He released his grip on her and she slumped down.
"Never mind," he told her, turning away. "I'll take care of the details later. You'll be a good girl and just lie there, won't you? I really can't afford for you to disturb my plans this late into the evening."
He turned back to stare at her crumpled form.
"And you're the one who's going to stop me? Did you really think my goddess would allow someone like you to ruin my plans?" he asked, and kicked her in the side.
Tazi curled up protectively and clutched her ribcage. Ciredor laughed and walked back to his stone.
Through a haze of pain, Tazi could see Ciredor reach out a trembling hand and stroke the jewel.
"It's almost time, and with every sign you send me, beloved Shar, I know that you shine your dark favor on me. I know it," he finished fiercely, then started his low chanting again.
Unknowingly, Ciredor had helped Tazi. When he first flung her into the wall, she had been fighting to stay conscious. With the injury to her side, that was no longer a problem. As best she could guess, Ciredor had broken at least one rib, and every breath was like a knife twist in her side. However, that the pain gave her something to focus on.
Coughing up blood, Tazi placed her hands flat on the ground and pushed herself upright. The room swayed, but she forced herself to focus on Ciredor.
As she struggled to her feet, she heard him whisper, "The time is at hand…"
He clutched the stone to his chest and marched past Tazi. Without so much as a backward glance he started to climb slowly up the stairs.
Tazi seized her fallen sword and staggered after him on shaky legs. She found Ciredor on the stairs and charged up behind him. With a scream of rage, she tried desperately to slash at his back, her pain making her foolish and reckless. Ciredor ducked and whirled to face her. With the glowing gem clasped to his heart, he backhanded her with his right hand.
Tazi's blade flew out of her hand and knocked one of Ciredor's small statues from its niche. She lost her footing and tumbled over the stairwell, hanging over the thirty-foot drop by one hand. Ciredor hummed the rest of the way up the stairs.
Tazi watched the statue fall, as though in slow motion, and smash to pieces on the main floor. The sense of deja vu was overwhelming; suddenly she was dangling between the rooftops of Selgaunt, watching her crystal prize smash to bits in the driving rain.
The prize I lost, she thought sadly.
She felt her fingers slip as Ciredor's voice drifted down.
"Where are you, my darling Fannah?"
Tazi's head fell back, and she screamed in rage and defiance.
"I will not let you kill her," she spat.
Somewhere deep within her she found the strength to swing her leg up and hook onto the railing. She dragged herself up onto her stomach, and the pain of her broken rib flashed through her like a white heat. Panting on the landing, her knees bloody and her hands raw, Tazi had another recollection.
This time she was back in the cellar in Selgaunt, battered by Ciredor and in pain from her ring of protection as she foiled his attack. What she felt at that moment was the absolute determination and courage to defeat him. She felt it then and reclaimed that feeling now, the one memory she couldn't own during her ritual with Fannah. She rose to her feet and ran up the stairs screaming the mage's name.
Tazi burst into the lookout chamber in time to see Ciredor toss his beloved jewel into the flames. It hung there, suspended, and pulsed like a beating heart. The room was awash in a purple light. Fannah and Steorf rushed in from the parapet, too late to stop the dark necromancer. Ciredor stood, transfixed, in the glow of the gem, and finished his heinous chant. When he was done, there was an electric charge in the air. Everyone was riveted.
The pulsing grew, and a single black tendril squirmed from the gem. It was absolute in its blackness, but purple scintillated along the edges. It writhed toward Fannah. Tazi watched as the distance closed between her and the fell manifestation. Fannah looked at Tazi with her ice-white eyes and grabbed the black strand.
The tendril pulled her soul into the gem, and Fannah's body collapsed backward.
Tazi screamed in pain. Steorf was a picture of unbridled rage as the poison in his system burned away the last veneer of rationality. He ran to Fannah's side, and with one look Tazi knew she had lost her Calishite friend.
While Steorf howled in anger, Tazi screamed, "No more! The death has to stop here!"
She turned to face Ciredor.
The dark mage was a sight to behold. Bathed in the amethyst glow, his face was almost beatific. Tazi could see that he was caught up in a rapture of desire and hope. The word resounded in her mind over and over.
He hopes, he hopes, he hopes…
"Now you'll come for me," Ciredor whispered. "You've taken my last gift, my crown, and now you'll take me.
"It is no less than I deserve," he finished, lost to his own desires. "I am ready to serve you, my queen."
Something snapped within Tazi. Even as Steorf struggled to get to his feet, his fury making him blind to everything else, Tazi moved into action. Before either man knew what she was planning, Tazi shoved the enthralled necromancer toward his precious rock.
"I'm certain Shar will take you with open arms!" Tazi shouted. "After all, you carry with you the only gift she could ever refuse: your bright and shining hope."
The necromancer stumbled toward the gem but twisted to face Tazi just before touching the flames. Dozens of inky tendrils shot out of the stone. Each one latched onto Ciredor like a leech, claiming a different part of his body, and whatever he was about to say to her was lost.
One by one the tendrils started to pull back into the gem with a piece of the necromancer's flesh in its grasp. His screams were deafening. Blood poured out of every orifice, and Ciredor fell to his knees, weeping bloody tears. As the sated tendrils melted into the gem, new ones snaked out to demand another piece of the fallen mage. Before his consciousness faded away, Ciredor locked eyes with Tazi, and she was certain that the last thing to flicker within his black orbs was fear.
When there was no more of the mage left to feast on, and the last of his blood was lapped up, the tendrils retreated into the stone-but that was not the end of it.
Tazi was certain she could see one purple eye regard her from within the soul gem. She stood her ground, and two new onyx strands slipped from the stone. She could see one move to Steorf and the other came for her, but unlike what they did to Fannah and Ciredor, these strands of black were gentle and hesitant. Tazi flinched as the one moved to her forehead, but its touch was light and almost caressing. She could vaguely see that the other tendril approached Steorf in the same fashion then she saw no more.
She was engulfed in utter darkness. Everything about her was cold, her skin no longer ached with its horrible burns, and she no longer noticed the stab in her ribs. Though she seemed to be alone, Tazi could sense a fell awareness in the dark with her. Then she felt rather than heard a manifestation of the goddess Shar.
I have many things to offer you, Thazienne Uskevren. I would have given them to the necromancer but he proved wanting.
Why do you offer them to me? Tazi asked the presence.
Because you know me so well. With you, it is an instinctual understanding. And who better than one from the house of Uskevren to offer my gifts to?
What do you mean? Tazi questioned.
I feel the anger burning within you, a darkness to rival even the fallen mage, Ciredor. All I ask is that you give in to your feelings. Let me soothe and nourish your hurts and pains. They are such a part of you and have taught you so very much.
Tazi knew the presence was right. In the last few years, her pains had grown, and there was an ache in her heart that never left. But she recognized them as parts, not the whole, of herself. Just as the anger burned in her, there were other lights as well. Pain was necessary but not something to simply accept.