Vor grunted. “Typical,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Sevren asked.
“From what I’ve heard, most of the Prophecy is like that. If you predict war, it’s hard to go wrong. The best prophecies are easy to fulfill.”
Zandar laughed. “Well spoken, Vor. You’re starting to sound like me.”
The ore glared at Zandar, but Kauth saw a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Vor shouldered past Sevren and stood in front of the alcove. “If no one has any objection, then, I’ll claim the sword.” He reached out his hand, poised to seize the weapon, waiting for his companions’ answer.
Kauth and Zandar shrugged. “It’s yours,” Sevren said.
Vor grabbed the sword and pulled it free of the chains suspending it. He examined the blade, testing the edge and tracing the grain of the steel.
To Kauth’s eyes, the sword was far more than well-hammered steel. Magic flowed freely through the blade, and it seemed to come alive in Vor’s hands. “A fine weapon,” he said. “It should serve you well.”
“We’ve lingered here long enough,” Sevren announced. “Down the stairs.”
A large chamber at the bottom of the stairs had evidently been the serpent’s nest. A pile of rubble in the center of the room had several gaps large enough for the snake to enter, so it could rest safe from intruders. Crumbling tunnels stretched off to either side, but Sevren shook his head.
“Those ceilings aren’t safe,” he said.
Kauth barely heard him. His attention was drawn to a circular pattern in the wall opposite the stairs. It was no more than a faint tracing in the stone, but Kauth could sense the magic in it even from across the room.
“I think I found the source of the Depravation,” he said.
Sevren followed his gaze and spotted the circle in the wall. He spoke, but Kauth couldn’t process the shifter’s words. Strange whispers hissed in his mind, a babbling ululation in some not-language, incomprehensible and distracting to the point of madness.
Sevren kept speaking, but he wasn’t looking at the seal or at Kauth anymore-he seemed to be muttering to himself. Vor leaned against the wall and clutched his head in his hands. Only Zandar seemed unaffected by the waves washing out from the portal. Grinning mischievously, he strode to the portal and ran a finger along the edge.
Kauth fought to keep his wits. Something was wrong-Zandar’s smile was too manic, his eyes unfocused. He staggered forward, but Zandar wheeled around to face him. The warlock spoke words that Kauth couldn’t distinguish from the ceaseless babble in his mind, then Zandar’s hand burst into flame. Still grinning, Zandar pointed a burning finger, and the fire hurtled at Kauth.
Kauth twisted his body out of its path, but his feet couldn’t compensate for the sudden movement and he crashed to the ground. Zandar cackled.
Kauth felt as though he were surfacing from the depths of an ocean of madness, the clear air of reason washing over his mind. The warlock had seemed immune to the befuddling effects of the babble, but it had warped his mind most of all. Indeed, Zandar had turned back to the portal and clawed at the edge of the seal as if to pry it free.
“Zandar, no!”
Kauth scrambled to his feet and lunged at the warlock. His shoulder connected just under Zandar’s ribs, and the warlock collapsed around him. They tumbled to the floor together. Zandar curled up around his stomach, trying to draw breath. Perhaps the blow would clear the warlock’s head, just as Zandar’s attack had helped Kauth shake off the madness.
“Sorry,” Kauth murmured as he stood and turned to examine the portal and its seal.
As soon as he touched the seal, an image of its magic flashed into his mind-a tight mesh of magic strands, glowing blue, holding back what lay beyond. Except that the mesh was frayed along one edge.
Sevren was wrong, he thought. I can fix this. He glanced at the place where Zandar had fallen, but the warlock wasn’t there. Kauth swore under his breath and wheeled around, the portal at his back, expecting another blast of fire any second.
Instead, he saw Zandar back at the bottom of the stairs, trying to rouse Sevren from his stupor. Vor nodded at Kauth-every-thing was under control.
The orc’s eyes widened. In the same instant, Kauth felt something coil around his neck-something both slimy and sharp. He half-turned and saw a slender tentacle emerging around the seal. The stone disk holding the seal’s magic had shrunk, creating a gap the tentacle-thing emerged from. He grabbed it in his left hand and fumbled at his mace with his right.
The pain was excruciating as the tentacle bit into the skin of his neck and constricted his windpipe. Pulling at the tentacle only made the pain worse, and he worried that bashing it with his weapon would have the same effect. Lights swirled across his vision as darkness crept into the edges.
The pressure stopped abruptly, though the pain remained. Kauth looked up and saw Vor standing beside him, the sword he’d found upstairs clutched in both hands. Vor had severed the tentacle, but the end still bit into Kauth’s skin and the stump thrashed wildly.
Kauth yanked a wand from his pouch and touched it to his neck as he pulled the end of the tentacle free. Tiny barbs lined the grasping edge of the slimy tendril, and they were quite effective-streams of blood had traced paths down his chest. The magic of the wand refreshed him, and he turned back to the portal, confident that Vor could handle the remains of the tentacle or anything else that might emerge while he worked.
He eyed the portal carefully before touching it again. Had his touch weakened the portal, allowing the tentacle to reach through? Or had the thing beyond somehow sensed his presence and wormed its way through by brute strength or force of will?
It didn’t matter, he decided. He couldn’t repair the portal without touching it, and if he succeeded, there would be no more gap though which creatures could emerge. He laid both his palms flat against the portal and lost himself in its tightly woven patterns.
“What are you doing?” Vor yelled.
Kauth opened his eyes without moving his hands, and saw that the gap had widened still farther. Three more tentacles flailed around him and Vor, and something with several gnashing mouths and bulging eyes was just visible beyond the seal.
“Hold them back!” he gasped. “I’ll seal it.”
He closed his eyes again. Pain seared through him as two more tentacles coiled around his neck and one arm, but he didn’t stop his work. Vor cut them off again and the pain subsided.
He traced his fingers along the lines of woven magic that formed the seal. It was not unlike spinning wool into yarn, drawing frayed threads out, strengthening them, and knitting them together again. It was slow work, though, coaxing the threads out of their tangles, and the madness that still washed out from beyond battered at the edges of his concentration. Pressure built behind his eyes and flowered into splitting pain, and tentacles kept raking across his skin.
Then it was done. Vor gave a triumphant shout and the babble fell quiet. The magic of the seal pulsed with renewed strength. Kauth turned and leaned his back against it, feeling its power like warm coals behind him. Vor clapped him on the shoulder. Even Zandar smiled with genuine pleasure. Sevren blinked and looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened.
Pride welled up in Kauth’s heart. He had proved his worth, after too many battles that left him unconscious or feeling ineffectual. Without him, his companions would be dead or lost to madness. He slid down to the floor, exhausted but satisfied.
I saved them, he thought.
CHAPTER 11
The death of the two dragons heartened the Sea Tiger’s crew enormously. Jordhan clapped Gaven on the shoulder and hugged Rienne, all their past arguments apparently forgotten. The sailors spoke excitedly about the gates of Argonnessen, congratulating themselves on being the first natives of Khorvaire to pass through them alive. Gaven was caught up in the revel, singing old shanties with them, joining in the invention of new verses celebrating their victory, and drinking plenty of their liquor as they leaned over the bulwark and watched the cove slowly grow closer.