The Killing Song: The Dragon Below Book III (46 page)

The collar around Geth’s neck was so cold it hurt. The shifter saw Medala and Dah’mir break off the seemingly mismatched combat that had raged above his hiding place, and he saw the kalashtar who had stood behind Medala raise their
heads, but it was really the cold of the collar that made him turn his head toward the great seal.

Something was happening within it. Not within the tunnel, but within the ring formed by the seal. The air stretched and shimmered, then seemed to contract. Something rushed to fill the space, as if unseen hands were focusing a vast and powerful spyglass and the ring of the seal was its lens.

A lens that snapped into focus, leaving Geth staring into a throne room where mind flayers took the place of lords and ministers, their dead white eyes inscrutable, their writhing tentacles hiding unspeakable secrets. Dolgaunts took the place of guards, and dolgrims of the court mastiffs. Tiny creatures resembling eyeless monkeys perched where tame birds or lapdogs might have, and elf-like women with thick tendrils growing among their hair and down their backs stood as if they were concubines.

At the center of the terrible assembly was a glittering black throne and on it, looking out through the lens, sat a pale and beautiful man in rich robes.

In the ghostly fortress of Jhegesh Dol, Geth had fought the phantom of the daelkyr who had ruled the fortress in ancient times. The figure on the throne had exactly the same face as that phantom lord, except that his eyes were acid-green instead of lavender—and he had no mouth. Between nose and chin, the man on the throne had nothing but smooth skin.

He was no man, Geth knew. He was a daelkyr. He was the Master of Silence.

And he spoke.

A vast voice filled Geth’s head, like Dandra’s power of
kesh
but with none of sense of unity that
kesh
carried with it. The voice of the Master of Silence forced itself onto him, violating every corner of his mind, the words it spoke so vast that they threatened to wipe him away from himself.

But there was something between him and it, gentle but powerful like a warm breeze. The power of the amulet of Vvaraak muffled the enormous voice. The Master of Silence’s words were still deafening. They still made Geth feel like blood was trickling from his ears, but he could understand them.

My servants stand before me. My ancient enemies know fear
. There was pleasure in the daelkyr’s tone.

Somewhere on the ledges above, people were screaming, overwhelmed by the voice. It wasn’t the kalashtar—Geth could see them and they stood still as statues. It couldn’t have been the Gatekeepers or Ekhaas—Batul had invoked the power of the amulet over them as well. His gut knotted. Singe and Dandra, Ashi and the young kalashtar. What protected them from the terrible voice?

Do something, Batul, he prayed silently. Wolf and Tiger, do something!

The screams went on and on.

Dah’mir didn’t seem to notice. His great body folded, his forelegs lowering and his neck dipping down to brush the ground. “Master!” he said. His voice was thick with adoration—and with anger. “Master, you have new servants because of me! I brought them here, not her.” His head twisted toward Medala. “Not …
that.”

Medala hadn’t moved. She stood straight, facing the Master of Silence without obeisance or fear. The daelkyr’s eyes moved to her.
You are not what you were the last time you stood in this place
.

“No,” said Medala, two voices speaking the word.

The creatures gathered in the throne room beyond the lens hissed and shifted at this disrespect. Dah’mir reared upright with a roar. The Master of Silence stilled them all with a thought, a single command so powerful that even Geth felt the urge to obey it.
Hush
. The throne room fell silent. So did Dah’mir. So did the screams from above. The cavern was utterly quiet. The Master of Silence’s gaze on Medala didn’t waver.
I was told you were dead
.

“We were gone from this world.”

Interest stirred in the daelkyr’s voice.
There is a familiar touch upon you
.

Medala smiled. “We have been where you can no longer go, imprisoned lord,” she acknowledged. “We have been to Xoriat. We saw many things there—learned many things. We saw Dah’mir’s plans in Sharn.”

The hair on the back of Geth’s neck and on his arms rose. She’d told him and Ekhaas the truth—or at least part of it. He
thought he could guess at the second voice that rolled behind Medala’s now. Had she ever told them what had become of Virikhad? No. They’d guessed. They’d assumed. They’d been wrong.

