Opal said, “It hurts. But I can try. If you hurry!”
Raidon bolted from the room, leaving the little girl behind. Tears broke out on his cheeks. He wanted to sweep her up and hold her close against all the dangers of Xxiphu.
But the best thing he could do for her was slay the Eldest, so that her mind would at least remain her own, even if she was only a lost dream. He hoped the creature’s death would give her peace.
When he returned to the place where the corridors diverged, he found Opal waiting. She stood in the center of the corridor with her shoulders slouched and her head drooping over her chest in a sorrowful pose. Her unbound hair fell across her features.
“Opal, I told you to stay—”
The girl loosed a raw hunting scream that no human throat could ever hope to achieve. Raidon’s breath began to steam as the Cerulean Sign violently reacted to the sound reverberating in the corridor.
The child slowly lifted her gaze. It was much changed from the frightened, tearful face Raidon had pleaded with moments earlier. Jagged lines of care etched it, as if the girl had aged decades in an eyeblink. Her mouth was unhinged and opened on a black void that reminded Raidon of what he’d seen on Xxiphu’s crown in the schematic.
The Eldest filled her like a hand inside a puppet.
Kill her, Angul said.
“No. I will not. I … cannot.”
Opal produced her hunting scream once more and advanced on him.
Raidon raised Angul. The sword blazed with cerulean fire and attempted to sweep up and out in an arc that would have decapitated the child’s image. The half-elf restrained the willful blade.
“Leave her alone,” he said, talking not only to his wayward sword but also to the foulness that controlled Opal. “I will find you regardless of whether I disrupt this lone memory. Leave her, and I will not be forced to slay you when I find you!”
You cannot bargain with the unconscious mind of the Eldest aboleth. You can only slay it and any puppets it creates.
Raidon moved to his left, keeping Angul between him and the possessed memory. He said, “If I can avoid destroying her, I shall!”
She need not kill you, only distract you long enough for the ritual to be completed.
Raidon realized the Blade Cerulean, for all its headstrong ways, spoke the truth.
A deep sound, like underground waters rushing below his feet, snatched Raidon’s attention back down the corridor where he’d originally entered.
The sound came from the two facing ice slabs lining the tunnel. The ice was cracking, breaking, and crumbling. It was a cave-in, except that as each piece struck the floor it shattered into motes of glowing steam. The mist immediately swirled past the girl and Raidon up the passage he intended to travel. In the void left behind, dozens of figures stood blinking in confusion. Confusion that lasted only heartbeats.
The newly released memories rotated as if of one mind until each regarded the monk with smoldering eyes. They all simultaneously loosed screams, each as horrid as Opal’s. In concert, the sound nearly froze Raidon to the spot and stopped his heart.
Angul’s flame dipped, then resurged twice as bright. Its warmth seared Raidon’s flesh, chasing out the incipient chill in a painful instant.
Opal, the closest of the advancing horde, leaped for the monk’s throat.
He sobbed as he cut the five-year-old down with a single stroke.
Her scream caused the other images to pause.
Opal’s gruesome face fell slack and resumed her earlier innocent visage. She sighed, catching Raidon’s eyes. “Why?” she whispered. Then her image broke into so many chasing sparks.
Raidon watched the sparks fade out like campfire embers. He saw the other images, memories, and captured dreams resume their headlong charge. He was aware of his face turning red and his mouth distorting into the raving scream of a berserker. He took note of but did not feel tears stream from his eyes and reflect Angul’s avenging flame. He fell upon the possessed figures like a blood-crazed predator.
Raidon saw all of this from a distance, for he no longer seemed to inhabit his own body.
Why? Because when he struck down the girl, who might as well have been Ailyn herself, Raidon went mad.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Year of the Secret (1396 DR)
Xxiphu, Gallery of Seeing
Japheth walked up a sloped corridor crusted with steaming memories.
