Before either Sabira or Aggar could respond, Nightshard—Eddarga—took a step back and frowned in concentration. A moment later, she began … to grow.
Sabira watched in stunned fascination as the duergar doubled in size before her eyes. And not only the duergar herself, but everything she wore and everything she carried. The dragonshard on her finger was now the size of an egg and the pulsing mindblade was a virtual greatsword.
“Damnable duergar sargh,” Aggar spat, hefting his greataxe and advancing. “I’ll take the right.”
Sabira ducked around a broken stalagmite and approached Eddarga from the left as Aggar began to harry the enlarged duergar with his axe on the right. But instead of having to divide her attention between her two attackers, the soulknife assassin simply split her mindblade into two identical swords, holding one in her hand and directing the other with the power of her mind alone.
Aggar battled the disembodied blade while Sabira fought with Eddarga. Even with her additional size, the duergar woman was still only as tall as an average gnoll, and just about as attractive. Though she may have escaped the cave-in, the explosion had left its mark on her, in the form of deep scars over virtually every inch of exposed dull, gray skin. It must have taken the assassin months, if not years, to fully recover.
Something Leoned never got a chance to do.
Had Sabira been wrong not to go back for him, despite the threat to Aggar’s safety and her own? If Eddarga survived, who was to say Ned might not have as well, if he’d been found and unearthed in time?
But no. Leoned had been dead even before the cave-in, or as good as. He had to have been. Sabira had seen him fall into that pool of magma just as the cave started to collapse. He’d have burned to death in moments, and would have felt pain only for the first few instants. Whereas Eddarga must have lain in agony for days, digging herself out with nails worn down to the bloody quick.
It hardly seemed punishment enough for all the grief the gray dwarf had caused, but Sabira was about to rectify that. The duergar would not escape alive again. Sabira would make damned sure of that this time, even if it meant holding the assassin down while rising molten rock engulfed them both.
Sabira let her anger add force to her blows, bringing her urgrosh down in fierce swings that would have snapped a more corporeal blade. But Eddarga, bigger and stronger now, was able to parry every blow with her semisolid mindblade, and laugh while she did so.
“We never did get the chance to spar the last time, did we, Marshal?” the assassin asked, smirking. “I regretted it at the time, but I see now that was an error on my part. You’re not even as good as your partner was, and he didn’t last long against my blade. Not long at all.”
Sabira knew the duergar was just trying to rile her, to get her to lose focus and make a mistake. Unfortunately, knowing the danger and being able to avoid it were two vastly different things.
“Ned was twice the fighter you’ll ever be,” she retorted, knowing she shouldn’t, but unable to stop herself. “He didn’t have to use filthy duergar mind tricks to overcome his opponents. His skill alone was enough.”
“Yes, and I’m living proof of that, aren’t I?”
Sabira’s vision went scarlet. With an inarticulate cry, she launched herself at the duergar, heedless of her exposed midsection as she whirled her shard axe around for an overhead blow.
The strength of her fury was enough to beat back Eddarga’s blade, allowing Sabira to bring the spear-end of her urgrosh up on the backswing. She scored a long gash along the assassin’s forearm, even as she took Eddarga’s riposte in her own shoulder.
Eddarga yanked her blade free, and Sabira stumbled backward, her free hand going up to her shoulder and coming away bloody.
“You’re wasting my time, Marshal,” Eddarga said, and then Sabira was facing only the duergar’s dancing mindblade as the gray dwarf turned to engage Aggar.
“Perhaps you’ll prove more entertaining, Tordannon. Though I must say watching you try to convince the masses of your innocence—and failing miserably at it—has already provided me with endless hours of amusement. I only wish I could have been in the Council chamber to witness your farce of a trial.”
As Sabira blocked a disembodied jab at her ribs with the haft of her urgrosh, she heard Aggar’s reply.
“It was almost as amusing as watching your temper tantrum in that same Council chamber. Is that what this is, duergar? My father took away your toy, so now you want to take away mine?”
Sabira cringed as she swatted another thrust away with the head of her shard axe. Aggar was using the Noldrun woman’s ploy against her, to even better effect than the assassin had used it herself.
“It wasn’t a toy, you arrogant whoreson! It was my inheritance!”
Sabira saw Eddarga’s stance shift forward suddenly and knew she was stabbing her blade at Aggar’s gut, leaving her flank unprotected in the process. But the Marshal couldn’t get past the assassin’s second mindblade to take advantage of the opening.
“As Frostmantle is mine,” Aggar returned, his own axe flashing orange as he sidestepped Eddarga’s lunge and swung low, aiming for her legs.
An icy lump formed in Sabira’s stomach at the sight, and she risked a glance toward the fissure, only to have her fears confirmed. As they had battled Eddarga, she’d thought she’d noticed it getting warmer. And now she saw why. The magma had continued to rise, far more quickly than she had expected. It was now only a few feet from the lip of the chasm, and would soon be spilling over onto the very ground upon which they now stood.
As if somehow sensing her distraction, the mindblade darted forward, slicing a fine line along her jaw before she could wrench her head away. Then, as Sabira brought her urgrosh up to parry another blow, the blade simply winked out of existence.
“You’re starting to bore me,” Eddarga commented idly, and suddenly she was shrinking back down to her regular size and once again wielded only a single blade. She stepped back, her mindblade weaving a defensive black wall in front of her as the dragonshard on her ring began to glow. “Let’s try something new.”
Aggar jerked to attention abruptly, like a marionette on too-short strings.
“Yes, Aggar? You had something to say?” Eddarga taunted.
Aggar’s voice, when it came, was halting and unnatural.
“I love my mistress and would do anything to please her.”
Eddarga’s hideous face split into a cruel smile.
“So. Please me,” she said and then laughed as Aggar rushed at Sabira with a ferocious roar, axe swinging and death gleaming in his eyes.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sabira settled into an easy stance, awaiting Aggar’s attack. The last time she and the assassin had crossed paths, in a cavern very similar to this one, Sabira had followed her sworn duty to protect her charge at all costs—and the cost had been very high, indeed. Eddarga undoubtedly expected her to do the same now. But Sabira wasn’t going to hold back. Not this time. This was bigger than Aggar, and keeping him safe was no longer her chief priority. It couldn’t be, not with the entire population of Frostmantle going about their daily business somewhere far above her, unaware of the danger that was even now topping the lip of the fissure and oozing purposefully toward her.
If she had to kill Aggar to stop the assassin, she was prepared to do it.
And knowing how dogged the Tordannon heir was, she just might have to.
Aggar ran at her, but instead of attacking head-on, when he was just a few feet away, he catapulted into the air. The leap took him far higher than should have been possible under his own power. As he soared over her head, his greataxe whooshing down at her from above, Sabira realized that he must have used yet another of his rings.