The Binding Stone

CHAPTER 16

Geth’s hand darted to his belt and snatched out his sword. The ancient weapon seemed even heavier than it had before, and the twilight sheen of the metal had taken on a dull glow, as if the sword somehow recognized that the creatures it had been made to destroy were near.

He heard shouts and screams from Batul’s party on top of the mound. It was a trap. Dah’mir had been ready for them.

“Ambush!” he yelled. He raised his sword high and lunged-

The mind flayer’s foul, tentacled head turned sharply. Its white eyes flashed and a wave of pure mental power blasted through Geth. He staggered under the assault, struggling to resist the illithid’s power. The orcs in his band cried in fear and pain, caught in the same unseen attack. Some of those cries ended abruptly.

Around Geth’s neck, though, Adolan’s collar was icy, like a shocking slap of winter. Geth clung to that clean cold and forced himself to stay on his feet. A fast glance over his shoulder showed him that most of his band hadn’t been so fortunate. Batul’s hand-picked orc raiders were down and twitching on the ground. Krepis was supporting Natrac. Orshok stumbled like a drunkard.

“They knew!” the young druid gasped. “How did they know?”

“Those herons!” Geth roared. “Those damn herons!”

He whirled back to the mind flayer. Its tentacles thrashing, it slapped a spindly hand against the chuul’s armored shell and the monstrous creature scuttled forward, pincers snapping.

Geth howled and shifted as he leaped forward to meet it. Invincibility flowing through him, he swung the byeshk sword hard at one of those grasping claws. The blade hit the chitin with a crunch, shattering it, and bit deep into the flesh beneath. The chuul screeched in pain and thrust out with its pincer, trying to slap him aside, but Geth soaked up the blow and stood his ground. He wrenched his sword free and dodged back, then swept the blade down the center of the pincer.

The heavy blade found the joint of the claw and cleaved through it in a spray of strange, thin blood. Half of the chuul’s pincer sagged and fell, crippled. Once again, the creature screeched and thrashed, but Geth rolled under the sweeping, useless claw and threw himself at the mind flayer. The chuul was big and dangerous, but if the illithid had the chance to unleash another one of those mental blasts …

But the illithid was rising into the air, floating up as Dandra did-except higher. Safely out of his reach, it peered down at him with its dead white eyes.

The chuul’s broad, armored back turned on Geth as Orshok, Natrac, and Krepis closed with it. Without even hesitating, the shifter jumped onto the creature, planted one foot at the curve above the thing’s tail, vaulted up onto its shoulders, then-as the startled chuul reared back-leaped off and hurled himself at the hovering mind flayer.

He had a brief glimpse of the illithid’s tentacles stiffening in sudden shock an instant before he slammed into it.

They tumbled through the air, his metal-clad right arm wrapped tight around its narrow, bony hips. Geth could feel thin fists pounding at his shoulders and tentacles groping and scraping at his head. He thrust upward with his sword.

The ancient Dhakaani smiths who had forged the weapon had ground sharp edges onto the spreading curves of its forked tip. The purple blade might not have pierced like a normal sword-but it cut very well. A palm’s width of metal chopped deep into the mind flayer’s back. Metal grated through bone. The mind flayer went limp.

They fell. Geth twisted and flung himself free from the creature, rolling as he hit the ground. He came up in crouch. The mind flayer’s tentacles were still writhing, straining toward him. A whirling slice with the byeshk sword made certain the illithid was dead before he spun around.

Their tumble through the air had carried them away from the chuul and from the mouth of the mound. He was closer to the crowd now-and the people in the mob had finally realized that there was a larger battle going on than just the one they were watching. Roars and shouts rose into shrieks and battle cries. At the head of crowd, Dah’mir stood on a platform, arms thrust out.

“Attack!” he bellowed above the tumult. His green eyes flashed and a hand stabbed toward Geth. “The shifter! Bring the shifter to me!”

Geth’s stomach knotted. “Tiger’s blood!” he choked as Bonetree hunters and dolgrims alike split away from the swarm of the crowd.