His hands were steady and his vision unstained by dust. New abilities and insights swarmed in his blood, eager to manifest as spells should he call them. He was almost elated, but couldn’t quite allow himself that pleasure. Whenever he recalled the ultimate origin of his new spells, a chill shivered down his spine.
One of those spells even allowed him to see Anusha in her golden armor, as well as Anusha’s yellow-hued companion who walked ahead, without recourse to the tin of dust hidden in his cloak. Already his new pact was proving useful—above and beyond the usefulness of saving his life, of course.
The warlock realized his hope was on the rise. He knew full well there could be, in fact likely would be, repercussions following the drastic choice he’d made. It was even possible he could fall into the same sort of servitude that marked the first pact he’d sworn to the Lord of Bats. Well, probably even worse than what he’d endured under the terms of his first pact, before he escaped its strictures. The alien stars cared less about mortal kind than even bloodthirsty Neifion.
But no one had promised him his decision would be easy. He might hold on to his independence and sanity, or he might not. He wasn’t naive, nor was his ego so inflated that he was going to promise himself a happy ending despite the reassurance he’d given to Anusha. No, he knew the risks. He accepted them in return for the chance to act a little longer on the stage, hopefully long enough to slip Anusha free of her dream form. And if fate was kind, perhaps even a little while longer.
In the short term, he merely had to be careful none of his new spells squirmed out of his control.
Anusha, who walked beside him, allowed her hand to fall into his. It felt warm and real. He was happy for the moment of contact. He knew she could only accomplish that much by paying careful attention.
“I am thankful, you know,” she said.
“For what?”
“That you came looking for me. That I’m not alone in this awful place. Even if we fail, I want you to know …”
He knew pulling her into a hug risked breaking the illusion of her solidity. He just tightened his grip on her dream-wrought hand. He said, “I couldn’t bear the thought of you down here by yourself. I had to come. There was no choice.”
Anusha smiled at that and looked him in the eye. “Once you wake me, holding your hand won’t take so much concentration.”
“Yes.”
“Which means I’ll be able to thank you properly.”
Japheth’s heart jumped. Had he understood her meaning? He decided to interpret her words as his body wanted. He said, “I look forward to that.”
They grinned at each other like fools.
Walking in the lead, Yeva raised a hand. She whispered, “Something odd ahead!”
Japheth released Anusha’s hand. They joined Yeva, who stood looking apprehensively around a bend in the corridor.
“What?” Anusha whispered.
“Another chamber ahead, filled with some sort of growth I haven’t seen before. I heard voices too. Speaking Common.”
Japheth sidled up and leaned to gaze around the corner.
The corridor spilled into a wider space that seemed, at least from his limited vantage, overgrown with creepers thick with murky liquid flowing in spastic pulses. Overlarge pears or oranges the color of blood dangled from the growth.
But his attention was riveted by the sound of conversation. He heard his own name!
“Someone’s talking about me!” he whispered. The voice was familiar.
Flush in the confidence of his renewed power, Japheth proceeded around the b
end despite Yeva’s whispered protest.
He advanced into a large space that held a circular pool and a dozen or more exits around the periphery.
And as he’d half expected, Captain Thoster and the wizard Seren stood near the pool as if waiting for him. Near one exit, a woman slumped, obviously exhausted. She looked vaguely familiar—Japheth placed her as a crew member on Thoster’s ship. The only one missing was the crazy monk.
Recalling their last meeting, he raised one arm, fingers arranged just so, ready to cast.
Thoster raised a hand too, but apparently in a friendly greeting. “Hoy, Japheth! We have to stop running into each other like this.”
The warlock studied the man, who looked far the worse for wear. He seemed to be suffering from some sort of body-wide skin condition. Seren, on the other hand, looked as dour as ever, though at least she’d changed into clothing more suited to exploring a dangerous, city-sized relic.
“Indeed, Captain,” Japheth finally said. “You seem to have the advantage of me. You have been waiting here to talk to me?”
“In a manner of speaking, my friend,” the captain said. “We’re here on account of Raidon Kane, the last Keeper of the Cerulean Sign. He’s gone on to take care of things above. But when we noticed you traipsing up from below, he asked Seren and me to have a chat with you.”
