The Killing Song: The Dragon Below Book III

by Don Bassingthwaite

  The elders’ voices just grew sharper. Ashi drew a sharp breath. “Is that Mithas?”

  “Yes. Nevchaned and Hanamelk are buying us time. We’re getting out of here.” Singe pushed past them all and went to the back door. Two stout bolts held it closed. He pulled them back and wrenched the door open. “Moon, you’re coming with us for now at least!”

  He didn’t bother to look at Moon’s expression. Moon could have been staring holes in his back for all he cared. On the other side of the door, stairs dropped down into a well of flights and landings lit by everbright lanterns. He glanced over the rail. The bottom of the stairwell was a long way down. He clenched his teeth and prayed that no one would be coming up the other way, then waved the others through the door. “Come on! Hurry!”

  Ashi passed him without a second glance, sheathing her sword as she moved. Dandra looked at him in a little surprise. “How did he find—?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  Moon was the last through and looked at Singe with loathing. The wizard resisted the urge to punch the love-drunk youth, and closed the door behind himself. Maybe Mithas’s men wouldn’t think to check the door.

  That hope lasted no longer than two turns down the stairs as the echoes of their racing boots filled the stairwell. The landings between the flights of stairs were lined with the doors of other apartments in the tower and people were beginning to open their doors to see what was happening outside. Singe had to dodge around a portly old dwarf as he stepped out from his apartment. Fortunately, the old man was faster than he looked, and he got back inside in time to avoid Ashi. Curses and shouts followed them. Periodic glances over the rail gave Singe a rough idea of their progress down the height of the tower. A third of the way down. Halfway—

  Exclamations from high above joined the curses of the disturbed inhabitants. Mithas and his men had discovered their quarry’s escape. Singe, teeth bared against the exertion of running, allowed himself a taut smile. There was no way Mithas could catch them on the stairs. They’d be out of the tower and away onto the street before the sorcerer was even close. Maybe Mithas had realized that too. Or maybe he thought his tracking magic could find them again—Singe hoped that Hanamelk’s comment about confusing things was true. In any case, no footsteps followed them, and they approached the last few flights of stairs, Singe slowed. “We’re away,” he said. “They’re not chasing us.”

  Dandra glared up at him. “They’re not chasing us because this is Sharn! Keep running!”

  She didn’t slow—Singe increased his pace to keep up with her. They burst out of the doors of the tower and onto the street a few moments later. Heads turned briefly to stare at them. Singe looked at Dandra with curiosity, but the kalashtar had her face turned up toward the sky. He followed her gaze, but couldn’t tell what she was looking for. Dah’mir’s herons?

  Then five forms launched themselves off the courtyard-roof of the great tower overhead. The energy that crackled around the soarsleds under their feet was dim in the afternoon sunlight, but the silver and blue of their Blademarks uniform jackets was bright. Soaring like birds, the figures arced out from the tower wall, then curved back and dived toward the street.

  The crowd on the street scattered with cries of alarm. “Deneith claims its own!” screamed Mithas as he plunged down from above. “Stop the kalashtar first!”

  The sorcerer hadn’t chased them through the tower because he’d known they’d come out the bottom—and because this was Sharn, he had a faster way to intercept them. Singe didn’t waste energy cursing. Options flashed through his head instead. They were all but alone on the rapidly clearing street, an easy target. Mounted on the soarsleds, the mercenaries could easily run them down if they tried to flee—the scattered crowd offered no concealment and the nearest cover was far along the street. If they ducked back into the tower, they’d be trapped. Mithas would just send men in from top and bottom to catch them in between. There was only one thing he could see to do, but at least it made the anger he felt toward Mithas burn with a joyful heat.

  “Take them down!” he shouted. He thrust a hand toward the diving mercenaries and called out the words of a spell. A bolt of orange flame erupted from the air, streaking the sky with fire as it leaped for the men. Singe caught a glimpse of eyes that were suddenly wide and faces that were suddenly pale. The soarsleds curved away from one another, and the flame flashed through in empty space.

  Exactly as he’d intended. Their charge broken, the mercenaries circled, trying to reorient themselves. “Scatter!” ordered Singe.

