“While it completes its metamorphosis?” Mari repeated. Her voice became an anguished moan. “Oh, by all the gods of light. It’s Caledan!”
Instantly Morhion knew she was right. He took a step toward the chrysalis, reaching out a hand. “Caledan, my friend—”
His words were cut short by a shriek of pure and ancient malevolence. A form uncoiled itself from a jagged outcrop behind the throne. The thing’s gray, scaly hide had blended seamlessly with the dull stone, concealing it even as it had lain before their eyes. Now the creature sprang down to stand protectively before the chrysalis on the throne. It extended spiny arms ending in obsidian talons; its spiked tail flicked menacingly. The thing’s eyeless face was utterly inhuman.
A shadevar.
The creature opened its lipless mouth, revealing dark needle teeth. “The king sleeps,” it hissed in a voice like a serpent’s. “You shall not harm him.”
“Get back!” Morhion shouted at the others. They retreated toward the staircase, but they knew they could not outrun the shadevar. The mage stretched out his left hand. Isela’s ring glittered on his finger.
Rapidly, Morhion spoke the words of an incantation. It was the same spell of protection he had cast against the shadowhounds on the High Moor. Once again, a ring of shimmering blue magic spread outward from the mage. The ring’s violet gem flared, and the expanding circle of magic changed from ice blue to brilliant purple. The glowing circle struck the shadevar and expanded beyond. Blazing tendrils of magic crackled around the creature’s form, engulfing it in purple fire.
The shadevar only grinned.
As though removing a burning cloak, it shrugged its spiny shoulders. The glowing tendrils of magic fell to the ground. There they sizzled for a moment, then went dark. Morhion stared in horror. The spell had not worked! He had been certain that the key to the ring’s power lay in using a spell that contained elements of both light and dark. Yet he had been terribly wrong.
“Run!” Morhion screamed. “I’ll try to hold it off as long as I can!”
The others only stood behind him, frozen in terror. In his mind, Morhion prepared a spell of lightning, though it would likely be useless against the powerful creature. Spiked tail twitching, the shadevar advanced.
“You would defile the king,” it hissed poisonously, raising a clawed hand to tear Morhion’s throat out. “Now you will die.”
Morhion shouted his incantation, knowing he did not have time to finish it properly. The shadevar brought its curved talons down in a slashing arc.
The blow never landed.
So swift it was nearly a blur, a lithe form heaved itself up over the edge of the pinnacle’s summit and launched itself at the shadevar. The blur collided with the spiny creature, knocking it off balance so that the shadevar’s strike went wide. One sharp talon just grazed Morhion’s face, tracing a stinging line along his cheekbone. The mage stumbled backward into the others.
The shadevar’s assailant backed away. It was the Harper Hunter, K’shar. The half-elf’s clothes were all but shredded. His dusky bronze skin was bruised and torn. Blood matted his pale hair. Yet his golden eyes blazed with light. He had survived the destruction of the onyx bridge.
The shadevar recovered its balance, digging clawed feet into the stone on the very edge of the pinnacle’s summit. It turned its eyeless face toward K’shar, slit-shaped nostrils flaring. “Fool!” it shrieked. “Defiler! You cannot harm me. I will rend your flesh to liquid with that of these other mortals.”
“Truly?” K’shar mocked. There was no fear in his expression, only a feral eagerness. “Very well, creature. I will make it easier for you. I will not try to escape. On the contrary, I will come directly to you.”
Before the shadevar could react, K’shar dove, curling his lean form into a tight ball and rolling toward the creature. The half-elf struck the thing’s legs forcefully, knocking the shadevar off balance. The creature’s obsidian talons made a hideous screeching noise as they scrabbled against the edge of the precipice. The thing nearly caught itself. Then the rock crumbled under the terrible force of its clawed grip. With a piercing shriek, the creature toppled backward.
They watched as the shadevar fell through the air and plunged into the center of the glowing lava pit far below. The ancient creature’s cries were cut short as it sank into the pool of magma. A roiling cloud of crimson fire burst out of the pit, then dissipated. After that, there was no sign of the creature. Even shadevari were not proof against the hellish fire of molten rock.
K’shar rose to his feet.
“How did you survive the fall into the chasm?” the mage demanded.
The half-elf shrugged. “I did not fall. I managed to grab a ledge a few yards down, then pulled myself up the cliff face to follow you.”
“You saved us from the shadevar,” Mari said in amazement, approaching with Ferret and Kellen.
The Hunter regarded her with his startling eyes. “You are wrong, Al’maren. I killed the creature because it was in my way, that is all.” A wistful smile touched his lips. “Would that I could be as free as you, Renegade. Perhaps one day I will be. But at this moment, duty to the Harpers binds me still.”
In a single fluid motion, K’shar reached out and pulled Mari’s sword from the sheath at her hip, then lunged toward the basalt throne. The Hunter moved so swiftly that the others had no time to react. They could only watch in horror as K’shar pulled the sword back, then plunged the sharp blade deep into the heart of the jet-black chrysalis.
Twenty
Mari screamed.
She tried to move, tried to dive for K’shar and wrest the gleaming sword from his hands. The half-elf might as well have stood a dozen leagues away instead of a dozen steps. A single agonizing thought pierced Mari’s brain, as if it were she whom the Hunter had stabbed.
I have failed you, Caledan!
Smoothly, K’shar pulled the sword from the black chrysalis. A thin stream of dark vitriol spilled out of the slit, pooling before the throne. The chrysalis gave one final twitch, then lay still. The stream of dark fluid slowed to a trickle before ceasing. Whatever had pulsated inside the glossy shell moved no longer. Slowly, his golden eyes unreadable, K’shar turned away from the throne.
“You’ve killed my father,” Kellen said quietly.
The sword slipped from K’shar’s hands, clattering to the stone. “I know,” he replied solemnly. “Yet whatever you think of me, do not think that I feel no sorrow. I watched my mother die at the hands of men who feared her for the blood that ran in her veins. Your father has died for no better reason. And for no worse.” A bitter smile twisted his lips. “Now we are like kin, you and I.”
“Damn you to the Abyss!” Morhion snarled. “You are nothing to him, save his father’s murderer!”
Ferret sprang forward, pressing a dagger against K’shar’s throat. The half-elf did not resist. “I’m sure you want to kill this bastard yourself, Morhion,” the thief rasped, “but I’m afraid I’m going to do it first. Sorry—you know how selfish we thieving types can be.”
“Stop!”
The others looked up in shock as Mari stepped forward, raising a hand in protest. She would not allow further conflict. There had been enough death in this blasted place.
Morhion’s eyes blazed. “What is wrong with you, Mari? Let the thief do his work.”
Ferret pressed the knife harder against the bronzed flesh of K’shar’s throat. A bead of dark blood ran down the half-elf’s neck. K’shar did not even blink.
“Yes,” the Hunter whispered. “Let him.”
“No, I will not.” Mari was surprised at the icy authority in her voice. “It was not K’shar who killed Caledan. It was the Harpers. The half-elf was simply their tool, something with which I am well familiar. Murdering K’shar will not change anything. It will merely spill more blood.” She glared at Ferret. “Do you want that blood to be on your hands, Ferret Talondim?” She turned to face Morhion. “How about on yours, Morhion Gen’dahar?”