Breek perched on the slab. The bird’s eyes were focused on the sky overhead. Dandra followed its gaze and saw the long, gangly shapes of two herons in the moonlit sky. Her breath caught.
“They’re still watching us,” said Adolan. The druid stepped around her and over to one side of the slab. “Breek would attack them, but he knows that he would be a target as soon as he rose above the Bull Hole. We need to know what we’re facing. Lend me a hand.” He gestured and Breek hopped off the slab onto the ground. Adolan bent down, working his fingers between the soil and the stone.
Dandra looked at the slab and allowed herself a thin smile. “I think I can do better,” she said. She focused her concentration on the stone and imagined the feel of its cold, dense surface under her hands, then drew that sensation into herself, wrapping her mind around it. Tetkashtai, help me, she said as she reached out to pull the presence closer to her.
Except that Tetkashtai wrenched herself away with a chilly disdain. Dandra’s concentration wavered in surprise, her mental connection to the stone fading sharply. She sent a swift, angry thought toward the presence’s yellow-green light. Tetkashtai, what are you doing? I need your help. We have to move this rock.
Why? Tetkashtai drew herself up, her light gleaming harshly. You know what I think needs to be done.
More images of Adolan wreathed in flames, of herself fleeing the circle and leaving Singe and Geth to face the Bonetree hunters, flashed through Dandra’s head. She clenched her teeth. I’m not going to do that.
Then you can move that stone with your hands like a dumb human. Tetkashtai pulled back. Dandra’s jaw dropped open in shock.
“Dandra?” asked Adolan. He was staring at her in concern. “Are you all right?”
The kalashtar closed her mouth. “I’m fine,” she said. In her mind, she snarled at Tetkashtai. Help me!
No. Move it yourself.
Dandra’s hands curled into fists. All right, she spat. She stared at the slab, then stretched out her mind and wrapped her thoughts around it once more. “Step back,” she told Adolan. A startled look crossed the druid’s face. He snatched his fingers out from under the stone and scuttled backward away from it. Dandra turned her will against the slab, pushing against it in the same way that she pushed against the ground when she chose to glide above it.
There was a word for the invisible force involved in attempting to move something with willpower alone: vayhatana. It literally meant “ghost breath,” a good word for something that was at the same time subtle, powerful-and often elusive.
The slab didn’t move, but Dandra’s feet slid back and she almost fell to her knees. In the darkness of her mind, Tetkashtai sneered. Pathetic.
Dandra didn’t answer her. Climbing to her feet, she focused on the slab again. When she rose above the ground, the vayhatana that she used was soft and gentle, taking no real energy at all. This time, though, she hardened the vayhatana, throwing it against the slab while willing herself to remain where she was. Without Tetkashtai’s aid, directing her powers was difficult, but the raw strength behind them-that was her own. Dandra wrenched at the core of her being, dredging up all of her reserves, and heaved at the stone.
Nothing happened. She strained harder, like any human hauling at a great weight. A shudder shook her body, flesh faltering beneath the strength of her will. Tetkashtai flinched, though she still managed to mock her. Stop this! she said imperiously. You can’t move that. Who do you think you are?
Anger flickered in Dandra’s heart. Her teeth grinding together with aching pressure, she seized it, weaving it into her effort, focusing the vayhatana until it was like a cocoon spun around the slab. She lifted her hand slowly and held her palm out toward the slab. She could feel the stone, feel the way it rested against the ground. It only needed something to slide on to make it move, the way that just a thin layer of water could make tiles slippery. Or the way that a gentle force could send her gliding over the ground …
It took less than a thought to draw the cocoon of vayhatana under the slab, slipping invisible energy between stone and soil. The fingers of her hand pressed forward slightly.
A faint ripple of force shimmered through the air. Dandra didn’t even dare to breathe as, with the slightest of tremors, the slab slid smoothly away from her. A few inches … a foot … another foot.
Tetkashtai was silent in her head. On the other side of the slab, Adolan stared and moved his mouth in choked words of wonder. The moving stone revealed the edge of a hole in the ground. Adolan managed to find his voice again. “Open it all the way if you can.”
Dandra gave a slight nod and pushed a little harder. Like a child’s toy boat set down on smooth water, the slab floated aside. When the hole-no larger around than the ring of her own arms-was fully exposed, she took a breath and pulled her mind away from it. The slab settled back to the ground with a soft thud that brought a squawk from Breek. As Adolan hastened to kneel at the edge of the hole, Dandra lowered her hand. A hot pride spread through her-a pride that turned swiftly to shame. Tetkashtai’s entire attention was turned toward her, the presence’s light as cold as a winter dawn. Without a word, Tetkashtai retreated, shrinking into a yellow-green spark, no brighter than a star.
Dandra felt more empty and alone than she ever had before. She swallowed and stepped quickly to Adolan’s side.
The druid was peering intently into the hole, his lips moving in quiet murmurs. Sounds were returning from the hole as well, though, soft, almost animal sounds like the lowing of a cow. Or a bull. Cautiously, Dandra peered over Adolan’s shoulder, down into the hole. It might not have been very big around, but it was clearly deep. Far, far deeper than she would have expected. Frighteningly deep. She could feel a power in the hole, too, something very old and very primitive. Something that hated the abominations that had intruded upon the valley, something that remembered the ancient war that Adolan had described. The strength of that hatred seized her, pulled at her, tried to drag her down into the primal deeps. Dandra gasped and reeled back desperately, trying to escape it. Adolan’s hand reached up to steady her.
“Easy,” he said.
She swallowed, trying to recover her breath. “What is that?” she gasped. “If that’s what the Bonetree worship …”
Adolan shook his head sharply. “The cults of the Dragon Below worship the powers of Khyber. The spirit of the Bull Hole was placed in the depths by the Gatekeepers to help make sure that they stay there.” He rose to his feet, his face grim
“You were talking with it,” Dandra said.
“The Bull Hole knows things,” the druid replied. “It told me what we face.”
“The dolgrims? The Bonetree clan?” Dandra asked.
Adolan shook his head. “The dolgrims, yes, but not the Bonetree-the Bull Hole only sees unnatural creatures. No, there’s something else in the valley. Something worse than the dolgrims.”
Acid-green eyes flashed in Dandra’s memory and fear rose in her throat. “What?” she asked with dread.
“Ado!” Geth’s voice rose from the outer ring of the circle before the druid could answer. “You’d better see this! Something is happening out there!”