Storm of the Dead зкp-2

by Lisa Smedman

  Baltak frowned at Q'arlynd. "What just happened?"

  "The feeblemind spell," Q'arlynd explained smoothly. He was embarrassing Eldrinn, but it couldn't be helped. The others needed an explanation. "Eldrinn sometimes has… relapses. I was worried it might impair our concentration, but he's over it, now. We'll start again."

  Baltak glared at Eldrinn, who was refusing to look up from his spellbook. "Maybe Eldrinn shouldn't be-"

  Q'arlynd pressed the kiira into Baltak's hands. "Your hands are steadier. You do it."

  Baltak grinned. He strode over to the chitine, pulled a cloth from his pocket, and used it to wipe away the oily film that covered the creature's forehead. "Problem solved," he said, tossing the cloth aside. He held up the kiira. "Let's do it."

  "On my signal," Q'arlynd reminded them, lifting his hand. He waited while the others linked minds with him, and forced his way into the chitine's thoughts once more. At his signal, Baltak pressed the crystal to the creature's forehead-hard enough to hurt it-and stepped back.

  A rush of images tumbled into Q'arlynd's mind, and through it, into the minds of the four wizards linked with him. The towers of a surface city. A brown-skinned face. A portion of a complex hand gesture. A stone door. A series of pages that flew through the chitine's mind as if they were blown by a howling storm, faster and fasterandfasterand…

  Intense pain flared in Q'arlynd's temples as he was forcibly ejected from the chitine's mind. In the same instant he heard the clatter of chains. The chitine hung from its manacles, dead. A thin gray powder trickled out of its nostrils and drifted to the floor: the contents of its skull, instantly seared to ash.

  Baltak shook his head. "Mother's blood. That hurt."

  Eldrinn blinked rapidly, spellbook forgotten in his lap. Zarifar shivered. Piri pressed his back tightly to the wall and whispered a protective spell.

  Q'arlynd's jaw clenched in frustration. The chitine was dead-just like the last test subject. He strode over to it and yanked the slave ring from its limp finger.

  "Well?" he asked the others. "Did any of you manage to read those pages?"

  Eldrinn and Piri shook their heads.

  Baltak shrugged. "They went by too fast for me."

  Zarifar fluttered his hands as if trying to recapture the pattern he'd seen. "Like… cave moths. Left… right…"

  Eldrinn repeated the gesture they'd just seen, crossing the middle two fingers of his right hand and whipping his extended thumb in a tight circle. Q'arlynd watched expectantly. The boy had read a number of arcane texts, perhaps he recognized the spell it belonged to.

  "Well?"

  Eldrinn's hand fell. "Sorry. I've no idea what it means."

  Q'arlynd gave a tight, frustrated nod.

  "Those towers… were they in Talthalaran?" Baltak asked.

  "They might have been," Q'arlynd said. "But that's not going to help us much. The city was blasted down to its foundations."

  "Maybe we should search the ruins," Baltak said. "Perhaps there's another kiira in-"

  "There isn't," Q'arlynd snapped. "But you're welcome to go look for yourself, if you like."

  That shut Baltak up.

  "That door," Zarifar said. "There were…" His voice trailed off. As usual, he didn't complete his thought. His forefinger traced a line through the air. "Patterns."

  Q'arlynd sighed in frustration. This wasn't getting them anywhere.

  "The door…" Eldrinn said softly. "I…"

  Q'arlynd turned. The distant look was back in Eldrinn's eyes again. "Did you recognize it, Eldrinn? Have you seen it before?"

  Eldrinn's eyes cleared. He jumped out of his chair and paced across the room. "I wish I knew!" As he passed the chitine, he halted and wrinkled his nose. "What's that smell?"

  "Death," Q'arlynd answered. The chitine had voided its bowels when it died, and the room stank. He felt sorry for the creature, vicious little brute though it was. He reminded himself of the necessity of its sacrifice. At least the death he'd given it had been swift-quicker than it would have suffered at the hands of hunters or one of Lolth's priestesses.

  "What's next?" Baltak asked. "Buy another slave and try again?"

  Q'arlynd shook his head. "That will have to wait. Eldrinn and I will be departing soon. We'll be away for… a while."

  Eldrinn nodded. "Father's orders. A trade mission to Sschindylryn, on behalf of the college."

