“What benefit to Lakesh?” Ashok asked, his voice rising. “He put food in my mouth when I was a babe. I remember that time. Now you’re pitting us all against each other. You make us weak.”
His father moved fast. His big hand encased Ashok’s throat and drove him back against the cave wall.
“Choose your words well, my son,” he said, bending his face close to Ashok’s.
Ashok choked. The screaming was so loud he could barely hear his father’s voice. “Don’t do this,” he cried.
“Don’t do this?” his father said, his face twisting. With shoulders shaking, he bellowed with uncontrolled laughter that mingled with the scream. “What makes you think we have a choice, child?”
His father was still speaking, his lips moving and his eyes alight with unholy glee as he choked his son. But Ashok could no longer hear the words. When his father spoke, all he could hear was the screaming.
Ashok awoke sitting up, his back pressed against the wall. His first clues that he wasn’t in the cave anymore were the smooth stone and the warmth. He looked around the room and saw the empty beds, the discarded clothing. Even the air smelled different. Torches burned on the walls, but the smoke filtered out through gaps in the stone above his head.
He was alone in the room. Ashok listened for the Monril bell but heard nothing except the echo of the nightmare’s scream in his ears. He’d missed the waking call. The other shadar-kai must already be at morningfeast.
Someone would be coming to look for him soon. Ashok sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and ran trembling hands through his hair.
You expected it, Ashok chided himself. You shouldn’t have let it hit you so hard.
Olra had told him the nightmare would exploit his fears. Planting the dreams was the beast’s greatest power, more terrifying than being burned alive by his fire.
But Ashok had expected to dream about losing his soul.
It was every shadar-kai’s worst fear. The shadar-kai welcomed death in battle, for the alternative was to fade, their souls lost to the shadows, doomed to wander a nameless void. To be so alone, all life and feeling denied-Ashok shuddered at the thought of such nothingness.
Ashok had expected to dream of that void, yet he’d dreamed of his father and brothers. Those weren’t nightmares, they were memories. Yet they couldn’t harm him in Ikemmu’s vast stone towers. In Ikemmu he was a different person, safe from the past and a life he barely recognized as belonging to him.
Ashok dressed, armed himself, and went down to the training yard. The shadar-kai were still assembling into lines. No one had missed him yet.
He took his place next to Skagi, Cree, and Chanoch. They nodded to him.
“Interesting dreams?” Cree asked.
Ashok started. The rest of them were eyeing him. “What do you mean?” he said.
“You were talking in your sleep,” Skagi replied. He stretched, cracking his knuckles. “I pity your enemy, I truly do.”
Ashok thought he was jesting, but Skagi looked serious. “It was nothing,” he said.
“It was the nightmare,” Chanoch said. “We knew it would happen.”
“It was one dream,” Ashok said. “I’m still going to work with the beast.”
“Soon as your punishment is finished,” Skagi said, and that time they all chuckled. “How long is Olra making you stay back here, eh?”
“Until she thinks she can trust me,” Ashok said. He worked his chain between his hands, snapping the spikes taut in frustration. “It’s a game, nothing more.”
“She’ll come around,” Skagi said. “She’s just upset you have such good aim with a dagger.”
Ashok shook his head. Vedoran had been right. He’d been stupid and careless to lose his temper. And he was banished to training with the recruits until Olra said otherwise.
Jamet strode down the lines, an unnatural lightness to his step. “Pair off,” he said. “Sparring first, and then, if you do exceptionally well, we will have some sport. Our Lord, the Watching Blade, wants to see how you’re progressing in your training. Are you ready to show him the warriors you’ve become?”
A fierce cry went up among the recruits. Ashok turned to ask Skagi to spar, but the brothers had already paired off.
“I’ve got a few insults to repay you for, little one,” Skagi said as they moved to one of the roped off areas. He tapped his shaved head. “I forget nothing.”
“Was that a hollow sound I heard?” Cree said, and ducked when Skagi grabbed for his ear.
Ashok started to look for someone else and saw Chanoch eyeing him hopefully.
“I’ve gotten better since our last matches,” Chanoch reminded him. He rocked back on his heels, all energy. “I may be a challenge to you now.”
