“You’re a prophet, just like your brother was,” the bard said. “Does Tempus whisper the future in your ear?”
“No, I hear only insects buzzing, insects and bards,” she said.
His good humor restored, he laughed. “My apologies again. I wasn’t paying proper attention to you before, but I will, starting now. You’re going to be a player in this game of mine, aren’t you?”
“Whether I choose to or not,” Ilvani said. She glanced toward the stones where Ashok and Mareyn had disappeared. “That’s the way it’s going to be.”
Later, Daruk sat with Tatigan before one of the smaller fires. The flames were slowly dying, though Tatigan poked the embers valiantly with a stick. Giving up, he took out a bottle of Theskian wine and filled two goblets. Daruk took his and drained it in a couple of swallows. Tatigan sighed at the waste of a good vintage.
“I recognize that look on your face,” Daruk said dryly. “I’ve done something to disappoint you again. Gods, how I hate to fail you, Tatigan. What is it this time?”
“You shouldn’t provoke them,” Tatigan scolded the bard, “not out here in the wilderness. They’re not playing a game. All they see is you insulting their gods, and for that offense, the less disciplined among them could turn on you in a heartbeat. They are ruled by passions you obviously cannot comprehend.”
Daruk lay down on his bedroll with his hands clasped behind his head and one leg thrown over his knee. He closed his eyes, but a wide smile split his dark face. “Are you honestly suggesting I should be afraid of Ikemmu’s shadar-kai?” The distaste was thick in his voice.
“You’re a long way from home,” Tatigan pointed out. “If you’re going to dwell in Ikemmu, you’d do worse than to make a few friends among its warriors.”
Daruk sighed. “I tried with Ashok, but I don’t think he likes me, which is a shame. I could compose songs about that one, battle anthems that might fill the hole in my poor heart.”
“You think Ashok will fill the void left by Netheril?” Tatigan shook his head. “No man can replace an empire.”
“He’s the only warrior in Ikemmu whose skill and taste for blood rival that of the shadar-kai of Netheril,” Daruk said. “If he’d been raised in the empire, I’d already be writing songs about him.”
“But he wasn’t and you’re not,” Tatigan said. “Instead, you’re on the run from the same people you hold in such reverence. If they found you, they’d happily tear you to pieces.”
He poured more wine for them both. “The shadar-kai of the Shadowfell, especially Ashok, won’t be the domesticated creatures of the Shades. I’ve made a study of both peoples. They have a different destiny than their forebears. Whether it’s to destroy themselves or make a civilization in Ikemmu, I honestly couldn’t say.”
Darnae always talked about her great hope for the race, Tatigan thought, but at heart, she was overly romantic. Ashok has no illusions about the nature of his race.
“Well, I’m not going to try to predict the outcome either way,” Daruk said. “But I think Ashok will surprise you by how much a part of the darkness he really is. He might relish a taste of true power. Ah, now that’s an interesting notion. Perhaps I will pursue it.”
“Do nothing foolish,” Tatigan said, a threat implicit in his tone. “Not on my caravan.”
“Of course not, my friend,” Daruk said. “I will do nothing to the detriment of you or your people. You have my word.”
Tatigan wondered what such a gift was worth.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ilvani dreamed, and in her dreams, the rashemi witch stood over her as she lay in the middle of a vast battlefield. Tuigan corpses lay strewn about in their death poses. Their faces all turned toward her, accusing. Blood soaked the ground.
“It’s coming,” the dead witch told Ilvani. “I hope you’re pleased.”
“What?” Ilvani tried to stand up, but the wind blew in fierce gusts that bore shards of glass. The pain knocked her off her feet. “We have to run!”
“Yes, run,” the woman said mockingly, “before it’s too late. Run, run. You said you’d help me!”
Blood poured from a wound in the woman’s stomach. Ilvani saw the blood eat up the ground and come toward her like a living creature. Behind the witch, in the distance, the storm approached.
Ilvani got to her feet and stumbled away, but she knew she couldn’t outrun the vicious wind. It sliced open her arms, legs, cheeks, and hands, until she couldn’t see her own skin for the blood.
Ilvani screamed until her throat was hoarse. She screamed until she woke herself and realized that the rest of the camp was screaming too.
