The river took her again, and this time she was too weak to fight against it. Memories flowed over her-childhood, the fall of Highwatch, all the visions of Kesh Naan, learning from Gleed and training with Ashiin. Jagun Ghen tore through them all, opened them up, and poured himself in, like dye staining the weave of a cloth.
Every secret thought, every desire and shame and hidden guilt he ripped apart, consuming them, making them a part of himself. But for every one he swallowed, it only made him hungrier for more.
One vision ran through all the others, and she saw each memory through two images at once. There were the remembrances of her past and those of her ancestors, but above them all she saw the mountainside over the fortress. She saw the broken baazuled finding fresh prey among the hobgoblins in Highwatch, killing them, taking their life essence to heal their wounds, then running, scattering to the four winds.
On the shelf of rock, in the midst of the pact circle, Jagun Ghen clutched Hweilan in a profane parody of a lover’s embrace, his jaws locked over her mouth, his essence pouring into her, filling her.
Something glimmered within the darkness of the doorway in the mountainside. Just a hint of light at first, but then it became fire. A makeshift torch appeared, held high by a young man dressed in a filthy knight’s tabard and mail. Darric … that was his name. Hweilan had to struggle, but eventually she recognized him. Mandan and Valsun ran behind him, Hratt and Urlun following, and then Jaden, wide-eyed and frightened. Darric had brought them. He’d done as she’d asked. But late … too late …
They ran onto the shelf, their mouths open in screams, though Hweilan could not hear them, could hear only the beating of Jagun Ghen’s heart, in perfect unison with her own.
Darric raised his sword and ran for them.
And then Hweilan fell into darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
A burning brand in one hand, his sword in the other, Darric hurtled out of the tunnel. A strong breeze off the mountain reduced his torch to a flicker, but there was enough light from the moon and stars to reveal the ruin of battle before him. The hacked corpse of a massive wolf lay near the edge of the precipice, and beyond the doorway lay the body of a large man, his face a ruin, a massive spear run all the way through him. Flames burned in a circle cut into the rock floor of the wide shelf. But it was the spectacle in the midst of it that drew all Darric’s attention.
Menduarthis held Hweilan in a tight embrace. Her arms were pinned beneath his, and the first thing that went through Darric’s mind was the memory of the eladrin’s playful lechery. For an instant he dared let himself hope. If Menduarthis had been freed of the demon-free enough to cajole more kisses-then Hweilan had won.
Then both figures dropped to the ground, like puppets whose strings had been cut. The flames in the circle flickered out. Still, an oppressive presence bore down on the shelf. The wind was no more than a strong breeze off the mountain, but Darric could feel great forces moving, brushing against his mind.
Darric cast his torch aside and ran to Hweilan, falling to his knees beside her. Her entire body trembled as if with fever. Her forehead was a mess of torn skin and blood. He reached out one hand to touch her face. Her skin was cool to the touch, and he saw that both her eyes were twitching back and forth beneath the lids, as if she were caught in a deep dream.
“Is she-?” Valsun came to a halt behind Darric.
“Not dead,” said Darric. “But-”
Menduarthis moaned.
Darric raised his sword, ready to strike, and he heard the clatter of armor behind him. He grabbed Hweilan by the elbow. “Help me get her away from him!”
Menduarthis rolled over and looked up at them. Mandan was standing over him, club raised to strike. Darric spared a quick glance over one shoulder and saw Jaden and Urlun backing away, but Hratt stood his ground. The hobgoblin had his bow raised, an arrow pulled to his cheek and pointed straight at Menduarthis.
“What …?” said Menduarthis, then he blinked. His head fell back on the ground, and he looked up at Mandan and said, “Where …?”
Through the filthy tangle of the eladrin’s hair, Darric saw the rune carved into his forehead. It was scabbed over and smeared with dirt and dried blood, but it was just a wound now. No fiery light leaked from it. And the eladrin’s muscles were not pulled taut as harpstrings. His skin sagged over the sharp bones of his cheeks and chin, and under the smoky light of the moon, he looked downright ghastly.
