The Binding Stone

CHAPTER 6

A sound like an avalanche brought Singe’s head up. Out on the common, the elemental that Adolan had summoned from the Bull Hole was falling apart in midstride, the earth and stones that had formed its body tumbling to the ground. The dolgrims it had been pursuing stopped and stared-then advanced cautiously to prod the heaped stone with their weapons. Singe swung around to stare past the scorched circle of his spell. A few human bodies lay within the blackened ring, but not nearly enough to account for all the Bonetree hunters. In the shadows beyond, he could make out figures emerging from the trees and picking themselves up from the ground.

“Moons!” he cursed. He leaped down from the barricade and dashed to Dandra. The kalashtar seemed frozen, watching Geth as he held Adolan’s body, his forehead touching the druid’s. Singe caught her arm. “They’re regrouping!”

She started and whirled around, picking out exactly what he had. Their enemies were gathering themselves for a new attack. “Il-Yannah,” she breathed. There was an edge of terror to her voice. “Will they never stop?”

“We need to find somewhere defensible,” Singe told her. “Somewhere we can put our backs to a wall-”

“No,” said Geth.

Singe spun back to the shifter. He was standing, Adolan’s collar of stones around his neck. The druid lay at his feet. A line of dirt had been traced down his pain-twisted face. Geth’s face was smudged with dirt as well. Beneath it, the shifter’s features were hard with barely restrained emotion.

“We aren’t staying here,” he said. He bent and ripped his sword out of the Bonetree hunter’s corpse. His eyes swept around the ruins of Bull Hollow. Singe followed his gaze and realized that there wasn’t a living inhabitant of the hamlet left on the common. Dol Arrah, he prayed, let them be safe in the woods!

Geth strode toward him and Dandra. “You said before,” the shifter asked Dandra, “that if you fled, the hunter and the dolgrims would follow you. Do you think they still will?”

Dandra nodded. “Yes. More than ever.”

“Good. We’re leading them away from here. All of us.” He gestured with his armored hand toward still-closed doors of the stable. “Singe, get horses-battle measures.”

The old words of the Frostbrand. Instinct pushed Singe to obey before he even fully understood what Geth was proposing. Understanding came as he fumbled at the stable doors.

Battle measures-act quickly, take the best, deal only with the necessary. They would use Dandra as bait to lead their vile enemies away from Bull Hollow, to give any survivors a better chance to hide.

He glanced at Toller’s body behind the barricade, killed by the dolgaunt while defending a place and people he didn’t know. His jaw tightened.

He pulled open the door of the stable. Inside, the building echoed with the cries of panicked horses. An everbright lantern hung beside the door. He took it and lowered the shade to expose the light within, then made his way down the center aisle of the stables.

His own horse, battle-trained, was waiting quietly. He saddled the animal with a speed born from long practice, then turned to Toller’s horse, trained like his own, and a spirited-looking mare. Unused to strange hands, only the mare gave him trouble.

“Singe!” called Geth from outside. “We need those horses!”

“Almost ready!” he called back. He got a bit into the mare’s mouth, then released his horse and Toller’s before backing the mare out of her stall.

Outside, the hunters and the dolgrims were still sorting themselves out. A shout went up, though, as an alert hunter spotted the horses. Their enemies began to close, warily this time.

Geth took the mare’s reins and nodded at the lantern in Singe’s hand. “Keep it open,” he said. “We want them to follow us.” He swung into the mare’s saddle. Singe climbed onto his horse, then held Toller’s steady as Dandra scrambled awkwardly into the saddle. Geth watched her with an unpitying eye. “Hold tight and stay low,” he advised her. “Now follow me!”

With a tight shout and a kick at his mount’s sides, he galloped straight at the clustered Bonetree hunters. Singe darted a glance at Dandra. She nodded grimly-then raised her voice in a fierce, rippling cry. “Adar! Adar! Bhintava adarani!”

Toller’s eager horse needed no other urging. It sprang after Geth instantly. “Deneith!” called Singe, pushing his horse into a gallop, too.

Geth’s roar was less prosaic. “Follow us, you murdering bastards!” he screamed as he raced by the hunters, then pulled his horse around to flash past the dolgrims as well. “Follow us!” He plunged his horse into the forest along a path that Singe could barely see. Dandra, her voice shaking, vanished after him.

Singe turned in his saddle, waving the everbright lantern to be sure the hunters and the dolgrims had seen it. They had-they were charging across the battle-scarred common in a stream. Singe gave the fiery, bloody remains of Bull Hollow one last look, then turned back to bend low over his horse’s neck.