  Baltak nodded at the kiira. "But that's staying here, right? The rest of us can carry on, while you're gone."

  "No," Q'arlynd replied. "In the College of Ancient Arcana, we work together. Or not at all."

  Baltak shrugged but his eyes clung greedily to the kiira. "Fine. We wait until you get back."

  Q'arlynd felt frustration build inside him. We can't wait! he wanted to shout. By then it might be too late! Yet he could hardly tell the others that. Only Eldrinn knew the extent of the looming crisis. He and Q'arlynd had been careful to keep it from the others, even when they were linked mind to mind. The boy wasn't stupid; if word got out that the College of Divination was teetering on the brink, someone just might be willing to give it an extra nudge.

  Eldrinn stared at the dead chitine. "We're wasting our time with these lesser races. We need to try it on a drow instead."

  "Good idea!" Baltak cried. "What about a battle-captive- someone no one really cares about?"

  "What about the body?" Piri whispered from the back of the room. He pointed at Zarifar, who had wandered over to the chitine and was busy scuffing the toe of his boot through the ash at the chitine's feet, drawing in it. "Anyone who sees the corpse is going to wonder which spell burned its brains out so precisely."

  "We'll disintegrate the body," Baltak said. "Or use quicklime."

  "You're overlooking something," Q'arlynd said. "If the experiment succeeded, the battle-captive would learn the contents of the kiira at the same time we did-including, perhaps, a spell that might allow him to escape." He stared at the others. "We don't want to share our lorestone with anyone else just yet, do we?"

  "I suppose you're right," Baltak grudgingly admitted.

  "You completely missed my point," Eldrinn said.

  Q'arlynd turned to him.

  "I wasn't talking about battle-captives-I was talking about me. / could wear the kiira."

  Q'arlynd's response was immediate. "No."

  "It won't kill me. I know it. I have a… feeling about it. It's almost like…" Eldrinn stared at the lorestone. "A divination, or… something."

  "Feeling or not," Q'arlynd said, "my answer is still no. It's too risky."

  Eldrinn stood, fists on hips. "Why won't you let me try it, Q'arlynd? Are you worried that Father will find out?"

  Q'arlynd nearly laughed. Eldrinn had, unwittingly, put his finger precisely on the problem. Q'arlynd already knew the lorestone wouldn't kill the boy. He had a pretty clear picture of what must have happened, that night on the High Moor. Eldrinn had run off when the monster had attacked the soldier he'd taken along as a bodyguard. Knowing that his own spells were too limited to deal with the monster, Eldrinn must have turned in desperation to the kiira and been unable to handle it. For some reason the lorestone hadn't blasted his brain to ash-Q'arlynd was still trying to figure that part out-but it had left the boy a feeblewit.

  If Eldrinn tried the kiira a second time and was once again reduced to a drooling shell, Q'arlynd would be forced to explain how it had happened. Master Seldszar wasn't stupid; he'd guess that something other than the "magical predators" of the High Moor had scrambled the boy's mind, the first time around. He'd leave no mind unsifted until he found out what had really happened. The moment he learned of the kiira he'd claim it for his college, justifying its seizure as compensation for the coin it had cost him to cure the boy. Not once, but twice. And the foundation stone upon which Q'arlynd hoped to build his school would be gone.

  "Well," Eldrinn prompted. "Is it Father you're worried about?"

  Q'arlynd sighed. "Father" was a term he'd never get used to. It was a wo
rd borrowed from the surface elves; the drow of Ched Nasad never had a use for it. Descent was, and always had been, through the female line. The idea of a consort claiming children as his own was ludicrous.

  "My answer is still no," Q'arlynd said. He pointed at the dead chitine. "I won't let you be reduced to that."

  "I won't be," Eldrinn protested. "I've got an idea. A fool-proof idea." Grinning, he pulled the silver clip from his hair and held it up for the others to see. "This is a contingency clip," he told them.

  "What's that?" Baltak asked.

  Eldrinn smiled. "Something our college's crafters created. It holds whatever spell is cast into it until a condition of the caster's choosing comes to pass, then releases it. The spell has to be one that affects the caster directly, and it can only be a lesser dweomer, but the spell I have in mind is perfect. I got the idea from the chitine."

  "Go on," Q'arlynd said, intrigued despite himself.