Ashok wanted to say, “Or I may make a corpse of you,” if he forgot himself, as he had that first time they’d sparred. But he didn’t think that would happen. His skills had also improved since that day.
“Ashok,” said a voice from behind him.
Ashok recognized it at once, as did the others in the training yard. Dozens of heads bowed instantly. Ashok was too surprised to make a move.
Uwan motioned the rest of the recruits to continue as they were. He looked Ashok up and down. “Still in one piece I see,” he said. “The nightmare hasn’t gotten the best of you?”
“No,” Ashok said.
“Are you certain?” Uwan said. “The nightmare’s powers affect the mind in ways we can’t comprehend.”
“I’m fine,” Ashok said tightly.
“I see,” Uwan said, smiling. “Well, then.” He grasped the hilt of his greatsword and drew it from its scabbard. “Would you care to spar with me?”
Ashok heard the gasps issue from the other shadar-kai. Jamet even looked surprised, though he tried to conceal it.
“Well, recruit?” Jamet said. “Lord Uwan asked you a question. What do you say to his challenge?”
Cautious, Ashok raised his chain and inclined his head to Uwan. “I accept,” he said.
“The rest of you mind your own partners,” Jamet said when several of the shadar-kai made as if to gather around the combatants.
They faced off near the iron fence. The shadow of Tower Athanon hung over Uwan’s left shoulder. Ashok let his chain hang loosely in an arc at knee-level. Uwan held his greatsword in a two-handed grip.
“Are you prepared?” Uwan asked him.
Ashok nodded.
Uwan came forward. Ashok, acting by reflex rather than plan, snapped the chain up to greet him, one end cutting the air as the nightmare’s teeth had grazed Ashok.
Uwan dodged, but he didn’t flinch or give ground. He came forward again with his greatsword, and again Ashok struck out.
“You have a fine reach with that weapon,” Uwan said.
Ashok said nothing. He would not let himself be distracted.
“What if you were fighting a siege battle and the attackers broke through the wall?” Uwan continued as he lunged, and Ashok dodged rather than try to bring the chain up for a defense. “How would you use the chain to defend when a thousand of your comrades stood around you?”
Jamet had asked him a similar question. “I’ve never had to fight a siege,” Ashok said, and snapped the chain taut in time to parry an overhand strike from the greatsword. The weight of the weapon was astonishing. Ashok’s grip slipped on the wooden chain handles, but he held them until Uwan broke off the attack.
Ashok swung the chain as Uwan raised his blade again, and struck a glancing blow off the leader’s shoulder. Metal rang loudly against Uwan’s armor, but there was no exposed skin to strike. Ashok’s chain fell harmlessly to the ground.
“You’re not used to fighting heavily armored opponents either,” Uwan said. “You’ve only fought those with little or none. Perhaps you should try wielding a blade.”
“So I can defend Ikemmu?” Ashok said, dodging another swing and finding himself with his back to the fence. He sent the chain out, closer to Uwan’s face.
Unhelmed, the leader’s skin was flushed with the battle, his hair wet with sweat. He’d been in training already that day, Ashok thought, but he hadn’t lost a step. The leader seemed to have a boundless supply of energy.
“Everyone needs a reason to fight, Ashok, and comrades to stand with him,” Uwan said. Metal screeched on metal as Uwan’s blade ground against Ashok’s chain spikes. “Else you’ll end up alone on the plain, pursued by the hounds.”
“It’s as good a death as any,” Ashok said.
Uwan hesitated, his sword tangled with Ashok’s chain. “You truly believe that?” he asked. “You believe that if attacked, Skagi, Cree, and the rest would not stand with you in defense of your life?”
Ashok didn’t answer, but an image of the shadar-kai surrounding the paddock while he challenged the nightmare flashed in his mind. On its heels came an image of Lakesh’s slashed throat. Ashok stumbled but managed to free his chain and held it one-handed. With the other he drew his dagger.
“You fight impersonally,” Uwan said. “That’s your mistake. You push the enemy away, and that’s fine, it’ll keep you alive. But you leave no room for allies.”