Japheth eyed the captain. The man obviously had more in mind than a mere chat. The warlock glanced back. Anusha and Yeva moved to join him in the chamber, but kept quiet as ghosts.
Thoster and the wizard gave no sign they noticed the two dream images, though the woman by the exit drew her sword.
The warlock addressed Seren. “So, what do you want to talk about? I don’t have much time. The Eldest is waking.”
The wizard said, “Right. Your imbecilic experiments have caused Xxiphu to wake from centuries of sleep.”
“Nogah’s theft of the stone triggered the Abolethic Sovereignty’s awakening, not me,” he replied, feeling warm blood in his cheeks.
“Sure, the priestess started the ball rolling, but the damage could still have been contained,” Seren said. “Problem is, you took off with the Dreamheart! Since then, you’ve continued to tinker with the relic, haven’t you? It’s directly connected to Xxiphu, idiot. The more you tried to save your little friend, the more the servitors of the Eldest stirred. If you’d given up the stone, Xxiphu might have fallen back into somnolence. Now it’s too late.”
The woman’s speech stirred him to anger. He said in a cold voice, “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now stand aside. I have an appointment with the Eldest.”
“I’m afraid not,” said Thoster. “At least, not without handing over the stone.” The pirate pulled his clicking blade from its sheath. Metallic disks inset flush in the blade whirred with golemlike precision. Poison pulsed within hair-thin conduits running from hilt to tip, whetting the blade’s edge with an emerald sheen.
Japheth eyed the captain’s weapon, then looked to Seren. “You are against me too?”
The wizard drew her wand and said, “You may be a natural charmer, my dark-haired friend, but you’re not bringing the Dreamheart upstairs. If you do, the aboleths will take it from you, and all we’ve suffered to reach this nightmarish place will be for nothing.”
“Don’t be too sure,” the warlock said. “I’ve reached something of an accommodation with the creatures of this city.” Which was technically true, though Japheth lied by omission. He had an accommodation with the denizens of Xxiphu only insofar as he shared something of the same power they called upon. That didn’t make him and the Sovereignty allies any more than it made allies of opposing armies who brandished swords forged by the same dwarf clan.
In any event, his admission didn’t allay Seren’s concern; it enflamed it. She exclaimed, “You’ve become a pawn of the Dreamheart!”
“No. Listen, none of us have time for this kind of squabble. Aboleths are waking and hatching below, and the Lord of Bats is loose somewhere in Xxiphu too, looking for me so he can have his vengeance. I’ve wasted too much time already. Stand aside.”
Seren sighed, then hurled a magical orb of force toward his head. He turned sideways at the last moment. The orb struck his shoulder. It burst in a flurry of slashing shards.
His blood made tiny ribbons in the air, but the cut was superficial. A few of the force shards scattered behind him. One caught Yeva in the stomach. The strange woman doubled over in pain. He saw Anusha draw her dream blade even as her helm shimmered into place over her head.
Time to try out something more aggressive from his new pact. Even as Thoster charged around the limb of the pool, Japheth called on one of his new star-born powers.
He finished the spell just before the captain made it into sword range. Inky black, frigid tendrils seemed to burst from the freebooter’s body. The captain cried out in surprise and pain. The tendrils curled and wound back around their host instantly, so tightly that the captain’s headlong dash ended in a sliding sprawl.
That should hold the captain for a bit, Japheth thought. Long enough to deal with a lone wizard.
Anusha rushed past him with her blade high. Seren incanted another spell, continuing to give no indication she was aware of the threat the invisible dreams in the room posed. He hoped Anusha didn’t hurt Seren badly—but that hope did not prompt him to deflect Anusha’s charge.
Anusha swatted the wizard with the flat of her blade. On contact, Seren cried in astonishment. Her spell evaporated in a flash of harmless green fire.
