“We are not saviors,” Sithe said.
“Are you afraid?”
The genasi gave him a cold glower, turned, and ran toward the Coin-Spinners. As she went, she slashed back and forth with her axe, sending blood and pieces of vermin flying. Kalen breathed easier.
Then the swarm rose up before Sithe like a wall. The genasi paused and Kalen watched, horrified, as the wall became a hand that lunged to grasp at her. Sithe hacked at it, but the hand broke over her like a wave, coating her body in a hundred stinging, rending beasts. Sithe screamed in shock and agony-a sound Kalen never thought he would hear from her lips. With a sharp suction in the air, she abruptly vanished into the void, taking a score of the fiendish creatures with her.
A shadow blotted out the sun and Kalen turned toward the main swarm. He watched, with awe and terror, as the swarm before him rose up in a mountain-a mountain that split into a vaguely humanoid shape with arms, torso, and even a head.
“Feed,” the creature said, in a thousand hissing, chattering voices. “Feed!”
Kalen saw his death rising before him and he had no escape like Sithe did. He looked down at the dagger in his hand, coursing with gray fire, then back up at the creature. He reversed the knife in his hand and pointed it at the swarm’s face.
“Come then, demon,” he said. “Shadowbane calls.”
A thousand thousand voices answered the challenge with a cry. The swarm crashed toward him like a wave. He whispered a prayer to the Threefold God, ready to meet his end.
Abruptly, a circle of shadow appeared before him like a door in the air. From it came a crack of thunder that sent the swarm rippling back.
He felt her before he saw her, the blue fire inside him singing. “Myrin?” he asked.
“Well met, Kalen!” The blue-haired woman stepped from the shadow door, her cheeks and collarbone gleaming with blue runes. She fanned her fingers and an arc of fire engulfed the swarm. The creatures fell back, screeching and burning.
Myrin beamed. “Don’t tell me you thought I wouldn’t come back to save the day? Not to mention your tight little-”
“ ’Ware!” Kalen reached for her as the gathered swarm lunged forward.
Myrin raised her hand and a shield of flames scorched into place around them. The swarm rebounded from her magic, flames consuming those creatures who struck first.
“You can do this?” Kalen asked.
Myrin nodded. “The shield is a simple spell I learned over the last year,” she said. “The fire is something I saw in Umbra’s memory. I just combined the two-ughn!”
The swarm hammered at her shield again. This time, Myrin fell to one knee, shaken at the effort of holding off the horde. Black veins laced her spell like cracks and blood trickled down from her nose. Again the demon struck. Myrin moaned louder.
“I can’t teleport us if I can’t … focus …,” she managed. “Kalen, I can’t hold …”
“Feed,” he thought he heard. “Feed … Shadow … Bane …”
The words chilled him, but he pushed the fear aside. He stepped between Myrin and the swarm, resolved to give his life to save her.
Abruptly the swarm gave a discordant jangle of cries and stayed its assault. Dimly through the chittering, Kalen heard Elvish syllables declaimed in a loud, sibilant voice-a song and a firm command. The demon reached toward the shield again, but the words rose in volume, causing the beast to falter and cry out.
The swarm fell apart into thousands of vermin, all of which skittered and milled one over another. They fled with surprising alacrity, flitting into the shadows and the rotting sewers. In half a breath, Kalen and Myrin stood free of vermin, still encompassed in a shield of fire.
“Myrin,” Kalen said. “Myrin.”
Her face locked in concentration, the woman had fallen to her knees and clasped her arms around herself. She blinked up at Kalen. “We’re alive?”
He nodded. “We made it.”
“Thank Mystra.” Myrin let her magic dissipate.
The market was a ruin, even more so than it had been before. Without exception, the lean- to stands and tents lay in shards and tatters. Of the people, only white skeletons remained, lying in the dust. Scores of skeletons-even hundreds. The great kingmaking battle had been a massacre.
“Sithe?” Kalen scanned around for a distinctive black axe next to a skeleton.
The air rippled near them and Sithe was abruptly standing there, her flesh and clothing torn to shreds. She wore no demon vermin about her, but from the haunted look on her face, the struggle to free herself had not been an easy one. Now that she had returned, she leaned upon her axe like an old woman upon a cane.
Kalen stepped forward to take her arm, but she flinched. “I only meant to help,” he said.
Sithe looked past Kalen and raised one shuddering black finger to point.
A man stood among the dead-a man not attired in blood and torn rags, like the rest of them, but rather in immaculate, fashionable clothing. The dust hardly seemed to touch him. His purity gleamed in the rays of the sun. Beautiful Elvish words fell from his lips-he was the source of the song that had called off the swarm. His was also the voice that had offered Kalen strength in the Drowned Rat the night Toytere died.
“You,” Kalen said.
“Me.” The elf dandy gave them a slight nod. “I suppose it’s time we had a talk.”
In her inner chamber at the temple, Eden sighed contentedly. She was pleased-and not merely because the other gangs were broken and hers was untouched.
It also wasn’t just that she’d saved the day, bringing hundreds of new followers into her church. After the “miracle” in the market square-easily accomplished with the ritual that bound the demon to her will-Tymora had become the first name on every Luskar’s lips. Eden of the Clearlight was the second.
Thirdly, it wasn’t just that she’d as good as crowned herself queen of Luskan. Should she wear a crown? Would that be ostentatious? She wondered.
Lastly, her contentment had little enough to do with the two men currently serving her pleasure-though that she did rather enjoy.
Nay, Eden was pleased because she’d watched her stupid brother’s plans crumble to dust. She’d seen to it that he died a horrific death of a thousand bites. Or, if he’d escaped, at least the ravening death of the Fury’s madness.
Yes, the queen of Luskan was well pleased.
A knock came at the door and she growled in consternation. She shoved one of the men away but kept the other. “This had better be important!”
The door opened to admit a trembling woman. Eden had never done well with female servants. They were so much harder to manage than men.
“Speak,” she said. “And-oooh! — make it quick, will you?”
“Aye, me priestess,” she said. “You commanded word of Shadowbane, aye?”
“I know what I said.” Eden was losing patience. “And call me Majesty.”
“Aye, Majesty-well, Shadowbane, he-he survived the market, and-”
“He was bitten, yes?” Eden said. “Tell me at least that he was wounded. Even lightly so. A single bite would do.”
The acolyte shook her head. “ ’Twas the blue-haired wizard, lady-Majesty.”
It was all Eden could do not to throttle her. A hunger grew inside her-a constant whine in a thousand voices to feed. “Anything else?” she asked coldly.
“The Dead Rats’ enforcer, Sithe-she were hurt bad in th’ battle.”
“There’s that, at least. Begone!” She slapped the man kissing her neck. “Out all of you!”
The servants retreated hastily, knowing full well the price of disobedience.
Her chest heaving, Eden sat naked and sweaty on her wide bed, seething. The genasi might have contracted the Fury, but not Kalen? And not his blue-headed tart?
Damn her brother! Ever since he’d been born and taken away her mother’s sanity, his every act seemed dead set against her. He couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could he? She hated him. She hated him!