Dawn’s golden light found them riding across the bare slope of a hill. Dandra felt it wash over her back, warming her night-cooled skin. There were more hills around them, all blanketed in long grass and thorny-looking bushes. Further down the slope, thicker trees grew in abundance. If they’d ridden among them, they would have had cover from their pursuers. Dandra didn’t need to ask why they weren’t riding in the trees. She knew the answer.

Geth wanted to be sure they were seen.

Dandra clung to her horse in exhaustion. All of her reserves-physical and mental-were devoted to hanging on to the animal. Her arms ached and her legs burned. Her backside was so sore she was certain that she’d never walk upright again.

At least she would walk again. A vision of Bull Hollow flickered in front of her eyes. Burning houses, screaming people, silent bodies. Adolan, dead in Geth’s arms. The same vision had haunted her all night. A community had been destroyed because of her brief presence.

She raised her head look at Geth’s back. The shifter rode in front of her, guiding his horse with a light touch. He had held them to the same pace all night after their initial galloping flight from Bull Hollow-just fast enough to stay ahead of runners on foot, easy enough that the horses didn’t tire too much. He sat stiffly upright, constantly alert. He hadn’t looked at her or spoken a single word through all their long ride.

Singe was behind her. The wizard hadn’t spoken either, but she could feel his gaze on her back. It made her want to wither up in shame.

Survival is nothing to be ashamed of, Tetkashtai said. It’s why you’re here at all. The long, dark hours of the night and the knowledge that they were once more fleeing the Bonetree hunters rather than standing against them had finally calmed the presence. She was rational again-if not entirely forgiving. Her yellow-green light pulsed righteously. If you’d listened to me and left when I told you to, none of this would have happened.

You don’t know that, Dandra told her. The Bonetree clan are savages. They could have overrun Bull Hollow just looking for us.

You should have run when you had the chance. You could have made a clean escape.

Anger flared in Dandra’s belly. If you had worked with me instead of sulking, maybe I could have made a difference! She thrust another memory at Tetkashtai: hunters and dolgrims she should have been able to stop with fiery blasts, flames raging out of control that she should have been able to control with a thought. Without Tetkashtai’s cooperation, her powers had dwindled-

Your powers? Tetkashtai’s voice filled with disdain. You forget yourself! Without me, you’re little more than a warm body with a few tricks in your head. Without me, Dandra snapped, you’re a rock!

Coming from you, that’s almost amusing, Tetkashtai struck back with seething hatred. Give the crystal to Singe and we’ll see what happens.

A chill settled over Dandra. Tetkashtai sensed her apprehension. Are you afraid of what might happen, Dandra? she asked. Are you afraid that I might find another-?

Dandra wrenched her mind away. She couldn’t shut the presence out entirely, though, and Tetkashtai pulled at the edge of her consciousness. The presence was laughing at her, an edge of madness to her silent voice. Dandra sagged down in her saddle.

They passed around the hill and onto another, winding their way through wild valleys of astounding beauty. Where the folds of the hills dropped away to her right, Dandra could see dark mountains in the distance. The forests of the Eldeen Reaches were spread out to her left, a green sea that filled valleys and turned hilltops into islands. She found herself staring in spite of her exhaustion. In her flight from the Bonetree, she had been too busy watching the ground to enjoy the sweeping vistas of the wilderness.

The sun had climbed twice its own width above the horizon when Singe groaned, “Enough, Geth! I need to stop, at least for a little while.”

Dandra watched the shifter turn slowly in his saddle, surveying the land around them. The metal of his great gauntlet scraped as he flexed his arm. Dandra looked around as well, but could see nothing over the entire distance behind them. If the Bonetree hunters were back there, they were more stealthy than she would have believed possible. Finally, Geth nodded. Muttering a curse, Singe reined in his horse and dismounted to lurch a short distance away. He fumbled with his pants, then let out a tremendous sigh of relief. Dandra flushed and glanced away.

Her gaze met Geth’s. He was staring at her as he dismounted. She jerked without meaning to and her horse shifted in alarmed reaction. Dandra clutched at the reins. The horse just swung its head around to fix one dark eye on her.

“Get down.” Geth’s voice was harsh, the sudden sound of it startling.

Dandra’s eyes darted to him out of instinct. He wasn’t looking at her this time though. Squatting by his horse’s head, he stared out at the rugged horizon. There was a battered packet of what looked like dried meat in his hand. Thick fingers fished out a strip.

“Get down,” he said again. “This rest is for your horse more than it is you.” He stuffed the meat into his mouth.

