Don Bassingthwaite - The Killing Song

“What?”

“They’re going to need a distraction.”

Dandra released her hold on the kesh . “They’re ready.”

Singe looked at her. “Are you ready?”

She drew a deep breath and glanced up at Dah’mir. The dragon still clung high on the wall of the cavern, his eyes on Medala. The gaunt kalashtar-or katalarash or whatever she wanted to call herself-still stood with the captives from Sharn behind. Dandra tightened her grip on her spear and nodded.

“Good,” said Singe. “Then let’s hope we don’t have to wait too long.”

She could feel her heart beating. It seemed loud in the cavern, even with the soft murmur of the killing song-ready to swell again in an instant-and the excited buzz of the Master of Silence’s creatures as they pressed close to their side of the lens, eager for another flurry of strikes between Dah’mir and Medala. She wondered where the daelkyr’s throne room really was. Before the lens had formed in the seal, the tunnel beyond had looked empty and long. The throne room could be deep, deep below them, far down in the dark reaches of Khyber. Batul had assured her it didn’t matter, that what Singe had proposed would work.

At least in theory, and theory was better than nothing.

She drew another breath, holding herself ready.

Geth burst from cover with a bound and a shout, tearing across the cavern floor. The shifter ran a weaving pattern, back and forth. Dandra saw Medala’s face turn to follow him and prayed that she wasn’t ready with a psionic power to throw against him. It was tempting to look up and see what Dah’mir’s reaction was, but she didn’t dare. She kept her attention fixed on the lens and on the Master of Silence. The daelkyr’s eyes, at least, followed Geth.

“Good,” Singe breathed. “Good. That’s far enough …”

The moment Geth reached the midway point of the cavern floor, Batul and the Gatekeepers stood up on the ledge where they had been hiding, and their old voices rose in a chant. Their faces were intent, and the words they spoke so low that even knowing what they were doing, Dandra could barely hear them. Medala’s head didn’t turn. The Master of Silence’s eyes didn’t leave Geth. There was a cry from above though. Dah’mir had seen the druids! Dandra’s teeth clenched down. Eyes on the daelkyr, she told herself, eyes on the daelkyr!

Dah’mir’s cry turned both Medala and the Master of Silence toward the Gatekeepers. Batul’s face grew taut. He thrust out his hunda stick and the chant broke into a shout. Geth dived for shelter. Dandra held her breath and gathered her will.

A shimmer passed over the lens in the seal. The black lightning that crawled across it pulled suddenly to the edges and stayed there.

And one of the dolgrims who must have been especially close to the other side of the lens stumbled and fell through into the cavern with a dazed yelp.

“It’s open!” shouted Singe. “Now, Dandra!”

The seal would only be open for an instant. The druids couldn’t-wouldn’t-leave it open any longer. Their voices were already strained. An instant, though, was long enough. Singe tossed the binding stone into the air. Dandra focused her will on it, caught it with vayhatana -and flung it straight at the Master of Silence’s stunned face.

The blue-black dragonshard flew as hard and true as a stone flung from a sling, flying through the lens and the open seal with barely a ripple. The druid’s voices fell silent and they stumbled back. The lens flickered again as the seal closed once more.

But the Master of Silence’s eyes flicked as well. The binding stone came to a stop an armslength before him.

“Light of il-Yannah,” Dandra whispered. Singe’s expression fell in shock. On the cavern wall, Dah’mir laughed. His roar shook the cavern.

“Who would stand against the Master of Silence?”

Beyond the lens, the creatures in the daelkyr’s throne room had drawn back from their lord and from the binding stone. Dandra was certain that even if they didn’t know what it was, they could sense just as she could what it would do to any psionic creature who touched it. The Master of Silence, however, leaned forward slightly, studying the stone. Dandra saw it flash darkly as some power like vayhatana rotated it so the daelkyr could see all sides. After a moment, he sat back.

One of the stones of Taruuzh. I remember the night that the Gatekeepers rained these down upon my armies at the Battle of Moths . He looked out through the lens, and his eyes settled on Dandra. A sensation of great presence, similar to what she felt when she faced Dah’mir but even more intense, washed over her, held back only by the protection of Ashi’s dragonmark. Not an attack, Dandra realized, but only the unnatural effect of the Master of Silence’s simple attention. She forced herself to stand straight, to meet the daelkyr’s gaze.

A touch of amusement entered his voice. Frail creations, as fragile as the moths that carried them. Taruuzh knew better. He never tried to turn his creation against me .

The Master of Silence stretched out an open hand. The binding stone dropped, and he closed his fingers around it.

Nothing happened. Dandra heard one of the Gatekeepers cry out in dismay.

Then one of the mind flayers beyond the lens staggered and dropped to its knees. As did another. And another. One of the hairless monkey creatures plunged to the ground, dead. The elf-like women dropped and doubled over, the tentacles on their backs drooping limp as huge dead slugs. Dolgaunts and dolgrims fled. The lone dolgrim who had fallen through the open seal wailed and fled for the darkest corner of the cavern. A look of discomfort crossed the Master of Silence’s face-discomfort that turned swiftly to pain. His other hand clenched the wrist of the one that grasped the binding stone. The black lightning that had played across the lens flickered and contracted to single dark speck as the daelkyr concentrated on fighting the power of the stone.

“Yes!” Singe hissed.

Dah’mir’s laughter turned to panic as he saw the source of his strength cut off. “Master? Master!” He sprang from the wall to the floor, landing in front of the lens. “Master!”

The Master of Silence flung back his head and let loose a howl that made Dandra stagger. The dark speck on the lens gaped wide for an instant, and black lightning leaped from the Khyber shard in Dah’mir’s chest in a short, brilliant arc. Dah’mir’s howl joined his master’s, shaking air as well as minds.

But even that reclaimed energy must not have been enough. The lens flashed and collapsed with a crack like thunder, the vision of the nightmare throne room vanishing along with the daelkyr’s howl. Dah’mir staggered back. When his eyes opened, they were dull, and he stared at the empty seal in disbelief.

Medala’s laugh rose, harsh as slate. “You called for your master? We are here!” She raised her arms and the killing song rose in a powerful chorus-

— that faltered as another song wove around it. From the same niche out of which Geth had emerged, Ekhaas appeared, walking slowly forward. She held her head high, her eyes were intense, and the muscles and tendons of her throat stood out. The song that rolled from her open mouth was … powerful. Primal. Whenever Dandra had heard Ekhaas sing her magic, she could feel the ancient energies that the hobgoblin drew on, but this was something even older. As if Ekhaas were singing the music of creation itself.

The killing song had always sounded somehow incomplete, strangely discordant and barely musical at all. Ekhaas’s song completed it. The notes that she sang slid between the mad syllables of the killing song and lifted them up into something that throbbed with a harsh beauty, like beautiful jewelry hammered out of steel. Dandra almost wished she dared touch one of the katalarash with kesh , just to listen as the magic of the music eased the storm that must fill their minds just as it had filled Erimelk’s. But she could see a softening in the singers’ faces, an easing of the madness behind their eyes.