Storm of the Dead зкp-2

by Lisa Smedman

  "Spit me on a lance," Q'arlynd whispered fiercely.

  He glared at the nearest wall. The Faerzress wasn't strong enough-yet-to block divinations entirely. But it wasn't allowing him to maintain the concentration he needed to reach so far back into the past.

  Q'arlynd's palms were damp with sweat. The voidstone, obviously, had not yet been destroyed. Had his decision to part ways with the priestesses been a terrible mistake? Were Leliana and the others lying dead atop the Acropolis, even then? If so, the Faerzress there would continue to brighten, eventually rendering all divination impossible. If Q'arlynd had remained at the Acropolis and blasted a few of the Crones with his spells, might the priestesses have prevailed?

  "What's wrong, Q'arlynd?" Eldrinn asked.

  "Nothing," Q'arlynd said tersely. Irritation flared inside him at the fact that Eldrinn, a mere boy-an apprentice-had been able to pluck the necessary vision from the past when Q'arlynd couldn't. But that had been nearly two years ago, prior to the Faerzress. He…

  Just a moment. Q'arlynd didn't need to look back to the time of ancient Miyeritar. Kraanfhaor's Door had been opened much more recently than that. Eldrinn had opened it less than two years ago. And Q'arlynd himself had opened it even more recently than that.

  He closed his eyes again and concentrated. Show me myself, opening the door, he silently commanded the staff. Show me how I did it.

  The Faerzress still impeded the divination, but it didn't obscure it entirely. Q'arlynd watched, fascinated, as an image of himself appeared. The vision-Q'arlynd had a kiira on his forehead, and was walking toward the door. It was odd, observing himself-and a little unnerving, to see the glassy look in his own eyes. The kiira had been utterly controlling him. He watched intently as the vision-Q'arlynd stepped up to the door, raised a hand, touched a finger to the massive block of stone and…

  The vision-Q'arlynd bent forward and cupped a hand over his moving fingers, blocking Q'arlynd's view of his hand.

  The kiira had anticipated that someone might be watching.

  Q'arlynd took a deep breath, steadying himself. It didn't matter. He could still solve the riddle by observing Eldrinn. There had been no kiira on Eldrinn's forehead, the first time he'd opened the door.

  He tried again. Show me Eldrinn, he silently commanded the staff. Show me the first time he opened Kraanfhaor's Door.

  In his mind's eye, Eldrinn appeared, standing in front of Kraanfhaor's Door. The boy was wearing different clothes, and was holding the staff. Another male-the soldier Q'arlynd had found dead on the High Moor-stood next to Eldrinn. The fellow was going to die soon but didn't know it, poor wretch.

  Q'arlynd shoved the useless sentiment aside and concentrated on Eldrinn. He watched as the boy held the staff to his forehead, just as Q'arlynd was doing. After a moment, Eldrinn laughed. His hand moved up to the door, his finger traced a sign.

  Q'arlynd leaned forward expectantly but could see only a portion of the sign, the same sequence they'd glimpsed during their experiment with the chitine. The rest was hidden when the soldier stepped up next to Eldrinn, blocking Q'arlynd's view.

  The vision faded.

  "Well?" Baltak boomed.

  "I'm making progress," Q'arlynd snapped.

  He stood, thinking. If he shifted position, to the opposite side of the vision-Eldrinn, he might be able to see the entire sign. He strode to that side of the door and summoned up the vision again. He peered intently through the obscuring blur of faerie fire as the vision-Eldrinn went through the same motions, walking up to the door, touching the staff to his forehead, and tracing his finger along the door.

  Then the same thing happened, someone blocked the view. And yet Q'arlynd could see the soldier clearly, standing just behind Eldrinn. Had a third person been there when Eldrinn opened the door?

  Whoever it had been, Q'arlynd couldn't make out details. The form was vague, indistinct. It was there, but somehow… not there.

  Q'arlynd's jaw was clenched. Realizing that would betray his frustration, he pretended to stretch sore neck muscles. He didn't want the others thinking the door had defeated him. Calm down, he told himself, and try again.

  He moved to the other side of the door and summoned up the vision again. Once again, someone blocked his view. Q'arlynd concentrated on this person, trying to bring him into focus. The staff fought him. It felt as if the diamond and his forehead were two lodestones, pushing each other apart.