“Burns …,” said Menduarthis. “It …”
Under his hand, Darric felt Hweilan’s arm stiffen, hard as steel, and she thrashed out of his grip. Her boot struck his shoulder, sending him sprawling, and it was all Darric could do to keep hold of his sword. Valsun screamed something, but Darric didn’t catch the words.
Darric pushed himself to his feet and looked. Hweilan crouched several paces away, her arms held out and low, her fingers twisted into claws. The rising moon was at her back, her face in shadow, and the lines of a jagged, twisting symbol glowed from her forehead. Darric felt his heart stop, just for a moment, then he gasped, “No!”
Valsun cast aside his sword and grabbed the talisman hanging from a chain round his neck. Both the chain and the talisman, crafted in the shape of a gauntlet, were no more than steel, but they had once been blessed by a high cleric. Darric hoped the talisman might suddenly blaze with holy light. It didn’t. But as Valsun held it before him, Hweilan flinched and took a step back.
“By the True Resurrection,” Valsun said, “in the name of the Loyal Fury, Torm the Just, I re-!”
Hweilan growled and took a step forward. There was nothing human in the sound, and it confirmed Darric’s fear. Jagun Ghen had taken Hweilan.
Valsun held his ground. “You have no place in this world, demon!”
“Try this!” Hratt stepped forward to stand beside Hweilan. He had dropped the bow. In one hand he held the stake that they had found in the courtyard below. Hratt had insisted he recognized the symbols carved on it to be in the same style as the inks on Hweilan’s skin. In his other hand he held the red knife they had also found.
Hweilan laughed. “Those hold no more fear for me. All their power I left to rot.”
It was Hweilan’s voice but … not. Something in it wasn’t just wrong but absolutely profane.
“Let her go,” said Darric.
She turned her gaze on him. “I will kill you last. I will eat you, and she will watch. She will taste your blood.”
Valsun took a step forward, the talisman held before him. Hratt was right beside him, the red knife raised to strike, the stake held low. Mandan had moved around to approach her from behind.
“Don’t hurt her!” said Darric.
Mandan ran forward, his club raised crosswise in both hands. But he didn’t hit her. He brought the length of the club in front of her and pulled her to him.
“Now, Valsun!” He shouted.
Hweilan grabbed the club, stepped forward, and threw Mandan over her back. He was much taller and more than twice her weight, but he flew through the air and struck Hratt, sending them both crashing to the ground. Hweilan whirled, and when she came around she threw Mandan’s club.
Had Valsun been wearing full plate, he might have only been knocked down, but he wore only mail over his clothes. So when the thick end of the club struck him in the chest, Darric heard a crunch! of bone. The talisman went flying as Valsun landed on his back. Hweilan was on him in an instant. One swipe of her right hand, and a fountain of blood washed over Darric.
Tears streaming down his face, Darric charged.
He was nearly there when a pale shadow shot out of the mountain doorway, knocking Urlun to the ground, and leaped. It hit Hweilan and they both tumbled backward. Its enraged growl drowned out all other sound. It was Hweilan’s wolf, and his eyes blazed with a feral light. Uncle’s jaws closed around Hweilan’s forearm. Green light leaked from the wound, and the wolf’s fur glowed with more than moonlight. The demon in Hweilan shrieked, cutting through even the so
und of the wolf’s growls, and she thrashed and punched, trying to break free.
Darric came to his senses and ran for the talisman that Valsun had lost. He was scrambling on the ground, his hands feeling for it in the dark, when the wolf’s growls turned to a high shriek. His frantic searching hit the small steel gauntlet and knocked it away, but his other hand closed over it. He pulled it to him and turned.
Hweilan had regained her feet. She held her arm out, the wolf still latched to it. But with her other hand she had grabbed the wolf’s side and her fingers were tearing through the flesh between the beast’s ribs.
Darric pushed himself to his feet.
Hweilan’s hand disappeared up to the elbow inside the wolf’s body.
Uncle released her arm, his forepaws leaning on her chest, and let loose a cry, high-pitched enough to hurt Darric’s ears. The cry became a wail, then a keening-a shriek that went on and on, unending and echoing off the mountainside. Darric and the others covered their heads and fell to the ground.
