Don Bassinghtwaite - The Binding Stone

The presence caught the image and swallowed it. The whirlwind of yellow-green light tensed slightly. Stupid shifter! Tetkashtai seethed. What have you done?

You'll help us?

What choice do I have? Tetkashtai spat. Open yourself to me, Geth! You're no kalashtar. I will need everything you can give just to access the simplest of my powers!

Geth hesitated, then gave up any attempt at holding Tetkashtai back.

She seized him, and he felt like a stranger in his own body. His eyes snapped open and his head turned. Natrac whirled past him as Tetkashtai glanced at the phantoms, then at the creeping limbs. The limbs are more dangerous, Geth tried to tell her. The phantoms can't actually-

Be silent. Tetkashtai ordered him. She stretched out, reaching down into some place within him that was not quite his spirit and not quite his body. Whatever it was, pain ripped through him as Tetkashtai pulled something of him into herself. He sagged down. She heaved his body upright.

"A trickle," she said with his voice. "Pathetic, but it will have to do."

"Geth?" asked Natrac.

"No," said Tetkashtai.

Geth felt her concentrate, felt the storm of her presence draw together into a shining, focused spark. A little bit of the energy she had stolen from him spun out from that spark. Something seemed to open up within him, a pulse, a beat. It rose from his chest. He could feel it in his throat, and then in his ears: the droning chorus that had always accompanied Dandra's fiery powers. Whitefire. The word whispered itself into his mind through the connection with Tetkashtai.

"The spirits!" shouted Natrac.

In the corner of Geth's vision, he saw the half-orc whirl as the colorless shapes of the phantoms surged around them once more. Natrac's hunda stick lashed out, sweeping through the disfigured shapes again and again, trying to keep them back. It didn't work. They swarmed over him-and over Geth. Tetkashtai paid no attention to either the spirits that tried to tug at her or Natrac's calls for help All of her attention was fixed on the creeping limbs as they crawled closer. And closer.

Tetkashtai, what are you doing? Geth asked. His voice seemed weaker than ever, a pitiful mewling. Hurry!

Patience. The focused spark of her presence flashed. She curled his left hand into a fist and raised it, pointing at the approaching swarm. As the chorus of whitefire rose like a triumphant song, Tetkashtai opened Geth's hand.

Pale flames poured out in a roaring cone that seemed to fill the corridor. Hands, feet, legs, and arms shriveled like spiders flung into a candle, reduced in an instant to nothing more than hunks of burning, charred flesh. The knives and razors that they had dragged with them fell to the floor with a clatter. Only a few skittering hands escaped the inferno, scattering back into the shadows. Whispers rising into wails, the phantoms fled as well, their ghostly forms vanishing through walls and back down the corridor. Shivering, Natrac forced himself upright.

"Dol Arrah's mercy," he panted, leaning heavily on his hunda.

The tight spark of Tetkashtai's concentration unraveled, whirling back out into a yellow-green storm. Geth let out a silent gasp as the presence wrenched at him. Still there, Geth? she asked.

Speaking was an effort. Let go of the crystal, Tetkashtai. Give me back my body!

Tetkashtai laughed, both in his mind and out loud. Give it back? she said silently. Why would I do that? I know what you're planning, Geth. A return to Dah'mir? No. A return to the crystal? Never. Tetkashtai's voice rose into a shriek. Do you have any idea what it's like to be trapped in that crystal? I'm not going back there!

Tetkashtai turned Geth's body to face Natrac and the throbbing chorus of whitefire rose again. A look of new fear flickered across Natrac's face. The half-orc's hand tightened on his hunda and he lashed out, staff aiming for Geth's wrist, trying to make Tetkashtai drop the crystal as Geth had in Fat Tusk.

But Tetkashtai was faster. She slid Geth's toe under the shaft of his own hunda and flipped it up into the air. His left hand caught the staff in mid-air, twisting it and knocking Natrac's clumsy blow away.

"What was it Vennet said to Dandra in Zarash'ak?" Tetkashtai asked with Geth's voice. "Not a spear as such, but on short notice, I think a staff will do?"

A thought set the hunda stick ablaze in her grasp, though Geth felt nothing of the flames. Tetkashtai flicked the hunda again and the burning wood cracked across Natrac's good arm. The half-orc yelped and dropped his staff. Geth felt Tetkashtai's surprise at the ferocity of her strike. "Harder than I intended," she said. She flexed his muscles. "Strong. Fast. You might not be a kalashtar, shifter, but I think I like your body."

If you like that, growled Geth, you're going to love this. Gathering all of his remaining strength, he struck deep into himself, into a place the presence hadn't even tried to approach-and shifted.

Tetkashtai gasped at the wild power that surged through his veins, swooning as his lycanthrope heritage rushed over her. The yellow-green storm of her being flared and guttered like a torch in the wind. In that moment, Geth pushed out against her control, spinning his body around fast and slamming the back of his right hand against the cold stones of the wall. Pain shot up his entire arm and his clenched fist twitched in pure reflex to the impact.

Before Tetkashtai could do more than wail in frustration, the psicrystal slipped between his fingers and bounced across the floor with a soft ringing sound. The pain in the shifter's right hand was matched by a searing burn in his left. Geth hurled the flaming hunda away from him and collapsed back against the wall, his chest heaving.

As suddenly as she had stiffened, Dandra relaxed, her eyes gliding closed. Singe held onto her, clutching her tight until the chime of Medala's power faded and the kalashtar wrenched him away. She examined Dandra, then spun to the wizard. "What happened?" she demanded.

"I don't know," Singe choked. His head spun and throbbed. It was a good thing that his ignorance was the truth, because whatever Medala had done to him had left him without the will or energy to spin out a lie.

Maybe she knew that too, because she didn't press him any further. She turned to Dah'mir as the green-eyed man stood watching. "Something's wrong," she said. "Tetkashtai is fighting your power."

"Amazing," murmured Dah'mir. "She's doing what you failed to, Medala."

A chill ran through Singe's body. Someone else might have been intimidated by the possibility but Dah'mir seemed intrigued. Maybe even proud.

Medala's face twisted with jealousy but Dah'mir took no notice. He glanced at the young Bonetree hunters as he turned to sweep away. "Keep a watch on her and the wizard both," he told them.

In spite of her rage, Medala trotted after him like an obedient dog. Singe shrank back as the hunters turned to him with the smiles of foxes set to watch a chicken coop-smiles that faded as Ashi stepped over Singe and took up a position facing her own clan. Her eyes were dark from whatever attack Medala had inflicted on her, but her jaw was set and her sword was drawn. Muttering in frustration, the hunters slid back into the shadows.

Ashi didn't speak. Neither did Singe. His head pounding, he crawled back to Dandra and lay down close beside her.

"Lords of the Host," hissed Natrac. The crook end of his hunda poked Geth's chest. The shifter slapped it away and looked up at him.

"She's gone," he growled. He leaned his head back against the stone wall for a moment more, and released his shifting. It faded away, taking the worst of the pain in his hands with it. Some of whatever energy Tetkashtai had drawn from him trickled back as well. He heaved himself to his feet. There was a stink of burning flesh that he hadn't been aware of while Tetkashtai controlled his body. He clenched his teeth and tried to breathe shallowly.