After recounting Essam's story about the Storm Spike to Thormud, it was all Kiril could do to restrain the dwarf from leaving immediately. By the next morning, there was no arguing with him.
Despite the night's rest, the dwarf remained pale and shaky in the reddish light of the new day. He'd lost weight, and his hair had noticeably whitened since they'd set off from their home in the Mulhorand scrublands. "You're still too sick, Thormud. We should wait a few more days until you're better," pleaded Kiril. The dwarf patted her hand. "I might not have the luxury of a few more days." "Don't be so god-cursed dramatic," the swordswoman huffed, but an uncharacteristic quaver in her tone belied her anger. She didn't know how to end the mysterious curse sapping the geomancer's life. Perhaps the best choice was to race to the Storm Spike and deal with whatever inhabited it. In so doing, perhaps the curse could be dissolved. Many Qaherans, including Essam and Fadheela, followed Kiril, the geomancer, and the annoyingly underfoot Xet into the ravine that housed their hidden city. The Qaherans were impressed when Thormud spoke a word and the mineral destrier stirred. It rose from beneath the great sand dune that covered it during the evening's storm, shaking away the grit to reveal its strong lines. Kiril was relieved to see their supplies still lashed to the destrier's back. After the excitement over the destrier, Prince Monolith showed himself. Unlike the destrier, he had submerged himself in the stone of the ravine wall. Without warning, he simply walked out of it, much to the Qaherans' consternation. A few Qaherans cried out in alarm. "Don't worry-he's our friend," said Kiril. The elemental noble bowed low to the dumbfounded elves, then walked down the ravine, eager to be off. As they said their good-byes, Essam produced a wide, curved scabbard from his cloak. He said,
"Kiril, please accept this, a gift from the Al Qahera." "A sword? But I already…" the swordswoman trailed off. Not too long ago she'd wished for another weapon, one she could draw forth without imperiling her mind and soul, as was the case with Angul. "This was Feraih's blade, and it carries a minor enchantment. Please use it to strike against whatever killed Feraih, and presumably, Ghanim and Haleem. In this way, Feraih's soul can rest easy." Kiril, unaccustomed to ceremonial politeness, said, "Thanks." She took the scabbard, and with her other hand pulled out the blade. As she did so, she distinctly felt Angul shift in his scabbard. He wasn't happy about her hand on another sword's hilt, that was clear. She smiled. Too bad. Essam said,
"This blade is called Sadrul, and it is the sharpest blade in the city-so sharp, Feraih once used it to divide a man's dignity from his self-esteem." "What?" Essam laughed, "A joke! Heh! But all the same, Sadrul is very sharp. Be careful." "I will," promised Kiril, "and thank you again. If I can use it to get vengeance for Feraih, I will."
Essam nodded, slapped the side of the destrier in farewell, and turned toward the cave mouth of Al Qahera. Thormud guided the destrier down the ravine and toward Prince Monolith. Kiril looked back and saw the small group waving at them. Moisture caught in her eyes. What the blood? She was tougher than this. But despite her short stay among the desert elves, she had become, briefly, part of their community. The feeling had been outside her experience for more years than she cared to count-since before Stardeep, really. She strapped Sadrul to her belt. Angul shifted again and rumbled a note of displeasure. "Don't worry, lover," she said, reaching back to pat the larger blade's scabbard. "You're still my number-one killer." Angul stirred and grumbled anew, probably objecting to the label "killer" she'd chosen.
Despite her praise, Kiril knew that the next time she needed to solve a problem with sharpened steel, she'd draw Sadrul. If the blade measured up to Essam's claim, it might see more time out of the scabbard than the Blade Cerulean. Until she required Angul's exceptionally potent abilities, he would remain unhappily sheathed.
They topped the ravine. Morning sun blazed across Raurin's wasted plain. Striated dunes stretched away to the north, east, and west. The heat hugged the swordswoman, and fine beads of perspiration immediately broke on her brow. Monolith thundered forward, his great feet sending up sprays of sand. At the limit of Kiril's perception, on the northern horizon, something flashed and twinkled with reflected light. Something purple.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Eined Datharathi motioned for the vengeance taker and wizard to pause. They'd already traveled several abandoned, unlighted tunnels, but Eined guided them without indecision, relying on Ususi's light.
She whispered, "The new excavation is just ahead, down this passage.
Not far beyond is the extraction area for the crystal. You must help me destroy it."
Ususi looked at Iahn. They owed this woman, but they needed "the source of the crystal" to travel back to Deep Imaskar. Iahn gave a slight shrug.
Ususi said, "We'll do what we can, Eined." She hadn't quite lain aside her initial distrust of Eined. While events had done nothing to paint the Datharathi defector as anything but what she claimed, the possibility lurked that she was leading the two Deep Imaskari into a fiendishly designed trap.
Eined nodded and moved forward. They rounded a bend, and Ususi saw ruins. Imaskaran ruins, without a doubt, but older even than the empty outpost where Iahn had first found her.
Crumbling, half-excavated walls of purple stone cast dark shadows in the light of several dazzling magical lanterns. Small outcrops of Nadir crystal glinted here and there, somehow obscene in their excess.
Stepped excavations revealed deeper structures in three locations across the cavern floor. One of these was so deep that iron scaffolding fortified the sides of the earthen pit.
"Is this it?" Ususi asked, looking for a sign of the portal. No excavation tools were evident, and indeed, the entire dig gave the impression of having been abandoned months or even years earlier.
"No," said Eined. "If we take that tunnel…" her voice faltered as she pointed to one of the many tunnels that branched off the cavern.
A man stood in the shadows, his arms crossed. Ususi blinked-she hadn't seen him arrive. Was this Eined's trap?
"Grandfather," Eined managed before terror smothered her voice.
"Hello. My name is Shaddon Datharathi. You've intruded into my sanctum, my place of business. In the process, you've apparently corrupted the mind of my poor, misguided grand-daughter," spoke the man in a dry, piercing tone. His features were shrouded in darkness.
Iahn subtly shifted his weight, preparing to deliver a vicious strike if needed. In a rush, hoping to forestall the vengeance taker for a moment, Ususi said, "We apologize for our sudden appearance. We don't want trouble. We'd like a little help. And we want to help you, too…"
"Indeed? You want to help me? In what fashion?" Shaddon sounded amused.
The wizard forged ahead. "I have some bad news to deliver. I'm afraid the crystal you've been retrieving from… wherever you've been getting it… is infected with something terrible. It has the ability to take over the minds of those who wear it. Even people who simply remain in contact with unworked crystal too long may be at risk." Ususi shivered, thinking back to the Celestial Nadir shards embedded in the shadow efts on the ship.
"Really?" The man sounded surprised, then stepped forward into the brightness of the chamber.
The light of a dozen torches flashed and twinkled off his crystalline face. For all Ususi could guess, Shaddon was completely sheathed in the stuff.