  Dandra broke to the left, Ashi to the right. Singe stuck with Ashi, grabbing her hand as she reached to draw her sword once more. “No! No weapons—kill them and we’ll have the city guard after us.”

  “Rond betch, what am I supposed to do then?” Above the scarf over her face, her eyes widened. “Moon!”

  Singe whirled. The kalashtar still stood frozen in front of the tower doors. In the air overhead, one of the mercenaries had brought his soarsled to a halt. He had a shortbow in his hands, an arrow nocked and aimed at Moon. The head of the arrow was strangely blunt, but it shimmered with a strange amber energy that raised a chill on the back of Singe’s neck. He focused his will on the man, crooked his fingers, and hissed the words of the sleeping spell.

  The man blinked, but nothing more. Singe bit back a curse—this was why he preferred fire spells!—as the mercenary pulled back his bowstring.

  Ashi was quicker. Someone had abandoned a mesh shopping bag containing the still wet body of a good big fish on the street as they fled the mercenary attack. The hunter snatched it up, spun around twice, then let the bag fly. It hurtled through the air and struck the mercenary, slapping him completely off the soarsled. His arrow snapped out of the bow to strike the wall of the tower over Moon’s head. A spray of amber light burst from it, coating a broad patch of the wall in a honey-like sheen. The mercenary hit the ground with a hard thump and lay still. His soarsled—and the fish—tumbled down beside him. Mithas let out an angry shout.

  Moon didn’t even move. There was a weird, hungry look in his eyes. Singe felt goosebumps rise on his arms and followed his gaze.

  One of the other mercenaries, also armed with a bow and the shimmering arrows, had gone after Dandra, but she had simply stepped up onto the air. Gliding above the ground, supported by her power, she twisted and turned with matchless speed and grace. In order to have even a chance at hitting her, the man had to keep his soarsled in constant motion.

  Moon’s eyes followed Dandra’s every move with a frightening intensity.

  The sweep of a shadow overhead forced Singe’s attention back to Mithas and the remaining two mercenaries. They circled him and Ashi like vultures. Both held swords rather than bows and seemed reluctant to land and use them, but Mithas held the slim stick of a magic wand in his fingers. He watched Ashi in a way that reminded Geth of a farmer inspecting prime livestock.

  “Surrender!” he called down.

  Ashi spat a few words in the tongue of the Bonetree clan. Mithas may not have understood the words, but he clearly understood the tone. His face twisted into a savage grin, and he flicked the wand at Singe.

  The wizard tried to throw himself aside, but dodging magic wasn’t quite the same as diving away from an arrow. The spell that leaped from the wand didn’t produce a tell-tale glowing ray, but instead seemed to bend the sunlight in the air around itself. For something with no apparent substance, however, the lancing beam carried a powerful punch. It caught him on the side, and his dodge turned into tumble. He ended up on his belly beside the fallen mercenary, staring across the filthy stones of the street as pain radiated through his side—it felt like he had taken a blow deep into his soft tissues.

  His fall gave openings to Ashi and Dandra, though. He watched in a daze as Ashi sprinted forward and jumped up, grabbing for the edge of a soarsled that had drifted too low. Energy crackled around the hunter’s fingers, and the disc tilted wildly, but the mercenary on the sled ma
naged to keep his footing, though his sword dropped to the street with a ringing crash. As Mithas whirled to flick his wand, Ashi gave a mighty twist and kick, pulling herself up onto the sled. The invisible bolt bent the light where her feet had been. Heedless of the disc’s wild rocking, Ashi grappled with the mercenary.

  Dandra put on a burst of speed and darted directly underneath the soarsled of the mercenary who had been stalking her. The mercenary’s head twisted as he tried to follow her, and when she stopped, he brought his soarsled skimming around in a quick movement, bow already drawn and aimed. Dandra’s eyes narrowed in concentration. The air between her and the mercenary rippled as she spun out the force that kalashtar called vayhatana—and the man jerked to a stop, captured in midair by the power of her mind.

  His soarsled, however, didn’t stop. Momentum carried it away from his feet, the crackling energy faded, and the disc arced down to smash into the street below. The man’s eyes went wide. He stared at the empty air under his feet, then at Dandra, and in an instant his bow joined the falling soarsled as he raised open hands in surrender.

