Don Bassingthwaite - The Killing Song

“As long as you sell people out to advance yourself, Mithas, you’re not going to understand someone like Ashi.” Singe pushed himself to his feet and away from the sorcerer. “I want to see Moon.”

“That’s good,” said Ashi, stepping up to them. “He’s awake and he wants to see you.” She paid scant attention to Mithas.

Moon was crouched on the other side of the deck, knees drawn up to his chest and rocking back and forth. Dandra had put a blanket over his shoulders, but he kept shrugging it off. He looked up as Singe approached, and the wizard saw that there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. For the first time, he was seeing Moon alone, not Moon with Virikhad’s presence behind him.

The young kalashtar tried to rise, but Dandra held him down. Singe dropped to kneel beside him. He glanced at Dandra, his lips shaping a silent question-what did Moon want? She shrugged. Singe met Moon’s gaze. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.

“I wanted to say thank you. For not using the binding stone on me. You could have used it and trapped Virikhad, but you didn’t.” Moon swallowed. His face was pale and haunted. “I remember everything that happened. I remember what he did-” His voice caught.

“It’s not your fault, Moon,” said Dandra. “You’re safe now.”

“No!” Moon said sharply. Anger crossed his face. “I’m not safe. No one is safe. I still have a connection to him.” He struck a fist against his ear. “I can still hear the song!”

“What?” Dandra sat up straight.

Singe frowned. “Are you sure it’s not just something you remember?”

Moon nodded. “I don’t know how,” he said. “Maybe he was inside me for too long. Maybe he got too close to my mind. The song is still there. I can hear it. It connects us. I don’t think he knows about it-or if he does, he doesn’t care.” There was a tremble in his voice. “You know how he used his powers through me? I think I can still use them. When he and Medala took the others away, I knew how to follow them with my mind. I felt them bend space.” He took a deep breath. “I know where they are.”

“Where?” Singe asked.

The young kalashtar rose to his knees and pointed through the rail of the ship directly at the Bonetree mound. “There,” he said. “Under there. Deep under.”

Singe looked at Dandra. “Dah’mir said the kalashtar would wake in the presence of the Master of Silence. Do you think Medala and Virikhad are trying the same thing?”

She nodded, then asked him, “Do you think we still have a chance of stopping them?”

“You have to,” said Moon. He turned away from the rail and stared at them. “I’ve felt Virikhad’s mind. I know I wouldn’t want to be like that.” His voice broke. “Light of il-Yannah, I will do whatever it takes to make that song stop!”

The anger in him made Singe jerk back but Dandra reached out and took the young kalashtar’s hand. “Easy, Moon,” she said soothingly. “I’ve felt Medala’s mind, and I touched the killing song in Erimelk. I know I what you’re feeling. But I’ve also been in the tunnels under the mound. I don’t know if we’d be able to find them in time-and Dah’mir’s down there now too.”

Moon’s jaw tightened. “I can take you right to them. I can use Virikhad’s power against him.”

Dandra’s breath hissed between her teeth. “Are you certain? The long step isn’t something to use lightly.”

“I’m certain,” said Moon. “And I have to try. I don’t want his song in my head!” He looked at her, then at Singe. “I can take both of you. Maybe someone else too.”

“Me,” said Ashi.

Singe turned around. The hunter, Natrac, and Mithas had gathered around them. Ashi’s dragonmarked face was determined.

Singe nodded, and Mithas let out a cry of protest.

Ashi glared at him. “I said I’d go with you when this was over and everyone was safe. The lords of Deneith can wait!”

“There’s no way to reverse what Dah’mir has already done to the kalashtar,” said Dandra. “The only way for the kalashtar mind to escape the psicrystal is through madness.” She looked from Ashi to Moon. “Whether they’ve already awakened as servants of Xoriat or not, if we want to release them, we’re going to have to kill them.”

Both Ashi and Moon nodded. Dandra’s dark eyes turned to Singe. The wizard’s heart felt like ice. “I’ve already killed them once,” he said. “I owe it to them to do it again.”

Torches made from burning reeds soaked in sweet oils cast a wavering light on the tunnel walls. The illumination wasn’t for the Gatekeepers’ benefit. The orcs and Ekhaas could have navigated the maze beneath the Bonetree mound without any light at all. Nor, Geth knew, was it for his, though he would have been as blind as a human without it. No, the torches, which burned with a greenish glow and gave off a thin smoke that smelled of cut grass, had only one purpose.

They held back the dolgrims.

The vile creatures seemed to be everywhere. As the light that surrounded the procession of druids advanced, they retreated into the darkness ahead. Where the tunnel was wide enough, they clustered in the shadows to the procession’s sides. When the light had passed, they closed in behind. As the Gatekeepers entered a new passage where the ceiling soared high overheard, Geth caught movement above and looked up.

Dolgrims crouched on ledges like spectators in the balcony of an arena. They shifted back from the light, but held their ground. Tiny dark eyes watched the intruders. Four bandy arms fondled sharp knives and spiked maces, even simple stones. Two wide mouths-one in the squat head that rose like a hump on each creature’s shoulders, the other in what should have been its chest-drooled and twitched. The passage, like all of the others beneath the mound, echoed with constant muttering as the dolgrims spoke to one another-and to themselves, each mouth taking sides in an unending conversation.

When the gibbering had first emerged from the shadows, Geth had tried listening to it. He’d been holding Wrath and the ancient sword allowed him to understand the weird tongue spoken by the creatures of Khyber just as it let him understand Orc and Goblin. After only a few moments, however, he’d had to sheathe the weapon, sickened by what he’d heard. The dolgrims spoke only of violence, violation, and depravity.

Ekhaas continued to listen, though it was clear she didn’t understand what they were saying. Her ears twitched with curiosity. “Their language almost sounds like Goblin,” she said.

“They almost look like goblins,” Geth grunted.

“They may have been goblins,” said Batul. “The oldest legends of the Daelkyr War, from the time when the daelkyr first burst from Xoriat to invade Eberron, say that the daelkyr brought creatures like the mind flayers with them, but that they also crafted new creatures from the races they encountered here. Some of the legends hold that the dolgrims were created from goblins.”

“What about dolgaunts?” asked Geth.

The old druid’s mouth closed tight for a moment, and he glanced at Ekhaas, then murmured, “Hobgoblins.”

Ekhaas’s ears pressed back flat against her skull.

A rock clattered somewhere close. One of the other Gatekeepers grunted something in Orc. Batul grimaced. “The dolgrims above are growing bolder. We need to get out of this passage.” He put his hand on the amulet of Vvaraak-it hung around his neck once more-and pointed with his hunda stick. “This way.” he said.

When they’d first entered the mound-the nine most senior Gatekeepers from the horde, Geth, and Ekhaas-the guidance that the amulet provided had hardly been necessary. Closer to the surface, cross-tunnels and side-passages had been uncommon and the floors of the tunnels they had followed had been worn smooth from use. More tunnels appeared the deeper they went, however. The floor became slick-smooth, polished by the passage of countless dolgrim feet over many, many years. Batul had kept them to their path though, the amulet guiding him toward the great seal.