And even if he wasn t, Aoth very much wanted to hurt him. He snarled a word of power, jabbed with his spear, and hurled darts of blue-green light from the point.
The missiles stabbed into Dai Shan s torso, and he stumbled back against the wall. Aoth lunged after him.
The darkness thickened and swirled around the Shou like a black whirlwind. Then he vanished.
Aoth suspected his foe had only shifted a short distance. He whirled, seeking him, and spotted him immediately. But before he could do anything about it, the gloom churned, and Dai Shan disappeared for a second time.
Aoth s battle instincts told him the merchant had jumped back to his original position. He pivoted just in time to catch a clanging snap kick on his targe. Spinning and leaping, Dai Shan instantly tried to kick over the top of the shield.
Aoth simultaneously shifted the targe to protect his face and thrust around the side of it. The stroke caught Dai Shan in midair and drove into his belly.
The Shou landed on his back. He tried to heave himself up off the floor, but the effort proved to be too much for him. He gave Aoth a little nod.
It was a singular honor, Dai Shan whispered, to watch such an illustrious man-at-arms ply his trade. Thank
The Shou disappeared, but it was different than before. The darkness hadn t stirred to help him whisk himself across space. Rather, he d simply faded away as he d said he would.
With him vanished any trace of vengeful satisfaction that Aoth might otherwise have felt. Because it didn t matter that he d destroyed that particular manifestation of his rival s power. Dai Shan had outwitted and outmaneuvered him, and as a result, not only he but also Jhesrhi and Cera were in trouble.
Aoth comprehended all too well that he didn t know how to control the portals. Dai Shan had concealed the actual procedure. But just to make absolutely sure, he faced the arch and said, In the name of the Vaunted, the Staff-Bearer, the Lord of the Hidden Crypt, open.
It didn t.
Feeling every bit as energized, as angry, as he had when he first descended into the tunnels, Vandar trotted in search of more enemies. The berserkers he d chosen for his personal hunting party trotted after him. Just ahead on the left, an arch opened on a passage running off the main corridor at an oblique angle. It was an architectural feature the ancient Nars had evidently favored, at least for their dungeons, tombs, and conjuring chambers.
Something about the arch snagged Vandar s attention, although he had no idea what or why. Except for the three grooves carved at the top, it didn t look any different than the many other openings he d passed.
Puzzled, he stopped and examined the arch. He still couldn t see anything special about it, and was about to move on when he realized that while he himself hadn t noticed anything, the red spear in his left hand and the crimson broadsword in his right one had. Making themselves felt in a manner all but indistinguishable from his own native intuition, the perceptions of the fey weapons had bled into his thoughts.
Frowning and struggling to understand them, he concentrated on the alien feelings. After a few moments he decided that the weapons themselves were unable to interpret what they were sensing. But because he was paying attention, just for an instant he heard Cera calling.
Or had he? Her voice sounded faint and faraway, and more than that, there was a not-quite-real quality to it, like it had only called in his memory or imagination.
Still, he answered. He shouted her name, but she didn t shout back. Whatever he d heard, or thought he d heard, there was nothing left of it. He waved one of his mystified torchbearers up to the archway. The wavering yellow glow of the brand didn t illuminate all that much of the branching passage, but the way was empty as far down as Vandar could see.
He shook his head. If he tarried here long enough, would the fey weapons make sense of the mystery? If so, was that what he should do? If Cera was in danger
A sickly green glow appeared in the gloom ahead, down the passage he d been traversing before the arch attracted his attention. It was the telltale glimmer of some enchantment surrounding shadowy figures negotiating the intersection where Vandar s tunnel crossed another. The creature in the lead was big. It strode with a limp, and was carrying a greatsword.
Vandar caught his breath. He was all but certain he d just seen the patchwork man or blaspheme the hulking thing his outlander allies thought might well be the leader of all the undead durthans and Nars.
Vandar and his lodge brothers had already killed the giant demon upstairs, thereby winning that battle no matter what Aoth Fezim might claim. If they destroyed the patchwork man, too, then surely no one could deny they were the true saviors of Rashemen and deserved to claim the wild griffons for their own.
But Cera
With a scowl, Vandar put the sunlady out of his mind. He didn t know if she was really in trouble or somewhere down the seemingly deserted corridor beyond the archway at all. And even had he known, she was one of Aoth Fezim s allies, and Aoth was a Thayan and a mercenary. He was dishonorable enough to flout the will of the spirits themselves to steal the wild griffons just as he d tried to snatch Vandar s spear. Dishonorable enough to abandon the brothers of the Griffon Lodge to fight the glabrezu by themselves, either out of cowardice or hope that the fiend would kill a rival. And, given that the ploy had failed, he was dishonorable enough to try to murder Vandar from the air, or so the guardian of the fey mound had warned.
Because Vandar was honorable, he would never have raised his hand against Aoth and his friends until they demonstrated beyond any possible doubt that they meant to play him false. But that didn t mean he was going to stand idly and uselessly in front of an empty passage while his destiny fled in another direction. He broke into a run, and his fellow berserkers charged behind him. In a moment, they d left the archway behind.
Cera called Aoth s name again, and the sound echoed away into the darkness.
Jhesrhi felt a pang of irritation and strained to keep it from showing on her face, because Cera wasn t the veteran soldier. If anyone was to blame for Aoth s disappearance, it was Jhesrhi herself. If she d kept him in sight, or reacted more quickly to the sounds of a struggle
She sighed. If was no more help than Cera s shouting.
Stop yelling, she said.
But
If Aoth were going to answer, he would have done it already, she said.
Cera shook her head. This is all my fault, she replied. I told Dai Shan whom we were hunting. Then he fed it right back to us to lure us into this place.
Probably, said Jhesrhi. But lamenting the fact won t help us. We have to figure out what will.
Cera took a deep breath. You re right, she replied. When the two of them disappeared, you and I were trying to pick up the blaspheme s trail. I couldn t do it. Did you?
No.
That s not surprising if he never really came in here in the first place. Let s try again, only this time, search for Aoth.
All right.
With the stag warriors looking on, she and the sunlady moved back to the spots in which they had each chosen to work their magic.
Jhesrhi s jaw tightened as she rested her hand on the wall and reached for the consciousness inside. She loved communing with the elemental spirits of the mortal world. They were pure and simple not maddeningly complicated and perverse like so many humans beings and they were nearly always friendly and glad to help her. In contrast, the powers of the place they were in, like those of the Shadowfell, were foul to the psychic touch, spiteful, and required coercion to do her bidding.
So it was coercion she applied, growling and rumbling words of power in one of the ponderous languages of Root Hold. The magic chipped and cracked the stone around her until finally, when it had had enough, it told her that it didn t know where Aoth or Dai Shan was. It took pleasure in her disappointment.