Marsheila Rockwell - Skein of Shadows

“Get out of my head, you sadistic bi-”

The sound of a hundred crossbows being ratcheted back in unison echoed through the small chapel.

“Now, now, Sabira. Your harsh language is upsetting the children.”

“She can’t do it, you know.”

They both turned to look at Greddark, who still had his crossbow trained on Tilde, waiting for Sabira to tell him when, or if, to pull the trigger.

“The Spinner. Whoever- whatever — She is, She can’t bring them back. It’s been too long. And even if She could, what would they be? Ismorah was torn to shreds by the Maze and not even Leoned’s bones could have survived that magma pool. Is that what you want, a lover who is less even than a zombie and a brother who is nothing more than a wraith?” The dwarf had clearly done his inquisitive homework before he’d agreed to come with her to Xen’drik; Sabira was impressed. “And that’s leaving aside the most important question of all-what makes you think either of them wants to come back?”

Tilde’s red eyes narrowed and she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder, an incongruously human gesture from such an inhuman being.

“Do be quiet. You’re boring me.” She gestured, and Greddark stiffened, his mouth slamming shut of its own accord, his eyes growing round and panicked as he realized he couldn’t move. Then she turned back to Sabira. “You really should have taught him not to interrupt while the adults are speaking.”

“You’re avoiding the question, Tilde. What makes you think they’d want to come back… to you?” Tilde might have untold power now, but she was still the insecure daughter of a House that needed but didn’t want her. Sabira could use that against her. Would use it, and without mercy. She had no other choice. “You know the answer. They wouldn’t. They don’t want you. No one’s ever wanted you, only what you could do for them. Not Idris, not Breven, not even your precious Spinner. If She did-if She really thought you were worthy-then why did She have you go to so much effort to bring me here?”

“Stop it, Saba.” Tilde’s voice was low and dangerous, and her eyes were wild. “I’m warning you.”

“Or what? You said yourself She wanted me. She’s not going to let you harm me.”

It was a mistake, and Sabira saw it in the sudden gleam in Tilde’s eye. It was her only warning before a dozen crossbow bolts buried themselves in her back, sending her to her knees on the stone floor, in too much pain to even scream.

“Oh, no. She doesn’t care if I hurt you-in fact, she likes it better that way. Pain amuses Her. Just so long as I don’t kill you, I can do whatever I want. And there are so very many things I want to do to you, Sabira.”

Sabira reached out one shaky hand, grabbing the pew beside her to keep from falling. She could barely breathe through the fire in her back, her belly, her lungs. Drawing on the strength of the urgrosh she still held, she managed to gasp out one bloody word. Despite Tilde’s claim to the contrary, she feared it might be her last.

“Why…?”

Tilde laughed, a cold, brittle sound with no true mirth in it. Because there could be no mirth where there was no joy.

“And you know the answer to that, Sabira Lyet d’Deneith.” The sorceress spat her name out like rancid meat, and as the world darkened around the edges of her vision, she realized that she did.

“… Breven…”

“Bravo. Perhaps you are as smart as Ned always said you were. In exchange for you, She will give me the power to bring the House that never wanted me begging to its knees.” She giggled then, a mad sound that curdled Sabira’s blood. “Just as you are now.”

“… not… begging…”

“Oh, but you will be.”

Another dozen crossbow bolts thunked into Sabira’s chest, tearing through her armor like a paper target and piercing her heart. A cry of anguish was ripped unwilling from her throat as she slammed back into a pew, then slumped to one side as the life drained from her in tiny crimson streams.

Ned, she thought as oblivion reached up to swallow her whole. And my dear, beloved Elix. I’m so sorry. I failed you both.

And then ice, and fire, as every nerve in her body screamed and she was brought rushing back from the edge of infinity by two drow soldiers pouring healing potions down her throat and over her myriad wounds. Sabira bit through her lip trying not to give voice to those screams, and then hot agony blossomed there as well as the drows’ magic sealed the jagged wound closed around her teeth.

Sabira blinked tears and blackness away and saw Tilde watching her with an expression of false concern. Behind her, Greddark still stood immobilized and forgotten. But as Sabira struggled to focus through the fog of pain, she thought she saw his left eye twitch.

“Leaving so soon? We’re not nearly finished here yet.”

Yes, there it was again. His eye had definitely moved; he almost winked. Either Tilde’s spell was wearing off, or she wasn’t able to maintain it at the same strength while her attention was on Sabira.

Which meant Sabira had to keep it there.

“I suppose… practice makes perfect.”

Tilde’s blonde brows shot up and she actually laughed.

“You have spirit, I’ll give you that much. I’ll enjoy breaking it.”

At Tilde’s command, the two drow stepped back, taking their places in the silent ranks. They hadn’t bothered to take Sabira’s urgrosh when they’d had the chance; they clearly didn’t see it-or her-as a threat.

She was going to have to change that.

She climbed unsteadily to her feet, using the blood-slicked pew for support.

“Jealousy is so unbecoming in a lady, Donathilde. Good thing you aren’t one.”

“Jealous? Of you?” Tilde scoffed. “Look around you, dear. I’m the one with the power here.”

“Here, maybe. Not on the surface. Not in Karrnath. Not anywhere it really matters.”

Tilde didn’t bother with the soldiers this time. She held out a hand and sent a bolt of pure, crackling energy lancing toward Sabira’s heart.

Sabira threw herself to the side, tucking into a ball and coming up on her feet in the main aisle. The lightning passed so close to her that her left arm tingled as if asleep and the hair on that side of her head stood on end.

Tilde swore and sent another bolt at Sabira, too quickly for her to dodge this time. It hit her square in the chest, lifting her off her feet and throwing her backward. She closed her fist around the shaft of her urgrosh as she bounced off a pew and landed facedown on the floor. She could feel her heart spasming in her chest. Bright dots of light filled her vision. Pain radiated down her arm and up her shoulder, into her back. Her heartbeat slowed as she lay there gasping weakly for every labored breath.

She felt herself lifted again and bodily turned to face the dais. A hand grabbed her jaw and jerked it open, then poured a sour, burning liquid down her throat. As she coughed and sputtered, her heart resumed its normal rhythm and she shook her handlers off, raising her head to glare defiantly at Tilde.

“That all you got?”

A huge, unseen fist slammed her down into the floor like a hammer, and she distinctly heard a crack as the bone in her right leg twisted underneath her and broke. But even as it did, the healing potion still coursing through her system went to work, knitting the bone back together with a thousand fiery needles.

Sabira groaned and struggled to her feet, using her shard axe first as leverage, then as a prop to keep her from falling again.

“Gonna have to… do better…”

Tilde’s eyes blazed crimson.

“Well, I know how much you love bats.”

There was a rush of air behind her and Sabira whirled, almost losing her footing again as she brought up her shard axe just in time to block the reaching talons of an enormous bat as it swooped down on her from above.