It was still dark, but fires moved among the ruins-the guards and drovers ran about, swinging torches in the air. She caught a glimpse of Kaibeth, shouting orders to some of the others, her face and hair bloodied.
“Keep the fire on them!” she yelled, and disappeared again into the darkness.
Ilvani stood up. Smoke poured from a mass of gray-black flesh on the ground not far from where she’d slept. The putrid stench of its burning filled Ilvani’s nose, and she gagged. Unwillingly, she started toward it to see what it was, but then in the smoke and darkness, she saw three large lumbering shapes just out of reach of the torchlight. Then came the sound of a great impact, bones crushed, and a body flew out of the darkness and landed at her feet.
She stared at the dead man’s sightless eyes. He had a hole in his skull. Chips of white bone stuck to his forehead. Strangely, his lips and the left side of his face were blue with frost.
Ilvani stretched out her awareness and felt an unnatural aura surrounding the camp. She realized then that the air was much, much colder than it should have been, even for the winter night.
“Fire,” she said. She lifted her right hand and called again in the tongue of magic. Her hand burst into orange flame. Torch in hand, she walked purposefully toward the lumbering shapes. She had to find Ashok and tell him it was time to release the nightmare and its deadly flame.
Otherwise, the ice trolls would kill them all.
Ashok was far enough away in the ruins that he didn’t hear the screams heralding the first attack. He awoke at the same time as Mareyn. Stiff in his arms, she listened with him to the sounds of frantic movement and shouts from the camp. Then they moved at once, grabbed clothing and weapons, and ran into the darkness.
They were in such a rush that they nearly ran up the back of one of the trolls.
A blast of frigid air assailed Ashok’s limbs. Beside him, Mareyn gasped when she ran into the troll’s aura. She fumbled for her weapon, and Ashok swung his chain above his head. Their movements were sluggish, hampered by the frozen air. Ashok’s breath was a fire in his lungs.
The troll heard them and swung around, its huge maul leading. Mareyn dived out of the way and rolled in the snow. Ashok dodged and let his chain fly over the troll’s weapon. It struck the monster in one of its black, jewel-like eyes. The troll howled in pain and clutched its face. Retreating several paces, it stepped into the light of one of the campfires, and Ashok got a good look at it.
The monster had gray, lumpy skin and a fine coat of frost-rimed hair all over its body but especially around its thick lips. Oversized ears were black at the tips. They drooped almost to the creature’s shoulders. The frost gave its skin an odd, glittering quality like crystal in the light of the campfires.
Mareyn came up in a flurry of snow and steel. She stabbed the troll in the thigh while it was still distracted with its wound. The creature took a blind step toward her and swiped at her with its free hand. Mareyn tried to dodge again, but the cold aura emanating from the creature made her clumsy. Troll claws caught her by the arm and lifted her into the air. She hit the remains of a stone wall and fell on her stomach.
Ashok hollered to get the troll’s attention and let his chain fly again. The troll turned back to face him, and Ashok fumbled the strike when he saw the creature’s face.
The monster’s eye wound had closed. Only the da
rk blood on its face marked where he’d injured the thing. This rapid healing was bad enough, but the look in its eyes truly gave Ashok pause. Its eyes were feverish, unfocused, almost as if the creature didn’t fully understand where it was or what it was doing.
This was not the attack of an organized party of trolls seeking food. These mad creatures craved blood and violence just like the shadow beasts that Tuva’s caravan had encountered on the plain.
Ilvani’s demons had followed her to the surface of Faerun.
Mareyn groaned and pulled herself to a sitting position. “Fire,” she said. “We have to burn them.”
Them. Ashok turned and saw three other shapes silhouetted in the campfire lights. Trolls surrounded the camp.
He heard the distant screams of the horses. They ran free, terrified as they fought to escape the trolls. One of the creatures burst through a partial stone structure and grabbed a fleeing horse by the neck. The poor animal’s scream cut off abruptly as the troll snapped its neck.
Ashok knew at least one of the animals wouldn’t be running.
“I have to find my horse,” Ashok said to Mareyn. He struck the troll with the end of his chain, again drawing blood and a scream from the monster.