  The remaining mercenary sent his sled darting for his suspended comrade. Dandra swung her captive—who screamed like a girl—at him, but the movement was sluggish and more a threat than anything else.

  Mithas’s wand wavered between Ashi and Dandra. Both were easy targets.

  Singe forced himself up. The bow of the first mercenary Ashi had knocked down lay beside him with blunt, amber-tipped arrows scattered all around. The wizard grabbed for the bow, laid an arrow across it, and pulled the string back. “Mithas!” he shouted. The sorcerer turned. Singe loosed the arrow and grabbed for another.

  The shot was wild, of course, but he would have been happy if the arrow had gone anywhere near the man. All he needed was a moment’s distraction for the chance to aim the second arrow more carefully. His first arrow, though, found a target after all.

  It struck square in the back of the mercenary struggling with Ashi. The man stiffened as honey-colored light wrapped around him, freezing him in place—and the disc dropped for the ground with Ashi caught in the paralyzed man’s arms. Dandra gasped, her face tightened, and vayhatana rippled again, slowing the soarsled’s fall.

  But Mithas flicked his wand and air bent like a counterstroke to the ripples of vayhatana. The beam struck Dandra in the belly, flinging her backward as everyone she had held in the air dropped to the ground. Singe gasped—and it was utterly swallowed by a heart-rending shriek from Moon. Mithas’s wand, already aimed for Singe, rose and flicked toward the terrible cry, but the sorcerer was too slow. Silver-white light exploded onto the street, overwhelming the afternoon light. Mithas flung up an arm to shield his eyes—and Singe watched in amazement as the fabric of his sleeve fell to shreds. Spots of blood burst across the flesh of his arm, across his chest, across his face. Red-soaked rags were all that remained of his clothes. He screamed in pain, and Singe saw his eyes blaze with rage. He thrust out his hand in an arcane gesture, abandoning wand for spell.

  The second arrow still lay across Singe’s bow. He lifted the weapon almost without thinking and loosed the arrow.

  The expression of surprise on Mithas’s blood-streaked face was caught behind the honey light that surrounded him. His soarsled stayed aloft, and he bobbed in the air like an outraged amber statue.

  The last mercenary, still uninjured, took one look around and shot up and away into the sky.

  Singe dropped the bow and dragged himself to his feet, his side aching. Ashi, her face twisted in pain, was extricating herself from the embrace of the paralyzed mercenary. The mercenary Dandra had snared with vayhatana and the mercenary Ashi had felled with a fish were groaning and stirring feebly. Dandra was sitting up, rocking slowly as she clutched at her belly. Singe met her gaze, and they both looked up at Mithas. The wounds that the sorcerer had suffered reminded Singe of what Erimelk had done to him, only far worse and more extensive. He turned to look at Moon.

  The young kalashtar stood rigid, his body trembling and his skin pale, as if the energy he had put into the psionic attack had left him with barely enough strength to stand. Singe would have gone to him and offered him support, but he wasn’t certain that he wanted to. He’d seen terrible magics unleashed during the Last War. He’d killed people with his fiery spells. He would gladly have killed Mithas. Somehow, though, seeing such a bloody power projected from Moon’s young body left him deeply shocked.

  As if he could sense that shock, Moon focused on Singe and gave him a strange smile of grim triumph. The smile of a rival who had proven himself.

  Then the smile was gone, and Singe had to wonder if he’d even seen it. Moon shook himself, strength seeming to flow back into his limbs, and he stepped past Singe to offer his hand to Dandra. “We should go. The Watch will come.”

  Dandra looked stunned too, but she allowed Moon to help her up. Ashi came to Singe’s side. The struggle had wrenched her scarf askew, and she was tucking it back into place, though Singe still caught a glimpse of a long, bloody scrape across her jaw. “What happened?” she asked. “I saw a flash of light, then Mithas just started to bleed. Was that Moon? Is he that powerful?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought he was.” Singe ground his teeth together and forced himself to look around the street. The crowds were creeping back now that the violence was over, eyes wide with fear and curiosity. A number of less than scrupulous types were looking greedily at the magical arrows that the battle had left scattered about. Singe thought the groaning mercenaries would probably recover quickly enough to take care of themselves, though it was too bad that Mithas hovered out of reach. The sorcerer’s vengeful gaze seemed fixed on him. Singe put his back to him and went to Dandra and Moon. He was developing an uneasy feeling around Moon, but the young kalashtar was right—the Watch would come to investigate.