Dandra felt blood rush to her face at the rebuke. She leaned forward and braced her hands on the front of the saddle, then swung her left leg back awkwardly. Her knees and hips were stiff. Moving was painful. Gritting her teeth, she got her leg around and slithered backward out of the saddle.

The instant she put her weight down on her aching legs, though, they started to fold under her. Dandra gasped and grabbed at the saddle, but her horse whinnied in alarm and danced sideways. She would have fallen if Singe hadn’t stepped up and caught her. She nodded silent thanks to him and steadied herself on her feet, feeling very much like a child.

“Have you never ridden before?” Singe asked.

“Not so hard or so long,” said Dandra. “I’m more used to walking.”

“Or floating?”

His words were raw. She flushed again. “Or floating,” she admitted.

She took a few tentative steps, rubbing her fingers into her muscles and stretching her legs. As she moved, she looked out at the landscape ahead. Hills, forest, and more hills-including one that bore a distinctive lopsided crest of white stone. Dandra glanced at Geth. The shifter was snapping at another piece of dried meat.

“I recognize that hill ahead,” she said. “I passed it on the south side two days ago.”

“And you’ll be passing it again on the north side before sunset,” Geth mumbled around the meat.

Dandra’s breath caught in her throat. “What?”

“You came this way, didn’t you? You came from the Shadow Marches? Well, you’re going back.”

What? screeched Tetkashtai. Back? We can’t go back there! Dandra, tell him-

Dandra pushed the raving presence away and swallowed hard. A long moment of silence passed, the only sound the rustle of a cool breeze in the grass. Finally, Dandra took a slow breath. “Geth,” she said softly, “I’m so sorry. Adolan was-”

Geth spun around so fast that Dandra barely even saw him rise to his feet. “Adolan was what?” the shifter roared, thrusting his face into hers. “What was Adolan to you? What was Bull Hollow to you? A place to stop? A place to hide?”

He bared his teeth and Dandra could feel the moist heat of his breath. His wide amber eyes stared into hers. His very presence was intimidating, as if he was some wild animal that had come leaping out of the trees to confront her. A primal fear seized her heart. Geth was an animal in every way: his teeth, his eyes, his flat nose, his dense hair, the thick muscles that corded his neck, shoulders, and arms.

“Geth …” she pleaded.

He lifted his right hand slowly, raising the hooked blades that stood out from the back of his gauntlet in front of her face. “By Tiger’s blood, I wish we had left you to those displacer beasts.”

His hand snapped down and he turned away. Dandra stood stiff in shock. Singe was standing nearby. She shot a frightened glance at him. He shook his head. “Don’t ask me.” The Aundairian’s mouth twisted. “Geth wasn’t the only one who lost someone at Bull Hollow.”

Dandra’s heart felt like it had been turned inside out. Geth asked the question that she wanted to. “Who?” he snapped from a distance. “Who did you lose?”

Singe gave the shifter a cold, flat look. “His name was Toller d’Deneith, Geth. We were recruiting. This was his first command.” He stood up a little straighter. “He was Robrand’s nephew. Do you know what House Deneith has done to the old man’s name since Narath?”

Dandra didn’t understand what Singe meant, but it was clear that Geth did. A look of haunted guilt flickered briefly in his eyes. Singe’s anger wasn’t spent though. The wizard turned to her.

“I thought I found Toller last night, but he was already dead,” he said harshly. “Hruucan killed him.” He held out an arm, tugging back a blood-stained sleeve so that Dandra could see the marks-fading a little now-where the dolgaunt’s skin had pressed against his. “These hurt. Toller was covered in marks even deeper. He must have died in agony.” Singe let his sleeve drop and looked up at her.

“You never told us how exactly you knew Hruucan’s name,” he said.

Geth growled and stood closer. “Or why a cult of the Dragon Below would want a random sacrifice back so badly they’d spend a month chasing her and be willing to destroy a hamlet in the process.” He lifted his gauntlet.

Dandra’s belly twisted along with her heart. In her mind, Tetkashtai’s light rose like a yellow-green column. Dandra, leave! the presence urged. They’re turning on you. You’re not going to get any more help from them. A new image formed within her light, an image of Dandra sliding her body between the crevices of space to cover hundreds of yards in a single long step. The same power she had used to break her trail when the Bonetree had been hunting her. Without the hunters’ black herons, Geth and Singe would be unable to track her. The long step could carry her over the hill and out of sight …

But through Tetkashtai’s light, Dandra could still see Bull Hollow and all of the people who had died because of her. She clenched her teeth and turned, putting her back to the two men. Tetkashtai’s voice rose in a shriek. Dandra! What are you doing?

