Skein of Shadows

by Rockwell, Marsheila

Sabira looked at Xujil for confirmation and the drow gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

  Okay. So maybe they didn’t have as many ways as she’d thought.

  “Let me get this straight. I go with you, and you let my people go free? And then you’re going to hand me over to Arach in exchange for reinstatement as first mate of an airship he no longer owns? Is that how you’re imagining this is going to work?”

  The hook at Xujil’s throat was beginning to shake and Thecla’s scalp was taking on a purplish cast in the blue light.

  “I’d say that sums it up fairly accurately, yes.”

  Sabira made a show of looking him over, exaggerating the skepticism on her face and in her voice, so that none of his men would miss it.

  “So the man who fired you is going to be so pleased when you deliver me that he’s going to welcome you back with open arms, forgiving all and showering you with wealth? Huh. Think he’ll do the same for your men?”

  Thecla’s face was definitely turning red.

  “They’ll be well-compensated.”

  “Really? By whom? Because I hate to say it, but it really seems like you’ve fallen on some hard times since we parted ways in Sharn. How were you planning on paying them, exactly? I mean, I doubt Arach’s going to award that oh-so-generous reward to you—if anything, he’ll probably use it to help rebuild the Glitterdust. And it looks like you can barely afford to eat, let alone pay these men enough to make kidnapping and conspiring to murder a Sentinel Marshal worth their while.”

  The man who’d first attacked her had regained his feet while she spoke and she saw him glance quickly over at Thecla. Just as she’d suspected; the former first mate hadn’t bothered to inform his men who their quarry was. She wondered if they even knew that he was no longer actually working for Arach, or had any authority over who got the bounty the Aurum member had placed on her head.

  “I said, enough!” the dwarf shouted, his face apoplectic. He jerked his arm back, clearly intending to impale Xujil on his hook, but the drow moved almost faster than she could see, reaching both hands up to grab the wicked implement, then twisting and ducking. Even across the cavern, she could hear the crack as the hook broke free of the bone in Thecla’s arm.

  The dwarf howled and something white with a lot of legs dropped from the ceiling, landing on him. Sabira saw Xujil backpedal even as she jumped back herself, eyes and axe going up.

  There was nothing, but as she scanned the cavern in the dim light, she saw other figures dropping on the men, irrespective of which group they belonged to. She counted six in all before she heard a soft whump behind her.

  As she began to turn, shard axe raised, Thecla screamed again, a sound of pure horror and excruciating pain. It cut off abruptly, leaving only echoes.

  And then his everbright lantern winked out, plunging the cavern back into darkness.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Zol, Barrakas 17, 998 YK

  Tarath Marad, Xen’drik.

  Sabira’s eyes adjusted quickly, but not before she took a blow to her leg from a spiked club. Staggering backward, she finally got a good look at the creature that had dropped from the roof of the cavern.

  It stood on two legs and had two eyes, but that was where any true similarity to a man ended. Its eyes were faceted, reflecting her image a thousand times over in the dim fungal light. Sharp, slavering mandibles protruded from its mouth, clicking at her hungrily. Stringy black hair ran from the top of its mottled gray head down its back like a horse’s mane. Four arms sprouted from its torso, each with two elbow joints. Three of its long-fingered hands grasped weapons—the club and two serrated knives—while the fourth was free to guide the silk thread shooting from the aperture in its bared stomach.

  Sabira dodged the sticky substance and a knife lunge, slashing down with her urgrosh. She caught the thing’s free arm at the second elbow joint, sheering it cleanly. As it shrieked and fell back, black blood spurting, Sabira heard another sound behind her. Whirling, she almost took of the head of the man who’d attacked her, but checked her blow at the last moment.

  “We’ve got a bigger enemy,” he said, sword in guard position and eyes on the spiderlike creature. “Truce?”

  She frowned, considering. She didn’t really want a battle on two fronts. But he was Thecla’s man, and whether or not she could trust him now that Thecla was gruesomely dead hinged on one question: Had his loyalty been to the dwarf, or to the promised coin?

