Sea of Death: Blade of the Flame - Book 3 (35 page)

It was true. The conglomeration of bones that approached them was configured in the shape of a dragon, but the separate pieces hung floating in the air, moving in concert as if they were a single unified creature.

“It’s Solus’s doing,” Tresslar said. “Or rather, the serpent’s. The creature is using Solus’s telekinetic power to manipulate Paganus’s skeleton!”

Now that Ghaji looked more closely, he could see what Asenka and the artificer were talking about. The skeletal dragon glided toward them with sinuous reptilian grace, but there were clearly gaps between the separate bones. And though they did move in unison, the motion wasn’t perfect. Some gaps would widen for a second or two before closing up again. Ghaji was put in mind of the way a marionette sometimes wobbled and drifted even when under the control of a skilled puppeteer.

Hinto moved toward his friend. “Solus, whatever that serpent is, you have to fight it! You can’t—”

The halfling reached out for the psiforged’s hands, and just as with Diran and Ghaji before him, the little man was flung backwards by an unseen force. Ghaji caught Hinto before the halfling could fly too far, and the pirate’s breath whooshed out of his lungs as he collided with the half-orc’s sturdy arm.

Ghaji set Hinto down, and the halfling nodded to indicate that he was unhurt as he struggled to catch his breath.

The skeleton of Paganus stopped less than a dozen feet before the companions and reared back on its hind legs, front feet clawing the air, wing bones spreading out behind it, head lifted high, jaws stretching open in a soundless roar. And then the dragon exploded in a shower of bone—the segments of Paganus’s skeleton flew through the air, the pieces moving independently of each other, swooping, darting, and dipping as they streaked toward the companions.

Ghaji stepped forward and swung his axe, knocking a femur aside. The bone cracked but didn’t break, and it veered away, deflected but not destroyed. Asenka stepped to the half-orc’s side, gripping her long sword tight in both hands. Several detached ribs shot at her like curved white arrows, and she cut them into pieces with a single stroke of her blade before they could reach her. But though the ribs shattered, the fragments did not fall, and they continued swirling around Asenka’s head, like a cloud of ossified gnats. The majority of Paganus’s skeletal structure circled through the cavern air above them, with only one or two bones breaking away from the mass at a time to swoop downward to strike. Ghaji and Asenka were hard-pressed to stop the flying bone segments, but they managed.

A thought struck Ghaji as he batted aside a section of Paganus’s spine. If all the pieces of the skeleton attacked at once, there would be no way that the companions could stop them all. They’d be killed within moments. But the segments only attacked a couple at a time, which meant either Solus was resisting the dark magic which had usurped his telekinetic abilities and he was retarding the skeleton’s assault, or he wasn’t trying to slay them at all, but rather keep them occupied. Perhaps both.

Ghaji swung his axe and broke a rear claw into several pieces. Asenka, using one hand to swat at the bone gnats while holding onto her long sword with the other, struck at a spear-like curve of wing bone. The impact of her blade drove the wing bone into a nearby stalagmite, and the segment broke into a half-dozen uneven fragments.

“The lich is responsible!” Leontis said, his voice close to a growl.
Too
close for Ghaji’s comfort. The half-orc couldn’t afford to take his gaze off the murderous flying bones to look at the priest, but he could hear the man’s words clearly enough. “Can’t you feel the stench of her evil wafting off the serpent, Diran?”

“Indeed.”

Ghaji didn’t have to imagine Diran reaching into his vest pocket with his free hand to remove his silver arrowhead, for he’d seen the priest perform the maneuver hundreds of times before. Ghaji continued batting aside flying bone shards and waited to hear the
tell-tale hiss of a supernatural creature recoiling before the holy symbol of Diran’s faith. But he heard nothing except Diran’s strained breathing.

“I can’t move my hand toward my pocket!” the priest said, clearly frustrated. “The serpent is keeping me from reaching my mystic symbol!”

The dragon’s skull flew toward Asenka, jaws spread wide as if to devour her. The swordswoman leaped aside and swung her long sword at the juncture where the jaw attached to the skull. The blow knocked the skull to the ground, and the lower jaw shattered. Ghaji dashed forward and split the rest of the skull in half with his axe.