What I have to do. Drawing a determined breath, Dandra twisted her arms over shoulders and pulled up her shirt to expose her back-and the deep puckered scars of the wounds that Hruucan’s foul tentacles had left on her skin.

Both Geth and Singe were silent.

She lowered her shirt and turned back to face them. “Will you let me show you something?” she asked.

Dandra!

“Be quiet, Tetkashtai,” Dandra hissed out loud. Before the presence could react, she pushed her thoughts outward. In her mind’s eye, Singe and Geth were like dark, tangled clouds. Dandra thrust herself into both clouds, catching at the men’s thoughts and binding them to her own.

The kesh was the simplest of powers, a gift that all kalashtar shared and that enabled them to touch the minds of others. Even with Tetkashtai struggling against her, trying to draw away as she had at the Bull Hole, Dandra felt the connection of the kesh surround her. She could sense both Geth and Singe resisting her, frightened by this sudden intrusion. She sent images of reassurance pulsing into their minds-then opened up her own mind to them.

Geth yelped and leaped away, swiping with his gauntlet at the glowing yellow-green presence that loomed around them. Singe stood still, perhaps as a wizard more used to telling the difference between what was and was not physically present. He couldn’t conceal his astonishment, however, as Tetkashtai flailed at her sudden exposure. Dandra held the presence’s angry screams of shame back from the thought-link.

“What is that?” Singe breathed in astonishment.

“That’s Tetkashtai,” said Dandra. She steeled herself and spread her arms. “I’m a part of her. This is her body.” Through the kesh, she sent an image spinning out to the men, an image of the phantom presence condensed down to a solid form-the psicrystal that hung against her chest. She held that vision of the crystal before them. This, she said silently, is me.

Geth snarled and crouched like a frightened animal as Singe stared. “Tetkashtai is the kalashtar and you’re her psicrystal?” the wizard asked finally.

Dandra nodded.

“Twelve moons. How?”

Dandra swallowed. “Dah’mir,” she said. She sent an image speeding along the link between their minds: an image of a tall man, his skin pale and flawless, his hair jet black. He wore robes of fine leather as dark as his hair. In a fabulous display of wealth, three red dragonshards had been set into the leather of each sleeve and a blue shard in the center of his chest. His eyes, however, outshone the magical stones. They were green-bright, acid green.

Even in her memories, those eyes had power. They were like an ocean rising to engulf her. Tetkashtai shuddered, her light flickering. Dandra’s heart skipped as she fell into those remarkable green eyes once more …

“Stop it!” howled Geth.

Dandra started, the sound of the shifter’s anguish ripping through her. Singe started as well and blinked his eyes as if emerging from a daze.

Geth was down on his knees, clutching at his head and staring at her. “What are you trying to do?” he spat.

“I’m sorry,” Dandra whispered. “That’s Dah’mir. There’s something irresistible about him. None of us could withstand him.”

“Who is he?” Geth demanded. “Who is ‘us?’”

Dandra grimaced in spite of herself. “‘Us’? I should say ‘them.’”

She pushed more memories into the minds of the shifter and the wizard. Of Tetkashtai, hovering above the small clear space in the middle of a sparsely-furnished bedchamber, the Adaranforged crysteel head of her spear flashing as she glided through the forms of spear practice. Of another kalashtar watching Tetkashtai from the bed, a smile of pleasure on his face and a violet crystal laying against his bare chest. Of a third kalashtar, her middle-length, slightly curly hair shot through with streaks of premature gray, bending over a table littered with books and paper. A blue crystal glittered in the band she wore across her forehead.

“Virikhad,” said Dandra, “and Medalashana.” She focused her gaze on the white-crested hill in the distance as she spoke, trying to extract herself from the memories. “We …” She winced and corrected herself. “They lived together in Sharn, researching dragonshards and looking for new ways to blend psionics with the magic of the shards.”

Singe’s eyebrows rose. “Did they succeed?”

“No.” Dandra showed him and Geth an image of the papers that had littered Medalashana’s table, all drawings of dragonshards, meticulously sketched and colored by Virikhad, right down to the patterns that swirled at their hearts. The rosy red of Eberron shards, broken from stones. The glowing gold of Siberys shards, fallen from the sky. The night-deep blue-black of Khyber shards, drawn up from the depths of the world. “They needed to experiment with raw shards that hadn’t been claimed by wizards or attuned to the powers of the dragonmarked houses-and raw shards are rare.”

She hesitated, then added. “When I told Adolan I was kidnapped from Zarash’ak in the Shadow Marches, it wasn’t entirely true. Medalashana, Tetkashtai, and Virikhad were lured to Zarash’ak from Sharn. There are rich fields of Eberron shards in the Marches. Raw shards are more common there than anywhere else. Tetkashtai and the others received an invitation from a scholar who claimed to have himself moved to Zarash’ak so he could be closer to the source of the raw shards; he had heard of their research and invited them to visit him.”

