Ashi leaned out of the mound mouth slightly. “I don’t see him.” She glanced back. “Dandra, Dah’mir’s age, his power-the Bonetree thought they were gifts of the Dragon Below. We didn’t know …”
“It doesn’t matter now!” Dandra sprang away from the wall and up to the gaping mouth. The air outside was heavy with the smell of blood and battle, but compared to the air within the mound, it was sweet. She peered out cautiously. There was no sign of Dah’mir, but that could change at any moment. Across the battlefield, Geth, Singe, and their band of orcs had turned aside, going to the aid of an old orc who fought with surprising vitality in spite of his age.
Caught in the heat of battle, they didn’t see Medala rise from the ground of the battlefield, fury gathered around her like a cloak.
“Il-Yannah!” Dandra gasped. She drew a sharp breath to call a warning-only to be whirled back into the tunnel before she could even form the words. Ashi hit the tunnel wall beside her.
“Dah’mir is back! He’s landing!”
Helpless, Dandra swallowed her warning and pressed her head back as enormous wings rattled the air and the weight of a dragon shook the ground. For a moment, silence settled over the battlefield and the mound.
Silence that was broken by the crystal chime of Medala’s psionic power, as clear and loud to Dandra as if the other kalashtar had been standing right next to her. She clenched her spear so tight that the pale wood hurt her fingers. Outside, she could hear Medala threatening and cursing her friends. “Ashi, what’s happening out there?”
“They can’t breathe!” Ashi said. “They looked ready to defend themselves, but now they can’t breathe!”
“It’s Medala.” Dandra bit her tongue in horror. Your friends are dying, she screamed at herself silently. Your friends are dying and you’re hiding!
What choice did she have? Without Tetkashtai, she was no match for Medala. Even with Tetkashtai, Dah’mir’s power could overwhelm her in moments, but if she could deal with the mad kalashtar, her friends might be able to escape the dragon. If only she had Tetkashtai’s crystal, she would at least be able to use powers other than simple tricks of vayhatana …
Her eyes narrowed then sprang wide and she swallowed hard. “Ashi, I have an idea, but I need you to create a diversion.”
“How?”
Dandra’s jaw tightened. “Fight Medala. Resist her powers for as long as you can.”
A savage grin twisted across Ashi’s face. “That I can do. What will you do?”
Dandra reached to her belt and opened a pouch. Spinning a fine web of vayhatana, she reached inside and lifted out Virikhad’s violet psicrystal with her thoughts alone. Even through that nebulous contact, it seemed that she could feel the spirit of the kalashtar trapped inside.
“I’m going to reunite old friends.” She looked up. “Are you ready?”
Ashi raised her sword. “More than ready!” Fury flushed her face as she lunged out of the tunnel mouth. “For Ner, Medala! For Ner!”
Dandra drew a breath and followed her, tugging the violet crystal after her. Focus, she told herself. Send the crystal to Medala. Ignore everything else …
The instant she stepped into open air, that focus vanished.
Perhaps thirty paces away, Singe crouched on the ground, his entire body heaving as he fought for breath. Beside him, Geth writhed in the dirt, wracked by pain. Medala was whirling to face Ashi’s unexpected attack, alarm written on her face. Ashi herself was leaping past dolgrims, sword held low and ready to strike.
Dah’mir’s scaled, dark copper form towered over everything, green eyes staring down with a mad, hungry intensity-and those eyes darted to her. Dandra felt the dragon’s smothering presence, but the only emotion that was reflected in his eyes was pure rage. Great jaws opened in a roar that shook the night, almost drowning out the chime of Medala’s power.
Ashi-along with more than half a dozen dolgrims-staggered and froze as Medala turned her will against them.
The web of vayhatana that held Virikhad’s crystal suspended disappeared along with Dandra’s concentration. The crystal fell to the ground and for a moment all Dandra could do was stare at it.
“You!” shrieked Medala. She thrust out a hand, the chime of her power building. Dah’mir, a coppery juggernaut almost half as tall as the mound itself, lunged toward her. His horrible presence washed over her. Fear stabbed into Dandra’s gut and nearly drove conscious thought from her mind.
Instinct and resolve took its place.
She had stood here nearly two months before with only one thought in mind: escape. And she had escaped. She had taken the long step, barely thinking as she had leaped hundreds of paces in a single stride.
She didn’t need to go so far this time.
Dandra stepped forward, bending down as she moved. Her fingers snatched up the violet crystal-
— and Virikhad exploded in her mind like a howling gale, tearing across the landscape of her psyche. Tetkashtai? Tetkashtai?
Time froze, like a moment in a dream. The assault of Virikhad’s mind on hers wrenched up memories of Sharn, of the passion that he and Tetkashtai had shared, of the passion that he had carried into his studies of dragonshards as well. Dandra felt his anguish at being trapped in the crystal. His violet light formed distorted images of the unchanging fastness of Dah’mir’s strange laboratory, visions of his own body wasting away, his skull being opened and his brain devoured by the illithids.
Worse, Virikhad had loved freedom and movement as much as, if not even more, than Tetkashtai. He had been an intensely social being. So long in the crystal without power or true sensation had left him with only raw pain and loneliness.
But Dandra couldn’t afford to give him what he needed. She let him wash over her, but gave him nothing to hold onto. She was a reed bending before his wind, offering no resistance. Her body continued to move, one leg following the other on a long step already put in motion. Her moving arm swung up again-
— to meet the fingers of Medala’s outstretched hand. For one brief moment, both women touched the crystal. Somewhere beyond Virikhad’s pain, Dandra could feel Medala’s twisted mind and her surprise at the sudden contact, at thirty paces crossed in an instant.
Dandra cast the barest thread of a link into Virikhad’s tortured light. I’m sorry, she said.
Before Medala could react, she let go of the crystal. Virikhad vanished from her mind. Dandra wrapped her hand around Medala’s, forcing the gray-haired kalashtar’s grasp tight around the violet crystal.
As Dah’mir’s presence fell over her once more, Dandra heard Medala’s wail like a distant echo.
The chime of Medala’s power fell abruptly silent. Air flowed easily into Geth’s lungs, the torturous pain passed like a memory, and for a moment all that the shifter wanted to do was lie on the cool dirt and breathe. The sound of woman’s scream of anguish, however, brought him to his feet. “Dandra!” he said-then froze, the name still on his lips.
Less than four paces away, Dandra stood calmly, her eyes placid and fixed on Dah’mir. The dragon was a metallic stream of motion, caught in the act of leaping toward the mouth of the mound but at the same time skidding and twisting to stare in surprise at Dandra, like a house cat chasing a cricket. Everywhere, dolgrims were scattering with squeals of alarm. Between Dandra and Dah’mir, Ashi was rising unsteadily to her feet, just as Singe, Natrac and the orcs were doing around Geth.
The anguished scream was coming from Medala. The kalashtar stood behind Dandra, one arm outstretched and her fist clenched as if she held something in her grasp. Her eyes were wild. In the scant moments that Geth stared, they seemed to grow even wider. Her head snapped sharply from side to side. Her scream rose and cracked.