  A question she didn’t have time to ask, let alone answer, as the wounded creature’s cries brought more of its brethren down from the ceiling.

  “Truce!” she shouted, spinning to fend off attacks from five arms at once. Her new ally spun as well, moving closer to her as he batted away a half-dozen weapons. After a moment, they were back-to-back.

  “Olog,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Sabira,” she replied, impaling one of the arachnoids on the urgrosh’s dragonshard. “Pleased to meet you.”

  They fought in silence for a time, slashing, chopping, and stabbing until they were both covered in ichor and had a small circular berm of body parts surrounding them.

  When she could, Sabira spared a glance to her left, where Skraad fought. Like her, he’d allied with his former attackers, and the orc was just pulling a brawny fist out of the crushed mandibles of one of the multi-legged creatures. Beyond him, she was glad to see Jester back on his feet, fighting alongside Zi, whose left hand crackled with dark energy as he pointed it at the ceiling and brought stalactites down on the heads of their opponents.

  Across the way, Laven was on one knee beside Glynn, both of them with their backs to a thick stalagmite. The Vadalis man had a knife in his gut and was trying to fight off two of the creatures with his sword. Glynn threw daggers with her good arm, and though she picked her targets carefully and her aim was deadly, she was down to her last two blades.

  Two of Thecla’s men had a scimitar-wielding arachnoid between them, but it was somehow managing to fend them both off with its four blades.

  Greddark was standing over Rahm’s body. He’d beaten back all of his attackers and was momentarily alone. As she watched, he stabbed his alchemist’s blade into the ground and pulled a charm from his bracelet. It grew in his hand until he was holding an emerald-tipped wand. Then he shifted it to his off hand and grabbed the sword again, slapping it against one of the creatures’ corpses to set the blade aflame.

  As a second wave of the arachnoids advanced, Greddark brought the wand and the sword together in front of him, thumbing a switch as he did so. Green liquid streamed from the wand, catching fire. With his hands holding hilt and shaft together as if in prayer, he sprayed the oncoming creatures as they descended from the roof.

  A chorus of inhuman screams echoed from their mouths as the spiderlike things began to burn with verdant fire. The silk they spun seemed especially flammable, and the green flames raced up the ropes they’d descended on to set the entire web-covered ceiling ablaze, catching several more of the creatures as they were coming out of dark holes Sabira hadn’t been able to see before. Flaming bodies fell from the roof, only to continue burning on the stone floor, for roll and bat as they might, the creatures could not put the flames out.

  Following Greddark’s lead, Zi switched tactics and was soon sending balls of fire across the cavern, picking off the arachnoids that weren’t already burning. The stink of charred hair and flesh soon filled the small cavern.

  “We need to get out of here!” she called, dispatching one of the flaming creatures that writhed in misery near her. She crossed over to where Greddark stood, Olog following her.

  “Is he—?” she asked, gesturing to Rahm as the dwarf thumbed his wand off and extinguished his blade.

  “Just unconscious, I think. Took a blow to the head, first thing.”

  “Can you get him up? We need to move.” The smoke from the burning webbing was getting thicker, and her eyes were beginning to water. Soon they would have trouble breathing.

 
Greddark nodded.

  “I think I’ve got something that will do the trick. What about him?” he asked, jerking his head toward Olog.

  Sabira turned to the man.

  “That’s a good question. What about you?”

  Olog held up a hand, palm out, shaking his head.

  “I’ve got no quarrel with you, Marshal. My employer is dead; anything I was contracted to do for him is now void. I just want to get out of here and get back up to the surface, where I belong.”

  She looked over at Greddark, who shrugged.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Sabira glanced at Olog.

  “Well, let’s go see if your comrades agree, shall we?”

  She led him over to the two men who’d been fighting the scimitar-wielder, who was smoldering now at their feet from one of Zi’s blasts.

  Olog stepped up.

  “We’re done here. Thecla’s gone, and so’s any hope we had of payment. I say we cut our losses and get out of here while we still can.”