Then Natrac and Orshok stood on either side of him with Krepis at his back. All three were covered in the thin blood of the chuul.

“I’m never eating lobster again,” croaked Natrac.

Geth bared his teeth in grim humor and risked a glance up at the top of the mound. The clouds that had covered the sky flashed with distant heat lightning and against that fitful flickering, bulky figures struggled. Chuul raised their pincers and dolgaunts struck with tentacles. Above the battle, robes whipping in the wind, floated two more mind flayers. Geth caught a glimpse of dark shapes tumbling down the steep side of the mound as orcs managed to topple a chuul, only to be caught and stunned by the mental blast of one of the illithids.

“Where’s Batul?” he spat over his shoulder at Krepis. “Why isn’t he doing something?”

Lightning danced from the clouds in a bolt that wrapped around one of the floating mind flayers. The thin creature’s limbs and tentacles snapped into sudden stiffness and it dropped out of the air like a wounded bird. The brilliant flare left an image imprinted on Geth’s eyes: the silhouette of an old orc with his hunda stick raised to the sky.

“Batul doing something!” Krepis shouted above the thunder that rolled across the battlefield.

The lightning had barely given the hunters and dolgrims pause, but it gave Geth fresh hope. He thrust up the byeshk sword.

“Take it to them!” he roared-and charged.

One of the mind flayers had a particular streak of cruelty. When the illithids left Dandra, it turned her head so that she could see Virikhad’s psicrystal gleaming in the dim light of laboratory. With the weird device of copper and bone clutching her head, Dandra felt like she had no will at all. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t move, she could barely call up memories from only moments before-not that there was much to remember. The laboratory was still. The only sound, apart from a brief, distant flurry of excitement and activity that came and went elsewhere in the mound, was her breathing.

Somehow she could still feel, though, maybe out of instinct like breathing or blinking her eyes. Emotions bubbled inside her, primal emotions, raw and pure. Fear. Rage. Uncluttered by thought, they burned her.

There was something familiar about that purity of emotion. Her mind drifted and flew back through her memories, back before her anger and her fear, back before Bull Hollow and that first trip Zarash’ak and even before Sharn. Back before she’d been a person to when she’d been a crystal, before she’d even developed a proper mind. Back to the time when all that she’d been was emotion, new and raw, eager and focused.

She hadn’t been fear, then. She hadn’t been rage. She had been determination.

She had been and always would be.

Light shone on the walls of the laboratory. Orange light, the glow of a proper flame, not the blue-green light of Dah’mir’s strange torches. Dandra heard the whisper of quiet footsteps, heard someone murmur her name. The light came closer. It moved around the table and Ashi stepped into Dandra’s field of vision. The big hunter carried a naked blade and a stick of wood that had burned through nearly half of its length. Dandra saw her spear strapped across her back. Ashi’s face was pale, but strangely resolved. She moved back and Dandra felt the straps that bound her body being released. The hunter returned to her vision, bending down to look into her eyes.

“Dandra?” she asked again. Ashi’s eyes flicked to the spindly device that the illithids had slid down over her head. She set down her sword and reached up to tug the device away.

Thought returned to fill Dandra’s head with a rush of demands and concerns, but pure determination cut through all of them. She reached for her powers with an ease like nothing she’d known before and spun out a rippling web of vayhatana.

Ashi slammed back hard against the ground. She struggled desperately as Dandra sat up and glared down at her. “Let me go!” she spat. “I’m here to-”

Dandra squatted down and slapped her. “You’re here to what?” she snapped. “Hunt me? I’m already here. Torment me? Let’s wait for the mind flayers to come back. Murder my friends? I think Dah’mir’s already done that!”

“No, you stupid outclanner!” snarled Ashi. “I’m here to rescue you!”

“Really? Why would you do that?” Dandra narrowed her eyes in concentration and Ashi’s body rose from the floor, flying through the air to slam against the wall of the laboratory. The big woman grunted in pain. She blinked and focused her eyes on Dandra.

