Jaleigh Johnson - Unbroken Chain - The Darker Road

As a rule, the other races in Ikemmu showed deference to the shadar-kai as the defenders of the city that sheltered them and made them wealthy, so the people answered Ashok’s questions swiftly and with apologies for not being able to aid him.

Defeated, Ashok headed back to the wall. He had to hope the guards found some trace of her, but he also knew that if Ilvani didn’t want to be found, she would not be, and there was nothing he could do to root her out.

When he got to the wall, one of the Guardians signaled him. At once he teleported to the top of the wall. Neimal waited for him.

“What news?” he demanded.

In response, the witch drew her sword and faced the portal. Flames shot up the blade with a sudden brilliance that dazzled Ashok’s eyes, and the portal activated.

“Ilvani is out on the plain,” Neimal said.

“On the Shadowfell? You let her go out there alone?” Ashok said sharply.

Neimal’s expression turned black. “Your message to detain her came too late. She asked to leave, and I have no authority to prevent her from coming and going as she wills. But you, Guardian , you I can detain forever.”

Ashok forced his temper in check. “I think Ilvani is in danger.”

“So Skagi informed me. I sent him to find you. Ilvani won’t answer the guards’ entreaties that she come back through the portal. They don’t want to have to force her, and neither do I,” Neimal said. She pointed with her sword at the active portal. “Go to her. She might listen to you, but you should know she’s not alone out there.”

“What?” Ashok cried. “Who’s out there?”

“The guards spotted the nightmare out on the plain within sight of the portal,” Neimal said. “It’s not the first time, either. They’ve heard its screams many times.”

If Ilvani and the nightmare came together, there was a good chance the beast would be affected by whatever caused the other creatures to go mad. Ashok’s insides twisted at the consequences of such a meeting. Ilvani’s magic was strong, stronger than that of any wizard he’d seen in Ikemmu, but the nightmare was a force of nature, the embodiment of the harsh, unpredictable Shadowfell landscape.

It was very possible they would destroy each other.

For the second time that day, Ashok came through the Shadowfell portal at a dead run. Sounds assaulted him-the roar of the constant wind and, above that, a distant, keening scream he knew well. He couldn’t see the nightmare for the clouds of dust drifting on the wind, but he knew the beast was close by. The portal guards stood at their posts, but they fidgeted nervously, their eyes fixed on the horizon. They were all warriors of Tempus-a threat to their city should have made their hearts beat with wild anticipation, for to them there was no greater glory than dying in defense of Ikemmu and Uwan, the Watching Blade.

The nightmare’s scream changed all that. It had the unearthly power to foster terror in the hearts of the shadar-kai, preying upon the fear that haunted them the most. To succumb to the nightmare’s scream was to believe that their souls were fading, becoming one with the essence of the Shadowfell, lost even to Tempus’s power. The Guardians heard the scream and feared that fate, but they kept to their posts.

“Where is she?” Ashok shouted.

One of the Guardians pointed, and when the dust clouds broke up, Ashok saw Ilvani standing alone on the plain. She was barefoot and wore no cloak, but this wasn’t unusual. What struck Ashok was her swaying stance and the knife she held in her hand.

The scream echoed again, closer, and the Guardians bared weapons. Instinctively, Ashok reached for his spiked chain. His hand clutched his empty belt. Cursing violently, Ashok remembered he’d left the weapon at the blacksmith forge. He thought of asking one of the Guardians for a dagger, but he realized it would be less than useless against the nightmare if the beast went mad and attacked them in earnest.

First he would find Ilvani; then he would deal with the nightmare.

He approached her cautiously, coming in well within her periphery so as not to surprise her. His stance was eerily like the first time he’d approached the nightmare in the training paddock. He had absolutely no idea what to expect.

“Ilvani,” he called.

She didn’t answer. She continued to stare into the dust clouds and listened to the nightmare’s screams. Cold wind gusted across the plain and blew grit into Ashok’s eyes.

“Come back to the city with me. Whatever’s happening, we’ll help you, I promise.”

“I couldn’t get them out. My fault,” she said. Ashok saw her clearly now, and what he saw shocked him more than Cree’s vacant eye socket.

She’d slashed the long sleeves of her dress. Blood-caked scraps dangled from her elbows. Dozens of ugly cuts covered her forearms. Ashok seized her wrist-she dropped the bloody knife-to see how deep the wounds went. Luckily, most were superficial, except for a particularly nasty slash on the back of her hand.

“Ilvani, what have you done to yourself?”

“The stains-I couldn’t get them out, so I had to tear the dress,” she said, sounding contrite. She bent to retrieve the knife. “I’ll try some more.”

“No!” Ashok kicked the weapon away. “Ilvani, why did you do this? I’ve never seen you cut yourself before.”

“You’ve never seen me at all.” Contrition turned to irritation. Her mood shifts, at least, were familiar.

Ashok ripped off a piece of his own sleeve and wound it around her right arm. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “Give me your other arm.”

He expected her to ignore him, but she held her arm up without complaint. Ashok knew then that something was terribly wrong. Ilvani hated to be touched.

“You should cut them off,” she said. “They’re not worth anything.”

“If I did that, you’d regret it, especially when it came time to-”

Suddenly he stopped wrapping the bandage. The shallower cuts on her left arm-she hadn’t made them at random. Ashok saw symbols, repetitive patterns, but they were nothing he could decipher. He started to ask her about them, but a loud scream shattered the air and made Ashok spin. He grabbed again for a weapon that wasn’t on his belt.

The nightmare was almost on top of them.

Ashok shoved Ilvani out of the way and dived aside as the stallion charged past them, fiery hooves striking sparks off the ground. A wall of heat came in his wake, hot enough to make Ashok’s eyes water. He’d forgotten the speed, the raw elemental force that surrounded the beast.

The nightmare made a wide circle and came at them again. The stallion’s eyes were full of swelling hatred, but as he got closer, Ashok saw the beast leaping and bucking, his neck muscles straining as if against an invisible goad. Foam dripped from his mouth, and his eyes glazed over-the hatred was there, but with an undercurrent of desperation Ashok had never seen before. The nightmare, usually a creature of deadly grace, at that moment behaved like a tormented animal.

He’s trying to resist the madness, but he’s not in control, Ashok thought. The nightmare was far more intelligent than the panthers or shadow snakes, yet something about Ilvani’s presence drove them all into a killing frenzy.

Ilvani stood up. Ashok tried to put his body in front of her, but she shoved at him. “Let it take me!” she yelled.

Ashok grabbed for her again, but she dodged, tripped, and fell directly in the path of the nightmare’s deadly hooves. He couldn’t get to her in time.

“Tempus!” The name ripped from Ashok’s throat.

Sparks flew as the nightmare skidded and reared a breath from caving in Ilvani’s skull. For an age, he stayed suspended in the air, his fire drifting over them. Lying on her back, Ilvani watched the flames. They reflected in her black eyes like stars.