Was Batul hearing this? What were the Gatekeepers doing? Fear struck Geth. Would they have fled? Could they have abandoned him?

Dah’mir let out another bellow. “Master, she confirms it herself! She knew my plans! She stole the kalashtar from me!
I brought your servants to—”

“You succeeded in Sharn only because we made certain you succeeded!” Medala said. “What will be born here today belongs to us. You don’t understand what you have created!”

As if the gaunt woman’s shriek had brought him down, one of the kalashtar slumped suddenly, then straightened again. He lifted his head and Geth saw the fever of madness in his dark eyes.

“They awaken!” said Dah’mir.

“They are reborn!” said Medala. “You still don’t understand.”

I feel him
. The Master of Silence’s eyes were shining.
I feel the touch of Xoriat upon him. And upon her!
Another kalashtar, an old woman, shook her head and looked around herself as if seeing the world for the first time.
And upon him!

A third kalashtar blinked, then a fourth stirred and a fifth. Then it seemed as if all of the kalashtar were shifting and waking. A murmur of amazement swept through the throne room beyond the lens of the seal. Geth’s gut tightened in horror. The very thing that they had tried so hard to prevent had come to pass.

The Master of Silence had his new servants.

Dah’mir just stared and shook his head. “This isn’t right!” he said. He spoke to himself, as if stunned by what was happening before him. “They awaken too quickly. Something is wrong.”

“How do you know that something’s wrong?” asked Medala. “How often have you seen this happen? Once? With us?”

The dragon’s head snapped around and he glared at her. “For decades, I studied! I researched! For centuries—”

“What have you studied, Dah’mir?” Medala shouted at him. “The forces of Xoriat. Legends of the true binding stones
used in the Battle of Moths. The single pitiful imitation stone created by an apprentice. But did you study kalashtar? Did you understand the potential you unleashed when you turned your device upon us?”

Enough!
The Master of Silence sat forward.
I understand. I see servants able to walk abroad with no fear of the Gatekeepers. I see dreams and madness united. I see kalashtar who will serve the masters of Xoriat—

Medala turned on him. “You see wrong, daelkyr!”

The cavern was instantly quiet. Geth felt like he’d been slapped. The Master of Silence sat back.
You go too far
, he said softly.

There was no warning, no second chance as a human lord might have given. The lens between throne room and cavern bulged like the sail of a ship running before a storm as a sickly darkness reached through to strike at the woman who had defied a daelkyr.

It never reached her.

Geth couldn’t have said which of the kalashtar began the song or even if they all really joined in perfect unison as he imagined. The song was simply there, rising in a weird, dissonant chorus like tumbling crystals, louder and more pure than he had ever heard it before, pouring not so much from the kalashtar’s mouths as directly from their minds.

AAHYI-KSIKSIKSI-KLADAKLA-YAHAAHYI-KSIKSIKSI-KLA—

The force of it rocked him backward, bursting through the magic that had protected him from the daelkyr’s voice. Dah’mir staggered back like a startled child. Before the song, the sickly darkness that had pierced the seal writhed like something alive—and unraveled. The bulging lens shimmered and shrank, snapping back into place.

Beyond it, the Master of Silence’s eyes opened wide. His court was silent. The song dropped to a whisper and the kalashtar shifted to gather around Medala, all of them staring defiance. Medala’s lips drew back from her teeth.

“Did we say that we learned much in Xoriat?” she said in a seething voice. “What happens when you shatter a dream? Does it become a nightmare? No. A nightmare is still a dream. But madness … madness is a dream brought into the waking world.” She raised her arms to encompass all those who stood
around her. “Understand what you have created. We are no longer
kalashtar
, the wandering dreams. We are
katalarash
, the wandering shadows, freed by madness. And we are not servants of the lords of the Dragon Below. We are not servants of Xoriat.” Her arms dropped. “We are its masters!”