Hweilan could feel her mind tearing apart. Something like this had happened once before, on the night Lendri had died and she first saw Nendawen. The Hunter had taken off his mask, and Hweilan had screamed in horror, for the primal instincts of her mind saw her own future in that face.
You are mine, Hweilan, he said. You were always mine. But her spirit had recognized the true meaning behind those words: This is what you will be. I am both your salvation and your damnation.
And then his mind had been inside hers, ripping through her essence, consuming every memory, every hope, every secret shame. But the Hunter had intended to take them as his own, to meld his essence to hers. To make them one.
But with Jagun Ghen, there was no sharing, no communion. The burning hunger wanted only to take. When his terrible will penetrated her own, he devoured her to taste. There was no nourishment. For every bit of Hweilan he swallowed, his hunger for more only intensified. He swallowed and spat and raged. He took what he wanted and tore the rest, simply out of the pure joy of destruction.
Still, Hweilan could see. As she felt her sanity being torn away, she could see everything around her, as if in a dream. Darric running out of the doorway, casting aside his torch. Urlun and Jaden backing away when they understood what she’d become. Valsun stepping forward, clinging to his faith and defying Jagun Ghen. She even felt Mandan’s club trap her in a crushing embrace. She could feel, but she could not move. Like a dream … able to behold everything, feel everything, but her will given over, like a leaf being swept down a river, inevitably, toward the waterfall ahead. Hweilan knew that when she reached that point, there would be no going back.
And through all this, Jagun Ghen continued to tear through her spirit, infecting every vein of her essence. She saw images of her family and friends as if through bloody water. The hugs from her father, the embraces from her mother, every time Scith had tugged playfully on her braid … she felt them all burned by fire. Every scent and taste she had ever cherished now had the flavor of smoke and corruption.
But Jagun Ghen was still not satisfied. The burning hunger burned deeper, consuming and rending.
Hweilan saw a light blaze in the darkness of the mountain doorway. A wolf-her wolf-blazing like unstained moonlight, leaped out of the darkness. In that new light, Hweilan saw it. Jagun Ghen’s pact circle had indeed trapped the Hunter’s ghost, but it was still here, still fighting, unable to break free. But as the wolf leaped over the pact circle, Hweilan saw a tiny crack open in the Hunter’s bonds.
And then Uncle’s jaws closed over her arm. She felt every tooth tear through her flesh, cracking the bone, but the deeper pain was far worse. The Master’s power inside the wolf hit Jagun Ghen, like cold water thrown on the hot stones of a campfire. In her mind, Hweilan felt the hiss and steam and the shattering like stones cracking and the Hunter’s power found a way inside.
Still, Jagun Ghen proved stronger.
Hweilan felt her left arm rise, the wolf’s jaws still locked around it, his immense weight pulling on her. She felt her right hand-
– She carries death in her right hand-
– strike, her fingers digging into the flesh between the wolf’s ribs. She heard his shriek of pain, felt him struggling, his claws rending at her shirt and the skin beneath, but his grip on her arm did not lessen, and still the power of the Hunter found ways into her mind, like the tiniest roots slowly shattering rock.
– There’s something in you, something I suspect has made even the Master wary-
She felt her hand close around the wolf’s unbeating heart and squeeze. For a moment there was nothing, but then Jagun Ghen funneled his unholy power through her grip.
The wolf’s jaws let go of her arm, and he threw back his head, and howled.
But it was not a howl. It went far beyond that. This cry was wolf, Lendri, and the power that had brought him back altogether. The last of Jagun’s power binding the Hunter’s ghost shattered at that cry. He was free.
Free but bodiless, no more than a raging will in the wind.
Hweilan flung the wolf away. He was still moving, but broken and hurt, unable to stand.
The threads of power from the Master burned away in Hweilan’s mind, and Jagun Ghen continued tearing through her. Almost done now. Soon, the tiny leaf that was Hweilan would be swept over the cataract, to drown in darkness.