  The two men who’d been fighting alongside Skraad came over, as did the orc and Jester. Zi went to go check on Laven and Glynn. Sabira wanted to join the wizard, but she needed to see this resolved first. It wouldn’t do the Vadalis man and his former lover any good if she got them embroiled in yet another battle. Though the odds were better now, and technically they had Olog and his fellows outnumbered, Laven and Glynn weren’t the only ones who were hurt, and Sabira wasn’t sure how much more her group could take.

  “Who put you in charge?”

  “No one,” Olog replied matter-of-factly. “Stay if you want. Fight if you want. I’m leaving, and I’m taking the compass with me.”

  “Compass?” Sabira repeated, wondering what good knowing which direction was north would do when they were so far underground.

  “I believe he is referring to this.”

  They turned to see Xujil approaching them from the far side of the cavern, holding a golden divining rod in his hand.

  “Where in the name of Onatar’s bare chin have you been?” Greddark demanded suspiciously as he came toward them from the other side, supporting a still-woozy Rahm.

  The drow shrugged.

  “Hiding. The chitines are ancient enemies of my people. It seemed prudent.”

  “It seemed—?” Greddark began, but Sabira interrupted him, his murderous expression reminding her that she hadn’t gotten the chance to issue the moratorium on drow-throttling.

  “What is it?” she asked quickly, before Greddark could decide dropping Rahm and sending him back into unconsciousness was an acceptable price to pay for the chance to strangle the drow.

  “It uses some magic I am not familiar with to find a path. The hooked one carried it, along with this.” Xujil held up a bulging pouch that clinked with the movement. From the looks of it, Arach may well have paid Thecla the bounty on her head up front. No wonder the dwarf had been so eager to get back into his former employer’s good graces.

  “If you’re not familiar with the magic it uses, then how do you know what it does?” Greddark asked. Seeing Sabira’s warning look, he’d opted not to incapacitate Rahm, but his voice made it clear he was deeply unhappy with that choice.

  “The sorceress Donathilde carried one similar to this. I was unable to retrieve it when she was taken.”

  “Yes, I imagine that would be pretty hard to do when you’re hiding,” Greddark muttered. He looked as if he might continue, but Sabira’s furious glare changed his mind and he relented, lapsing into sullen silence.

  Olog moved forward in the quiet that followed, holding his hand out to the drow.

  “I’ll take that.”

  Xujil cocked his head to one side curiously.

  “I believe that is the Marshal’s decision. She commands here.”

  Sabira waved that off before anyone else could take umbrage. Tempers were running hot enough as it was—a coward ordering seasoned warriors around was only going to make things worse.

  “It’s fine, Xujil. Give it to him. We don’t need it; we have you.” Her smile was brittle, but the drow seemed not to notice. Inclining his head to her, he did as she ordered. “Give him the pouch too. Whatever’s in there, he and his men have more than earned it.”

  She hoped that her implied acceptance of Olog’s leadership would sway the others to do as he suggested. The fire still raged above them, though its flames were losing their greenish hue, and the smoke it was generating tickled the back of her throat like a fish bone. Worse, her nose was beginning to run. Somehow she didn’t think either dripping snot or a hacking coughing fit would impress her audience or help Olog’s case any.

  Olog took the rod and bag and looked over at the other men.

  “Well?”

  After a moment, the one who’d originally questioned Olog’s authority nodded.

  “We split the coin five ways?”

  “Of course.”

  “And what do we tell Arach if he comes looking?”

  Olog glanced over at Sabira.

  “We tell him the truth. That the last time we saw her, the Marshal was standing over Thecla’s dead body in the middle of a burning cavern and we don’t think there’s any way she could have made it back to Trent’s Well alive.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she muttered. Olog just grinned.

  “I think you’re going to need to take them with you too.”

  They turned to see Zi leading Laven and Glynn over to them. Laven’s abdomen was wrapped several times around with bandages and the stump of Glynn’s arm was a mass of freshly healed scars, but neither of them looked like they’d make it to the cave entrance, let alone any deeper into Tarath Marad.

