James Wyatt - Dragon war

A chorus answered, "Guilty as charged!"

Darkness again.

"Rienne ir'Alastra, please state your claim against the defendant."

"When we delved into Khyber together," Rienne's voice said from the darkness, "when we sailed with Jordhan, when we worked for your House together, we were partners. Equals. We fought as a team. You covered my back, and I covered yours. We don't fight like that any more. You used to give a damn about me-you used to love me, and I don't think you do anymore."

"Of course I do," Gaven called. "Rienne!"

"You left me here to die, Gaven. Here in the land of dragons. You abandoned me."

"I couldn't-! They captured me-!"

"Gaven?" Her voice was fading. "Gaven, help me!"

"Rienne!"

She was gone.

The kalashtar stood, staggered away from Gaven, and slumped against Cart, exhaustion etched onto his face.

"What happened?" Aunn asked. "What did you see?"

"I'd accept that chair now, if the offer is still open," Havrakhad said.

"Of course," Aunn said.

Cart helped the kalashtar around the desk to Kelas's chair as Aunn waited, breathless.

Havrakhad slumped into the chair and covered his face with his hands. "He carries many burdens," he said, "along a twisting path."

Aunn's thoughts jumped to the Labyrinth, and the demon he fought there after leaving Maruk Dar. He looked at Gaven. Was a similar battle raging inside his mind?

"I don't understand," Cart said.

Havrakhad wiped his face and dropped his hands to his lap. "Something has trapped him, imprisoned him in a maze of his own thoughts. There his guilt, his shame, and his fear can prey on him, devouring his spirit. I tried to break through the maze, to find him and lead him out, but there were too many obstacles. Too much darkness."

"You have to try again," Aunn said, a sudden urgency seizing him. "If the darkness takes him-"

"I will try again," the kalashtar said. "In a few hours. I must rest."

"We all could use some rest," Ashara said.

Cart shrugged. "I'm fine," he said.

A distant light appeared in the darkness, dim and flickering, like a beacon calling him home. Gaven tried to lift himself from the ground and move toward it, but he was mired in mud and filth. It took all his strength just to lift his head, to see the light a little better.

At the sight of it, though, he felt strength surge in his limbs, and he fought harder to pull himself up. The sludge slithered and hissed around him, resentful of the disturbance. He kept his eyes on the light, and he thought he heard a voice calling his name.

"Stay with us," someone whispered in the darkness. "You belong with us." Bony hands gripped him, and faces surrounded him. They were dark-eyed and gaunt elves, the phantoms of the Paelions-the third branch of the Phiarlan family, slaughtered because of him. "Your destiny lies with us."

"No," Gaven murmured, "I'm sorry. No."

The distant light sent a tingle of warmth into his icy skin, and he longed to let it fill him, penetrate to his bones. Mustering his strength, he lifted one foot from the mire and set it down in front of the other.

"You can't leave," the voices around him said. "You deserve this fate, though we did not. Stay."

"I'm sorry," Gaven said. His voice sounded stronger. He raised the other leg. Sticky tendrils of shadow snapped off him, leaving behind round sores on his skin. His strength surged, and soon he was walking in slow, stumbling strides toward the amber glow.

Faces crowded around him, smears of shadow trying to hide the light from his eyes, Paelion ghosts seeking to keep him in their clutches. He pushed them aside.

Rienne's voice wailed behind him, "Bring me with you! Don't leave me here!"

He turned around to find her, and the darkness enfolded him again. He tried to turn back to the light, but it was gone, and shadows coiled around him again.

"Another will is opposing me," Havrakhad said. His face was pale, and shadows pooled beneath his eyes. "Someone is trying very hard to keep him imprisoned."

"Who?" Aunn asked.

"I don't know. It might be helpful if you could tell me what happened to him."

Cart and Ashara turned to Aunn, and Havrakhad followed their eyes.

"Very well," Aunn said. "Ashara, you still have the shard?"

"Of course," she said. She drew the dragonshard out of a pouch at her belt. The lines of Gaven's mark burned red as hellfire in the pinkish crystal, throwing stark shadows on the walls. Havrakhad recoiled.

"Already I think I understand a great deal more," the kalashtar said. He looked at Ashara. "That's the evil I sensed around you. I apologize for misjudging you."

Ashara set the shard down on the desk in front of Havrakhad, who leaned forward for a closer look without touching it.

"What is this?" Havrakhad said. "The pattern inside-it resembles a dragonmark."

"That's what it is," Aunn said. "It's Gaven's dragonmark, the Mark of Storm."

Havrakhad's eyes shot to Gaven and scanned his skin. "You say it's his mark. Do you mean…?"

"Yes. His mark was removed and transferred into the dragonshard."

"Leaving him in this state."

"Actually, no," Ashara said. "He endured the loss of his mark well enough. He seemed normal for some time. He didn't fall into this stupor until after the shard was back in his hands."

"I take it that his dragonmark was removed from him against his will," Havrakhad said.

"Correct," Aunn said. He wasn't pleased with this line of questioning, but he was loath to withhold any information that might help the kalashtar save Gaven. After two failed attempts, Aunn was beginning to feel an urgency, as though Gaven could be utterly lost if Havrakhad couldn't restore his mind soon. Never mind the additional challenges morning would likely bring, starting with Jorlanna ir'Cannith.

Gaven's hand fell onto the dragonshard, making Aunn jump in surprise. Gaven held his arm as though it had lost all circulation, but he had fixed his eyes on the shard and was moving his whole upper body in an effort to pull the shard from the desk into his lap.

Aunn started to reach for the shard, but a rumble of thunder outside stopped him short. "Cart, would you…?"

Cart's armor-plated hand closed over the dragonshard and pulled it away, and in one smooth motion he deposited it back into Ashara's belt pouch. Gaven slumped back into his chair, like a discarded puppet.

"That was strange," Ashara whispered.

"And very enlightening," Havrakhad said. "I think that now I have what I need." He stood. "Ashara, will you please stand and face me?"

Ashara hopped down from her seat on the desk and faced the kalashtar, turning her back to Gaven.

"Now can you slowly withdraw the dragonshard from your pouch again? Let your body block Gaven's view of it, please."

Ashara did as he instructed, holding the shard gingerly in the fingertips of both hands. Havrakhad reached toward it, but he didn't touch it.

"Let it go," he murmured, and the shard floated up from Ashara's fingers. "Thank you."

He stepped around Ashara, the dragonshard suspended in the air between his hands. Gaven stirred slightly, and Havrakhad shifted the dragonshard so that it hovered over one hand. He extended the other hand to touch Gaven's shoulder, and Gaven slumped down again, though his eyes remained fixed on the shard.

"Excellent," the kalashtar said. "The third trial is the favored one."

The light reappeared, brighter than before, but this time Gaven turned away from it, buried his face in his arms to shield his eyes. The darkness stirred in response to his movement, then settled in around him again, rustling softly, cold but comfortable.

"This is where I belong," he murmured. "What I deserve."

A chorus of whispers voiced its assent. "What you deserve."