  "I'll cast a tightly targeted spell into the clip and make the actions of the kiira the contingency. The instant the lorestone tries to kill me, grease will appear on my forehead. The crystal won't be able to stick. It will slide off-just like it did from the chitine."

  Q'arlynd nodded to himself. So that was what had happened. Now he understood the greasy smudge he'd seen on Eldrinn's forehead when he'd found the boy on the High Moor. It explained why Eldrinn had survived his first attempt to use the lore-stone. A bit sad, really, that the boy could never be told this.

  He realized that Eldrinn was still waiting for his reply. "Using the contingency clip is a clever idea…"

  Eldrinn grinned.

  "… but I won't allow you to risk yourself."

  The grin disappeared. "It will work," Eldrinn said fervently. "I know it."

  Q'arlynd stared down at the kiira. "I'm sure it will."

  Zarifar was still playing with the ash, but Baltak and Piri watched Q'arlynd intently.

  "It's Eldrinn's life," Baltak rumbled. "If he wants to-"

  "No," Q'arlynd said. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I'll do it."

  Eldrinn's mouth opened in surprise.

  "Your contingency clip," Q'arlynd asked him. "It's something any wizard can use, right?"

  Eldrinn was about to lie-Q'arlynd could see it in his eye-but then reluctantly nodded. "As long as you're wearing it, yes."

  "Even if it's you who casts the spell into the clip?"

  Another grudging nod.

  "Good," Q'arlynd said. "Do it, but make the contingency that will trigger the spell a little broader. Instead of something that will 'kill' me, word it so that anything that might 'damage' me will trigger the spell. Is that clear?"

  Eldrinn nodded.

  In another moment, all was ready. The contingency clip had been ensorcelled and clipped to Q'arlynd's hair. The kiira was in his hands. All that remained was to press it to his forehead.

  Q'arlynd hesitated. Did he dare?

  Of course he did. He must. It would be just like free-falling from a ledge. Whatever happened, the contingency clip would pull him up in time. Already his blood pounded in anticipation of the mental jump.

  He motioned Eldrinn and the others away from the chair, then sat down. Slowly, he lifted the kiira to eye level. All of the others stared at him, even Zarifar. "Link with me," he told them.

  They did.

  Q'arlynd paused to give a mental nod to the others. Baltak stood braced and steady on his wide feet, Zarifar closed his eyes and once again imagined a pattern drawn between them. Piri hovered near the door, seemingly ready to bolt through it. Eldrinn nodded vigorously, as if to assure Q'arlynd that it was, really, all right.

  Wherever the kiira took Q'arlynd, they were ready to come along.

  "Wish me luck." Q'arlynd pressed the kiira to his forehead.

  Eldrinn's eyes sparkled. "Good-"

  *****

  Q'arlynd shivered. Cold. He felt cold. His legs trembled.

  He put out a hand to steady himself and touched stone. He glanced up and saw that he was standing in front of a massive stone door. The carvings on it looked familiar, but he couldn't quite figure out why. He knew he'd seen the door somewhere before, but…

  Where in the Abyss was he?

  Below ground, somewhere in the Underdark. Somewhere he didn't recognize at all. A corridor stretched away behind him, its walls illuminated with the faintest shimmer of Faerzress, and dead-ended at the door. There was a musty smell in the air, and dust on the floor. And footprints-a lot of footprints. And tools. Picks, pry bars, and-Q'arlynd jumped back in alarm when he saw it-a stonefire bomb, like the ones that had laid waste to Ched Nasad. The bomb was spent, though, its magical fire long since spilled. There was a deep, charred hole in the stone just to the right of the door. Q'arlynd peered into it and saw that the door was thicker than the hole the stonefire had burned.

  The puzzle of why someone would do that only briefly took his mind off the central question of where he was and how he'd gotten there. The last thing he could remember was talking to Eldrinn and the others he'd invited to join his school. They'd been standing in Eldrinn's residence in Sshamath, in the experimentation chamber, waiting for the two grimlock slaves to manacle a chitine to the wall so they could perform an experiment with the…

  Q'arlynd stared up at the ceiling, searching for the word.

  It floated just beyond his grasp. Something small, and pointed, and…

  It was gone again.

  Eldrinn. Whatever the experiment was, it had something to do with him.

