“I told you, we are honoring our agreements to the word,” the shadow insisted, though his tone suggested that he was not telling her the whole truth.
Sadira stopped. “There’s more to it than that.” She clenched her teeth as a painful muscle spasm ran up her leg. “You have some reason for wanting me to defy the Dragon.”
“What do you care?” Khidar asked. “We’re willing to help you. That’s all that matters.”
“If I’m to stand a chance of defying the Dragon, I must learn everything I can about him and this place.” Sadira answered. “Otherwise, you might as well let me die here.”
“I suppose it will do no harm to tell you, and perhaps it may even help.” Khidar said, starting toward the tower. “You were powerful and resourceful enough to reach the tower on your own-and that is a good portent for the struggle you’ve taken upon yourself.”
“This is all very interesting, but it still doesn’t answer my question,” Sadira answered, not allowing the shadow to sidetrack her with flattery.
Khidar sighed. “How much do you already know of the Pristine Tower?”
“Enough to guess that you’re taking me into the Steeple of Crystals,” the sorceress began. She quickly repeated what Er’Stali had told her: that the Champions had rebelled against Rajaat and that they had forced him to make Borys into the Dragon. Sadira and Khidar reached the Steeple of Crystals just as she came to the story of how Jo’orsh and Sa’ram had tracked Borys to the Pristine Tower.
As soon as she mentioned the dwarves’ names, Khidar burst out, “May the ghosts of the little thieves never find rest!”
Sadira frowned. “What did they steal?”
“You shall see soon enough,” the shadow said, holding out his hand. “You must take my arm for a moment.”
The sorceress grasped his frigid hand. She had to stifle a pained cry as his touch began to draw the heat from her body, leaving her shivering with a cold agony such as she had never before experienced. Khidar stepped forward, melting into the onyx wall. He pulled Sadira after him, and a shudder of nausea ran through her body as she also passed through the barrier. A moment later, the shadow released her hand.
“Welcome to the Steeple of Crystals,” he said. It was here that Rajaat imbued his champions with the power to carry out his will, and here that the traitors forced him to make Borys into the Dragon.”
At first, the sorceress could see nothing but a fierce crimson glow whirling around her like a windblown fog. When she grew accustomed to the strange light, Sadira saw that the tower housed only a single gloomy room. A dome-shaped mirror served as the floor, while sheer white walls soared high overhead to support the crystal cupola that she had seen from the walkway outside.
A shaft of pink light descended from the cupola to the center of the mirror, where a dozen obsidian spheres of various sizes had been gathered. At first, it seemed to Sadira that the balls should have rolled away, but then she noticed that they were held in place by tiny wedges of marble. Inside each globe, a wisp of blue light slowly whirled about, as if some living thing were swimming through the black glass.
“What are those?” Sadira asked. Her leg began to itch madly. When she reached down to scratch, she discovered that an articulated yellow shell had entirely encased it.
“Eggs,” Khidar replied, motioning the sorceress toward the murky orbs.
As she stepped away from the wall, limping slightly, Sadira saw that there were dozens of shadow people standing along the edge of the floor-mirror. Each time they exhaled, streams of dark vapor rose from their blue mouths and drifted toward the ceiling, joining the murk that already filled the room. The sorceress did not know whether the shadows had been there all along or had only recently come into the chamber, for with their mouths and eyes closed, they would have been indistinguishable from the gloomy walls.
“We must incubate our young in isolation, transferring, them from smaller balls to larger as they grow,” Khidar explained, waving his shadowy hand at the obsidian globes. “Before Jo’orsh and Sa’ram came, this was not necessary. We grew them all together, inside the dark lens.”
“The dark lens?” Sadira asked.
“Rajaat used the dark lens to perform his magic,” he said, “Without it, we cannot make you as powerful as you would like. But if you can steal the Scourge of Rkard from this Rikus, you will have two of the three things you need to kill the Dragon.”
“Could you explain this a little more clearly?” Sadira asked. “Why do I need the Scourge of Rkard?”
“Because it was forged by Rajaat,” Khidar answered. “Not only is it one of the few blades that will injure the Dragon, it will protect you from his blows. No champion-even traitors-can strike someone bearing a weapon forged by Rajaat.”
“I can get the sword,” Sadira answered confidently. “Now, what is it that you’re doing for me?”
“You will understand better after we have finished,” Khidar said. “But basically, we’ll open a new source of magical energy to you-one that has not been used since the days of Rajaat.”
“And the third thing?” Sadira asked.
Khidar pointed halfway up the tower. “The dark lens,” he said. “You’ll never kill the Dragon without it.”
Sadira followed the shadow’s finger and saw that there was an enormous steel ring attached to the walls. In it were set seven different gems, each as large as a half-giant’s head. Six bars protruded from the inner wall of the ring, supporting another steel collar centered directly above the middle of the floor. From the size of this empty band, Sadira guessed the crystal it had held to be the size of a kank. Now the setting was empty, save for the crimson shaft of light descending through it to bathe the eggs below.
“Where do I find this dark lens?” she asked, wondering how she would move it once she had located it.
“That’s something you’ll have to discover for yourself. We have no idea where Jo’orsh and Sa’ram went after they left the tower,” he said. “Now, you’ll have to endure my touch one more time.” Khidar reached for the sorceress’s hand. “I must take you up there, where we can focus the magic of the sun on you.”
“Not yet,” Sadira said, pulling away. Although she was frightened by the change occurring in her leg, the sorceress was determined to learn everything she could about the Pristine Tower and the Dragon. Besides, she assumed Khidar would be able to return her leg to normal, at least if the shadow people had been telling the truth when they offered to heal Magnus. “What do you get by helping me?”
A black cloud left Khidar’s mouth. “Our reward is simple,” he said. “Our race was born of the magic which made Borys into the Dragon. We’re the descendants of the loyal servants of Rajaat-of the men and women whom the champions sacrificed in order to complete the betrayal of their master. When Borys dies, our race will be released from its fate.”
“Thank you,” Sadira said, nodding to the shadow. “Now I’m ready.”
Khidar took Sadira in his arms. A terrible chill ran through her body, stinging her skin and freezing her flesh to the bone. A black stain spread outward from where the dark arms enclosed her, bringing with it an icy, deathlike numbness. The sorceress felt her knees buckle, then she collapsed into the shadow’s grasp.
Khidar rose into the air, carrying Sadira’s shivering body with him. Below them, the rest of the shadow people moved toward the center of the room, flitting about in a wild, rhythmic dance. Scintillating flashes of light began to shoot off the mirror, passing through the gems set into the steel ring that had once supported the dark lens.
Khidar took Sadira almost to the crystal cupola before he stopped. The sorceress saw that her body now resembled his: a black silhouette, with no hint of her wiry frame or womanly figure. Below her, a varicolored spray of light danced off the walls of the tower, rising from the gems of the lens to lap at her feet like flames with no heat.