“What?” Mareyn cried. “They’re scattered, Ashok.” She got to her feet and came at the troll’s back, slashing with her blade. The creature kept its attention on Ashok and the chain. It held one hand over its face and swung its maul with the other.
Ashok took the blow to his shoulder and went down on his knees. His armor took some of the impact, but he still felt brilliant pain light up the left side of his body. The troll stood over him and raised his maul for an overhand strike that would drive Ashok into the ground. Ashok waited until the last second and teleported out from under the weapon. When he reappeared several feet away, he heard the shuddering impact of the weapon with the ground.
With the troll bent over and off balance, Mareyn came in from its left side and chopped overhand at the creature’s head. The troll scuttled back out of the way with surprising grace, but it wasn’t fast enough. Mareyn’s strike severed its left ear.
Perfect, Ashok thought. The troll held the side of its head and thrashed, spraying blood on the snow. In his shadowy form, Ashok moved to stand in front of the creature. The troll looked up at him and snarled.
Ashok smiled at it.
The troll screamed and dived at him, but it passed through Ashok’s incorporeal body and slid in the snow. Ashok felt his flesh thicken and take on weight. He bent and scooped up the troll’s ear.
“Come and get it,” he said, then turned and ran. “Help the others,” he yelled to Mareyn. “Find your good-luck partner.”
“You’re insane!” she called after him. He didn’t turn, but he heard the wild laughter in her voice.
Ashok ran through the remnants of the camp. He saw the fires among the stones. The guards and drovers waved torches and weapons at the trolls when they attacked out of the darkness. Bodies of the caravan guards lay strewn about the ruins. Ashok didn’t see the brothers or Ilvani, but he trusted Mareyn to find her.
He heard a horse scream and saw Thorm at the edge of the camp. He was trying to mount the nightmare. The illusion held-the beast still appeared to be a common saddle horse. The dwarf had no idea what he was trying to tame.
“Godsdamned beast … hold still!” he cried, but the horse kicked him aside, and Thorm fell. He clutched his gut and winced in pain.
“Leaving us?” Ashok said. The troll’s thundering footsteps echoed close behind him. “Or were you planning to ride into battle to save the caravan?”
“The caravan’s lost,” Thorm said. “Get out while you still can. We can go together-”
“Then you and your brigands will come back later to clean up what’s left,” Ashok said. The dwarf paled, and Ashok knew all he needed to about the dwarf’s loyalties. “The perfect plan. Here, hold this.”
He tossed the troll’s ear at the dwarf. Thorm caught it without looking, and his eyes widened when he saw the troll bearing down on them.
Ashok jumped on the nightmare’s back. The beast reared, forcing Ashok to grab his mane to keep his balance.
“Missed me, did you?” Ashok grunted. With his fists buried in the nightmare’s mane, he wheeled the stallion around to face the troll. “See that? Time to play.”
The troll swung its maul wildly and hit the dwarf in the chest. Thorm crumpled at the monster’s feet, but he still breathed. He tried to crawl out of the way, but the troll reared back for another strike.
“Time to play,” Ashok repeated in a whisper. He leaned forward across the stallion’s neck. His fingers found the enchanted necklace that bound the nightmare’s essence, the spurs buried securely in his flesh. Ashok curled his fingers around the binding and ripped it off.
A scream so loud that it shook the ruined structures echoed through the camp. The trolls and the warriors fighting them all stopped at once and went to their knees in a vast wave. Ashok felt scorching heat surround him, as intense as if he stood in the middle of a forge. Fire erupted from the nightmare’s mane, tail, and fetlocks. For a breath, Ashok thought the stallion intended to burn him alive as retribution for his confinement. But as quickly as they appeared, the fires where Ashok sat banked and cooled, burning with a low blue radiance.
With the troll in front of him distracted, Thorm was able to crawl for cover in the ruins. He gazed out at the nightmare in openmouthed horror. Ashok guided the stallion forward to face the troll. The nightmare needed no urging. Ashok let the end of his chain dangle just above the ground.
“Time to burn,” he said.
