Don Bassingthwaite - The Killing Song

And now it was Medala’s laughter that turned into a scream. “No!” She thrust a hand toward. Ekhaas, as if to blast her with frost or fire or vayhatana , but the stolen powers were gone, lifted away as the killing song had been lifted. Her gaunt face twisted and two voices wailed in unison from her mouth. “No!”

“Now!” shouted Singe. “Geth! Now!” His left hand pointed at Dah’mir. His right hand pointed at Medala. “Dandra, now!”

Dandra was moving before the words were out of his mouth, thrusting herself away from the ledge and skimming across the cavern floor for Medala. The mighty had fallen. Where both Medala and Dah’mir had been too powerful to even harm each other, with the sources of their power lost they were a match-and maybe, just maybe, they could be brought down. She heard Geth’s roar as he leaped for Dah’mir, caught a glimpse of the dragon’s bared teeth as he turned to meet the shifter, then all of her attention was on her part in the battle.

Medala and Virikhad might have been cut off from the uniting strength of the katalarash, but they still had their own powers. Medala’s eyes focused on Ekhaas, and her face tightened in concentration.

Dandra lashed out with vayhatana , coiling invisible threads around Medala’s legs, and pulled hard. The other woman’s feet came out from under her, and she slammed down, her concentration broken. She squirmed around, and her gaze found Dandra. A hiss of anger broke from her lips.

Dandra was on her before she could do more. She heard a gasp from Singe, the sound of an impact, and a howl from Dah’mir, but she ignored them. Her hands tightened on the shaft of her spear as she plunged the glittering point down.

Squirming like a lizard, Medala threw herself back, and the point grated on rock. Her foot kicked at the grounded spear. The sharp impact knocked it out of Dandra’s hands. Dandra caught it with a thought before it hit the ground, but the distraction gave Medala the moment she needed to fling herself back among the still singing, still motionless katalarash.

“Stop her!” she screamed at them over another roar from Dah’mir. A flash of orange light-magical flame cast by Singe, Dandra knew without looking-threw shadows across her. She twisted around for a moment, and Dandra saw fear as well madness in her eyes.

Medala grabbed the nearest katalarash. It was Shelsatori. She shook the older woman hard. “Stop singing and turn your powers on Dandra!” She clamped a hand over Shelsatori’s jaw, forcing it shut.

Shelsatori blinked and, for an instant, fixed Medala with a glare of such intense hatred that Medala stumbled back. Her hand left Shelsatori’s mouth.

The old woman took up the killing song without a pause. Calm returned to her eyes-and realization filled Dandra.

I will do whatever it takes to make that song stop! Moon had said on board the airship. In Sharn, when Dandra had touched Erimelk’s raving mind with kesh , she’d felt the chaos of it. And Virikhad had driven his victims to kill by offering them a target for the violence whipped up by the song.

By completing the song, Ekhaas had done more than weaken Medala. She’d given the katalarash another escape.

There was a howling like wind in the air. Dandra wanted to look and see what was happening behind her, but she kept her eyes on Medala as the gaunt woman, two minds crying out from her thin body, turned desperately among those she had tried to drag down into her madness. “It’s the song,” Dandra shouted at her over the howling. “You bound them too closely to the song!”

Medala whirled around and leaped at her with a scream. Dandra snapped her spear up.

The impact drove Dandra backward, but her hands clung tight to the spear shaft. She felt the wood tremble as Medala thrust herself along it, fingers arched like claws and still grabbing for her. Dandra went down on one knee, bracing herself and forcing the spear up. Two voices groaned, but Medala kept coming. Silver-white light flaming around it, one of her hands raked down at Dandra’s face-

— raked down, faltered, and fell short. Silver-white light spit and faded. Pin-prick eyes looked down at her. The howling that had been in the air faded just as her red-flecked lips moved.

“We,” Medala and Virikhad said together, “are the masters …”

Blood ran down the spear shaft and over Dandra’s hands in a crimson cascade. She released the weapon. Medala slid to the ground and lay still. Dandra stared at her for a moment, then looked up at the other katalarash, still lost in a song.

A song that broke with a choking cough from Dah’mir, the fall of an enormous body, and an abrupt cry from Ekhaas.

Ekhaas’s song ended. The katalarash sang alone.

“No,” breathed Dandra. She spun around. “No! Ekhaas!”

“Geth! Now!”

It was the signal he’d been waiting for. Geth let out all of the fear and fury he’d held back and forced it into a roar as he leaped at Dah’mir.

Dah’mir swung around to meet him with massive teeth exposed-and a part of Geth wondered just what he thought he was doing. Even if the power poured into him by the Master of Silence had been leeched away, Dah’mir was still a dragon .

Too late for doubts. The day he thought before charging into something would probably be the day he died. Geth threw himself right at the dragon’s muzzle and swung Wrath hard.

It was a bad blow. The byeshk blade tore a line along the spined frill below Dah’mir’s chin, cutting skin without doing real damage. That didn’t matter. Dah’mir bellowed and his head jerked up in reaction to the injury. Geth dived in underneath the dragon’s body, aiming for his real target: the Khyber dragonshard embedded in Dah’mir’s chest. A lucky blow had shattered the shard there once before and forced Dah’mir to flee.

Geth gritted his teeth, wrapped both hands around Wrath’s hilt, and swung.

But Dah’mir hadn’t forgotten his vulnerability either. With an angry hiss, the dragon reared up away from the attacker under his chest. Geth’s swing swept through air. Dah’mir’s claw, sweeping in from the side, didn’t.

The massive talons found his gauntlet before they found his body. They raked across the magewrought steel with a terrible scraping sound, but caught only the fabric of Geth’s clothing. The blow was still powerful enough to lift him up and hurl him back. He hit the wall of the cavern just beside the stones and glittering mortar of the ancient Gatekeeper seal. Pain broke through his shifting-dull across his back, sharp in his gauntleted arm, very sharp in his side. Every breath stabbed him.

He blinked back the bright haze of agony. Across the cavern, Dandra was closing on Medala. In the other direction, Ekhaas still sang, matching the song of the katalarash though she kept one eye on Dah’mir. Unfortunately, it seemed that Geth had all of the dragon’s attention. Dah’mir crouched back down. “Why am I cursed with you?” he howled at Geth.

The shifter spat-blood hit the stone of the cavern floor-and thrust himself upright with a snarl. “We get the enemies we deserve.” He lifted his voice. “I could use some help!”

From the far side of the cavern, arcane words hissed on the air. Fire burst over Dah’mir’s back in a spray of orange flame. The dragon roared and twisted around. Past him, Geth saw Singe, wisps of magic still rising from his fingers. The wizard’s face seemed strangely distorted, not least by cold anger. “Keeper take you, Dah’mir!” he shouted.

The dragon’s head whipped between the two of them as if deciding who to vent his rage at first-then the decision was taken away from him. Up on the ledge where the Gatekeepers had taken shelter, a white-haired figure leaning heavily on a hunda stick rose. The hand that Batul held out trembled, but his voice was strong. “Nature rejects you, servant of madness! Your time is at an end.” His hand rose higher and he spoke a word that swirled in the air.