Asenka paused to shout to Diran. “At least you know the arrowhead will work on the serpent, else the damned thing wouldn’t care whether you removed it from your pocket or not!”

“I think I might be able to help!” Tresslar called out. “If nothing else, I can buy you a little more time to figure out how to free your arrowhead!”

The artificer was just barely in Ghaji’s line of sight, and the half-orc was able to see what the artificer removed from his backpack, and knelt with it on the cavern floor before him. He opened in, reached inside, and pulled out what looked like a large soap bubble. Tresslar stood, cupped the translucent globe in both of his hands and whispered a rapid series of words that Ghaji couldn’t quite catch. He opened his hands and the bubble soared up into the air toward where the pieces of Paganus’s skeleton spun about like a whirlwind of death. As the bubble rose, a second separated from it and flew upward alongside the original. Then those two bubbles doubled, then those four doubled, and then those eight doubled …

Within seconds dozens upon dozens of bubbles filled the air, with more appearing every instant. Each bubble oriented on a specific bone segment and then streaked toward it, growing, expanding, or lengthening to match the size and shape of the bone it headed for. As the bubbles touched the bones, they absorbed the pieces, covering them entirely. The segments of dragon skeleton continued to float in the air, but though they tried to break free of their spherical prisons, the bubbles did not burst.

Tresslar smiled in satisfaction. “Thank you, Illyia,” he said softly, then more loudly added, “The water-globes won’t last long, so whatever you’re going to do, you’d better do it fast!”

Momentarily freed from the task of fending off Paganus’s bones, Ghaji turned to Diran. “We can’t get close enough to Solus to stop him physically. Can either you or Leontis affect him with a priestly spell?”

Diran shook his head. “There is nothing either of us can do to mystically counter Solus’s power.”

“We’d need another psionicist,” Leontis said, “or a full-fledged wizard.”

Tresslar snorted. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that last comment. Solus needs to be able to see the bones in order to levitate them. Even his somewhat weak vision is enough, as long as he can maintain eye contact.”

Solus had suffered a serious head injury when he became free of the Kalashtar Galharath’s control. Tresslar had done his best to repair the psiforged, but Solus’s vision had been weakened somehow during the process. When necessary, Hinto acted as Solus’s eyes, and while the psiforged didn’t seem to truly need the halfling’s assistance, it was obvious to the companions that the construct appreciated his small friend’s kindness.

“What are you suggesting?” Ghaji asked. “That we blind him? We can’t get close enough, and if Diran threw a pair of daggers at him, Solus would just deflect them telekinetically.”

Yvka stepped over to join them. She looked uncomfortable as she began to speak, as if what she were about to say went against her better instincts. Ghaji knew his lover was about to reveal something she preferred to keep private.

“Maybe I can help.” The elf-woman rolled her left sleeve up to the elbow then stretched out her arm toward the psiforged. Ghaji gaped to see a shimmering dark blue design on the fair skin of the elf-woman’s inner arm. It was a dragonmark, one the half-orc had never seen before, and considering just how much he’d seen of Yvka—not to mention how often he’d seen it—he would’ve known if she’d possessed such a mark. This was something new.

Yvka’s brow furrowed in concentration, and a circle of shadow the size of a large plate appeared before Solus’s eyes. The ebon circle darted forward and sealed itself over the psiforged’s green orbs, covering them as if with a flap of night-black flesh and cutting off their verdant glowing light.

The instant Solus’s eyes were sealed by Yvka’s shadows, the dark serpent withdrew its fangs from the construct’s head and hissed at the companions. It reared back, eyes returned to their previous crimson color, its coils unwinding from around the psiforged’s neck as the foul thing prepared to leave its useless host for another.

But before the serpent could launch itself from Solus’s shoulders, Diran managed to withdraw his silver arrowhead from his pocket, and the priest thrust it toward the dark reptile. The arrowhead flared with bright blue-white illumination, and the serpent shrieked its agony in a human voice—a woman’s voice. The creature’s scream died away, and it went limp as it slipped from Solus’s shoulders and fell to the cavern floor. Its sinuous form straightened and shrank somewhat, its head becoming white and separating into five fingers. When its transformation was finished, the serpent had become an arm clad in a sleeve of black cloth, withered hand covered in dead-white flesh.