Another image flowed from her memory: that fateful letter, the three kalashtar all clustered around trying to read it at once. Dandra swung from Tetkashtai’s neck. The signature at the bottom of the letter swayed underneath her, bold and clear. Dah’mir.

“Lies?” asked Geth.

Dandra’s eyes hardened. She resisted the urge to glare at the shifter. “What do you think?” Her lips pressed together. In her mind, she could feel Tetkashtai tremble with dread at what followed. Dandra spoke the memories in words, afraid they might overwhelm her again.

“They went, of course. A servant met them at the docks, and escorted them to a grand house with blue doors. Dah’mir was waiting for them.” The vision of acid green eyes swam in her head again. She forced them away and said instead, “He looked just the way I showed you and the moment he spoke, we drowned in the force of his personality. He fascinated us-kalashtar and psicrystals alike. It was like falling in love. We couldn’t help ourselves.” She drew a breath. “He led us into the marshes and we followed like children, carrying nothing but what we wore on our backs or held in our hands. After that …”

She struggled to find words, then abandoned the effort, letting the nightmare of her memories flow out.

The journey into the depth of the Shadow Marches was a blur of days, of half-remembered images. An escort of savage pierced and tattooed warriors-Bonetree hunters-meeting them. Tetkashtai and the other kalashtar, crouched impassively in the center of crude, flat-bottom boat as the hunters paddled up a shallow, reed-lined river in silence. Black herons flying overhead like gangly vultures, always circling. A new landscape of drier ground and long grasses, where strings of bones seemed to grow out of trees and clack in the shifting wind. An encampment of rough shelters where slack-jawed men and women and drooling children stared at them in awe. The river had been left behind and the kalashtar, surrounded by the hunters, stumbled after Dah’mir. As they passed the encampment, all the folk of the Bonetree fell in behind them, chanting the praises of Dah’mir and the Dragon Below.

A hill rose up out of the flat landscape, unnatural, a mound built by ancient hands. There was a tunnel in its side. Dah’mir led the kalashtar into it, leaving their Bonetree escort outside, still chanting. Inside, however, a new kind of escort took their place-an escort of which each member had four bandy arms and two gibbering mouths. They carried torches that gave off a blue-green flame, like burning copper. By the light of those torches, Dandra glimpsed other figures in the shadows, stalking the darkness with a lethal grace, their faces eyeless, long tentacles twitching from their shoulders.

Dolgrims. Dolgaunts. Terror sharpened and brought Dandra back to awareness, though Tetkashtai stumbled on, unheeding.

In a chamber deep within-or perhaps beneath-the mound, Dah’mir finally released the kalashtar. Medalashana, Virikhad, and Tetkashtai were free for only a moment, barely long enough to gasp at the horrors and the weird devices that surrounded them, before Dah’mir’s warm embrace was replaced by a cold domination.

Among the devices of the chamber stood a half dozen nightmare figures with spindly bodies and limbs shrouded in dark, clinging robes. Their hands had only four spidery digits, their flesh was purple-green and rubbery, their heads …

Their heads were broad and round, with veins that pulsed beneath their skin of their hairless scalps. Dead white eyes peered from deep, bony cavities. And in place of a nose and a jaw-in place of any lower face at all-they had four thick, writhing tentacles.

Illithids, whispered Dandra to Geth and Singe. Mind flayers.

The creatures lived up to their name. Dandra’s last moment of coherent contact with Tetkashtai dissolved in tearing mental anguish.

She could feel Singe’s growing horror and Geth’s growing rage. She held onto the memories though, wrenching them up into her mind and watching numbly as Tetkashtai-along with Medalashana and Virikhad-was subjected to the most gruesome of psychic tortures and probed by psionic powers to rival their own. Their bodies were bound to tables, their minds pinned back by bizarre devices of jointed metal and dark crystal clamped over their skulls. There was no way to know how much time passed. The light in the terrible underground laboratory never varied. The mind flayers came and went, but never in any pattern that made sense. Sometimes dolgaunts would come, torturing the kalashtar’s bodies. Hruucan was the worst of them. He made certain the captives knew his name so they would fear him even more.

Always there were Dah’mir’s eyes. Acid-green eyes. Watching.