  Q'arlynd persevered, concentrating until sweat beaded on his temple.

  At last he saw that the third person clearly. The person's back was to him, but Q'arlynd recognized him at once by his distinctive hairclip. It was Eldrinn blocking the view.

  For a moment, Q'arlynd thought the real Eldrinn had stepped in front of him. Then he remembered that his eyes were closed. The duplicate Eldrinn was also holding the staff. The two Eldrinns were identical in every way, except that one held the staff to the side as he traced the sign on the door, while the other held the staff to his forehead, eyes closed. And no matter what Q'arlynd did, the second Eldrinn blocked his view.

  Q'arlynd tried to force the second Eldrinn out of the vision, so that he could see how the first was opening the door, but the staff wouldn't let him. He drew the staff closer, until the diamond was a painful dent against his forehead, and gritted out through clenched teeth, "Show… me…"

  The staff flew from Q'arlynd's fingers and clattered to the floor.

  Q'arlynd swore, barely suppressing the urge to kick it.

  "What's wrong?" Piri asked, backing away in alarm.

  Alexa shrugged. "Maybe it doesn't want to show him the past."

  "Maybe he's got it wrong," Baltak rumbled. "Maybe the staff doesn't show the past, but the future."

  "It shows both," Eldrinn said. "I'm certain of-"

  "Of course it does!" Q'arlynd cried. He threw back his head and laughed. That was it! That was why there had been a double Eldrinn in the vision, because the staff was showing Q'arlynd two pasts at the same time-pasts that were separated by mere moments. Eldrinn hadn't used the staff to reveal how the ancient Miyeritari had opened the door. The boy had looked into the future, instead. His own future. He'd watched himself open the door, then duplicated what was about to happen.

  Q'arlynd reached out and gently punched Eldrinn on the shoulder. "Very clever. Very clever indeed."

  The boy blinked, uncomprehending. "Huh?"

  The other apprentices mirrored his blank stare.

  Q'arlynd scooped up the staff. "All right," he told his students. "I'm going to try it again. As before, please maintain silence. And…" he tapped his temple, "keep your distance." He closed his eyes and touched his forehead to the diamond.

  Show me the future, he silently commanded. Show me myself, a few moments from now, opening the door.

  The moment he thought the words, the push-pull sensation came back. He tightened his grip on the staff, refusing to let it tear from his hands. Then the vision came, as commanded. Q'arlynd watched, barely breathing, as his hand lifted to trace a sign on the door. A different sign from the one the vision-Eldrinn had traced.

  Then, just as the kiira-dominated Q'arlynd from the past had done, the Q'arlynd of the future deliberately hid the sign he was tracing from sight.

  "Why did you do that?" he exploded.

  The vision ended.

  His apprentices stared at him, waiting expectantly. For once, even Baltak said nothing.

  Q'arlynd was still trying to make sense of what he'd just seen. Like the kiira, his future self didn't want anyone to see how he opened the door. But that meant that Q'arlynd himself couldn't see how it was done. Yet someone had to observe how it was done, or the door couldn't be opened.

  Q'arlynd stroked his chin, thinking. An idea occurred to him-one that he almost instinctively rejected. Grudgingly, however, he realized it was the only course of action that might work. If he invited the others into his mind, let them watch the vision-Q'arlynd from the future open the door, perhaps one of them might able
to recognize the sign from its first, preliminary motions.

  He glanced around at his apprentices. At Baltak, his broad chest puffed with his own self-importance. Piri, slinking about in his demon skin. Eldrinn, chewing his lip, no doubt nervous about what his father was going to say about their having abandoned the expedition to the Acropolis. Alexa, standing next to the boy, taller than him by a head. And Zarifar, who stared dreamily at the door, not paying the slightest bit of attention to the others.

  "I need your help," Q'arlynd said, each word a stone he had to force out. "Use your rings to join minds with me, everyone. Observe the vision I'm seeing. You're about to see me, in the immediate future, opening Kraanfhaor's Door. Pay close attention to my hand, we need to know what arcane sign is being made."

  Eldrinn's eyebrows rose. "So that's how I did it."

  "Yes."

  The others glanced at the boy, a new respect in their eyes.

  "Let's begin," Q'arlynd told them.