“I’d do it because Singe asked me to!” Ashi said. “While you were under Dah’mir’s power, Singe helped me understand things about myself. I’m leaving the Bonetree clan. It was too late for me to save him, but-”

“Save him?”

Dandra’s concentration faltered. The invisible bonds that held Ashi faded. Dandra reached to summon up the vayhatana again-until she realized that Ashi, although standing free, hadn’t moved. The hunter looked at her, waiting.

“I hid that I knew you weren’t Tetkashtai all the way from Zarash’ak,” she said after a moment. “I’m sorry for what I did to you, Dandra. Singe has shown me that Dah’mir isn’t what I thought he was. I want a new life and if you’ll let me, I’ll start it by making things right with you.”

Dandra stared at her. “I …”

“Dandra,” Ashi pleaded, “why else would I betray Dah’mir?”

The kalashtar clenched her teeth. “Start with this, then,” she said. “You said it’s too late to save Singe. Save him from what?”

“He’s fighting Hruucan,” Ashi answered. “Hruucan demanded it in revenge for the scars Singe inflicted on him.” She grimaced. “He won’t kill Singe-Dah’mir won’t let him-but he’ll cripple him. The Bonetree and all the children of Khyber are watching the fight. That’s why I was able to get in here. The mound’s empty!”

“It’s empty because Dah’mir’s preparing an ambush,” Dandra told her. “Geth survived Dah’mir’s attack in Zarash’ak and now he’s bringing an orc raid here to rescue Singe and I. They’re already in Bonetree territory but they’re walking into a trap.”

Ashi drew a sharp breath and her fists tightened. “There was no sign of a raid or an ambush laid when I entered the mound-but I heard fighting as I followed the tunnels. I thought it was some echo or ghost.”

Dandra’s throat tightened. “Light of il-Yannah.” It had started. “How quickly can you get me back to the surface?”

“I marked the way.” Ashi reached behind her back and pulled Dandra’s spear free of a harness. “I kept it,” she said. “A trophy at first, but now …” She held out the weapon.

Dandra took it. “Thank you,” she said. Holding the spear brought some of her determination back to her. She looked around Dah’mir’s laboratory, at the strange device with the blue-black shard in its heart, at Virikhad’s violet crystal. Dandra walked over to the crystal and held her hand above it. She could feel the faint spark of Tetkashtai’s old lover inside and for a moment a part of her itched to take up the crystal and make a connection with him. At the same time, though, she knew what even a short imprisonment had done to Tetkashtai and Medala. Virikhad had been locked inside his crystal without access to a body for far longer than either of them ever had. There was no telling how far he had fallen in his desperation.

“Dandra?” asked Ashi. She stood at the door of the laboratory.

“One moment.” Dandra lifted her hand. No matter what his mental state might be, she couldn’t leave Virikhad here. Steeling herself, she went over to the kalashtar’s withered body and tugged a pouch from his belt, then used the head of her spear to tap the violet crystal into it. She looked up at the Dah’mir’s strange device again.

She had tricked Tetkashtai into agreeing to return to Zarash’ak by hinting that perhaps there was a way to undo what Dah’mir had done to them. Now she was almost certain that there wasn’t. She and Tetkashtai were trapped as surely as Virikhad. Why had Dah’mir created such a terrible device? She might still be able to find a way to force the truth from the green-eyed man, but there was one thing she was certain of-the device should never have existed.

She didn’t have the strength or the time to destroy it, but maybe there was something she could do. Focusing her concentration on the dragonshard at the device’s center, she spun vayhatana around it and wrenched the shard free of the brass and crystal that surrounded it. The laboratory had a high ceiling. Dandra lifted the shard all the way up-then brought it crashing down as hard as she could.

It hit the floor of the laboratory with a shattering impact that echoed through the chamber. Dandra stepped forward and examined the deep crack that now ran through its heart with a fierce satisfaction. Ashi stepped up beside her to stare down in amazement.

