Don Bassingthwaite - The Binding Stone

Alongside him, Singe, Natrac, Krepis, and Orshok raised their weapons as well. Geth glanced at Batul. The Gatekeeper had closed his eyes. Geth adjusted his grip on the Dhakaani sword, trying to settle his sweating palm around the hilt.

Singe’s eyes were on Dah’mir. “What’s he waiting for?” he asked.

“He’s waiting,” said Medala’s harsh voice, “for me.”

Battle-trained reflexes and nerves already on edge brought Geth snapping around. Medala stood like an iron pillar in the midst of the carnage of the battleground. Her body was rigid with rage, the veins and muscles of her thin neck standing out like cables. Her arms were stiff at her side, her eyes wide with an insane hatred.

As fast as his reflexes might have been, thought was faster. The crystalline tone of a chime seemingly so loud that it could have roused the dead shimmered through him-and all at once his chest squeezed tight, forcing the breath out of his lungs. Darkness swept around the edges of his vision and it was all Geth could do to gasp for air. The chime echoed in his mind, rolling on and on. Geth could see the others reeling around him as well. Krepis was clutching his throat. Batul sagged against his staff. Singe was on his knees, sucking in breath after wracking breath.

“You think you can escape?” spat Medala, her voice rising into a shriek. “You think you can find shelter from my master’s wrath? There is none! Khyber waits below all things and the lords of Khyber count Dah’mir among their greatest servants! There will be no more defiance from you!”

Every word seemed to grate across the lingering echoes in Geth’s mind. He could feel Adolan’s collar cold around his neck, but unlike the protection the Gatekeeper stones had offered from the mental attack of the mind flayer or Dah’mir’s commanding presence, the ancient magic seemed to falter before Medala’s psionic power. Geth tried to heave himself up straight, to swing his sword at Medala, but all he could manage was a feeble stagger.

Medala’s eyes flashed and agony crashed through him in another ringing chime. He fell against the ground and his next breath sucked in gritty soil.

In the darkness of the mound, Dandra pressed her back against the packed earth of the tunnel wall and listened to the noises of the battle outside. Cheers of triumph from dolgrims, terrible cries from people dying a horrible death.

“He spits acid!” said Ashi in shock. The big hunter stood closer to the tunnel mouth, motionless in the thin shadows, describing what was taking place outside. “Dandra, he spits acid!”

Dandra could hear the rage and fear that trembled in Ashi’s voice. She squeezed her eyes shut, half-glad that she couldn’t see what the hunter did, half-sick that she didn’t even dare to look. Dah’mir’s transformation hadn’t diminished his fascinating, captivating presence at all-it might have even increased it. As the dragon had taken to the air, Dandra had felt his power tug on her. She’d hurled herself back into the shadows but she didn’t dare look out on the battlefield again. “Singe?” she asked Ashi. “Geth? Are they still-?”

“They’re alive and fighting,” Ashi said. “They’re coming this way-maybe trying to rescue you, maybe just looking for shelter!”

Dandra’s eyes snapped open as new hope kindled in her heart. “Where’s Dah’mir?”

Ashi leaned out of the mound mouth slightly. “I don’t see him.” She glanced back. “Dandra, Dah’mir’s age, his power-the Bonetree thought they were gifts of the Dragon Below. We didn’t know …”

“It doesn’t matter now!” Dandra sprang away from the wall and up to the gaping mouth. The air outside was heavy with the smell of blood and battle, but compared to the air within the mound, it was sweet. She peered out cautiously. There was no sign of Dah’mir, but that could change at any moment. Across the battlefield, Geth, Singe, and their band of orcs had turned aside, going to the aid of an old orc who fought with surprising vitality in spite of his age.

Caught in the heat of battle, they didn’t see Medala rise from the ground of the battlefield, fury gathered around her like a cloak.

“Il-Yannah!” Dandra gasped. She drew a sharp breath to call a warning-only to be whirled back into the tunnel before she could even form the words. Ashi hit the tunnel wall beside her.

“Dah’mir is back! He’s landing!”

Helpless, Dandra swallowed her warning and pressed her head back as enormous wings rattled the air and the weight of a dragon shook the ground. For a moment, silence settled over the battlefield and the mound.

Silence that was broken by the crystal chime of Medala’s psionic power, as clear and loud to Dandra as if the other kalashtar had been standing right next to her. She clenched her spear so tight that the pale wood hurt her fingers. Outside, she could hear Medala threatening and cursing her friends. “Ashi, what’s happening out there?”

“They can’t breathe!” Ashi said. “They looked ready to defend themselves, but now they can’t breathe!”

“It’s Medala.” Dandra bit her tongue in horror. Your friends are dying, she screamed at herself silently. Your friends are dying and you’re hiding!

What choice did she have? Without Tetkashtai, she was no match for Medala. Even with Tetkashtai, Dah’mir’s power could overwhelm her in moments, but if she could deal with the mad kalashtar, her friends might be able to escape the dragon. If only she had Tetkashtai’s crystal, she would at least be able to use powers other than simple tricks of vayhatana …

Her eyes narrowed then sprang wide and she swallowed hard. “Ashi, I have an idea, but I need you to create a diversion.”

“How?”

Dandra’s jaw tightened. “Fight Medala. Resist her powers for as long as you can.”

A savage grin twisted across Ashi’s face. “That I can do. What will you do?”

Dandra reached to her belt and opened a pouch. Spinning a fine web of vayhatana , she reached inside and lifted out Virikhad’s violet psicrystal with her thoughts alone. Even through that nebulous contact, it seemed that she could feel the spirit of the kalashtar trapped inside.

“I’m going to reunite old friends.” She looked up. “Are you ready?”

Ashi raised her sword. “More than ready!” Fury flushed her face as she lunged out of the tunnel mouth. “For Ner, Medala! For Ner!”

Dandra drew a breath and followed her, tugging the violet crystal after her. Focus, she told herself. Send the crystal to Medala. Ignore everything else …

The instant she stepped into open air, that focus vanished.

Perhaps thirty paces away, Singe crouched on the ground, his entire body heaving as he fought for breath. Beside him, Geth writhed in the dirt, wracked by pain. Medala was whirling to face Ashi’s unexpected attack, alarm written on her face. Ashi herself was leaping past dolgrims, sword held low and ready to strike.

Dah’mir’s scaled, dark copper form towered over everything, green eyes staring down with a mad, hungry intensity-and those eyes darted to her. Dandra felt the dragon’s smothering presence, but the only emotion that was reflected in his eyes was pure rage. Great jaws opened in a roar that shook the night, almost drowning out the chime of Medala’s power.

Ashi-along with more than half a dozen dolgrims-staggered and froze as Medala turned her will against them.

The web of vayhatana that held Virikhad’s crystal suspended disappeared along with Dandra’s concentration. The crystal fell to the ground and for a moment all Dandra could do was stare at it.

“You!” shrieked Medala. She thrust out a hand, the chime of her power building. Dah’mir, a coppery juggernaut almost half as tall as the mound itself, lunged toward her. His horrible presence washed over her. Fear stabbed into Dandra’s gut and nearly drove conscious thought from her mind.