remained of the active magma flow back to the Fist of Onatar had provided more than enough.

  Sabira, watching from her seat beside Elix, expected Aggar to accept the Council’s apologies and put an end to the trial that had already taken up far too much of both her time and his. But instead of responding, she saw him tug at his beard, and noticed Kiruk doing the same.

  What was he up to now?

  “On behalf of the Tordannon clan,” Aggar said after a quick, silent exchange with his father, “I accept the Council’s apology. But I fear my clan’s business before this august body is not yet concluded.”

  Torlan looked surprised, and Kiruk stood.

  “If I may?”

  Nonplussed, the Mroranon ceded the floor to his fellow Councilor.

  As Aggar stepped back, his father spoke.

  “Marshal, please come forward.”

  Frowning, Sabira looked at Elix, who motioned for her to stand with a barely suppressed smile. Clearly he had no questions about which Marshal Kiruk meant.

  She walked forward, giving Aggar a suspicious look as she passed him, but he just grinned in reply.

  “Sabira d’Deneith,” Kiruk said when she’d taken Aggar’s place before the Council, “for your past service to Clan Tordannon, we have previously rewarded you with our clan’s most prized weapon, the shard axe. However, we find that in light of your recent actions, this reward is no longer appropriate.”

  Sabira fought the sudden urge to grab the urgrosh from its harness on her back and hold it protectively before her. Were they going to take it away from her? Why? Because Orin had died on her watch? Or because she’d attacked and nearly maimed Aggar, who still bore a slight limp as a result?

  But, no. Kiruk was fighting to suppress a grin now, as well.

  What in Dol Dorn’s name was going on here?

  “No mere weapon, no matter how priceless, can adequately repay your loyalty and sacrifice for this clan,” Kiruk continued. “You have acted in all respects as only a member of this clan would. Accordingly, we have chosen to bestow upon you the highest honor any non-dwarf can attain—to welcome you into our clan as a hearthdaughter, through the Ceremony of Blood, Steel, and Stone. Will you accept this honor and this responsibility?”

  Murmuring had broken out among the Council at his words, and Sabira saw many of the members nodding and smiling, Anneka chief among them.

  She wasn’t sure what her superiors were going to think about this new development, though Elix was clearly in on it and approved. It would make her, in essence, a Deneith dwarf. But how could she possibly refuse without damaging the very relationship she’d been tasked with coming here to salvage?

  “Insomuch as I am worthy of such a gift, I do humbly accept both the honor and the responsibility,” Sabira replied, the same words she had used when she’d been given her shard axe. But where her utterance of the phrase had been riddled
with guilt before, now she spoke the words with simple gratitude. She’d made her choice willingly this time.

  “Aggar?”

  The Tordannon heir stepped up to face her, followed by Rockfist, who held a wooden box inscribed with the clan crest. Aggar opened the box to reveal two daggers, likewise emblazoned with the Tordannon crest, one made of stone and the other of steel. He took one in each hand, his former cheer hidden now behind a mask of solemnity.

  “Hold your right hand out, palm up,” he instructed her, as serious as she had ever seen him.

  When she had done so, he raised the daggers.

  “Sabira Lyet d’Deneith, I welcome you into Clan Tordannon. By blood …”

  He drove the points of both daggers into the soft flesh of her palm.

  “… steel …”

  He drew the steel dagger across her palm, drawing a red line that welled blood for a moment, then healed over, leaving a fresh pink scar.

  “… and stone.”

  Aggar drew the stone dagger down as he’d done with the steel one, creating a second red line that bled and scarred over as quickly as the first had. Then he returned the daggers, neither showing any trace of blood, back to their velvet-lined box, and the barrister took them away.

  “You shall henceforth be known as Sabira Lyet d’Deneith Tordannon,” he said formally. Then he let the mask drop and his grin returned, even bigger than before.

  “Welcome to the family, sis!” he said, grabbing her up into a fierce embrace while the Iron Council looked on, many of them cheering.

  Later, the five of them walked over to the Crown and Scepter, where Kiruk had reserved a private dining room for them to celebrate. The Tordannon patriarch led the small group, followed by Aggar and Rockfist, who were arguing over the barrister’s fee. Sabira and Elix took up the rear, walking in companionable silence.

  Outside the restaurant, Sabira paused, her hand on Elix’s arm. When Aggar turned to see why they weren’t following him through the door, she waved him inside.

  “We’ll be there in a moment. You can start without us.”

  Aggar raised one red eyebrow and looked from her to Elix, then back again, taking in the way her hand lingered on the other Marshal’s arm.

  “So it’s like that, is it?” he asked with a surprised smile.

  “Yes, it’s like that.”

  At least I hope it is, she thought.

  Aggar’s grin widened and he gave Elix a quick salute before heading into the restaurant and leaving them alone on the street.

  Sabira turned to look up at the dark-haired captain, searching the depths of his hazel eyes. There was so much she wanted to say to him, about Ned, about herself, about them. She didn’t know where to begin.

  “Elix, I …,” she began, faltered, then started again. “Aboard the Dancer …”

  “Saba, it’s fine—”

  “No, it’s not. What I said about Ned … I didn’t mean …”

  “Saba—”

  “… and then in your message, when you said you hadn’t lied …”

  “Sabira,” he said forcefully, taking her face in his hands. “Shut up. That’s an order.”

  And then his lips met hers and, for the first time, there was no shade of the past to come between them and leech away the warmth of their embrace.

  Sabira pulled away first, breathless.

  “We’d better get inside before Kiruk sends out a search party.”

