Кейт Новак - Azure Bonds

Alias fell to the ground like a sack, only a few feet from Dragonbait’s sword. The giant torso loomed over her with Akabar dangling from its claw like a rag doll. Dragonbait lay motionless on the floor. Olive was still out cold.

Phalse’s head laughed as it drifted until it fitted itself securely in the depression between the ebony form’s shoulders. “This torso was also a prototype of sorts, both part and not part of me, useful as a carrier and warrior. But not as good as you.”

The united Phalse, body and head, bent over her, the sucker mouths opening and closing in anticipation. Alias reached for Dragonbait’s sword, grasped its hilt in both hands, and swung it low, near the floor. The sword passed cleanly through one of Phalse’s ankles and chopped into the other. The body toppled over, and Alias rolled away as Phalse separated himself from the fallen ebony torso.

“You spoil all my fun,” said the huge, bloated head. “Now we must end this.” He charged at her.

Alias faked a stumble to one knee, and the head swooped lower, still moving quickly. Alias leaped to her feet, stabbing with Dragonbait’s sword as if it were a dagger—right into the central blue eye.

Phalse hissed from all his remaining mouths, and Alias thought she had beaten him, when suddenly several more mouth-stalks sprang from the head and engulfed her. The large, lower mouth tried to bite her. She placed her free arm in the space between the skewered eye and the mouth, trying to remove Dragonbait’s sword, but the blade was stuck. She succeeded only in keeping the awful main maw from snapping at her flesh.

Dragonbait recovered his senses as Alias was grappling with Phalse’s head. This was her battle; she had asked him not to interfere.

The saurial staggered from the courtyard and into the former feast hall to stand between the rows of bodies. He agreed with Alias that her copies should not be destroyed.

The saurial thought back to the evening when he and Alias had been branded, when his soul had been stretched and torn until Alias had suddenly become possessed of life and a soul, and, unexpectedly, a spirit.

Just how did I do it? he asked himself. Was it my prayers, my stubborn defiance of the evil around me, my acceptance that death was near?

The forest of mouths encircled Alias, blocking her vision, and she and Phalse spun about dizzily. Alias became suddenly aware that they stood on the balcony.

Catching her foot against the wall, Alias twisted at the waist, slinging the head about by Dragonbait’s sword. She let go of the sword’s hilt.

The torque created by her spin was enough to rip the mouths from her body. Phalse’s head went spinning from the tower with the sword still embedded in it.

Thirty feet from the balcony, Phalse and Dragonbait’s sword achieved maximum potential and burst into a ball of white light as bright as the recent detonations near Westgate.

Alias shielded her eyes from the explosion with her arms and backed away from the balcony. She felt a familiar burning pain on her arm. A welcome pain. Phalse’s sigil flared and vanished from her arm.

A sharp pain on Dragonbait’s chest broke his concentration. The air filled with the scent of violets as the saurial realized the source of the pain. Phalse was dead.

Suddenly, the twelve figures before him faded to shimmering, glassy outlines and then vanished completely.

A last trick of Phalse’s? the saurial wondered. He hadn’t had time to learn if he’d succeeded. Now he might never know.

Alias swayed unsteadily and put her hand against a wall. Dragonbait stood in the doorway between the feast hall and the courtyard. He looked disturbed but uninjured.

Then Alias saw two figures bent over the bodies of her companions and she leaped toward them. One of them turned toward her, and she paused.

It was Nameless, and he and his companion were smearing healing ointment over Akabar’s body. The other man moved toward Olive and told Alias, “She’s alive, too.”

There was something familiar about the figure and voice, but Alias was too weak to place it. She sank to her knees, chiding Nameless, “About time you showed up.” Then she allowed herself the luxury of collapsing.

Elminster and Nameless smeared Alias with foul-smelling ointments and bound her wounds. When she came to, Dragonbait was using his power to heal Akabar, who had been the most grievously hurt. Olive had a nasty gash on her forehead, but the old man who worked beside Nameless assured the halfling that if she would only keep her mouth shut, her headache would go away.

Alias felt no pain, courtesy of the ointments, but she was bone-weary. Akabar, who sat beside her, gave her a nudge and pointed to the old man. “That one was talking to Dragonbait in Shadowdale,” the mage told her.

Elminster crouched beside Akabar. “I understand ye wanted to see me on a matter of grave importance.”

Akabar flushed with sudden understanding. “Elminster?”

“Really?” Alias said. “And I thought you were just a goatherd who knew more than was good for me.” She realized now that Akabar had never actually spoken with Elminster.

“He’s nothing at all like you described him, Akabar,” she teased. “For one thing, he talks funny.”

“Have you ever considered keeping an appointment calendar?” Akabar asked the old sage angrily.

“Yes,” Elminster replied. “They make excellent tinder.”

“You knew all about Nameless,” Alias accused him. “You knew what I was, didn’t you?”

“I knew about Nameless,” Elminster confessed sadly. “But I was not sure about thee. Ye seemed too human to be the made thing he had envisioned. In disbelief, I put off coming here to ascertain if the bard was still safe in his prison. As they say, the wise aren’t always.”

“Aren’t always what?” Olive chirped.

“Wise,” supplied Alias.

Elminster nodded. “Got off my hindquarters fast enough when Moander was unleashed, though. Took me two days to trek out here. I watched thy arrival on the roof. New portal—must remember it.”

“But you tried to get me to give up the songs, and I refused. You let me go. You knew it was wrong to try to squelch Nameless’s songs.”

“Let’s say I was uncertain. I was prepared to sacrifice them to a greater good. Thy vehemence made me rethink the greater good. It was hard to argue with a soul so pure.”

Alias looked shyly at Dragonbait. If they’d given me a piece of someone else’s soul, she wondered, would I have succeeded in freeing myself?

“What will happen to Nameless?” she asked. “It’s a little late to keep him locked up to protect his secret. And you most certainly aren’t going to lock me up.”

Elminster looked startled momentarily. “No,” he agreed. “That would be unjustifiable. What he did may have been wrong, but what we did may not have been right. The time has come, I think, to review the matter.”

“A second trial?” asked Nameless.

“Perhaps,” said Elminster. “If so, I will speak in thy defense.”

“As will I,” Alias said.

Nameless smiled at her. “You really refused to give up my songs?”

“It was wrong to abandon them, and I knew it.”

Something tickled the base of her wrist, and Alias held her arm up. In the once-empty space a blue rose blossomed, shimmering among the stiller pattern of waves and serpents.

Dragonbait clutched at his chest and looked down. The snaking pattern on his green scales was replaced by a wreath of blue ivy.

“A sign of the gods’ favor?” Nameless asked the sage.

“It would appear so,” Elminster agreed. He turned to Alias. “I have closed the portal leading to Phalse’s domain, so ye will be safe here.”