“Because the ally might plant his own weapon in my back,” Ashok said. He couldn’t get the image of Lakesh’s dead eyes out of his head. He wished Uwan would stop talking, but the leader persisted.
“Not in Ikemmu,” Uwan said. “Here your allies would die for you.” He came in tight at Ashok’s right side. Ashok tried to parry with the dagger, but the greatsword was too much for the weapon. It broke through Ashok’s guard and took a slice at his breastplate. A handful of bone splintered, and Ashok felt the blade open his skin.
They broke apart, and Ashok reached up to feel the wound. His hands came away soaked in blood. “You have me,” he said.
“You still stand,” Uwan pointed out.
“Not on a battlefield, I wouldn’t,” Ashok said. “The challenge goes to you.”
He gathered up his chain and left the field. The other partners were sparring heatedly, probably hoping to impress their leader, Ashok thought.
He wadded up his sleeve and pressed it to the chest wound. It wasn’t deep enough to need healing, but it bled liberally. His shirt stuck to his chest, and the copper scent mixed with the smoke smell drifting over from the forges made his head swim.
Lakesh’s blood had been all over his chamber. He’d smelled it constantly, even when he slept …
“On your knees at last!” called a voice.
Ashok glanced over to see Cree and Skagi nearing the end of their duel. Skagi had disarmed his brother. Cree tried to evade Skagi’s reach, but he stumbled. Skagi raised his falchion.
Blood scent in his nose, and the smell of smoke so close. Suddenly, Ashok was back in the cave, his brother stalking toward him with a sword in his hand. He stared across the training yard and saw him, Lakesh, a falchion in his hands, going for Cree’s throat.
“No!” The scream ripped out of Ashok. He ran, his feet pounding the ground as he tore across the yard. “Don’t!”
His brother turned to look at him, confusion in his eyes. Ashok slapped the blade out of his hands and tackled him. Lakesh cursed and fought back, his hands pushing at Ashok’s chest and shoulders. Ashok straddled and held him down with a hand pressed against his jaw, his fingers digging into Lakesh’s cheeks.
“You won’t kill him,” Ashok growled.
Lakesh slapped him across the face, getting dirt in his eyes. “Get off me!” he yelled. “Are you godsdamn crazy?”
Ashok’s vision swam. He wiped the dirt away with his other hand and saw Skagi lying beneath him. Ashok’s fingernails had gouged red lines into his gray face.
Stunned, Ashok’s arms went slack. Skagi shoved him off, and he landed on his back on the ground. Ashok looked at the bloody dirt caked under his fingernails, and his breath started to come fast. He couldn’t control it. The training yard started to spin.
Above him, he heard voices, faintly, as if they echoed from the bridges far up the canyon wall.
“What happened? Who’s hurt?” they said.
He thought he heard Jamet’s voice, but he couldn’t be sure. He heard the wind echoing through the cave, and he could still smell the fire, though his father had put it out long before …
“He came out of nowhere; he was like an animal,” said Skagi, as furious as Ashok had ever heard him. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
Ashok couldn’t blame the warrior. Blindsiding him like that-he was worse than Chanoch.
Then he heard Uwan’s voice.
“All right, everyone get back,” he said. “Jamet, take your recruits inside the tower. Cree, take your brother and see to his face.” A pause. “Vedoran, help me with him.”
Blurred shapes leaned over Ashok with their hands outstretched.
Come with us, brother, the phantoms said. We’re going to throw the dice.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Ashok awoke, he was in the cave. The scar from his campfire blackened the floor, along with Lakesh’s blood. He reached up to feel the wound in his chest, the wound Uwan had given him, but it wasn’t there. His flesh was unmarked.
“A dream?” he said aloud, his voice groggy with sleep. Slowly, Ashok sat up and rubbed his eyes. The cave was still there. He smelled the lingering smoke and blood. His weapons were on his belt, and he could hear the sounds of the enclave stirring for the new day.
Everything was as it should be.
Gods, please no, Ashok thought. Ikemmu-his deepest desires given form-all of it couldn’t have been just a dream.