“Now,” said Dandra, turning away from the ruined shard. “We can go.”

Singe hurt. When Hruucan’s tendrils had burrowed into him in Bull Hollow, it had seemed like the greatest agony of his life. When Medala’s powers had wracked him, he had thought that was a threshold of suffering. But Hruucan’s tendrils had only dug into his skin and Medala’s powers, for all that they felt real enough, had only acted upon his mind. Now Singe really hurt.

He hit the ground again. As he struggled for breath, Hruucan’s tentacles wrapped around his right calf and ripped through the fabric of his trousers to expose the soft flesh underneath. They dug in, making him scream-then they pulled, wrenching on his entire leg so hard that his scream broke. The crowd cheered. Singe kicked feebly at the tentacles with his free leg and Hruucan released him. For the moment.

The magical armor he had conjured was tough, but not impenetrable. Not all of the dolgaunt’s blows pierced its protection, but more than enough had. His arms and legs were blistered from Hruucan’s touch. His ribcage was sore and whenever he breathed deep a sharp pain burst inside him. His sides hurt where Hruucan’s blows had driven deep to bruise tender organs. All of his joints ached. His left shoulder had been dislocated-then cruelly popped back into place. One eye was swollen badly, he could taste dust mingling with blood on his lips, and all he could hear out of one ear was a loud ringing.

Even through the pain though, Singe knew that there were three parts of him that Hruucan hadn’t hurt badly-or at least not too badly. The dolgaunt hadn’t hurt his legs. He could still walk and fight. The dolgaunt hadn’t hurt his hands. He could still grip his rapier. And, except for the blow that still ached through his guts, the dolgaunt hadn’t hurt his groin. He would still be able to father children for the Bonetree clan.

None of his carefully prepared magic had helped him. Hruucan either shattered his spells before he could cast them or dodged the flames with uncanny speed.

Singe forced himself up onto his hands and knees, then groped for his rapier in the dirt and stumbled to his feet once more. “Come on,” he slurred at the waiting dolgaunt. “Give me another!”

Hruucan tensed, ready for another strike.

Before he could even move though, new shouts rose up from the crowd. For one brief, confused moment, Singe wondered if someone out there had finally started to cheer for him. Then it registered in this throbbing mind that the crowd was moving, turning away from the combatants in the ring to stare at something else. He lifted his aching head, trying to see beyond the glare of the high torches. Heat lightning had come to the night. When it flashed he caught a glimpse of fighting up on the top of the mound.

Something was happening below as well. Dah’mir was standing and shouting so loudly that the sound of his voice shuddered in Singe’s head. “The shifter! Bring the shifter to me!”

The crowd around the ring burst like a nest of baby spiders. Singe’s head swam. A shifter? The shifter? Crazy hope soared inside him. Geth had come for them!

Lightning flashed in sudden brilliance, throwing the shape that moved in front of him into stark relief. Singe blinked as thunder rolled. Hruucan still stood in the ring, tentacles streaming and swaying.

“We’re not done,” the dolgaunt rasped.

He leaped into the air and his legs snapped out. Both feet hit Singe’s aching chest, the dolgaunt’s entire weight behind them. Singe flew back to slam into one of the towering torch poles. He slid onto the ground, legs sprawled. Darkness swirled around him, threatening to draw him down.

No, he told himself, fighting to resist that pull. No! Not now!

Somewhere lightning flashed again. Singe’s head fell back against the pole, staring up at a sky that tossed in growing agitation-and at a long oil-soaked rag that had come loose from the torch above. It swayed back and forth in the wind, fat drops of flaming oil shaking off it and dripping down. Singe watched one splatter against his hand, the magic of his ring sucking the flame away before it burned him. A desperate plan formed in his head.

Hruucan looked at him for a moment longer, then turned away. Singe thrust himself to his feet and dove for the dolgaunt’s back. Hruucan spun around, but Singe grabbed him and pulled him close. The writhing buds on Hruucan’s skin reacted as if they had minds of their own, burrowing into Singe’s flesh out of instinct alone. The wizard gasped and held on with one hand as he stretched the other out free. “Let’s see you dodge this,” he choked-and hissed a word of magic. A tiny, intense tongue of flame sprang into the palm of his free hand. Hruucan’s horrid face tightened.

