The Fractured Sky (6 page)

Kaanyr looked at Kael for a moment, torn between his disdain and a grudging appreciation for the half-drow’s effort to rescue him. But the holy warrior was already on his feet, moving off to shout instructions to the people and heal the wounded.

“Kaanyr!” It was Aliisza shouting from across open ground. The cambion looked in her direction and saw her near a collapsed dwelling. She was kneeling as though she had been peering into the interior of the structure. When she caught his eye, the alu motioned frantically for him to come to her.

Vhok scrambled to his feet and moved toward Aliisza even as the ground rumbled and shuddered again beneath him. Already, the cambion could sense a change. It was tilting. Tauran had been right; the collision was slowly upending the whole island.

“What?” he demanded, reaching the half-fiend. He squatted next to her. “What is it?” he asked, staring where she peered.

“I think there’s someone trapped in there,” Aliisza said, pointing. “I thought I heard a scream just as it began to fall.”

“Probably already dead,” Kaanyr said, rising. He reached down to take Aliisza by the arm. “Nothing more to do here,” he added. “Come.”

“Wait!” Aliisza said, resisting his tug. “I can hear crying. I think it’s a baby.”

Damnation, Kaanyr silently groused. Everywhere she turns, she thinks she sees a child that needs her. That fool angel has addled her brain. “Are you sure?” he asked doubtfully. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Just help me,” Aliisza insisted, grabbing hold of a timber

that jutted from the wreckage of the home. She tried to hoist it up, but it didn’t budge.

Sighing, Kaanyr took hold of the timber. Together, they lifted. The pile of ruined dwelling shifted slightly, but they couldn’t move anything. “No use,” Kaanyr gasped as he eased the piece of lumber back down. “Too heavy.”

“Hold on,” Aliisza said, reaching into a hidden pocket within her armor. She pulled something out. Before Kaanyr could see it, she brushed it against him and muttered an arcane phrase. He felt a surge of raw power course through him and knew she had enhanced his strength. She quickly did the same to herself. “Try again,” she said.

Shrugging, Kaanyr grabbed hold of the timber and heaved. Aliisza joined him. Together, they forced the length of wood upward, shifting the pile of destroyed home with it.

As the hoisted lumber reached its apex, Kaanyr could see a hollow space near the center. A girl of perhaps fourteen summers lay sprawled there, a bloody gash across one cheek. A smaller child, little more than a baby, squirmed beside her. It appeared unharmed.

“Can you hold it?” Aliisza asked. “Keep it off me!”

Before Kaanyr could even answer, she released the timber and darted into the remains of the dwelling.

The cambion grunted at the increased burden and felt his muscles quiver with the strain of it. “Hurry!” he grunted at the alu, who was kneeling down next to the injured girl. “Quickly, Aliisza!”

“I’m trying!” she replied. “She’s stuck under something.”

Vhok shifted his feet and tried to get a better grip on the timber. He managed to get his shoulder under it and brace it, but he knew he could not remain there long. It was simply too heavy.

Just like her, the cambion fumed. Never one to let the facts get in the way of her bull-headed intentions. At least that hasn’t changed.

Kaanyr could sense the land continue to tilt, and with it, the weight of the debris shifted and grew heavier, overwhelming him. His arms, already shaking with exertion, began to burn. “Now, Aliisza! I’m losing it!”

“I can almost…” she said, her voice muffled, but Kaanyr couldn’t hear the rest. His legs quivered like jelly, and despite his ferocious will, the timber, and everything above it, began to collapse atop her. “Aliisza!” he grunted. “Get out!”

But the alu did not emerge from beneath the dwelling, and with a snarl of frustration and dismay, Kaanyr lost his grip on the wood.

It slammed to the earth with a deep thud.

Behind the thick underbrush at the top of the three-sided open grotto Myshik knelt and peered through the foliage at the guards below. He counted four of them, hound-headed creatures standing easy but alert. They hung near the back of the secluded area, beneath the overhang that surrounded the open pit. Each of them kept a sword strapped to his or her back.