  He also likely knew the streets of the area better than any of them. Singe swallowed his pride, if not his caution. “Moon, show us a way out of here.”

  Moon nodded once and, still holding Dandra’s hand, started along the street at a swift trot. Dandra twisted around to look back at Singe and he felt kesh touch his mind. This isn’t right, Dandra said inside his head. Something’s wrong. Moon shouldn’t have been able to—

  I know, said Singe. But we’ll have to worry about that when we’re away from here.

  The street wound like an enormous balcony along the side of the great tower, a ledge on the side of a mountain. At the end toward which Moon ran, it met the wall of another tower and became a tunnel lit by everbright lanterns. The crowds were somewhat thinner inside, though the walls of the tunnel were lined with as many shops and stalls as if there were open sky overhead instead of stone. Between a fruit vendor and a cobbler, Moon turned sharply and plunged down a broad staircase. Like the tunnel-street, the stairs were also lined with stalls, precariously balanced. A stiff breeze blew up the stairs, bearing the warm air and strong smells of an even lower thoroughfare.

  Singe cursed, and called out. “Moon! Where are we going?”

  Moon, already partway down the stairs, didn’t show any sign of hearing him. Dandra, however, planted her feet and dragged him to a stop. Moon blinked at her in surprise, then glared at Singe and Ashi as they caught up. “You told me to show you a way out.”

  “Hanamelk said we’d find refuge from Mithas at the Gathering Light,” Singe told him. “I think we should go there, and I’m pretty sure that’s up, not down.”

  Moon’s mouth twisted. “You don’t want to go to the Gathering Light. You’d just end up stuck in there. Besides, you don’t need refuge from Mithas anymore.”

  “He’s not dead. He’ll come after us again.” Singe gave Moon a hard look. “Do you know somewhere better than the Gathering Light?”

  “Better? Maybe not better.” The young man’s twisted lips seemed to slip and curl up into a sneer. “But it’s somewhere only I can take you.”

  “Dah’mir,” Ashi said. “You said you knew where to find Dah’mir!�
��

  Singe’s breath hissed between his teeth. “Moon, we want to get away from danger, not go running toward it. Even if we didn’t, we wouldn’t take you. This isn’t a game.”

  “You do want to find him, though, don’t you?” Moon met his gaze. “Are you going to wait to see if the seers locate him? I know where he is right now. And I know this isn’t a game. Didn’t I just save Tetkashtai?”

  His grip tightened on Dandra’s hand. She tore it free of his fingers. “Dandra,” she said sharply, “not Tetkashtai.”

  He kept his eyes on Singe. “What will it be? I can show you where Dah’mir is—or you can run back to the Gathering Light and hide.”

  Singe looked at Moon, his eyes narrow. They needed to find Dah’mir, but he wasn’t at all certain that he trusted or even believed Moon. Something was very wrong with him. Singe might have believed that the kalashtar had developed a young man’s love for Dandra, but his sudden devotion was bordering on obsession.

  And yet he offered them a chance to locate Dah’mir. How could they pass that over? They didn’t need to confront the dragon—they couldn’t hope to confront him—but maybe they could get some idea of what he was doing.

  The wizard glanced at Dandra. Her face was drawn taut and he could see the same questions in her eyes. He raised an eyebrow. She hesitated—then nodded. Singe looked to Ashi, and she nodded as well. He turned back to Moon. “How is it you know where he is?”

  Moon’s grin showed his teeth. “Fan Adar is boring. As soon as I’m allowed, I’m leaving it for good, but I’ve already gone places in Sharn that kalashtar don’t normally go. Nevchaned would choke if he knew. I’ve seen Dah’mir’s herons in only two places. Overlook is one of them.”

  “And the other?”

  “Will you go if I tell you?”

  Singe nodded.

  Moon’s eyes glittered, and he almost shivered with excitement. “Malleon’s Gate,” he said. “There’s a place they go to roost on the edge of the old city. Now come!”