Then spidery fingers closed on Dandra, ripping her away from Tetkashtai and placing her atop a tripod of long, crooked needles, suspended on their points. Virikhad’s violet crystal and Medalashana’s blue crystal were placed on similar tripods to either side of her. Dandra caught a glimpse of some strange device, an array of brass and crystal, wires and tubes-all of them writhing around a dragonshard, a huge blue-black Khyber shard as large as an anvil.

The mind flayers gathered around the device and their white eyes lifted to the shard. Their bodies grew still, but Dandra could sense the psionic energy building among them, growing increasingly more intense and more powerful-until it burst like a silent thunderclap.

Dandra’s presence stretched horribly, her being expanding, then contracting. Her connection to Tetkashtai seemed to twist, to turn inside out. The kalashtar was wailing, screaming as she had never screamed before. When the power of the mind flayers’ energy faded, though, Dandra realized that she was the one screaming. That she was breathing and physically struggling against her bonds. That Tetkashtai rested across the laboratory, her presence locked away in the yellow-green psicrystal.

The mind flayers retreated. The dolgaunts returned, and for the first time, Dandra felt pain directly.

On the hillside overlooking the Eldeen Reaches, she opened her eyes to sunlight. Singe and Geth were staring at her. Both men’s faces were pale. Within her, Tetkashtai hung silent and still, a ghost. No one said anything for a long, long time, until finally Singe ran a tongue across his lips and croaked. “You escaped?”

The thought-link was growing tenuous, worn away by the horrors that had flowed across it and stretched thin as Dandra’s powers flagged. She managed to send one last memory across it, a memory of waking in near-darkness, her spirit pared down to a lean core trapped in aching flesh. She shifted, writhing in agony-and realized that the dolgaunts hadn’t bound her, perhaps thinking her too weak to escape. In Dandra’s spirit, the core of her being steadied and grew strong. Although it sent new pain tearing through her, she sat up.

“When a psion creates a psicrystal,” Dandra told Geth and Singe as she watched the memory play out, “she splits off some part of her own psyche to give personality to the intelligence that she creates. The psicrystal grows out of that simple personality.”

In her mind’s eye, she felt herself climb to her feet and, with single-minded focus, shuffle across the laboratory toward a seemingly distant yellow-green glow. At the time she had been conscious of nothing but reaching the source of that glow-her crystal-but as she focused on the memory, she became aware of other things. Of how slow and painful her progress had been. Of the two crystals that rested on either side of her own, one a violet ember, the other a dead blue shell. She could have taken them. She could have turned her head, sought out Virikhad’s and Medalashana’s bodies. She hadn’t. She had one goal and no other.

“The core of my personality,” she said, her voice thick, “was determination. That’s what saved me.”

The hand of her memory-self closed on the yellow-green crystal-and Tetkashtai exploded into her head. Maddened kalashtar and determined psicrystal combined with a single, wild instinct-escape. Their powers-once Tetkashtai’s alone, now Dandra’s as well-flared. A thought spun out a line of vayhatana and Tetkashtai’s spear, carelessly thrown aside by Dah’mir’s servants, soared through the air to Dandra’s hand. Her feet floated free of the ground and she glided out of the laboratory. Dolgrims moved to confront her. She summoned whitefire out of the air and flung it against them. Her heart thundering, she raced on through half remembered tunnels as roars of outrage at her flight shook the mound behind her …

The thought-link finally collapsed, fading away and leaving her breathless at her own memories. She staggered, but caught herself. One hand, she realized was clutching her crystal so tight that the bronze wire that bound it pressed painfully into her skin. Dandra forced her fingers open and looked up at Singe and Geth.

“The rest,” she said, “you know. I’ve told you the truth about that. The Bonetree hunters were after us before that first night was over. I was lucky that I could skim over obstacles that they had to wade through.” She touched her belly. “And I can sustain myself with psionic energy, where they had to find food. But even with my powers, I could barely stay ahead of them. I just ran. I knew Yrlag was on the north edge of the Shadow Marches and I would have gone there, but clearly I went too far. If I’d gone a different way, I probably would have ended up in Droaam or lost in the mountains somewhere. When you and Adolan found me, Geth, I was exhausted. If I’d kept going, I probably would have killed myself-if those displacer beasts didn’t kill me first.”

She pressed her palms together and bent her body toward the shifter. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

Geth stared at her, his eyes wide, but Singe drew a deep breath. “Virikhad?” he asked. “Medalashana?”

“Dead if they’re lucky.”

“Why did Dah’mir do this to you? Why does he want you back so badly?”

Dandra’s stomach clenched. “I’ve asked myself that a thousand times.” She felt her cheeks burn. “I don’t know!”

“Maybe,” growled Geth, “we should go and ask him.”