The draconic hobgoblin tightened his grip on his axe and waited. He felt good, eager for the coming battle. His whole body quivered with anticipation and energy, the residual effect of his healing dip in the magical waters of the Lifespring. Tekthyrios had borne him to a desolate, craggy spot high in the sky of the mystical place and eased him into the spring-fed pool.

The effect had been immediate and profound. All of the half-hobgoblin’s wounds and scars faded in a matter of moments. Vitality and strength filled his whole being, but along with that enchanting healing had come a taint, a sick feeling of something that made Myshik’s stomach churn. It left an odd taste in his mouth and a faint ache in his bones. He fretted over its effects for a while, but eventually dismissed them as minor irritants compared to the wonderful rejuvenation he’d experienced.

Tekthyrios had bathed in the soothing pool too and seemed to luxuriate in its magnificent effects as well. When they had both had their fill, the dragon took hold of Myshik and rose aloft once more. They set out for a new destination, and along the way, the dragon explained his plan, and the half-hobgoblin’s role in it.

Myshik tingled with excitement and anticipation.

The forest around him was unusually quiet. He knew that the storms raging all through the House had not abated, but the great woodland surrounding him kept the worst of the wind at bay. He could still hear it roaring through the crowns of the massive trees, but it was a muted sound—distant, eerie. It had helped mask his approach to the edge of the pit.

The C-shaped pit was almost perfectly curved, a sort of sinkhole that had formed along a ridge of hard stone. Eons of water spilling into the basin had hollowed it out, carving it bit by bit, even cutting into the walls so that they curved inward, leaving an overhang around the perimeter of the place. At several points along the semicircle to Myshik’s left, the trickle of waterfalls spilled over the side and splashed into a pool that took up most of the floor. Water escaped from the pool out the open side of the basin, to the half-dragon’s right.

Myshik could hear the guards’ voices drift toward him,

but their words were too soft to decipher. He watched them as they conversed. The dog-creatures exuded an aura of calmness, yet they never seemed to grow listless or distracted from watching their surroundings. He wondered how long they had been posted there, guarding that cave.

One of the four, a female with white fur and stubby, triangular ears, stood up straighter and sniffed the air. She looked apprehensive, and Myshik grew very still as her eyes scanned the bushes where he had chosen to conceal himself. The other three grew more alert too, and one of them spoke sharply. In response, she pointed in Myshik’s direction. Her companions turned their attention his way, and for a moment, the half-hobgoblin thought he might have to launch his attack early.

Now, Tekthyrios’s voice echoed in Myshik’s mind.

Smiling, Myshik rose up to his full height and stepped forward, plummeting off the edge of the rim and into the pit. He unfurled his wings and glided downward, angling his descent so that he would swoop in toward the nearest guard.

She let out a warning growl and yanked her sword free. She took a defensive stance and waited for Myshik to get within reach. Her companions fanned out to either side, their blades also drawn. He could see the grim determination in their eyes.

“You may not pass,” the guard said, speaking in perfect Draconic.

Here we go, the half-dragon thought as he glided into range.

“Turn back or be destr—”

The guard’s words vanished in a thunderous boom as Myshik emitted a great blast of lightning and engulfed her. He saw the other three grunt in pain at the searing burst of light. They spun away, covering their faces with their arms.

Though she cringed in blindness from the unexpected assault, the female guard looked otherwise unmarked.

Resistant, Myshik realized. Would have been good to know.

In the moment it took for the guards’ eyesight to return, Myshik pulled back his axe, aiming at the closest guard’s neck.

A shout of warning from one of the other hound-creatures caused Myshik’s target to start. She tried to spin away as Myshik reached her, but the alarm came too late. The half-dragon swung his axe around in a huge, sweeping arc and cut into the guard’s shoulder and neck. The magic of the axe thundered.

The guard gave a short, shrill yelp as the blow knocked her sideways. She tumbled head over heels and went sprawling into the shallow water of the pool. It began to turn crimson. She did not move again.

Another of the guards gave a howl of dismay and lunged at Myshik, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Myshik leaped backward to evade the weapon. He landed lightly on his feet, brought his axe into play, and the fight was on.

The three remaining guards circled the draconic hobgoblin, mouths agape as they eyed him with anger. Myshik spun in place, expecting a coordinated attack. He knew he couldn’t overextend or fall for feints, so he kept his blade defensive, waiting for that first sudden burst.

