Don Bassingthwaite - The Binding Stone

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.