Singe tipped his hand and let the tiny flame fall.

Fire exploded around them. Hruucan tried to leap away from the flame, but Singe clung tight, holding him back. The dolgaunt’s mouth opened to scream and fire rushed in. Singe closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of Hruucan’s death. He couldn’t shut out the feel of it though. The dolgaunt stiffened in his arms, writhing skin turning crisp and hard under his fingers. The buds that had burrowed into his flesh burst against him like a thousand tiny sparks.

Protected by his grandfather’s ring, all Singe felt of the flames was a pleasant warmth. When that faded, he opened his eyes.

He held a blackened corpse, mouth frozen wide, tendrils and tentacles seared away. The wizard shuddered in horror and thrust it away. What had been Hruucan hit the scorched ground with a dry crunch and a spray of cinders. Singe swayed, suddenly weak, and sat down hard.

All around the ring, the swarming crowd had turned back, startled by the flames. Fire had consumed two of the torchpoles, but by the light of the remaining torches, Singe could see the pale faces of the Bonetree clan and a few startled dolgrims staring at him. Dah’mir had fallen silent. The distant sounds of fighting on the top of the mound went on, punctuated by another bolt of lightning and a high, unnatural squeal, but the fighting on the ground ended in a clash of metal, a familiar growl, and the thud of a falling body.

Geth leaped into the torchlight. Natrac and two other orcs were with him. The shifter spun, protecting the others as a dolgrim tried to take them from behind. A vicious-looking sword that Singe had never seen before flashed twilight-purple. In an instant, the dolgrim had one less arm and one more mouth, a jagged slash that opened across its belly. Another blow hacked deep into its deformed skull and it dropped. Geth wrenched the sword free and joined Natrac and the orcs in a cluster around Singe.

As Bonetree hunters and more dolgrims began to push in, forming a new and threatening crowd around a now much smaller ring, he spared a glance down at the wizard. “I had a feeling it was you in here,” he growled.

“The fire?” asked Singe with a weak smile.

“The screaming.” Geth glanced at the orcs. “Orshok, help him. Krepis, can you see what’s happening on the mound?”

As the larger of the orcs tried to peer off above into the night, the other squatted down quickly, pulling a flask from a pouch. “A healing potion,” he said to Singe, and the wizard realized with a start that he was the same orc who had helped them in Zarash’ak. The orc opened the flask. A smell like bitter tea mixed with overripe fruit stung Singe’s nostrils. He twitched his head away out of reflex, but the motion sent a spasm of pain down his back. The orc grabbed his face and turned it back to him, forcing the flask against his lips. “Drink,” he ordered.

The potion tasted as bad as it smelled, but as it worked its way down his throat, a cool sensation spread through his body that was utterly different from Fause’s foul healing. The worst of his pain eased away, leaving him with only bruises and scrapes. Singe drew a deep breath.

“I’d enjoy that,” said Natrac. “It could be your last.” He thrust a long knife fastened where his missing hand should have been at a Bonetree hunter as she took a step closer. She bared her teeth and darted back.

The orc helped Singe to his feet. The wizard squeezed in between him and Geth. Together with Natrac and the second orc, they numbered five. He looked out at the massed hunters and dolgrims who clustered around them just out of sword reach, shifting and jostling for best position in the coming slaughter. “You healed me for this?” he asked.

“You’re welcome,” Geth grunted. “Where’s Dandra?”

“In the mound. Unless-” His eyes darted across the crowd. He might have been wrong, but it seemed like one tall hunter was missing from the battle. Breath hissed between his teeth. “Ashi. Twelve moons, Ashi’s gone for her!”

“Ashi?”

“Long story. She’s changed sides. She’s blood of Deneith, Geth!”

The shifter cursed. “So we don’t know where Dandra is. Any spells handy?”