He said it so bluntly that for a moment all Dandra could do was blink and stare at him. “Revenge?” she asked finally. Geth nodded. Dandra felt numb-even Tetkashtai flinched at the idea. “Geth, you can’t do that. Dah’mir is … powerful.” She touched her chest. “He held three kalashtar in his grasp!”

“I’m not a kalashtar. I’ll put my steel against whatever power he has. And I can’t think of a better memorial to Adolan and the other Hollowers than snuffing out a cult of the Dragon Below!” The shifter closed his gauntleted fist with a clash of metal.

Dandra flung up her arm to point behind them. “But the hunters and the dolgrims are still after us!”

“I haven’t seen a sign of them since dawn and even that was a long way back.” Geth’s lips curled back from his teeth. “We hurt them last night and they don’t have horses. They’ll need to rest and regroup. We’ll ride through the day and be well ahead of them.”

“I don’t know where the Bonetree camp and the mound are!” she blurted. “Dah’mir had us all in a daze on the way there and I was lost on the way out.”

“Then we’ll start where you met Dah’mir-Zarash’ak.” Singe stepped forward. “I’m with Geth.”

Geth shot a dark look at him. “No,” he growled.

“You’re going to do this yourself?” the Aundairian asked. “You’re not that good, Geth. I owe this to Toller.” His eyes narrowed. “Not to mention that I’ve been looking for you since Narath. Do you think I’m going to let you out of my sight now?”

Dandra heard the growl that rose in Geth’s throat, but she also caught the flash of white as his eyes opened-just for a moment-wide in fear. Singe leaned a little closer to him. “You need me for this, Geth. And I need you. Neither of us has any choice.”

They’re both mad, thought Tetkashtai. The presence was trembling, her emotions raw from the flood of memories. Dandra, when they have you well away from the Bonetree hunters, leave these fools to get themselves killed.

No, said Dandra. They’re not mad. There was a new fire growing inside her. She had been running for so long that there hadn’t seemed to be any other choice. But she had stood against the Bonetree at the circle of the Bull Hole and faced down Hruucan at Bull Hollow.

She looked up at both Singe and Geth. “I’m coming, too.”

Tetkashtai’s presence radiated shock. Dandra, you can’t do that!

After what Dah’mir has done? How can I not?

I’m not going back to that mound!

Dandra’s jaw tightened. Tetkashtai, running didn’t get us away from the Bonetree hunters or the dolgrims. This isn’t just revenge for us. Dah’mir isn’t going to give up unless we make him. He’ll keep hunting us. You know he will. I’m not running any more.

Tetkashtai wavered, fear tearing at her.

What if, Dandra suggested, there was something at the mound that could show us how to reverse what Dah’mir’s mind flayers did to us?

The question left the presence speechless. With a grim sense of triumph, Dandra looked back to Geth. “What are we waiting for?” she asked. “An escort from the Bonetree hunters?”

The shifter gave her a thin smile and turned to his horse, swinging up into the saddle. “We’ll head to Yrlag,” he said, nodding to the southwest. “It’s a little more than week’s ride and we should be able to find a ship there that will take us to Zarash’ak.”

The grass of the hillside had been crushed down in a wide patch. The round dung balls of three horses were clustered in neat piles nearby and the summer grass cropped in patches. Ashi rose and walked back to where Ner, Breff, and Hruucan were waiting for her. Ner had squatting down and was tapping the hilt of his sword against his chin in thought. Breff was inspecting the bloody bandage that covered the wolf bite sunk deep into his right calf. Hruucan, once again shrouded in his cloak and cowl, simply stood still. The dolgaunt moved awkwardly and the stench of charred flesh clung to him. The wizard had burned him more badly than he would admit. Ashi looked away from him as she made her report. “They stopped for a time. They rested, but they’re staying on the move.” She pointed. “Their trail turns on the slope of the hill. I think they’re heading toward Yrlag.” “When were they here?” asked Ner.

Ashi glanced at the sun. It stood just past its zenith, baking the hillside in warmth. “Midmorning,” she estimated.

“A quarter of a day,” Hruucan rasped at Ner. “And drawing further away all the time.” He gestured toward the trees in the bottom of the valley where the other hunters waited with the dolgrims. “Less than a third of your surviving hunters would be able to keep pace, let alone catch them!”

Ashi drew breath and glared at the dolgaunt in spite of herself. “More than half of the children of Khyber under your command didn’t walk off the battlefield at all.” She bit her tongue as Hruucan’s cowled head swung toward her.

“Ashi’s anger leads her, Hand of the Revered,” said Ner swiftly. The huntmaster looked up at her. “If we rest now, Ashi, how many hunters will still be fit for the pursuit?”