She heard laughter, like the roar of fire, as Jagun Ghen tore through her, going deeper, to the very heart-
The destroyer bit-
– and something bit back.
Something hidden. Something that had been dormant in the life and spirit that was Hweilan. But it was dormant no longer. It blazed. Not a light of flame like Jagun Ghen, full of smoke and ash and destruction. This was the light of a newborn star, shining purest white, bringing light and life to the darkness.
The destroyer screamed, a shriek of a shattered spirit.
Jagun Ghen fled, burning in his own fire.
In the emptiness he left behind, Hweilan heard the music that had haunted her dreams. She followed it.
Free from Jagun Ghen, and free from Nendawen, she saw the light and song for what it was. Her grandfather. His countenance had the sad wisdom of ages, but he still had the face and strong gait of a man in his prime. And then she saw his eyes.
Golden. He had golden eyes, and she realized that they saw her.
You remind me of your mother, he said. I felt her passing. I am so sorry. Still, I weep for her at night. I have been searching for you ever since. But something has kept you from me.
What are you?
I am your mother’s father. My name is Jalan.
No. What are you? Your eyes … and the light around you, like the sun …
He smiled. You see truly. What I am is a long story. Suffice to say that my father was … not of this world. That thing trying to hurt you, it has no power over me.
You can defeat him?
No. That is not my calling. But you can. I can sense it in you. You know the way, Hweilan. You know what to do. And after, come to me. I am in the east, beyond the Sunrise Mountains. There are things here I cannot leave undone. Find me, Hweilan. When tonight is over, I may be your only hope.
The music and light faded. For a moment Hweilan was alone, in the darkness of her mind.
And then she opened her eyes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
MOONLIGHT STAINED BY SMOKE FELL ON THE mountainside, but it was still more than bright enough for Hweilan to see. She lay on the ground, and for a moment she could see into both worlds-this one and the invisible spirits around them all-
Jagun Ghen, a massive thing of fire and darkness, hurt and weakened but still raging and strong.
And the Hunter, a green light of fangs and claws.
Seeing his ancient foe, Jagun Ghen fled into the nearest refuge-the body of Nendawen.
And then the spirit sight faded, and Hweilan saw only the carnage around her-
Her wolf lay broken and bloody not three
paces away. His paws scrabbled at the ground as he tried to rise, but he was too weak.
Menduarthis was sprawled not far from the wolf. He had tried to crawl away, but found only the sheer drop-off beyond, and he was looking to the others for his next move.
Darric stood several paces away from Hweilan, looking down at her with some sort of medallion dangling from his raised hand.
Behind him, Valsun lay in a pool of wet darkness.
Mandan and Hratt were scrambling to their feet.
The young hobgoblin Urlun was sitting up, his wide, fear-filled eyes taking in the scene before him.
She just caught sight of Jaden fleeing back into the mountain doorway.
And then she saw Nendawen rising, the spear still protruding from him. But Hweilan knew the truth of it. This was not the Master of the Hunt. This was his ancient enemy stealing his body, profaning it. The symbol gouged into her forehead, a mass of pain, suddenly felt cool, as if she had been splashed with cool water.
Urlun screamed, for he was the closest to Jagun Ghen. The others turned at his cry and saw the dead man standing up.
Hweilan pushed herself into a sitting position. Her limbs trembled. She felt utterly wrung out.
Darric began approaching Jagun Ghen, the medallion held before him. But Hratt ran past, and Hweilan saw he held something in his bare hand-the stake she had prepared for Jagun Ghen.
“Hratt, no!” she called out.
He stopped and looked at her, confusion on his face.
Jagun Ghen raised himself to his full height, facing them. The eyes in the ruin of his face were no longer green, but glowed red and hungry. They locked on the stake in the hobgoblin warrior’s hand.
Hweilan pushed herself to her feet. “Hratt, run!”
Too late.
Jagun Ghen raised one hand, his eyes blazed, and the stake in Hratt’s hand erupted in fire. The hobgoblin screamed and flung the burning wood away, but flames were already licking their way up his sleeve. He flung himself down, falling on his own arm in an attempt to quell the fire.
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