Erin Evans - Brimstone Angels

Lorcan ran his hands through his hair. “If you are right, if that is Glasya’s plan, then I don’t think Invadiah knows it. What she threatened Rohini with … she will come as soon as she knows Rohini’s been captured. She will bring the pradixikai . And whatever the Ashmadai might do, whatever Rohini and the Sovereignty might be capable of, whatever the shitting god of evil might stir up, the pradixikai loose in Faerun is reason enough to get far, far away-Hey!” Lorcan shouted.

Farideh looked over her shoulder to see Brin jogging back to the alley’s mouth, his sword unsheathed and his face pale. His eyes were wide and terrified.

“What happened?” Farideh said.

“He took her,” Brin gasped. “The Ashmadai have Havilar.”

“No.” Farideh’s ears were suddenly numb and ringing. She reached behind her to lean on the wall. “Where? When?”

“Outside the shop,” Brin said, still quite out of breath. “The shopkeeper. He came out of nowhere and just … knocked her senseless with some amulet. And that’s not all.”

He explained what he’d heard: the Ashmadai had decided Havilar’s attack was an act of war by the Sovereignty. The shopkeeper seemed to believe that it had been Havilar’s magic that convinced them of the idea, and now the Ashmadai were amassing to attack the House of Knowledge and burn it to the ground.

“Bad to worse,” Lorcan muttered. “You’re right.”

Farideh held her tongue, preoccupied with the repeating images from her nightmares of Havilar being tormented and not being able to save her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to yell at Brin for letting this happen-he’d promised to watch after Havilar.

Brin was watching her, as if he knew all of that. As if he were expecting her ire. Lorcan folded his arms, the smallest of smiles quirking his mouth, as if he knew it too.

She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut a moment.

“First,” she said, “we need to fix Mehen. He’s wounded and-”

“The moment he wakes he’ll try and kill you again!” Lorcan said.

“And,” she continued, “we have to break the domination. The two of us can’t count on saving Havilar alone. And we need Havilar if we’re going to be able to stop the Ashmadai or Rohini.”

“You need far more than just Havilar,” Lorcan said.

“No one is asking for your opinion.”

“Someone should be,” he said. “If … if you are correct about Glasya, you’re assuring your own death to challenge anyone involved in this nonsense-you don’t even know which pieces are hers. Even if you could defeat Rohini or those stupid cultists or the pradixikai or those servitors and whatever monsters they call up, you are forgetting that the archduchess is watching.”

“For now,” Farideh said, “we’re just saving Havilar.” Even though she couldn’t help but remember all the soldiers from the Wall in their sickbeds and the young and preening acolytes who didn’t deserve to burn alive.

Brin squatted down beside Mehen. He held out one tentative hand, the beginnings of divine magic swirling at the tips of his fingers.

“If you heal him,” Lorcan said, “he might still be dominated.”

“Do it,” Farideh said.

Mehen felt his body stir, and then his mind scramble toward waking. Where was he? What had happened? His eyes opened, letting in hazy shapes-Brin kneeling in front of him, Farideh close by. His vision darkened again, his mind sliding away from the world.

He had been running. Chasing. Farideh, seeping hellfire and miasma, trying to kill good people, people like Rohini. In the dark streets of Neverwinter she glowed like a beacon of Hellish magic. He had to stop her.

It was that filthy devil of course, it could only be. She was corrupted, overtaken. Subdue her, subdue her.

No, that won’t work, a voice whispered through his thoughts. She’s too far gone. Do what you must. He’d breathed the lightning.

And then? He couldn’t remember. Didn’t want to remember.

Cool light flared before Mehen’s eyes and the sound of a sword on a whetstone jerked his attention away from the memories. The pain in his head faded, but the fear and adrenaline were still pulsing through him. There again was Brin. Good lad, he thought blinking drowsily at him. He coughed. “Where …”

Be careful, something thought for him and bared his teeth. Right, right-the boy was trouble.

“Mehen.”

He whipped his head around to see Farideh kneeling down beside him, looking worried. Then … no, not worried-cruel. Shadows wafted off of her and her eyes had changed: one red as coals, one black as soot. The devil’s doing. The devil hovering behind her with hateful eyes.

“Mehen,” she said again-a taunt, a slight. He hadn’t stopped her. He tried to reach out, to press the vein that would make her sleep, but his arms were tightly bound behind him, no matter how he struggled. He tapped the roof of his mouth with his tongue: fear, uncertainty, blood. He was as good as dead.

She could have been safe, he thought despairing. She could have been happy.

“Mehen, look at me,” she said. “Please.”

The alley lurched, sharpened. Her eyes were gold and silver again. Brin was nothing but a worried boy. Lorcan still stood behind her, all nerves and irritation.

“I …” He looked off down the alley. “I was supposed to …” He shuddered again and the world blurred.

It’s you’re fault she’s fallen, something whispered, so you have to be the one to stop her. This is the only way to save her.

He shook his head. If Mehen was the cause of his daughter’s fall, then it was because he’d pressed her too hard, driven her when he should have been wary and listened. And planes above, he’d known better-how different was it from Clan Verthisathurgiesh insisting their favored son wed or be cast out? He kept shaking his head. It was his fault. All his fault.

“Fight it off,” Farideh said, this time in Draconic, and again when he opened his eyes, she skipped from something horrible and lost to his daughter, tired and concerned, and back again.

Lorcan laid a hideous hand on her shoulder. “Give it up,” he said, and his voice hissed and snapped. “You can’t break the domination and if you try much longer he’s going to lash out.”

Farideh narrowed those wicked eyes, but didn’t look back at the devil. “Lorcan, you’ve already made your point clear. We’re not leaving him.”

Mehen’s mouth twitched. There’s a girl.

“He’s not safe,” the devil hissed. “That’s all I’m saying. He’s not safe and he might never be safe again.”

“If you’re afraid,” Farideh said, “you can go wait by the gate. Otherwise, kindly keep quiet.” She skipped back to the clear, normal version. Perhaps … perhaps he ought to worry less about whether she could protect herself.

Another burst of cold light shivered over him, and this time he made out the words of Brin’s prayer. The magic shivered over his scales and he felt the spell Rohini had laid on him break apart like a stretched net popping knots.

His mind cleared, the world stayed focused. Mehen drew a long, unsteady breath and focused on Farideh.

“I was trying to kill you,” he said, horrified.

“It’s all right,” she said, relief in her voice. “I’m fine.”

“No,” he said, his heart cracking. He’d chased her down, his blade bare. He’d threatened her, he’d used the lightning breath. “Oh, Fari, tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m fine. Are you well? Do you feel … odd?”

For the first time in days, he felt completely himself. “ Karshoji Tiamat . Fari. I was so worried … like a horrible nightmare you can’t stir from. And she took hold of those nightmares-” His voice caught. She’d turned him against Farideh, so completely. He would never forgive himself for that. “And worse that I’d snapped at you … when your sister …” He looked around. “Where’s Havi?”