Behind Ner, Breff held up five fingers. Ashi looked back to the huntmaster. “Four,” she said.

Breff scowled. “Five!”

Ner reached out with his sword and tapped the flat of the scabbard against Breff’s injured calf. The hunter yelped and hopped awkwardly. “Four,” Ner repeated. He looked back to Ashi. “Who?”

“Mukur, Sita, Pado, and me,” she said. She flicked her tongue across the rings in her lip hesitantly, then added, “Even if we can catch her, though, Ner, we’d need surprise and luck to take them. They’re good fighters. You faced the shifter yourself.”

Ner scowled and tapped his sword against his chin once more. Hruucan’s grating voice broke the silence. “Dah’mir needs to be told, Ner. You must contact Medala.”

For a long moment, none of the hunters moved, then Ner shifted one arm, and reached into the pouch on his hip. His hand emerged with the glittering band of copper wire and crystals that Dah’mir had given to him. He held out his sword to Ashi. She took it and stepped back as the huntmaster rose, spread the band wide, and pulled it over the top of his head. The crystals caught the sunlight and scattered bright flashes across the hillside. Ner turned to face in the direction of the Shadow Marches and the distant ancestor mound.

“Medala!” he said loudly. “Ner calls you!” He waited a moment, then said again. “Medala! Ner calls-”

His voice fell silent as a blankness washed across his face. Ashi shifted uncomfortably. In the month of their pursuit, Ner had used Dah’mir’s device only a few times. Each time it had been like this. Ner had told her that it was like dreaming, that he had no awareness of his body while he spoke with the outclanner woman. He simply heard her in his head and replied to her by thinking his response. Sometimes, he had said, her manner was rough, wrenching the thoughts from his head before they were fully formed.

The communication never seemed to last long-after only a few moments, awareness would return to Ner’s expression and he would pull the crystal device from his head as quickly as he could. Ashi waited.

Except that instead of easing with awareness, Ner’s face drew tight in pain. His body tensed. Breff gasped out her name in alarm. Ashi froze, uncertain of what to do.

Then Ner’s mouth moved and he spoke. “Hruucan!”

The voice that came from Ner’s mouth sounded like the old hunter’s, but Ashi knew that it wasn’t his. The tones were clipped and sharp and the huntmaster had never in a month called the dolgaunt by his name. The words that emerged from Ner’s mouth, she recognized in her gut, belonged to Medala. The outclanner was speaking through Ner.

Hruucan reacted without surprise. “I’m here, Medala.”

“Failure is written in this fool’s mind. Dah’mir is disappointed.”

Ashi’s mouth went dry. Even Hruucan looked slightly distressed. “Medala-” the dolgaunt began.

Medala cut him off. “The Bonetree hunters will do no good hobbling in pursuit of an enemy. Dah’mir commands you to bring them back to the ancestor mound, Hruucan.”

The dolgaunt relaxed visibly. Ashi, however, exchanged a look of shock with Breff. Gathering her courage, she looked into Ner’s blank face. “But what about Ner, Medala? He’s our huntmaster!”

“Is that Ashi?” snapped Medala without answering her protest. “Dah’mir has instructions for you as well. You are the best of the surviving hunters-he places the pursuit in your hands. Follow wherever your quarry goes. Be stealthy. If the opportunity presents itself, you may kill the shifter and the wizard. Your quarry is all that’s important. Take the crystal band when I am finished. Use it more often than Ner has. When it is possible, help will be sent to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Ashi said automatically, then added quickly, “No. Why is Hruucan being placed over Ner, Medala?” There was no response. “Medala?” she asked, stepping closer to Ner.

The huntmaster’s eyes rolled back. A thin gurgle broke out of his throat and before Ashi could even reach for him, he collapsed. Ashi stared down as a trickle of blood came dribbling out of his nose. His eyes stared directly up at the sun.

“Ner?” she whispered.

Hruucan tilted back his cowl to stare at her. She caught a glimpse of the burned, dead skin of his face. “Ner failed Dah’mir and the Dragon Below,” the dolgaunt said harshly. “You have your instructions. Take the web.”

Ashi bent woodenly and tugged the band from Ner’s head. The light that flashed from the crystals seemed cold. Handling it as little as possible, she reached down and stuffed it into Ner’s hip pouch, then tugged the pouch off of his body. She met Breff’s gaze again as she stood. His eyes were wide. “Su Darasvhir,” he said in stunned voice.

For the Dragon Below.

“The trail grows cold,” said Hruucan. “Do you need any supplies?”

“No,” grunted Ashi. “I have everything I need.” Her hand tightened on Ner’s sword.