Jaleigh Johnson - Unbroken Chain - The Darker Road

Finally, the stallion came down and retreated, but he tossed his head and snorted in furious agitation. His entire body shuddered. Ashok came toward him, but the nightmare let out a short, sharp screech and struck the ground with his hooves.

“It’s your own fault,” Ashok said with black humor. “You wouldn’t leave me alone. How does it feel to have your power turned back at you, a force that gnaws at your mind?”

The nightmare snorted a breath of foul steam on the air. Hands raised, Ashok tried again to approach the stallion. Red eyes, huge and rolling, followed his movements, but the nightmare didn’t retreat this time. The flames coursing through his mane slowly dimmed to a deep blue line. Ashok put his hand against the nightmare’s flank and felt the heat so intense, it bordered on pain.

The promise of pain, the constant threat of oblivion. Ashok had almost forgotten how the nightmare’s presence affected him. A part of his soul reviled the beast, but another part felt as though it were coming home.

The nightmare felt it too. Slowly, the stallion stopped his restless pacing and pawing. His fetlocks cooled to a deep black color. Under Ashok’s stroking fingers, he became almost as docile as a pet.

Ashok heard Ilvani get to her feet and come to stand behind him. The nightmare followed her every movement. His nostrils flared as if the beast scented something terrible in the air.

“Easy,” Ashok said, moving his hand up the nightmare’s neck. “Whatever it is, it’s not going to master you.” He turned his head to meet Ilvani’s gaze. “You’re both stronger than that.”

It was a lie. Ilvani didn’t look strong. She looked frail, desperate, and utterly alone.

“Natan,” she said.

The way she said her brother’s name pierced Ashok’s heart. “He’s not here, Ilvani.”

She put bloody hands against her face. Her shoulders heaved with abrupt, violent sobs. “Why can’t you just leave it alone?” she cried. “Let the fire burn, let it pound me into the ground. Natan, it hurts. I can see them all, but not you. Not you.”

Ashok didn’t know what to do. He stood between the two wild creatures and knew he couldn’t control either of them. But he kept his hands on the nightmare. The only person Ilvani was in danger of hurting was herself.

“Ilvani, look at me.”

When she looked up, she wore a vacant expression. Ashok wondered if she saw him at all. Bloody fingerprints covered her face, and there was dirt on her cheek from her fall. I should take her to Makthar, Ashok thought. Her wounds weren’t life-threatening, but if left alone, they would soon be infected and cause her more pain. Of course, if they did, she would hardly notice. Ilvani’s entire world was one degree of suffering or another.

“Ilvani,” Ashok said. “You know what’s happening, don’t you-why the shadow beasts are going mad when you come near them? Does it have to do with those symbols on your arms?”

The witch blinked and focused on him. She watched his hand rhythmically stroking the nightmare’s flank, so close to the low blue flame. “The telthors are angry,” she said, “restless. Their hands are all over me. They leave black marks, grabbing, pulling, wanting . The mountain wants, the river wants, the trees want. I can’t listen to them if they’re everywhere.”

Ashok sighed. He should have known better than to expect coherency from her. “Let’s get back to the city,” he said. “We need to find Neimal.”

The witch might know what the symbols on Ilvani’s arms meant. If they could solve that puzzle, it might lead to an explanation for the rampant madness.

“You stay here,” he said to the nightmare, “unless you’d like to go back in your cage?”

The nightmare snorted and shied away, but he didn’t go far. The message was clear: I’ll be waiting for you .

The guards sent word ahead to Neimal, and the witch waited for them on the other side of the portal. When she saw Ilvani’s arms, she said to Ashok, “You must tell Uwan what’s happened. He’ll want to know that Ilvani is hurt.”

Ilvani was an important symbol in Ikemmu, a mystical link between the shadar-kai and Tempus. She had become even more precious since they’d lost Natan and his visions from the warrior god. Unfortunately, it also meant the city saw her less as a person and more as a prophet. Having been in a similar position, Ashok knew that wasn’t the kind of regard Ilvani needed right now.

“I have to talk to you, but I don’t want to involve Uwan in this yet,” Ashok said.

Neimal’s eyes widened. “That’s not for us to decide. You must-”

“Do you see these symbols?” Ashok showed her Ilvani’s unbandaged arm. “Do you know what they are?”

Neimal gently traced the symbols with the pad of her thumb. Ilvani’s gaze drifted back and forth between the two of them. Silent tears continued to drip down her cheeks, leaving watery tracks in the blood and dirt. The witch’s gaze darkened. Seeing her expression, Ashok couldn’t tell whether Ilvani’s wounds or her tears disturbed Neimal more.

“You’ve never seen her this bad before, have you?” he said.

Neimal looked at him. “Never.” She let go of Ilvani’s arm. “She came to me earlier, raving about spirits of the forest, mountains, and water. She hadn’t cut herself. Ilvani never cuts herself.”

It confirmed what Ashok suspected; that Ilvani had never before been tempted to hurt herself for stimulation. She’d never needed to-her mind was forever active, strange, and deep. Peace and apathy were unknown concepts to her.

“What about the symbols?” he asked.

“I don’t recognize them,” Neimal said. “They’re in no language I know, and they’re nothing arcane. For all we know, she made them up in her head.”

“I don’t believe that,” Ashok said. “You said yourself Ilvani never puts the knife to her flesh.” Many shadar-kai of the Shadowfell used self-inflicted pain to keep themselves from fading, but in Ikemmu, such an act was defilement and strictly forbidden. “If she wanted a canvas, she could have drawn on the walls of her chamber. Yet I was just up there and found nothing like this. These symbols mean something.”

“Then their origin must be another plane or the mirror world, Faerun,” Neimal said. “They’re outside my knowledge.”

“Faerun,” Ashok said. The mirror world was outside his knowledge as well, but he knew at least one person who was familiar with it and with sending and receiving messages. Perhaps she would be able to decipher whatever message Ilvani was trying to send them.

Ashok led Ilvani past the stone dwellings of the trade market while the Trimmer bell sounded at the top of Tower Makthar. She trailed a little behind him and stopped every now and then to examine one of the outdoor stalls. Her tears had ceased, but she still walked like a person asleep. Ashok wondered what was in her thoughts.

He was surprised she’d agreed to go with him at all. Ilvani avoided loud places and crowds, any situation where she might have to put her back to another person. Ashok recognized the tense set of her shoulders, the readiness of a body expecting to be hit. It had been the same for him, in his former enclave.

They turned a corner, and Ashok stopped short. Tethered to one of the merchant wagons was a large hound. Its owner probably kept the animal as a guard for his wares. Ashok tried to turn Ilvani aside, but she avoided his reach and walked right up to the wagon. She didn’t see the dog.

Ashok cursed and sprang forward, intending to grab the dog’s tether before it went mad and attacked the witch. The dog cocked its head and growled at him when he reached for its rope, but Ashok saw no sign of madness in the animal’s eyes. Ilvani passed by the wagon and kept walking. The dog paid no attention to her.