  A moment later, he felt them slip into his mind, one by one. Thrusting their way in or stealing in on velvet slippers, as was their wont. Baltak had to elbow Zarifar to get the latter's attention, but at last the geometer mage was inside, too-for all the good that would do.

  Q'arlynd drew the staff toward himself. "Show me," he commanded it. "Show me the future. Show me myself, opening the door."

  As it had before, the vision unfolded. When it finished, Q'arlynd lowered the staff. "Well?"

  His apprentices glanced sidelong at one another, stared at the ceiling, or scowled, thinking-all but Zarifar, who swayed back and forth, humming. Then Zarifar struck a pose. He pirouetted on one foot, one hand raised above his head.

  Piri eased away, as if afraid Zarifar's madness might be contagious.

  Q'arlynd grabbed Zarifar's wrist. "What are you doing?"

  Zarifar tugged against the restraining hand as if he couldn't understand why he'd suddenly stopped twirling. "The pattern," he said. His raised fingers twitched. "I'm the pattern."

  Alexa signed something to Eldrinn. Q'arlynd caught only the last word and the finger flick that made it a question:… feeblewit?

  Q'arlynd sighed and let go of Zarifar's arm. Maybe Alexa was right. Something had stripped both his own and Eldrinn's minds of memories. It was possible that merely observing that last vision might have done the same to Zarifar.

  Zarifar stopped dancing and grabbed Q'arlynd's left arm in both hands. "The pattern," he said again, his eyes bright and intense, all trace of their former dreaminess gone. He yanked Q'arlynd's hand up in front of his face and waved it back and forth. "The pattern!"

  Q'arlynd scoffed. All he was looking at was his own raised hand and the leather wristband below it, which bore his House insignia.

  "Yes," Zarifar breathed. "That pattern."

  Belatedly, Q'arlynd realized the apprentice's mind was still touching his own.

  Zarifar at last let go of his arm.

  Q'arlynd realized his mouth was hanging open. He didn't care. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "That's what opened Kraanfhaor's Door?" He waggled his fingers, pretending to practice a gesture. Silently, he asked Zarifar a question: Have I got it right? The pattern is the glyph for House Melarn?

  Zarifar nodded.

  Q'arlynd had to fight hard to hide his smile.

  The others might, in time, figure out the truth. Q'arlynd doubted it would matter. In his vision of Eldrinn opening the door-the vision he hadn't shared with them-Eldrinn had traced a different symbol on the door. A different House glyph, Q'arlynd surmised. Likely that of his own House.

  Kraanfhaor's Door, he suspected, would open only to someone who knew how to use his own, very personal, knock.

  Q'arlynd understood why he had hidden his hand from view. Why he would hide his hand from view.

  "Right," he said. "Time to get this thing open."

  He handed the staff to Eldrinn then turned, faced the door, and raised his hand.

  CHAPTER 13

  Halisstra stared at the ghost that floated a few paces away. The spirit stared back at her with hollow, haunted eyes. Behind the ghost, a drow female in gray robes and skullcap slipped quietly out through the door, exiting the ruined building.

  The spirit's voice was a chill whisper. "You serve Lolth?"

  Halisstra gave a feral grin. "I was the Lady Penitent. But no more. I'm dead."

  "Dead?" The spirit laughed softly. "No. You live."

  Halisstra blinked in surprise. She was alive? She glanced down at herself and saw her bruises fading, the slow knitting of the flesh she'd scraped in her tumble from the portal. The sight sent a chill through her. She hadn't died on the Negative Energy Plane. Lolth, once again, had forced her to live.

  "No," she snarled in dismay.

  The spirit drifted closer. "You wish to die?"

  Halisstra took a step back. "Where am I?" She glanced around. "What is this place?"

  "The Acropolis of Thanatos."

  Halisstra noted the rings on those ghostly fingers. "You serve Kiaransalee."

  "Yes."

  Through the ghost's translucent body, Halisstra spotted a tiny spider on the wall behind the spirit. Her eyes widened. Lolth's sign-in Kiaransalee's stronghold. Halisstra hadn't arrived by chance. The Spider Queen had sent her.

  A test!

  Halisstra flexed her claws. Her eyes locked on the spirit. Before she could spring, however, a commotion erupted outside. Halisstra heard several female voices, singing a hymn, and a male voice, shouting an insult. The ghost started, let out a whispered curse, then slipped through a wall, disappearing.