He was not disappointed.

The trio moved elegantly, together, leaping in to slash at their foe. As the half-dragon shifted to evade the first strike, two more came at him lightning quick. Though the guards’ swords were bulky and slow, they handled them well. He deflected the first two swipes, but the third was too fast. The

edge of the sword raked across his shoulder, cutting through his thick leather armor.

Myshik snarled, but he let the pain wash over him. He focused on it.

It infuriated him.

Another struck at Myshik, followed by another. He roared in defiance and swatted the attacks away with his axe. The weapon felt almost weightless in his hands. It took no more effort to wield than if it were a hollow stick. He bellowed again, challenging the guards, and rushed at one of them.

The hound creature faltered and stumbled back a step. The other two closed in behind Myshik, but he didn’t care. All his fury, all his hatred, he poured into the thought of destroying that one foe retreating from him. He closed the distance, one, two, three steps through the shallow water of the pool. All the while, he yanked and hacked with his axe, pummeling the guard’s defenses, battering the sword out of the way.

Myshik could see the strength waning from his enemy, could see the grim determination in his eyes turn to worry, then outright fear. Myshik never relented, even when he felt the faint stroke of a sword across his back, striking one of his wings. Another step forward and he had the guard down on his knees, scrambling to keep his sword high enough to block Myshik’s relentless axe strikes.

On the third blow, Myshik’s axe cleaved the sword in twain and kept going, splitting the hound creature’s skull. The explosive thunder that accompanied the strike rendered the guard nearly unrecognizable.

The half-dragon barely sensed a slice across the back of his knee. His leg weakened. Rather than allow it to give

way, Myshik channeled even more anger into himself. He spun, refusing to show any sign of the injury, and chose another target.

The two remaining dog creatures pressed the attack, and Myshik saw that their swords were bloodied. Absently, he decided it must be his blood.

He didn’t care.

Pressing the fight at the guard on his left, Myshik assaulted anew. He used quick, powerful stokes with his axe to bludgeon his foe’s defenses, shifting his attention only long enough to ward off the worst of the other guard’s attacks. As before, his rage and focus overwhelmed his enemy. The guard staggered from his ferocious strikes, and when he went down to one knee in exhaustion, Myshik stepped in for the killing blow.

Before he could finish off his opponent, a brilliant illumination filled the half-dragon’s field of vision. A presence had arrived, glowing with power, and Myshik flinched despite himself. The being hovered above the kneeling guard, a creature of silvery white. It gazed sternly down at Myshik with golden eyes, a massive greatsword clasped in its hands.

“You who have defiled this place and slain my guards, your end is nigh,” it said, and its voice filled the pit, shook the walls, and sent ripples dancing across the water. It drew its sword back to strike, and Myshik cowered.

A shadow passed over them.

The magnificent and terrible creature faltered and turned its gaze skyward. Myshik smiled to himself as the massive form of the storm dragon, Tekthyrios, slammed into the angel. The white-skinned creature went spinning backward, its sword lost. It struck hard against the wall of the pit and sagged downward.

The two guards, who had stepped back to give the solar room to mete out its justice, stood frozen in place, staring at their fallen savior.

Tekthyrios wheeled and settled into the middle of the pool. The storm dragon nearly filled the open area. The guards quavered before the beast. Terror filled their expressions.

Myshik hefted his axe and struck. He heard the familiar concussive thump as he connected, and the head of one of the guards tumbled away. Its body flopped down into the shallow water.

The dragon roared at the angel and slashed out with his claws. The keen appendages were as long and thick as Myshik’s legs and as sharp as the finest swordmaster’s blades. Blood spattered the entire grotto. The dragon struck again and again, and the solar screamed in pain.

Myshik ignored the battle. Though his rage and strength were waning, he had one last guard to deal with. The hound creature, his eyes filled with dread, backed away, then turned to run.

He managed three steps before Tekthyrios’s tail slammed against him. The force of the blow sent the archon sailing across the open pit to crash against the far wall. As he slid down and settled onto the damp earth at the water’s edge, his eyes rolled back in his head and his tongue lolled from his mouth.