Eddarga saw the opening and took it, jumping forward to skewer Sabira through the shoulder, her mindblade creating a second deep wound mere inches from the first.
Sabira dropped her own weapon and lunged forward, gritting her teeth against the pain as Eddarga’s blade slid through her and erupted out her back. She grabbed the duergar’s wrists with both hands, planted her feet, bent her knees, and heaved.
The assassin had been so focused on the threat of the magma, she hadn’t noticed when Sabira led her into a field of thin, needle-sharp stalagmites. So when Sabira half-lifted, half-threw her, not toward the molten rock but away from it, for an instant, she didn’t resist.
That instant was all Sabira needed to get the duergar airborne. As she left the ground, Eddarga lost her grip on her mindblade and it winked out of existence, leaving a gaping hole in Sabira’s shoulder. The assassin’s flight was shortlived and ended badly as she came down in the middle of the stalagmites, breaking several of them beneath her as she fell. But not enough of them.
One protruded from her shoulder, a mirror image of Sabira’s own wound. Another pierced her thigh, and a third, the largest, sprouted from her stomach like some obscene subterranean plant.
Satisfied that Eddarga would not be going anywhere, Sabira retrieved her shard axe, then strode over to where the Noldrun woman lay pinned to the cavern floor, a ghastly insect on display for the curious. Blood trickled from the gray dwarf’s mouth as she glared balefully up at Sabira.
Sabira felt a tickling at the back of her mind and was momentarily overcome with a strange urge to dig at her eyes. But Eddarga was too weak to sustain the mental attack and Sabira shook it off without difficulty.
“I’ll take that,” she said, reaching over to pull the dragonshard ring off Eddarga’s finger. “Just in case you decide you want to try that little trick again.”
“This isn’t over,” Eddarga wheezed.
“It is for you,” Sabira replied, raising her urgrosh above her head, ignoring the fire that lanced through her arm as she did. “I’m going to make sure you stay dead this time.”
And then Sabira brought the axe-blade down on Eddarga’s neck, a clean blow. The bald and scarred head bounced across the floor twice before landing with a small plop in the advancing magma. Sabira watched as the head caught fire and sank into the molten rock, flesh melting around black eyes that were still open and staring, sightless, into oblivion.
Sabira hurried over to where Aggar had managed to prop himself up against the base of a thick pillar, a rock feature formed when a stalactite reaching down from the roof of the cavern and a stalagmite reaching up from its floor joined in the middle. Most of their side of the cavern was filled with magma by now and all the exits had been cut off. She helped Aggar to his feet and, supporting him with her good shoulder while he limped along, they made their way to the last bit of high ground.
Once there, Sabira turned to survey the lake of molten rock that was slowly encroaching on their little island.
“Well, I guess this is it, Agg. It’s over. There’s nowhere left to go.”
Aggar, leaning heavily against her, laughed.
“Yes, there is.”
“Dolurrh?” Sabira scoffed. “That thought almost makes me wish I believed in the Silver Flame.”
“Not there,” Aggar said, twisting the last of his golden rings, one that looked newer than the rest. “Maintenance.”
Sabira’s stomach dropped into her feet like it was made of cold iron and a wave of nausea threatened to drown her. And then they were standing in the middle of a room filled with all manner of pipes, machinery, and dials.
Aggar reached over to pull a white lever marked “Risia.”
At her questioning look, he explained that he’d had the engineers construct dozens of portals to Risia, the Plane of Ice, in the tunnels and caverns below Maintenance. When the magma reached those planar doorways, it would be channeled away and never reach the city.
“Now it’s over,” he said.
Yes, thought Sabira, I think it finally is.
And then she sank to the floor, her back against the wall. Aggar levered himself down beside her and the two, too exhausted to go any farther, settled in to wait for one of the engineers to find them.
EPILOGUE
It is clear that the sole perpetrator of these murders was Eddarga Noldrun, also known as the assassin ‘Nightshard.’ Therefore, this Council finds Aggar Tordannon innocent of all charges. Aggar, you are free to go, with our apologies to you and the entire Tordannon clan.”
When Torlan Mroranon had finished speaking, Aggar, standing fully clothed in front of the semicircle of thrones, nodded his head graciously. The small matter of his having disappeared while in custody had been deliberately overlooked once Sabira had testified about her experiences beneath Frostmantle and had shown Nightshard’s ring as proof. If the Council had needed additional evidence of the truth of her statements, the teams of engineers working to clear out the cooled and hardened magma beneath the city and diverting what remained of the active magma flow back to the Fist of Onatar had provided more than enough.
Sabira, watching from her seat beside Elix, expected Aggar to accept the Council’s apologies and put an end to the trial that had already taken up far too much of both her time and his. But instead of responding, she saw him tug at his beard, and noticed Kiruk doing the same.
What was he up to now?
“On behalf of the Tordannon clan,” Aggar said after a quick, silent exchange with his father, “I accept the Council’s apology. But I fear my clan’s business before this august body is not yet concluded.”
Torlan looked surprised, and Kiruk stood.
“If I may?”
Nonplussed, the Mroranon ceded the floor to his fellow Councilor.
As Aggar stepped back, his father spoke.
“Marshal, please come forward.”
Frowning, Sabira looked at Elix, who motioned for her to stand with a barely suppressed smile. Clearly he had no questions about which Marshal Kiruk meant.
She walked forward, giving Aggar a suspicious look as she passed him, but he just grinned in reply.
“Sabira d’Deneith,” Kiruk said when she’d taken Aggar’s place before the Council, “for your past service to Clan Tordannon, we have previously rewarded you with our clan’s most prized weapon, the shard axe. However, we find that in light of your recent actions, this reward is no longer appropriate.”
Sabira fought the sudden urge to grab the urgrosh from its harness on her back and hold it protectively before her. Were they going to take it away from her? Why? Because Orin had died on her watch? Or because she’d attacked and nearly maimed Aggar, who still bore a slight limp as a result?
But, no. Kiruk was fighting to suppress a grin now, as well.
What in Dol Dorn’s name was going on here?
“No mere weapon, no matter how priceless, can adequately repay your loyalty and sacrifice for this clan,” Kiruk continued. “You have acted in all respects as only a member of this clan would. Accordingly, we have chosen to bestow upon you the highest honor any non-dwarf can attain—to welcome you into our clan as a hearthdaughter, through the Ceremony of Blood, Steel, and Stone. Will you accept this honor and this responsibility?”