“Master! I bring your enemies to you!”
It was Vennet-and almost instantly, Dah’mir replied, “Actually, Vennet, I believe the ones that matter brought themselves.”
Natrac dropped to his knees and scuttled up the last few stairs on his hand and knees, hobbling like a three-legged dog into what had once been the arena manager’s box. How many fights and spectacles had he watched from the box in his younger days? Hundreds at least. As he peered cautiously over the rail of the box, though, the scene on the sands below left him colder and more frightened than any other he could recall.
Singe and Dandra in the ring, surrounded by five rotting bodies. Vennet standing on the rail of the private box while Biish fought Ashi just beside him. Dah’mir in his heron form, settling down to perch on the arena wall. “You were right, Dandra,” he said. “I wouldn’t just leave the binding stones out in the open.”
For an instant, the scene seemed frozen, Dandra and Singe gripped by what must have been the same horror that Natrac felt, Vennet breathing hard in exalted triumph, Biish staring in surprise at the talking heron that the half-elf addressed as “Master.” Only Ashi seemed to hold her wits. The hunter seized the moment of Biish’s distraction to spin away from him and leap over the edge of the private box into the tiers of public seats below. The old wood of the benches cracked and splintered under her feet, but she moved as lightly as a halfling, bounding from bench to bench in an effort to join the others.
The frozen scene shattered with her movement. In a swift action, Singe snatched up a metal box from a work table sitting on the sands. “Try anything, Dah’mir,” he shouted, “and I’ll smash your bloody stones!”
Dah’mir merely ruffled his feathers and said like a scolding father, “Put that down.”
The power of his presence wasn’t so great in heron form as it was in dragon form, but it was still strong enough that even Natrac felt the edge of the command. Dah’mir’s full attention was focused on Singe, however, and Natrac saw only the briefest hint of struggle flash across the wizard’s face before his features relaxed and he lowered the box.
But then Dandra was beside him, her dark eyes clear and determined, and Natrac realized Ashi must have used her dragonmark to protect her. He was too far away to hear the droning chorus as Dandra drew on her power of psionic fire, but abruptly a brilliant white flame blazed in her cupped hand. “That trick isn’t going to work on me,” she said. “Let us go, or I melt these abominations!”
Dah’mir stiffened in the face of a real threat, but neither his heron’s face nor his voice betrayed any emotion. “If I let you go, you’ll just destroy them anyway.”
“Maybe you should have stayed closer to them, then,” Dandra said between clenched teeth. She jerked her head at Singe. “Release him.”
Farther along the arena, Ashi dropped over the wall onto the sand, sword at the ready, and walked warily toward the others. Hope rose in Natrac. Was it possible that they could actually get away from Dah’mir with the binding stones? One of the gates onto the arena floor stood open. He was fairly certain that Dandra would probably lead Singe and Ashi out that way, but those gates led into the fighters’ tunnels beneath the arena. They’d need a guide if they were going to find their way out of the arena quickly or they’d risk being trapped.
The manager’s box, however, had two stairs: one to the outer corridor of the arena at ground level, the other leading down into the fighters’ tunnels. That easy double access was precisely one of the reasons he’d made his way to the box. He could be down in the tunnels to intercept Dandra and the others in only moments. No one knew his arena as well as he did! He eased away from the rail, climbed to his feet, and started to turn for the second set of stairs-then stopped dead as a rasping voice cried, “No!”
On the arena floor, the skinniest and least decayed of the five corpses sat up suddenly and Natrac realized with shock that he wasn’t looking at a body, but a living man on the very verge of death. Everyone else in the arena-even Dah’mir-seemed stunned. The emaciated man opened his mouth and another rasping cry emerged. “Dah’mir will succeed in Sharn!”
His arm snapped up and pointed at Dandra. Silver-white light flared and seemed to coalesce around her in a swirling vortex. The air shivered and twisted. Dandra screamed as her body shivered and twisted along with it, then the vortex cracked and vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.
But not before there was a second crack, and Dandra was flung out of thin air halfway across the arena to stagger into Ashi’s path. The emaciated man collapsed again like rag doll with its stuffing pulled out. Dandra’s scream seemed to pierce Dah’mir’s power over Singe. The wizard shook his head and whirled around to stare at her. “Dandra!” he cried, and leaped for her. The box he had held tumbled to the ground. There was a yelp of distress from Vennet-but not from Dah’mir. The heron took to the air with beating wings and flew straight for the open gate, form swelling in mid-air.
Feathers became scales. Hind legs grew and forelegs emerged. A beak became a muzzle filled with sharp teeth. A soft crest became a horny frill. Dah’mir had taken to the air as a heron, but he landed as a dragon. He slammed his mighty body against the open gate, and the stonework collapsed with a dull rumble, cutting off escape from the arena.
Or at least that means of escape. Natrac clenched his jaw, threw himself at the stairs to the tunnels, and prayed that he still knew his arena as well as he thought he did.
“If I let you go, you’ll just destroy them anyway.”
Dandra glared at him and clenched her teeth, the chorus of whitefire throbbing in the air. Dah’mir was right. She’d rather have turned her power against the binding stones instead of using them as bargaining chips. If they could get away from Dah’mir, maybe she would-but they had to get away first. How stupid had she been to assume the arena was deserted! They should have left while they had a chance.
She thrust back her fear and lifted her chin. “Maybe you should have stayed closer to them, then,” she said. They still had a chance, thanks to Singe’s quick thinking. There was an open gate nearby. She didn’t dare turn around to check Ashi’s escape from Vennet, but her crashing progress through the benches was getting closer. They wouldn’t get far with Singe still enthralled by Dah’mir’s command. She nodded at the wizard. “Release him.”
The heron’s eyes narrowed as if Dah’mir were weighing his options. Dandra drew breath through her teeth. She couldn’t allow him time to think. She met Dah’mir’s eyes boldly as a thought sent the white flame burning in her palm blazing high.
“No!” rasped a new voice.
She turned as the kalashtar who wore the final version of Dah’mir’s vile bracers, sat up, flies swarming around him. Dandra’s heart leaped into her throat, and a horrid thought forced its way into her mind: the kalashtar’s spirit had found strength in madness. Just as Medala had, he had fought his way back to control of his body, murdering the piece of himself that had been his psicrystal in the process. Dah’mir had succeeded in creating another servant for the Master of Silence.
Then the kalashtar spoke again, and she knew she was wrong. Dah’mir hadn’t created another servant. Someone else had taken residence in the kalashtar’s mindless body. More flies burst from the man’s mouth as he cried out, “Dah’mir will succeed in Sharn!”
She knew the words. She knew the madness. It was Virikhad.