  
T
he voice of the Master of Silence was like an iron hook scraping through Singe’s brain. He tried to shut it out—there were techniques of concentration he had learned, ways to focus on spellcasting in the middle of a battlefield—but no discipline that he could dredge up from within himself helped. Words that were larger than he was burst through his mind. A few of them he caught.
My servants … My enemies …
The rest tumbled past him.

There were other voices closer at hand, real voices that weren’t just in his head. Most of them seemed to be screaming. Dandra’s voice was one of the few that wasn’t. She was calling his name. He forced his eye open and met hers—briefly. He couldn’t stop shaking. His body just wanted to curl into a ball. Hands held him back. Dandra’s voice returned through the screams. “Batul, what’s wrong with them?”

Batul flashed in and out of his field of vision. The old orc’s face was amazed. “Dandra, you resist his power!”

“It must be the effects of Ashi’s dragonmark!”

“Word of Vvaraak! Can she use it again?”

Their words vanished as the daelkyr spoke again.
You’re not what you were …
New agony burst through Singe’s head. He jerked and spun away from the hands that held him, hitting another rolling body. His eye snapped open at the impact. He lay face to patterned face with Ashi. She looked as if she were the same agony as him. Her eyes were wild. Her mouth was stretched wide
in a scream. Her hands were clenched over her ears, though that could have done no good at all. Nothing could have shut out that voice.

A word rolled into Singe’s ringing ears. “No.”

Who’d spoken it? He thought it was Medala, but it could have been Dandra, answering Batul. Whoever had spoken, he saw Ashi’s face twist in response, and a word broke into her scream.

“Yes!” Her eyes focused, and her head slammed up into his. Hard.

The impact brought bright sparks of pain, but it also slapped aside the agony of the Master of Silence’s voice and left Singe’s mind clear as cool water. Hands dragged him off Ashi’s body, but not before he’d felt the heat that radiated from her skin. From her dragonmark.

“Twelve moons!” he gasped through the shock. There was roaring in his ears—Dah’mir—and screaming—Ashi and Moon. His throat was sore and he realized that he had been screaming too.

“Singe?” The hands that held him flipped him over and he saw Dandra’s face. “Light of il-Yannah! What happened?”

“Ashi used her mark on me.”

Dandra’s eyebrows rose. “Twice in a day? She can’t!”

“She did.” He gripped her arm. “Bloody moons, Dandra, you don’t know what it’s like—”

He flinched as the Master of Silence spoke again, but this time it brought no pain, only a single word.
Hush
.

It couldn’t have been directed at Ashi and Moon, but somehow it must have pierced through their tortured minds. They fell silent and grew still, though agony continued to wrack their faces. Singe twisted away from Dandra. “We have to help them!”

Batul moved quicker than he did. With a nimbleness that defied his age, the old Gatekeeper grabbed Ashi’s left hand and Moon’s right. He thrust a chunky amulet between their palms, then quickly twisted the cord of the amulet around to bind them together. Singe caught only a glimpse of the amulet, but he recognized it as Batul’s ancient talisman of Vvaraak. Whatever power it had seemed to pass into Ashi and Moon—their faces
eased immediately. Batul looked up at Singe and Dandra. His face was hard.

“It may protect two. It couldn’t have protected three. You have a choice to make—if you take them and leave now, all four of you may still survive.”

Singe glanced at Dandra. She lifted her chin in the gesture of determination he knew so well. He looked back at Batul. “We’re staying.”

The druid nodded and grabbed their arms, pulling them over to where Ekhaas already crouched, staring down from the ledge at the scene below. “We need a plan,” he whispered. “If we act quickly …”

He didn’t need to finish. If they acted quickly, maybe they could take their enemies by surprise. And maybe that would give them an edge, Singe thought.
Maybe
. He stared down at the cavern floor, at Medala and Dah’mir arguing over the captive kalashtar, at the terrifying form of the Master of Silence in his prison. It was almost as if they’d forgotten the Gatekeepers or dismissed them as inconsequential.