“Remember me, war wizard?” Anusha asked the confused Seren. “I saved your life down in Gethshemeth’s watery lair. Don’t make me end you now. One more spell, and I run you through with my blade!” Anusha’s voice wavered, but was resolute.
The wizard swallowed. She said, “If Japheth the Stubborn would give up the Dreamheart, our quarrel would be done. If you care for the black-caped idiot, tell him to hand it over. For the world’s sake!”
This last seemed to deflate Anusha’s enthusiasm to batter Seren into unconsciousness or worse. She looked back and asked Japheth, “Is she right?”
The warlock frowned in exasperation. Based on his previous conversations with Seren, he doubted she cared much for Toril’s fate. Time was too short for such distractions. “No, we must keep the stone. I need to use the Dreamheart to extract your soul from the Eldest’s mind. It was the conduit that sucked you in, and it will serve the same function to pull you out. You and Yeva both.”
As if waiting for her cue, Yeva said, “Then the world can look after itself!” She touched two fingers to her temple. A bolt of hazy force seemed to arc from her brow and burrow into the wizard’s.
Seren threw her head back in shock. She dropped her wand and toppled backward, narrowly missing the pool. She lay still, save for her ragged breath and darting eyes. She seemed to be watching images Japheth couldn’t see. Mental phantasms?
Thoster yelled, “Godsdamn it, where did that come from?”
The crew woman hadn’t moved throughout the entire conflict. When Japheth turned and frowned at her, the woman’s resolve broke. She said, “Sorry, Captain, I’m heading back to the ship!” The woman spun and dashed down the tunnel.
The freebooter chose that moment to hurl himself on his stomach three feet closer to Japheth. He still had one hand on his blade, and he managed to shove its tip into Japheth’s boot.
“Blast it, Thoster!” yelled Japheth as he leaped back. A sting along the side of his foot told the tale. The blade tip had pierced his skin, which meant some of the venom had likely entered his blood.
The captain struggled to free himself from his shadowy binding. In his fury, Japheth considered blasting the man with a curse. One curse in particular, swimming in his consciousness, desired to burst free … But no. He should save that one for a foe not already lying bound on the floor.
“Leave the stone,” said Thoster. “In return, I’ll give you the anti-venom. Otherwise you’ll succumb to the poison.”
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“I wonder,” said Japheth. His cloak should shield him from the poison’s effects, he believed—it had protected him against the bites of venomous bats and serpents in the past.
But his foot tingled.
He’d seen creatures struck down by Thoster’s sword blacken in seconds under assault from its poison kiss. A slight numbness followed the tingles. He waited another few heartbeats. Nothing worse immediately occurred.
Japheth announced, “It seems I’ll survive your blow, Captain. Which means I bid you good-bye, until next time you ambush me.” He moved around the chamber, giving the captain and the wizard extra clearance.
“Release me from these visions, Japheth!” called Seren, her gaze darting.
“I don’t think so.”
Anusha said, “We’re just going to leave them here?”
“For now. The bonds will release the captain eventually.”
Yeva offered, “And the wizard will regain the use of her limbs and eyes soon enough.”
The muscles below Thoster’s mottled scaled skin jumped and strained. He said, “Don’t be a fool! You really think you can succeed? That thing’s got you hoodwinked—admit it!”
Curiosity forced Japheth to pause. He said, “I suppose you might be right. But I know my own motivations—nothing is controlling me.”
“Ridiculous!” said the wizard, her eyes finally finding the warlock. “By Szass Tam’s throne, how would you know if the godsdamned relic was warping your mind? When you’re captivated by an enchantment, you don’t realize it. Even you know that much spell theory, I’m sure.”
“Hmm.” Japheth considered. He looked at Anusha. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking with her helm on, though he knew she had to be desperate to move on.
“Well, answer me this, then,” he said. “What did you do with Anusha’s body when you chased me from my suite in Veltalar?”
“We brought her aboard Green Siren,” said Thoster. “She sleeps there now, guarded by Blackie. She is safe and cared for.”
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