“A couple.” Singe tried to gauge the effect his magical flames might produce. “I might be able to open us a path to the mound, but getting away again would be something else.”

“We’ll worry about that when we have to,” said Geth. He hesitated, then added, “Singe, about Narath-if we get out of this, we’ll talk. No more running.”

Singe shot him sharp glance. “Deal,” he said.

Geth looked at the two orcs and Natrac. “Ready?” They nodded. Geth looked to Singe. “Do it,” he said. Singe drew a breath and spread his hand, calling the words of a spell to mind …

But before he could cast the spell, a ripple and a murmur spread through their enemies. The mass of bodies surrounding them was pulling back, a path opening through the ranks. A path that led directly toward the mound-and Dah’mir and Medala.

The pair was still on their platform, though they looked distinctly less calm than Singe had ever seen them. Dah’mir sat stiffly in his chair as yet another bolt of lightning flashed overhead. Medala crouched on her seat, flinching like the dog at the thunder. When she caught sight of Singe along the open path though, her hand snapped out to point at him. “You defy Dah’mir!” she shrieked. “You defy him! I’ll turn your mind inside out! I’ll feed you your own fears! I’ll-”

“Medala!” snapped Dah’mir. “Enough! Sit down!” His green-eyed gaze snapped around and he glared at them. “Give me Tetkashtai. Give me the crystal.”

Singe felt waves of charisma wash over him, Dah’mir’s astounding and eerie presence beating against him. He wasn’t sure why he was fighting the green-eyed man. If he’d had Dandra’s crystal, he’d have given it up to him.

Geth just stood up straight, his eyes hard. “No,” he said.

The denial seemed to break Dah’mir’s spell over all of them. Singe blinked and shook his head as Dah’mir sat back sharply. His pale, beautiful face was contorted with incoherent rage. If his presence had been overwhelming before, it was now terrifying. Singe’s legs shook. Medala let out a screech that was almost inhuman. Around them, the Bonetree hunters and even the dolgrims were trembling and falling back.

Dah’mir rose and stepped down from the platform, the black leather of his robes whispering around him. The aura of his presence surrounded him like twilight, dark and growing darker with every heartbeat. He seemed to loom over them all. Even Geth was pale. He raised his arms, crossing sword and gauntlet before him, ready for a fight that the expression on his face said he knew he wouldn’t win.

“The crystal!” roared Dah’mir in a voice that rocked the night. “Give it to me or-”

His words died in the flash of lightning that fell down out of the sky, dropping on him in a twisting bolt so intense that the ground shook. All around the spot where Dah’mir had stood, hunters were thrown back. The platform on which he had sat was battered aside and Medala sent flying. Even fifteen paces away, the energy of the bolt stung Singe’s arm as he flung it up to shield his eyes. At his side, Geth staggered back, then staggered again as thunder hammered them.

After an instant of stunned silence, Orshok threw up his arms and let out a whoop of triumph-a whoop that died as suddenly as the lightning had fallen.

Dah’mir was picking himself up from the ground. His fine robes were scorched and his pale face smudged, but his acid-green eyes were brighter than ever. He whirled like a striking serpent, shouting an arcane word as his fingers flicked at the night.

As if dawn had come early, daylight spread across the side of the mound to reveal a battered party of orcs-and the scattered bodies of chuul, dolgaunts, and even mind flayers. Near the top of the slope, stood an old white-haired orc, his staff still directed toward Dah’mir.

The moment froze.

Then a warrior among the orcs raised an axe over his head and screamed out a wild battle cry. The cry whipped through the orcs and abruptly they were pounding down the slopes in a howling, savage green wave.

The Bonetree hunters and dolgrims leaped to meet them without even a word from Dah’mir, horrid shrieks and wild screams rising into the air. More threw themselves wildly at Geth and Singe’s little band. From the corner of his eye, Singe saw Orshok spin a staff while Krepis met a dolgrim with a thrust from a spear. Natrac battled a Bonetree hunter, one of the bloodthirsty young men who had tried to challenge Ashi. Dolgrims leaped at Geth; the shifter threw one back with a thrust of his gauntlet, then cut down the other with a swing of his sword.

