Marsheila Rockwell - Skein of Shadows

Teleportation might be chancy in Tarath Marad, but summoning, it seemed, was not.

The bat, easily the size of a horse, clicked and roared in anger as it soared past, banking sharply to avoid the drow in the balcony.

Hampered by the small confines of the chapel, the bat came at her again, but not as fast. Sabira set her feet firmly and waited.

Surprise no longer on its side, the creature had to rely on brute force. Instead of diving down to strike quickly and dart away, Sabira could see it was bringing its full weight to bear, intending to crush her. She’d have one chance, and one only.

As the giant bat plummeted toward her, Sabira reversed her grip on her urgrosh so that she held it spear-end up. The Siberys shard glowed orange in the red light of the torches. She waited until it was almost upon her, then ducked down, simultaneously thrusting the shard axe up into the air.

Into the bat.

Screaming in shrill rage, the bat, unable to check its flight, slammed down onto the dragonshard, impaling itself. Hot blood splashed over Sabira as the creature’s mass bore her down bodily to the stone floor.

Sabira was trapped under the massive mammal, unable to move as the thing flapped and writhed in agony on top of her. She gasped desperately for air, but the creature’s furry body was pressed up against her face, smothering her. Her chest heaved uselessly, crushed beneath the bat’s inexorable weight.

Once more, blackness impinged on her vision, beckoning seductively.

And then the weight was gone, and cool air rushed into her bruised lungs once more, pain lancing into her side with every tortuous breath. She’d broken a couple of ribs this time, and the potion the drow had forced down her gullet had spent itself mending her leg. There’d be no instant healing this time, but she was fine with that. She was tiring of this game.

She climbed to her feet once more, lurching to one side and almost falling before she found the strength to straighten. She used the movement to hide a glance at Greddark.

The dwarf blinked twice. He was ready whenever she was.

Sabira turned her attention back to the gloating sorceress. As she stared at Tilde, trying to regroup, she was mesmerized by the swirling Khyber shard in the woman’s abdomen, pulsing rhythmically, just like a heartbeat.

“Just think, Sabira. This is only a taste of what’s in store for Breven when he gets his precious artifact. When I deliver it to him personally in his study in Sentinel Tower.”

At her words, several things clicked into place at once. ir’Dayne, lecturing them back in Sharn:

“Bound by eight locks

Her Heart breaks free

And bathes both worlds

In tyranny

“ ‘Heart’ is often another word for treasure…”

Breven, pretending sympathy to get her to do what he wanted back in Vulyar:

“… Tilde created a sort of reverse summoning spell to return her body to my study in Sentinel Tower in the event of her death…”

Sabira’s own heart pounded as she realized the truth. Whatever the artifact was that Tilde had originally been sent here to retrieve, she had found it-it was what had transformed her into a being half-spider, half-woman, and totally alien. It had merged with her, and she with it. The Khyber shard was now her heart, and she was the artifact, the power Breven wanted to make his House supreme. But instead of elevating Deneith, Tilde planned to use that power to level it, to pay the Baron back for his years of disregard. Even if it meant dying in the process.

“No one turns their back on me. Not anymore.”

As the sorceress raised her hand for another spell, Sabira held up her own. She didn’t think she could withstand another attack, healing potion or no. She needed to end this now.

“Can you… can She… really bring him back?”

Tilde paused, eyes narrowing.

“What?”

“Ned… you said She’d… bring him back… in exchange for me. For fulfilling the Prophecy… setting Her free.” Tilde hadn’t said that last, but it was the only thing that made any sense. Why else would a being powerful enough to corrupt a sorceress as strong as Tilde need her? Because She was trapped in a prison. One with eight locks, and just one key.

Her.

That was the real treasure here-freedom. To bathe both worlds-Khyber and Eberron-in tyranny.

“Yes.”

“Then… just do it,” she said, taking a step toward the dais. “I’m… tired. Tired of fighting… you, Breven.” She was, she realized, and the truth behind her words gave them a sudden strength. “Tired of the needs of the House… always outweighing my own. It’s not worth it any more. But Ned is. He’s the only one who ever really cared about me.” Elix’s face swam in front of her eyes and she thrust it regretfully away. “The only one who ever cared about either of us, Tilde.”

“Ned…,” Tilde repeated, her eyes taking on a faraway look, her voice small, and lost, and sad. Confusion washed over her face, and her hand dropped.

“ Now!” Sabira shouted.

Greddark pulled the trigger and his crossbow thrummed. A small thump sounded as the bolt struck home, catching Tilde in her left shoulder, just above her heart. As she turned, screaming in fury, to blast the dwarf, Sabira summoned the last of her strength and began to run.

She sprinted down the aisle, leaped from the seat of the second pew to the back of the first, and launched herself at Tilde.

The sorceress spun back, bringing up two of her segmented legs to stab at Sabira, but she twisted in midair and brought the spear tip of her urgrosh down, straight into the pulsing blue-black center of Tilde’s heart.

As Siberys shard met Khyber, both crystals flared with unbearable light.

And then the world exploded in a deafening flash of gold and darkness.

Mol, Rhaan 2, 998 YK

Tarath Marad, Xen’drik.

Sabira picked herself up from atop a pile of broken bodies and twisted wood, shaking her head to make the roaring in her ears stop. Somehow, her shard axe was still in her hand, its dragonshard tip unharmed.

Greddark limped over to her, one arm hanging torn and useless from its socket.

“We’ve got to get out of here!”

The explosion had blown out one wall of the chapel and collapsed part of the roof, and chunks of wood and stone were raining down. The drow soldiers who hadn’t been killed in the blast were starting to climb to their feet. Through the gaping hole in the wall, Sabira could see drow streaming out of the larger temple, running for the ruined church.

Of Tilde and her Khyber shard heart, there was no sign, though Sabira thought she saw a twinkle of blood-slicked gold and ivory beneath a nearby bit of fallen rock.

“How do you propose we do that?” she asked. One of the drow a few pews back had caught sight of them and called to his fellows. They were beginning to advance, many drawing their swords. Some of them still had their crossbows and were scrabbling about for bolts.

“Gimme mom’nt,” Greddark muttered, his words almost unintelligible as he struggled to pry one of the charms off his bracelet with his teeth.

“Not sure we have one.”

Sabira hefted her shard axe in front of her defensively, scanning what was left of the chapel nave. More drow were recovering and moving toward them, on every side, surrounding them. There was no way out but to fight.

“ ’Rab sis,” Greddark mumbled around a wand he had clenched in his teeth. Sabira grabbed it, pulling it out of the dwarf’s mouth. Thirteen crystals ran the length of the slender rod, all dull and lifeless.

“We can’t teleport,” she reminded him as she handed it over.

“We’re not. Plane-shifting. It’s all the rage.”