  Q'arlynd closed his eyes and tried to think. His thoughts kept circling back to when he'd found the boy wandering on the High Moor in the ruins of ancient Talthalaran. Eldrinn had been struck with a feeblemind spell, and couldn't remember anything about… something,

  Q'arlynd felt his face pale. Had the same thing happened to him?

  Words came to him then. A sentence that rattled in his head like a pebble in an empty cup. He said it aloud. "Must get it back."

  He frowned. Must get what back? And to where?

  He turned to the door. Twice as high as he was tall, it was carved with an unusual design: elves and dragons, standing side by side and holding scrolls, as if they were casting spells. A single word, written in archaic High Drowic, arched above the design. It looked like a name: "Kraanfhaor."

  The door had no handle or hinges. More properly, it was a slab of stone. Yet Q'arlynd somehow knew it was a door. He touched its surface with his knuckles and spoke a simple, one-word spell: "Obsul!"

  Nothing happened. Oddly, that was just what he'd expected.

  A voice echoed down the corridor behind him, startling him. "Q'arlynd!"

  Eldrinn's voice. He obviously knew Q'arlynd was there. Maybe he'd know why.

  Q'arlynd heard footsteps hurrying toward him.

  "Q'arlynd, are you there?" asked a different male voice.

  He turned and saw Eldrinn running up the corridor, followed by Baltak and Zarifar. Piri was farther back, making his way along the corridor with caution. Alexa, the female Eldrinn was consort to, was also with them. She was about Eldrinn's age, with bangs cut in a severe line across her forehead, and a wide mouth. She wore a leather apron smudged with yellow sulfur and streaks of red ochre. It looked as though she'd just stepped from a magical laboratory. She halted just behind the others and stood with her hands on her hips.

  "Well, boys," she said in a voice that was husky from inhaling the smoke of her experiments. "You've found him. Can I get back to my potions, now?"

  "In a moment, Alexa," Eldrinn said. He stared at the door, an odd look on his face. "It's the same one we saw," he whispered.

  The others nodded.

  Eldrinn tore his eyes away from the door and stepped closer to Q'arlynd. "Are you all right?"

  Q'arlynd opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "I really have no idea." He glanced down at himself. His body, at least, looked normal enough. Am I? he wondered.

  Baltak stepped between them. "Why
'd you teleport away?"

  Q'arlynd simply stared at him. So that was how he got there. By teleporting.

  Calm. He had to stay calm.

  Piri sidled up to them. "You said something." He stared at the door, but his eyes kept sliding toward Q'arlynd's forehead. " 'I've got to put it back,' you said. Then you vanished."

  Alexa stepped closer. "Put what back?"

  Eldrinn caught Q'arlynd's eye; he looked worried. "Sorry," the boy muttered. "Everyone insisted on coming. We needed a teleportation circle to get us all here, and the nearest one was in the College of Conjuration. We needed Alexa's help to activate it-even so, it took three tries to get it to work. I wasn't trying to force your hand by bringing her. Honest."

  "I see," Q'arlynd said. He didn't, though. He understood that Eldrinn was worried about him getting angry, and that Alexa shouldn't be there. But why-and just where there was-remained a mystery.

  Baltak circled Q'arlynd, eyeing him intently. He stopped in front of Q'arlynd and stared at his forehead, as if he were trying to bore a hole with his eyes and see inside it. Sparkles of faerie fire erupted from Baltak's own forehead. Q'arlynd felt Baltak's awareness push into his mind.

  "What are you doing?" he asked, shoving the transmogrifist out.

  "Where is it?" Baltak demanded.

  "Where is what?"

  "The kiira."

  Alexa's eyes widened. "He's got a kiira?"

  "Not any more," Baltak said.

  Q'arlynd felt a chill run through him. Something was wrong. Very wrong. His stomach felt as though it were flopping like a landed blindfish.

  "A kiira," he whispered. So that was what had done this to him. He'd obviously been foolish enough to try wearing a lorestone. Why?

  Then he remembered Miverra's warning. In a tenday, perhaps even sooner, divination spells would become impossible and the College of Divination would fall. Q'arlynd needed his school to be recognized as a college before then. In order for that to happen, the experiments with the-with the kiira, he realized-had to be speeded up. The spells inside the-the kiira-had to be recovered, mastered, and…

  A flash of memory came back: his hands, holding a lorestone.