Singe froze. Dandra froze. The entire cavern froze. Beyond the lens, the daelkyr sat back on his throne. You go too far, he said in a tone that chilled Singe’s guts.
And the lens bulged. A streamer of darkness struck through the seal-and the killing song rose from the kalashtar like a mighty wind to thrust it back.
The sheer fury of the song made Singe stumble. Even Dandra rocked back and dropped down to the ledge. “Il-Yannah,” she whispered in awe.
If Singe’s guts had been chilled a moment before, now they were icy. The Master of Silence could do more than shout through his seal-and the kalashtar could do much more than shout.
Or perhaps not the kalashtar, but the katalarash. Singe’s cold belly rose in nauseating terror as Medala’s arms dropped and she stared at the Master of Silence like a thin, mad queen. He looked to Dandra. Her face was pale. “Is it possible?”
“No-” Her voice caught. “I don’t know.”
Beyond the seal, the mouthless face of the daelkyr grew dark with a terrible fury. The weird creatures of his court swirled in agitated chaos, trying to push away from their lord. When the daelkyr’s answer to Medala’s declaration came, it was as if the charge of an entire army had been compressed into his voice.
The daelkyr do not know masters! The daelkyr create only servants! We raise up only those who will serve! The Master of Silence lifted a perfectly formed hand. Dah’mir! Show her the power of a faithful servant.
Black lightning leaped from his hand. It played across the lens within the Gatekeeper seal, made the air ripple with its passage, then spat out into the cavern and grounded itself in the glittering blue-black dragonshard embedded in Dah’mir’s broad chest.
The dragon reared back and roared as the lightning flowed on and on in a crackling stream. His bellows shook the cavern, bringing loose stones crashing down from the ceiling. His great wings unfurled and beat at the air, raising a storm of grit-Singe flung up an arm to shield his eyes. Dah’mir seemed almost to swell as his body absorbed the power that the daelkyr fed to him. His scales glistened. His acid-green eyes shone like eerie stars.
And the lightning still flowed when he struck, dropping back down onto four feet, drawing his head back, then whipping it forward, mouth wide as if to vomit acid at Medala and the katalarash.
But instead of acid, a colorless vapor distorted the air. Singe knew that attack-Dah’mir had caught him with it once, and it had dragged at him, slowing his actions and leaving him horribly vulnerable. Medala, however, just let the stuff wash over her as the killing song rose again. When she moved, there was nothing slow about her actions. Her arms came together, and a hollow crack shivered on the air.
A stream of frost burst from her hand and streaked toward Dah’mir-except that he was no longer there. Powerful legs uncoiled, and the dragon leaped easily to the side. Medala’s bolt of frost passed under him and spattered across rocks on the far side of the chamber, coating them with ice. Dah’mir landed across the ledges that Singe and Medala had only just left, legs spread wide, clawed feet gripping the rock as easily as if he stood on a level surface. Singe gasped and flattened himself against the ledge. Dandra dropped down with him. Dah’mir’s blazing eyes were still only for Medala, however. He leaped again, directly at her this time.
The killing song pitched deep. Medala’s head came up.
Dah’mir’s leap spun sideways. He flew across the cavern and smashed into the wall.
“Vayhatana!” Dandra said.
“Bloody moons! Vayhatana, ice bolts-when did Medala or Virikhad learn to do that?” Singe asked.
“They didn’t,” said Dandra. “Those powers belong to the other kalashtar!” She pointed at one of the men in Medala’s singing chorus. “Otonalast knows frost the way I know fire. Il-Yannah, the killing song must allow Medala and Virikhad to draw on the powers of those caught in it!”
“And maybe the other way around too.” Singe said. “That would explain how Erimelk and Moon were able to use Virikhad’s far step powers.” He stared at Dah’mir-and hissed in amazement.
The dragon staggered to his feet with one wing bent at an unnatural angle, but the black lightning still crackled around the seal and another arc of it leaped to the shard in Dah’mir’s chest. He howled as his wing straightened then stiffened, healed once more. His eyes flared again, and he spun on Medala, pacing the floor of the cavern like a hunting cat pacing before prey. From beyond the lightning-shot lens, the creatures of the Master of Silence’s court cheered at the battle, though the daelkyr himself only watched with narrowed eyes.
Was he concentrating on his champion?
“Medala can draw on the powers of her katalarash,” said Dandra. “Dah’mir has the power of the Master of Silence behind him. If they can’t stop each other, how do we stop either of them? And if we do, how do we stop the other one? We can’t take on either one!”
Singe groaned and ground his teeth together, trying to think of something. Some solution. Had Virikhad shown any hint of a weakness while he’d inhabited Moon’s body on the airship? Had Dah’mir? Had there been anything that they could exploit?
Yes.
He rolled over, and his hand dug into the pouch around his waist. His fingers closed on a cold, hard object, and he drew out the binding stone he had removed from the bracer meant for Moon. Dandra recoiled at the sight of it, but then her breath hissed between her teeth.
“You can’t use that against Medala! Whichever of her mind or Virikhad’s the stone traps, the other one will be left behind.”
“I wasn’t thinking of using it on Medala,” Singe told her. He flipped back over onto his belly and searched the cavern for the Gatekeepers. Down on the cavern floor, Dah’mir stalked slowly closer to Medala. She waited for him with frost glittering on one hand and fire flickering around the other. The killing song had sunk to a dull throb, the katalarash still surrounding Medala like unmoving guards. Singe spotted the orcs pressed to the back of a deep ledge. He pointed them out to Dandra. “Can you reach Batul with kesh?”
Geth watched Dah’mir glide across the cavern, his burning green gaze and Medala’s pinprick eyes fixed on each other. The dragon paused, then extended his foot in one more step …
Medala’s fiery hand snapped up, and white flames poured forth in a roaring bolt. Dah’mir flung himself aside-and so did Geth, ducking back into the niche between ledges that had become his hiding place. He had to drag Ekhaas back with him as Medala’s flame spattered like burning water on the rock.
“You’re a hazard!” he snarled at her.
The excitement in her amber eyes dimmed no more than it had since she had dropped down on him in the aftermath of Medala’s declaration, and as soon as the gout of fire faded, she was up again. Geth groaned and rose with her. It had been good to know that the Gatekeepers hadn’t abandoned him, but Ekhaas had hissed Singe’s message to attack Dah’mir just as the daelkyr’s black lightning had turned the dragon into a scaled juggernaut. He’d spent every moment since that one ducking up and down, alternately looking for some way to reach safety and pressing back to avoid bolts of ice or blasts of fire.
Or falling dragons. The leap that had briefly broken Dah’mir’s wing had thrown him against the cavern wall less than three paces from Geth and Ekhaas’s hiding place. Dah’mir had been close enough for Geth to smell the acrid, coppery odor of his body. He’d almost taken the chance of leaping out and charging the stunned dragon, but that would have exposed him to Medala-and he wasn’t certain that even Wrath could do Dah’mir serious harm so long as the power of the Master of Silence flowed into him.
Then the daelkyr’s black lightning had made Dah’mir’s broken wing whole again, and Geth had been certain that he wouldn’t be able to harm the dragon.