Singe just stared at Dah’mir’s back, turned to them as he glared up at the old orc on the mound. There was a clear line between him and the green-eyed man. The wizard thrust out his hand and spat a word of magic.

Flames roared from his hand, two seething bolts that washed over Dah’mir’s back and engulfed him utterly.

The fiery blast had even less effect than the lightning. Dah’mir whirled and the magical flames were snuffed out in the folds of his robe. Eyes filled with utter rage pierced Singe-then Dah’mir stiffened and his face twisted in anger. His hands clenched into fists, he threw back his head, and roared, “Enough!”

The flash of lightning lit the tunnel ahead. Thunder shook the stone-lined walls. “Il-Yannah!” Dandra gasped.

“We’re close!” Ashi shouted. She raced forward. Dandra tightened her grip on her spear and darted after her.

It seemed as if the sun rose as they reached the mouth of the mound, a warm and magical light that flooded the tunnel and shone across a scene of chaos outside. Dandra caught a glimpse of a crowd of Bonetree hunters and dolgrims. Of Singe, Geth, Natrac, and two orcs standing at defense, weapons bristling.

Of Dah’mir standing, pointing up at the slope of the mound, green eyes blazing.

She froze at the sight of him.

His presence was as stunning and irresistible as ever, drawing her every thought to him in horrible fascination. All the way up through the tunnels of the mound, following the path that Ashi had marked, Dandra had tried to prepare herself for this moment, fortifying herself, telling herself that this time she would not succumb to his charm.

But there was no charm about Dah’mir now. Rage poured from him instead. He was furious and terrible, some ancient power, some predator of unbelievable madness and strength. Standing atop a toppled chair, Medala screamed and ranted as if animated by that madness. Dandra fought to pull back, to close her eyes and cut off the sight.

Ashi did it for her, dragging her back into the tunnel as cries of battle rage and the thunder of charging feet rolled down from above. Orcs streamed past the tunnel mouth in a tide of fury. Hunters and dolgrims surged forward to meet them. Violence swirled outside the mound-but Ashi’s quick action had broken Dah’mir’s hold on her. Dandra sucked in a heaving breath. Ashi released her. “Are you all right?”

“Dah’mir almost had me again.” There was a frightening suspicion growing inside her. She could still hear Medala screaming in reflection of the insanity that shone in Dah’mir’s eyes. “It’s his madness,” she breathed half to herself. “There’s something about his madness …”

There was no time to follow the thought. The distinctive roar of flame rushed over the battlefield. Dandra gasped. “Singe!” Bracing herself against Dah’mir’s power, she leaped back to the tunnel mouth in time to see the green-eyed man, his robes smoking, throw back his head and roar.

A roar that changed and grew deeper as Dah’mir’s throat and chest swelled and stretched and … transformed.

“Light of il-Yannah!” she breathed in shock.

“Twelve bloody moons!” cursed Singe in awe. Geth could only stare, his gauntlet and the Dhakaani sword just weights on his arms.

The change began in Dah’mir’s face. His cheeks swept back into his ears. His chin grew sharp and pointed as the tip of a knife, his entire lower face stretching out after it. His eyebrows rose and vanished as flat, sweeping horns rose from his head.

Clenched fists became knotted claws. Arms and legs shifted and changed. Black hair and robes of leather merged and became scaly hide as pale skin darkened and took on a sheen of copper that spread down Dah’mir’s throat and belly. A thick tail thrust out of his back and he grew-and grew-and grew.

Acid-green eyes as big as lanterns narrowed. Massive legs flexed and thrust against the ground. Wings like coppery-black sails stretched from Dah’mir’s side to beat the air.

Geth’s lips peeled back to bare his teeth and he found his voice. “Tiger, Wolf, and Rat!” he snarled as the dragon leaped into the sky.