  Laven met her gaze.

  “This is where we get off. Sorry we couldn’t stick with you for the whole trip.”

  Sabira crossed over to him and clasped his shoulder lightly.

  “Nothing you need to apologize for. You did your House proud.” She glanced over at Glynn. “And at least you weren’t bored, right?”

  The dark-haired woman gave her a wan smile in reply.

  Sabira turned to Olog.

  “You have any problem escorting my people back up to the surface?”

  He shook his head.

  “I think we can manage that.”

  She looked over at Zi and Rahm.

  “What about you two? You still in? Perfectly understandable if you want to head back with Laven and Glynn. No one would blame you, or think worse of you for it.”

  Rahm pulled away from Greddark and stood to his full height. The fire reflected off his battered chainmail, making it shine like gold.

  “Job’s not finished, and neither am I.”

  Sabira nodded, accepting the man’s pledge, then waited for Zi.

  The wizard’s response wasn’t as quick. He looked uncertainly at Laven, unconsciously chewing his lip. It wasn’t the gesture of a self-confident mage who’d navigated through untold horrors on his own, and Sabira wondered just what their history really was.

  “It’s okay, Zi,” Laven said. “Any debt between us has been paid.”

  Sabira arched a curious brow at that. Laven saw, and elaborated.

  “Zi saved my life back in Stormreach. According to the customs of his tribe, that makes him responsible for me. So he’s been hanging around with me ever since—doesn’t think I can survive on my own.” The Vadalis man cast a rueful eye at his bandage-swathed abdomen. “Looks like I proved him right.”

  Sabira felt for the wizard. As a Blademark and a Defender, she’d commanded her share of men—men whom she was responsible for, whether she’d saved their lives or not. It was a heavy burden that you never truly stopped carrying, and she was secretly convinced it was the reason so many of her fellows aspired to the ranks of the Sentinel Marshals. Because a Marshal was only responsible for herself and her partner. If she had one.

  “Go with Sabira,” Laven said. “Whatever mission she’s on, it’s far more important than anything you could do
for me.”

  “How do you—?” Sabira began, surprised, but Laven interrupted her with a weak smile.

  “Please. Everyone knows Marshals don’t take vacations.”

  Once Zi had agreed to stay, they quickly scavenged what they could from the dead, divvying up supplies and giving the bulk of them to those remaining in the caverns. Olog wanted to build a pyre for his fallen companions, but as they started gathering the bodies, Greddark noticed blisters forming on the exposed skin of the corpses.

  “No time!” he declared, alarmed. He dropped Stugrim’s feet and quickly examined his own arms. “Everybody out! Now!”

  “What is it?” Sabira asked, even as she wrapped an arm under Glynn’s shoulder and started helping the other woman quickly toward the exit.

  “The smoke! It’s acidic!”

  So that’s what the green liquid that had streamed out of Greddark’s charm-wand had been. She had thought so at first, until it caught fire and wouldn’t go out.

  “What kind of acid burns for hours and poisons the air as it does?”

  They were at the entrance now, and Sabira handed Glynn off to Olog as she and Greddark waved the others through.

  “A few of them, actually, but this is the only one I know of that burns green.”

  The scratch at the back of her throat had become unignorable and she started to cough. When she’d recovered, eyes still stinging, she looked over at the dwarf. They were the last ones in the cave.

  “So what is it?” she croaked, trying to clear her throat.

  “A little something I created in my lab,” Greddark replied as they stepped into the passageway together. “It’s actually one of my biggest failures.”

  “Why do you say that?” Sabira asked, breathing easier as they hurried away from the smoke-filled cavern. “It seemed to work great … well, except for a few unpleasant side effects.”

  Greddark shrugged a little sheepishly.

  “I was trying to make tea.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Zol, Barrakas 17, 998 YK

  Tarath Marad, Xen’drik.

  Back in the main tunnel, she and Olog shook hands.