Diran stepped forward, continuing to focus the silver light of his arrowhead on the arm. He still held a silver dagger in his other hand, and he knelt down and plunged the blade through the back of the bloodless hand. The fingers spasmed once, and then both hand and arm collapsed into dust from which coils of sulfurous wisps like tiny smoke-serpents rose into the air.

Diran stood. The silver arrowhead no longer gleamed with light, and the priest tucked the holy symbol back into its vest pocket. He continued to hold onto his dagger, and Ghaji didn’t blame him. There was an excellent chance Diran would have need of a blade again, and soon.

Yvka gestured at Solus, and the patch of darkness covering his eyes dissipated.

The psiforged nodded to the elf-woman. “You have my thanks, Yvka. I struggled to resist the serpent’s control, but there was only so
much I could do. The creature was very powerful.”

Tresslar turned to Yvka as the elf-woman rolled down her sleeve to once again conceal her dragonmark. The artificer was about to speak when the water-spheres dissolved with a series of soft pops, and Paganus’s bones fell clattering to the stone floor. Now that Solus was free of the serpent’s control, the bones lay where they landed, unmoving.

“I believe that was the Mark of Shadow, was it not?” Tresslar asked.

Yvka nodded. “It manifested in Kolbyr, during the Fury.”

“It’s not unknown for dragonmarks to appear later in one’s life.” The artificer looked thoughtful. “I wonder if exposure to high levels of the Fury had something to do with its emergence.”

Ghaji looked at Yvka, but the elf-woman wouldn’t meet his gaze. The sudden appearance of a dragonmark was a major event in her life, but in the two days since they’d departed Kolbyr, she hadn’t mentioned it to Ghaji. And now he knew why she’d insisted they make love in the dark the last several times: she hadn’t wanted him to see her dragonmark. Ghaji had always felt an emotional distance between Yvka and himself, and he’d struggled not to let it bother him. But her reluctance to share this latest development with him only made Ghaji feel farther away from her than ever.

Hinto and Onu stood looking down at the black residue that was all that remained of Nathifa’s arm.

“Was that really a
lich’s
arm?” Onu said. “Most remarkable!”

Hinto frowned at the changeling. “You’re enjoying this far too much, you know.”

Onu grinned. “My dear lad, one can
never
enjoy life too much!”

Hinto looked back down at the ebon dust. “Seems to me this business has little to do with life.”

Ghaji attempted to push aside his feelings about Yvka for the time being, but he vowed that the two of them would have a long talk when the opportunity presented itself. “Why would the lich sacrifice her arm just to slow us down?”

“She gave up more than just an arm,” Diran said. “She invested it with a significant portion of her own mystic power so that it could
break through Solus’s psychic defenses and control him. Now that the arm is destroyed, that power is lost to her forever.”

“She’s getting desperate,” Leontis said in a low, almost guttural voice. “I can smell it in the air.”

Ghaji feared the priest wasn’t speaking metaphorically. In the time since he’d emerged hairless from the fireblast, Leontis’s hair had grown in to the point where it reached past his ears, and he had the beginnings of a mustache and beard once again. More disturbing, his body was dotted with small patches of thick body hair that resembled animal fur. Ghaji had been keeping a close eye on Leontis, and the half-orc was determined to strike the man down if he began to transform into a werewolf once again—and from the way Yvka, Tresslar, and Asenka continued glancing at Leontis, they felt the same way.

“But what’s so important about this cavern that it’s worth that kind of sacrifice?” Asenka asked. “Nathifa evidently didn’t want Paganus’s skeleton, and there’s nothing else of interest here.”

“Nothing obvious,” Yvka said.

Ghaji was about to interject a comment of his own, but he was cut off by an ear-piercing—and familiar—scream from the far end of the cavern.

Ghaji looked at Diran, Diran looked at Ghaji, and at the same time they said, “The barghest.”