Don Bassingthwaite - The Killing Song

The seal on the prison of the Master of Silence.

On ledges to one side of the cavern, closer to the seal than to him and Ekhaas, were the kalashtar captives. There were more than a dozen of them, some moaning, some twisting, all looking as if they struggled against some unseen tormentor. Maybe they did. Gold bracers shone on their arms and Geth saw the flash of both bright crystals and Khyber shards trapped within the gold wire. Psicrystals and the ancient binding stones. He remembered what Dah’mir had done to Dandra-Tetkashtai’s psicrystal interacting with the binding stone to switch the minds of kalashtar and crystal.

Loathing rose in his chest. The switch had already been made and in this place where madness was strong, the minds of the kalashtar would find all the strength they needed to kill a part of themselves and escape their crystal prisons.

But before the writhing kalashtar stood Medala, her body rigid and her eyes wide, and on the ledges below Geth were Batul and the other Gatekeepers. Some of the druids were down. One looked dead, his face contorted by his final efforts to draw breath. Others were still alive, but rolling on the ledges and clutching at their heads as they screamed. Those who had not fallen wore grim determination on their faces. Geth saw two of them gesture, heard them call on the power of nature to strike at their enemy. Medala’s expression twitched, and the cavern seemed to ring with the sound of crystalline chimes. One of the druid’s eyes bulged, and his words were cut off as he dropped to his knees, clutching his throat. The other druid’s spell ended with the thump of a hunda stick into her belly as her neighbor, anger darkening his face, turned on her.

Geth’s voice tore at his throat. “Medala!”

He threw himself toward her, bounding from ledge to ledge. The kalashtar’s eyes flicked toward him. The chimes rang again, and a pressure slammed into his mind. He staggered under the assault-staggered and recovered as Medala’s attack slid off the shield of Ekhaas’s spell. Medala’s face twisted.

“Stop him!” she howled, and Geth nearly staggered again. There were definitely two voices speaking from her mouth! He clenched his jaw and leaped for the next ledge.

On the edge of his vision, he saw struggle turn into blankness on an orc’s face. The druid’s hand twisted into a claw and jerked upward. Stone splintered and cracked as jagged spikes burst from the surface of the ledge ahead of Geth. It was too late for him to stop his leap. Sharp points and razor edges bit into his feet as he landed. A red lance of pain drove through his body and he stumbled forward, falling with his full weight toward more of the bristling shards.

He twisted hard, arcing his body up and pulling his right arm under him. The thick metal of the forearm of his gauntlet crashed into the spikes. Chips of stone spit into the air and agony seared his elbow, but nothing else pierced his body-with his fall broken, the spikes only dimpled his shifting toughened hide. He thrust himself back up with a snarl and stalked on defiantly across the shattered face of the ledge, ignoring the pain that came with each step. Looking Medala full in the face, he snapped his arms straight. His sword and his gauntlet hissed in the air. “Try again!” he spat.

The growl that grew of out Medala’s chest began thin and cold. Something about it made Geth’s skin crawl, and he bounded forward, running again. Somewhere behind him, he heard a lone orc chanting and thought that he recognized Batul’s voice. He didn’t dare look back though. He pushed himself into a sprint in spite of the agony in his feet. His arms pumped at his sides. His gaze was fixed on Medala’s-just as hers was fixed on him.

The distance between them closed. Medala’s growl built into a scream that echoed with two voices and a hint of brittle crystal. The air around her began to shine with light. The other kalashtar grew still and silent. Batul’s chanting became deep and sonorous, and the cavern seemed to reverberate with the sound. Geth jumped down to the next ledge. There was only one more rocky shelf between him and Medala. He could see her eyes, the pupils shrunk to black pinpricks once more.

Medala’s scream broke. The shimmer that had surrounded her burst outward in shining waves, sweeping over Geth and across the cavern.

Something of her power blasted at his mind. Geth tried to cling to the clarity Ekhaas had sung into him, but this time Medala’s attack scoured it away and left him unguarded. The power tore at his body-no, not just at his body. At him and everything around him. It went all the way through him. He felt it on his skin and deep in his guts. He felt it on the air and in the stone under his feet.

Batul’s chant ended in a cry from the old orc. The other Gatekeepers cried out too. Everything shook before the waves of power, as if the very substance of the world were under attack. Helpless before the waves, Geth stumbled and was flung back off the ledge.

For an instant, he seemed to drift on the air. Then the hard stone of the cavern floor slammed into him. The waves continued to hammer at him. From where he lay, he could see them pounding at the Gatekeepers and Ekhaas as well, rolling on and on like a storm on some vast sea.

Until another burst of silver-white light flashed from a ledge just above the one on which Batul and Ekhaas clung to each other. Four dark forms appeared against the glare.

Singe, Dandra, Ashi, and a young kalashtar man. Geth knew he should have wondered how they’d reached the cavern or what they were doing in the Shadow Marches at all, but all he could think was, Grandmother Wolf, they’re alive.

Alive, but not for long. The waves caught them too. The young man, Ashi, and Singe staggered back against the rock behind them. But Dandra … Dandra leaned forward as if trying to walk into a strong wind. Her hand thrust out-

Dandra thought she’d prepared herself for anything, but the sight of the strange cavern-of the scattered orcs, of Batul and Ekhaas on the ledge just below her, of Geth lying on the cavern floor, of Medala and the kalashtar-made her freeze, even as the waves of power that radiated from Medala tore the others away.

Anger rose up in her.

The power that Medala had manifested was astounding and unlike anything Dandra had ever seen-Medala’s telepathy fused with Virikhad’s mastery of the far step into a single display of psionic strength. At the same time, the power sickened her. It arose out of madness. Medala would use it-did use it-to bring more kalashtar to madness.

Ashi had used her dragonmark the moment they’d spotted Dah’mir’s airship, and the protection granted by the mark still lingered. The mental attack in the waves faltered against the power of the mark, no match for it. The physical attack of the waves ripped at Dandra but didn’t frighten her-Virikhad’s power unravelled the fabric of space, but she did something much the same every time she used the far step herself. Dandra fought back the pain the surged through her, thrust herself against the waves, and flung out her hand.

Vayhatana passed through the battering waves with ease. Dandra seized Medala with her will and slammed her backward.

The gaunt woman’s screaming stopped. The shining waves vanished. She sat dazed, but only for a moment. Then her eyes fixed on Dandra-and a voice that was as much Virikhad as it was Medala spat, “You will die for that!”

“But you’ll die first!”

Medala’s head jerked up at the roar. Dandra twisted around, saw Ashi and Moon look up as well, heard Singe curse-and just barely caught the blur of movement as a black heron darted through a narrow passage in the rocky wall above her.

Dah’mir dropped to the cavern floor. His feathered wings beat on the air, then suddenly were feathered no longer. His small form swelled. Feathers became scales and heron became dragon. Dandra saw Geth’s eyes open very wide. The shifter seemed to convulse as he rolled over, thrust himself to his feet, and dashed for safety all in one movement. Dah’mir’s clawed feet slammed down where he had been.