  Halisstra hurried to the doorway and peered out.

  Five priestesses of Eilistraee stood in a circle, swords in hand. With them was a male wearing cloth-of-gold and a skullcap. They were surrounded by more than a dozen of Kiaransalee's priestesses. Gray-robed Crones bore down on them, cackling and chanting.

  Halisstra hesitated. What did Lolth expect her to do? Slay the living? The dead? Both?

  One of Eilistraee's priestesses-a halfling-burst from the circle, whirling a sling over her head. Halisstra had been spotted! That decided it. She leaped from the ruined building. She, too, could fight with song-with her bae'qeshel magic. But even as she began to sing, the halfling's stone thudded into her chest and smashed to pieces against her hardened skin. Silence enveloped her.

  The halfling halted and fitted another stone to her sling. She didn't see the spirit-Crone rising out of the stone behind her. Another of Eilistraee's priestesses spotted it and rushed the spirit, sword raised. Before she could get close, the ghostly Crone opened her mouth in a wail Halisstra couldn't hear. Like stalks of scythed wheat, the priestesses of Eilistraee fell.

  Halisstra snarled, envying them.

  Now only the Crones remained. No matter. Halisstra would still do her best to prove herself. She lashed out with a fist, snapping the neck of a nearby Crone. She tore a second to pieces with her claws.

  The ghost-Crone turned, her pale face a study in rage. Her features stretched, thinned, became even more ghastly. When the priestess shrieked, Halisstra could feel waves of magical fear billowing toward her. Her body, however, was a rock that parted this chill current. The magical fear skewed off to each side, leaving her unscathed.

  Halisstra taunted the spirit in silent speech. Kill me. Lolth dares you to try.

  Mention of the goddess's name maddened the spirit. She howled loud enough to send a tremble through the stone on which Halisstra stood. Something hit the ground next to Halisstra's foot in utter silence, exploding into white fragments: a skull. Halisstra glanced up. The building she'd just exited stood in an enormous cavern with a knobby white ceiling. Loosened by the ghost's wailing, other skulls tumbled from it. Through this ghastly rain, the ghost drifted forward.

  Halisstra threw open her arms in invitation.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the gray-robed females pounce on a body that had just rolled into view out of nowhere. As the female bent, a sword blade sk
ewered her eye and exploded out of the back of her skull. The blade yanked back, disappearing. A drow leaped into view through an invisible gate-a female who was naked, bruised, and holding a singing sword.

  Cavatina. She had escaped the Abyss!

  The Darksong Knight's eyes locked accusingly on Halisstra, who made out the word without hearing it: "You!"

  Halisstra whirled and sprinted back to the hollowed-out building. The ghostly Crone flew after her-moving faster than Halisstra had anticipated. Just as Halisstra reached the doorway, the ghost struck her back and flowed through her, boiling out of her chest in a chill white cloud.

  Emptiness rushed into Halisstra in an icy wave, draining her of all sensation. She stumbled and fell. As she tumbled through the air toward the black sphere, she saw Cavatina bearing down on the ghost from behind, sword in one hand, holy symbol in the other, her body and weapon wreathed in twined auras of radiance and shadow. Then the Darksong Knight thrust her sword into the ghost's back. The ghost whirled, Cavatina's blade still within her spinning torso, and plunged her dagger into Cavatina's throat.

  For the space of a heartbeat, the two glared at one another, eye to eye. Then the ghost exploded into a thousand fragments of mist. Cavatina slumped to the ground, blood pumping from her throat. And Halisstra was sucked into the void.

  *****

  Q'arlynd traced the House Melarn glyph on the door with a forefinger. Just as Zarifar had observed, it resembled a dancing drow: triangle head; two strokes down for arms, one hand turned down, the other up; two angled strokes that were bent legs, each ending in a crescent representing a foot.

  Q'arlynd lowered his hands. He waited for the door to open, barely daring to breathe. This was it, the moment he'd been striving toward for so long. A moment more, and wealth unheard of would fall into his hands.

  He kept watch on his five apprentices. He'd ushered them all to his right, to a spot where he could watch for sudden moves. Each looked tense, expectant. Even Zarifar leaned forward, eyes on the door.