He heard footsteps coming down the tunnel. Ashok’s father came into the chamber, his red hair wild and dust-covered.
“You’ve been out on the plain,” Ashok said.
His father grunted. “Yes, while you were safe abed,” he replied.
“Hardly safe,” Ashok said.
“Lakesh. Yes,” his father said, waving a hand and dismissing Ashok’s brother. “We have more important things to worry about now. I’ve been scouting. There’s a party approaching the caves a few miles out. We don’t know how many there are or what they are, but it’s clear they’re headed this way. They know we’re here.”
Ashok stood and faced his father. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“You’ve heard the pack calling,” his father said, “when we sleep, and the caves are quiet?”
“The shadow hounds?” Ashok said. “Yes. They’ve moved their hunting grounds closer to the cave. We’ll have to deal with them some day.”
His father nodded. “That day is today,” he said. “I don’t want us hemmed in with a shadow hound pack to the north while enemies approach from the south. Take two of your brothers with you and get rid of the hounds. I’ll handle the threat from the south.”
As his father turned to leave, Ashok said, “I’d rather go alone.”
That brought a rumbling laugh from deep in his father’s chest. “If you want to kill yourself, go ahead,” he said. “I have other sons.”
When he was gone, Ashok looked at the fire and blood stains on the floor and thought of the city of towers, already fading from his waking memory. If he concentrated, he could taste the Cormyrian wine, dry and smoky on his tongue, and smell the forge fires. He felt something clutch his chest, and he closed his eyes against the ache.
When he opened them, he was standing on the Shadowfell plain. A hound struck him in the chest, its teeth gnashing, and found the tender flesh of his throat.
“No!”
Ashok sat up in his bed, screaming and clawing at his throat. A dark shape and a weight held him at the shoulders. He punched out with loosely clenched fists, rolled off the bed, and pinned the hound to the floor.
“Cease, Ashok, cease! It’s Vedoran.”
Ashok’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, and suddenly he could see everything. He was lying on the floor next to his bed with his hand across Vedoran’s throat. Vedoran held up his hands, showing that he had no weapon. He regarded
Ashok calmly.
“Do you know me?” he asked.
Slowly, Ashok nodded. He sat up and took his hand away from Vedoran’s throat. The shadar-kai sat up gracefully, his arms still raised, making no sudden movements.
“Is this a dream?” Ashok asked. He looked around, but the tower room was empty. Skagi, Cree, and Chanoch were not there.
“Uwan thought it would be best if there were as few people here as possible, in case you had another nightmare,” Vedoran said. “I volunteered to stay with you-”
“Is this a dream?” Ashok demanded again, cutting him off.
“If I say no, it proves nothing,” Vedoran said reasonably. “That’s the power of the nightmare. You don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.”
Ashok laughed faintly and put his head in his hands. They were clammy and trembling. “So I’m damned?” he said.
“No,” Vedoran said. “You’re awake, and that’s a very good sign. You’ve been in a fevered sleep for a day. Most who have worked with the nightmare don’t last that long.”
“Olra’s old master,” Ashok said. “He lost his soul.”
“You don’t appear to be in danger of that,” Vedoran observed. “But your mind is another concern.”
“Why did you stay?” Ashok said, looking up. “I could have killed you.”
Amusement flickered across Vedoran’s face. “Not likely,” he replied.
“I didn’t realize …” Ashok said, raising himself up and sitting on the edge of his bed. “He’s stronger than I thought, the nightmare.”
“After this it will get easier, I think,” Vedoran said. “You’ve come through the worst and know what to expect. If you still intend to train the beast.”
“Yes,” Ashok said. He looked at his hands, the blood still crusting the edges of his nails. “Skagi?” he said.
“More embarrassed than hurt,” Vedoran assured him. “He was angrier at you for knocking him down in front of all the recruits. You took him completely by surprise. I’m sure he’ll want to pay you back in kind, someday.”
Ashok nodded. “I deserve that and more,” he said.
Vedoran stood up and straightened his armor. His black hair had come loose from its horsetail, making him look even larger as he stood over Ashok.
Unbroken Chain (single books) Page 12