The troll swung its maul at the nightmare. The stallion lunged aside with a speed that had the troll overbalanced and its flank exposed. Turning, the nightmare slammed his burning body into the troll, almost crushing Ashok’s right leg. Ashok jumped up and stood on the nightmare’s back. He wrapped his chain around the troll’s neck and jerked its head to the side. The troll thrashed and tried to pull away, but its flesh burned. A putrid stench filled the air.
The nightmare screamed again and drove his body harder into the troll’s flesh. Ashok sawed back and forth with his chain, while the nightmare’s fire licked up his leg and blistered his skin.
The troll finally wrenched free and dragged Ashok off the nightmare’s back. He held on to the troll by the chain and used the weapon to pull himself up the monster’s back. The troll dropped its maul and swiped furiously at Ashok with its claws. Ashok swung back and forth like a pendulum to dodge the blows, but he slipped and caught a slash to his cheek just below the eye.
Meanwhile, the nightmare cantered back and, without Ashok on his back, poured forth the full fire of his body. The troll staggered back from the heat, and Ashok let go of his chain and dropped to the ground.
The cut on his cheek was deep; he felt the blood running down his neck to pool between his armor and shirt. There was not as much pain as he expected. Empty-handed, Ashok faced the troll as the monster turned to flee from the burning nightmare. The troll charged him, intent on running him down, but Ashok slid on his back feet first in the snow and grabbed one of the troll’s thick legs. The monster stumbled but didn’t stop. It dragged Ashok along the ground as it tried to make an escape.
The nightmare took his time in pursuit. He knew his prey would not get away. Another breath, and Ashok let go of the monster’s leg. The nightmare charged, leaping over Ashok, a living fireball that slammed into the troll’s body again and knocked it to the ground. The stallion tore into its flesh with his teeth, then reared and smashed his burning hooves into the troll’s flesh until the creature was also a ball of flame.
As the troll perished, the nightmare’s flames diminished until Ashok was able to approach it to mount. The nightmare swung his head to face Ashok, his nostrils flaring.
He smells my blood, Ashok thought. Even now, he’s hungry for more.
Ashok leaned in and touched his forehead to the stallion’s nose, tempt
ing him to snap, testing his own restraint and the nightmare’s. The stallion’s lips pulled back to reveal teeth stained with troll blood. Foul breath caressed his face, and Ashok again found himself on the edge of oblivion. His own breaths were quick and shallow. They burned in his chest. His body trembled with the urge to pull away from death-or embrace it.
Alive again in the moment, Ashok thought-so alive, though it may kill me.
Screams drew Ashok out of his stupor. He remembered himself, and more importantly, he remembered Skagi, Cree, and Ilvani. The caravan had brought down another of the trolls, but two others hemmed them in.
He gathered his chain, mounted the nightmare, and dug his heels into the stallion’s sides. The nightmare took off, galloping wildly through the ruins amid torchlight and screams. They came within sight of the second troll corpse, a misshapen, burning lump in the snow. Kaibeth and two of the human warriors fed the flames with their torches to make sure the troll wouldn’t rise again. Beyond them, Ashok saw more fires, but these did not come from torches or troll corpses.
Ilvani walked through the camp with Skagi and Cree in front and behind her. Yellow flame wreathed her hands. The trio approached the other two trolls at the edge of the ruins. Ilvani made a gesture, and the flames in her hands went out. She shouted words that Ashok didn’t understand, and suddenly Cree’s katars burst into flame. Skagi’s falchion glowed red at the hilt. The radiance spread up the blade and erupted into fire. The brothers raised their newly enchanted weapons and charged the trolls, screaming.
Ashok angled the nightmare to their left to come in at the second troll’s flank. Ilvani turned toward him and saw the nightmare’s flame from a distance. The firelight reflected in her black eyes. She lifted her arms. Ashok understood what she meant to do and ripped his chain off his belt.
The end fell to the ground, and the spikes burst into purple flame. Ashok ground his heels into the nightmare’s flanks to keep the stallion from slamming into the troll this time. He swung the chain over his head and struck the troll as the nightmare charged past. The spikes, enhanced by the smith’s magic and Ilvani’s fire, sliced through the monster’s tough hide and took half its arm away. The purple flames crawled along its skin, and the troll screamed and clutched its maimed appendage.
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