The wind whispered again, and Xu’sasar saw motion in the sky. A trio of glittering sparks had come loose from the firmament and were streaking toward the ground.
Wandering wisps. Even as she took cover against the stone face of the closest tor, she recalled the words of the Teller of Tales as he spoke of the many dangers of the final lands. Remnants of the fallen, bound in the sky as others are buried in earth. They are deceivers who will lead you into bog or battle. Do not underestimate them; they burn with jealousy, and this fire is as deadly as any blade.
These wisps had no interest in deception. They overshot Daine and Lei, then shifted trajectory, darting back toward the humans.
Xu’sasar never thought of leaving the outlanders to their fate. Whatever she thought of their graceless motions and foolish ideas, these were her companions on her final hunt. A hunter who leaves her comrades to die is no worthy warrior.
From that moment forward, all of her thoughts were focused on her prey. Distance was irrelevant. Xu’sasar was one with the wind, and she leaped into the air with no concern for height; her passion for her prey pulled her forward. Reaching within, Xu’sasar summoned the darkness that was the birthright of the drow, the cold night that consumed light and life. Shadows wreathed her fist, and she struck at the heart of the glowing sphere.
This was no creature of flesh and blood. Xu’sasar felt the barest resistance as her hand passed through her prey, as if she had struck a ball of water. Flesh or not, she could feel a pulse of agony radiate from the spirit as the darkness passed through the light. Xu’sasar twisted in the air and fell, spinning to face the wisps as she braced for her landing.
Three arrows sang through the air, reducing the weakened wisp to a shower of burning dust. Surely this archer thought he was doing her a favor, but Xu’sasar was not expecting the blow. She had yet to learn the tactics used by these three, and one of her own kin would not have stolen Xu’sasar’s prey in this way. For an instant she lost her focus, and that was all the wisps needed. There was a flash of light, swift as the lightning itself, and a wisp crashed into Xu’sasar, passing through her chest.
Agony lashed through every muscle. The pain redoubled as the second wisp passed through her. She could feel the raw fury of the spirit, and this anger seared her thoughts even as its blazing light scorched her flesh. The torture might have forced a scream from the throat of a soft outlander, but Xu’sasar was a war-wraith of the Qaltiar, a hunter hardened by ritual. She had undergone countless trials, and the elders had burned the spirit-wards into her skin with the sacred venom of Vulkoor himself. Xu’sasar called on the memories embedded in these pale tattoos, and the strength of her triumphs dulled the pain of her current wounds. Her vision cleared, and she turned to face her foes.
The spirits split, one darting toward the humans while the other circled Xu’sasar. It was as swift as lightning, but Xu’sasar had fought giants who could call storms from the sky, and she had dodged lightning in the past.
She let her mind go blank, until her foe was the world. The wisp flashed before her, but it seemed to crawl through the air; the slightest motion was all it took to move out of its path, and she slashed her palm through the gleaming globe as it passed by. For an instant she wished that she had her knives, the long daggers that had belonged to her mother and to her grandmother before her, but it was no surprise that one should be forced to face the trials of the final lands with only hand and foot. Here she needed to prove the strength of her spirit and her knowledge of Vulkoor’s teachings. It was strange that the outlanders were allowed to keep their tools, but they were soft and weak, and it was hardly surprising that they were not pressed as hard as the children of the night.
The metal hunter still sought to aid Xu’sasar. An arrow passed through the heart of the wisp, but this second attack was insufficient to shatter the orb. She caught a flash of light in her peripheral vision as the humans brought down their prey. The last wisp had no desire to share the fate of its fellows, and it sped away across the field. Xu’sasar sprinted after the wisp, letting the panther’s speed flow through her limbs. She heard a warning in the back of her mind-they are deceivers-but the thrill of the hunt was upon her, and her prey would not escape her now. With every step she closed the distance between them. The wisp darted behind a tor and she raced after it, spinning around the corner.
The scorpion was waiting for her.
The Jalaq Qaltiar revered many spirits, but the greatest among them was the scorpion, known as vulkoor in the tongue of her people. Many lessons could be learned from Vulkoor, and the scorpion shared its armor and its venom with the drow. Many tribes refused to listen to any spirit but the scorpion, and her father had been killed in battle with drow who saw the pantheistic beliefs of the Qaltiar as heretical. For an instant Xu’sasar was paralyzed with fear. He has come to punish me.
Then he spoke. At first she thought he was speaking in the tongue of her people, then she realized that she couldn’t hear the actual words; she simply knew their meaning, as if his language was so primal that it bypassed all mortal knowledge.
“You have done well, warriors,” he said. His voice was deep and strong, and the mere sound of it seemed to push the lingering echoes of pain from Xu’sasar’s breast. “But your trials have just begun.”
The humans had come around the edge of the tor, the metal hunter behind them. Xu needed to act quickly; the outlanders were fools when it came to matters of the spirit, and the man was likely to raise his sword and doom them all. She fell to her knees, raising her palms before her.
“Forgive these people their ignorance, great Vulkoor,” she said. “You in your wisdom have let them walk this path. Tell us what we must do to find our way to the endless struggle.”
“What endless strug-” Daine said, but the mighty spirit cut him off.
“You honor me, Xu’sasar of the Broken Oath, but you are mistaken in many things. I am but a servant of Vulkoor. The highest spirits cannot be known in this life, even to those such as I. The path you walk does not lead to the endless struggle. Though you pass through the final lands, you still have a duty in the lands of the living.”
Xu’sasar reeled. How could she be so close to her destiny-so close to her reunion with her fallen kin-and have it torn away? Was she to be reborn in a lesser form? A thousand cries echoed through her mind, but one did not challenge the words of so great a spirit.
Apparently, no one had told Daine. “So we’re not dead?” he said.
Xu’sasar almost struck the rash human. If he angered the spirit, rebirth would be the least of the punishments it could inflict upon them. But the scorpion did not move, and when it spoke there was no trace of malice in its voice.
“You are not dead, traveler, though many perils still lie before you, and I make no promises that you will survive to see the light of evening.”
Daine considered this. “And you’re not planning to … eat us, tear us apart, marry us, or anything like that?”
“I am only a messenger, sent to offer guidance and advice.”
“Sent by who, exactly?” Lei said. Far from being grateful, she sounded suspicious. She still held her staff at the ready, as if she could fight the great scorpion with her little piece of wood.
“I heard your call earlier, child of Cannith. Have you forgotten the message you were given? Your answers lie in the twilight.”
“Beyond the Gates of Night,” Lei said. “And what does that mean, exactly?”
“You have already learned what you need to know. You stand beneath the Hunter’s Moon. The Gates of Night lie beneath the Deepwood Moon, in the domain of the Woodsman. You hold the key to the gates in your hand. Open the gates, and pass into Dusk and the domain of the one I serve.”