  “Let him,” Elix murmured, his gaze traveling up from her mouth, lips still slightly parted, to meet her longing look with one of his own.

  She laughed softly at that, then stood on her toes to press one last, quick kiss against the blue skin of his dragonmark before whispering in his ear.

  “Later.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said, his voice rough.

  “You’d better,” she replied, taking his hand and leading him through the door with a smile.

  Inside, they found Kiruk’s room and sat down to a hearty dinner that would have had the members of House Ghallanda turning green with envy. The conversation and spirits flowed easily, as did the questions.

  “So Eddarga did all this to get revenge on the clans who’d spoken out against her when she petitioned the Council for recognition as the heir to Noldrunhold?”

  “That was only part of it,” Aggar answered. He and Sabira had tried to piece the puzzle together on the journey back from Frostmantle. “Sabira was the one who figured out the rest. The families of several of Eddarga’s original victims controlled land bordering Noldrunhold, and with their deaths that land was left largely vacant. We think she intended to claim the hold, with or without the Council’s blessing, and she wanted to make sure there were no prying eyes to report back on her activities until it was too late to do anything about them. Turning Frostmantle into another Noldrunthrone would only aid her in that.”

  “The only ones actively mining along that border are the Mountainhearts,” Kiruk commented regretfully. “Though that may change now, depending on what Gunnett decides to do.”

  At the Mountainheart name, Sabira raised her glass of Frostmantle Fire in Orin’s memory. The others did the same, and they all drank in silence for a moment.

  “So is that why she had the yrthaks attack you on the way back from Stormreach?” Rockfist asked into the lull. “To try and get rid of Orin?”

  “Have we confirmed that she was behind that?” Aggar asked, looking at Elix as he took another sip from his drink. Sabira knew he was still somewhat annoyed about the loss of the Inheritance. Like his Silver Concordian rings, Orin had borrowed the airship without asking. But Aggar was already having another one built. He was going to have it christened the Rapier, in his nephew’s honor.

  Elix moved forward in his seat next to Sabira’s.

  “Tilde confirmed that the Khyber shard Sabira found in the yrthak was from the same stone as the one in Nightshard’s ring. And since you saw a similar shard in the elemental Eddarga was controlling, I don’t think there’s any question that she was directing both attacks.”

  “Why wait until he was all the way down in Xen’drik, though? Wouldn’t it have been easier to attack him while he was still here, in the Holds?”

  That question had been bothering Sabira, too.

  “She probably wanted Sabira dead, too, after what happened in the Maw. So she was trying to strike two veins of ore with one shaft,” Aggar answered. Then he grinned. “Plus, she knew the Shard Axe’s reputation. If anyone could spare me from the gallows, it would be Sabira, and she wasn’t going to risk that happening again,” he joked, punching his adopted sibling lightly in the shoulder.

  “But how did she even know Orin was coming down to Stormreach to get me? And how was she able to direct the yrthaks from so far away?” Sabira asked, surreptitiously rubbing the arm where Aggar had struck her. Though the wound had healed over, the flesh there was still tender and a little sore. A lot sore, now.

  “Well, Orin’s mission wasn’t exactly a big secret—to anyone except me, that is,” Aggar ventured after a moment.

  “Or maybe she had an accomp—” Rockfist began, only to be cut off by Aggar.

  “Don’t say it! One Noldrun running amok is quite enough, thank you.”

  The others laughed while the barrister looked mildly affronted.

  “Well, what about Hrun, then?” he huffed. “Was Eddarga the one who killed him?”

  “Probably,” Sabira answered. “He was a rival claimant, after all.”

  “Why didn’t she make him eat his own eyes, though, I wonder?” Rockfist asked, choosing a particularly plump iceberry from his plate. He seemed oblivious to the irony as he crushed the round, black fruit between his teeth.

  “Maybe she couldn’t. Can one duergar control another that way?”

  “Father, we don’t know that he was—”

  “He had black eyes, didn’t he?”

  No one could argue with that.

  “She must have been controlling him,
though,” Elix said suddenly. “How else could she have gotten him to break into the Tombs for her and steal those books?”

  Sabira pursed her lips, thoughtful. Something about Hrun’s death was nagging at her, and it wasn’t his eyes.

  “Are they sure it even was him in the Tombs?” she asked. She couldn’t say for sure, and she’d been there. “Maybe Eddarga killed him there to make it look that way. You said yourself he was no mage,” she added, looking at Rockfist, “and only a powerful mage would have been able to get through those wards.”

  The rest of the barrister’s words came back to her in an abrupt, sickening rush.

  “… especially if they had some sort of focus already in place inside …”

  Whoever had teleported into the Tombs had known right where she was, so she had to have been that focus. Or she had to have brought it in with her.

  But she’d had nothing on her that she didn’t normally carry, except Kiruk’s cloak and Elix’s letter.

  The one that Gunnett had brought with her from Vulyar.

  Before she could voice her sudden suspicion, a knock sounded at the door.

  “Enter.”

  A young, comely dwarf girl with blonde ringlets and bright blue eyes entered the room, a long, plain box held in her arms.

  “Your pardon, lords, lady, but this was left at the front for the Shard Axe. No one saw who put it there.”

  “A gift from the Council?” Kiruk mused, taking the box and handing it over to Sabira before giving the girl a galifar and dismissing her.

  Sabira wasn’t so sure. Somehow she expected any gift from the Council would be quite a bit more ostentatious.

  She opened the box to reveal a bouquet of sickly white blooms whose stems boasted long, wicked-looking black thorns.