“You fight impersonally,” Uwan said. “That’s your mistake. You push the enemy away, and that’s fine, it’ll keep you alive. But you leave no room for allies.”
“Because the ally might plant his own weapon in my back,” Ashok said. He couldn’t get the image of Lakesh’s dead eyes out of his head. He wished Uwan would stop talking, but the leader persisted.
“Not in Ikemmu,” Uwan said. “Here your allies would die for you.” He came in tight at Ashok’s right side. Ashok tried to parry with the dagger, but the greatsword was too much for the weapon. It broke through Ashok’s guard and took a slice at his breastplate. A handful of bone splintered, and Ashok felt the blade open his skin.
They broke apart, and Ashok reached up to feel the wound. His hands came away soaked in blood. “You have me,” he said.
“You still stand,” Uwan pointed out.
“Not on a battlefield, I wouldn’t,” Ashok said. “The challenge goes to you.”
He gathered up his chain and left the field. The other partners were sparring heatedly, probably hoping to impress their leader, Ashok thought.
He wadded up his sleeve and pressed it to the chest wound. It wasn’t deep enough to need healing, but it bled liberally. His shirt stuck to his chest, and the copper scent mixed with the smoke smell drifting over from the forges made his head swim.
Lakesh’s blood had been all over his chamber. He’d smelled it constantly, even when he slept …
“On your knees at last!” called a voice.
Ashok glanced over to see Cree and Skagi nearing the end of their duel. Skagi had disarmed his brother. Cree tried to evade Skagi’s reach, but he stumbled. Skagi raised his falchion.
Blood scent in his nose, and the smell of smoke so close. Suddenly, Ashok was back in the cave, his brother stalking toward him with a sword in his hand. He stared across the training yard and saw him, Lakesh, a falchion in his hands, going for Cree’s throat.
“No!” The scream ripped out of Ashok. He ran, his feet pounding the ground as he tore across the yard. “Don’t!”
His brother turned to look at him, confusion in his eyes. Ashok slapped the blade out of his hands and tackled him. Lakesh cursed and fought back, his hands pushing at Ashok’s chest and shoulders. Ashok straddled and held him down with a hand pressed against his jaw, his fingers digging into Lakesh’s cheeks.
“You won’t kill him,” Ashok growled.
Lakesh slapped him across the face, getting dirt in his eyes. “Get off me!” he yelled. “Are you godsdamn crazy?”
Ashok’s vision swam. He wiped the dirt away with his other hand and saw Skagi lying beneath him. Ashok’s fingernails had gouged red lines into his gray face.
Stunned, Ashok’s arms went slack. Skagi shoved him off, and he landed on his back on the ground. Ashok looked at the bloody dirt caked under his fingernails, and his breath started to come fast. He couldn’t control it. The training yard started to spin.
Above him, he heard voices, faintly, as if they echoed from the bridges far up the canyon wall.
“What happened? Who’s hurt?” they said.
He thought he heard Jamet’s voice, but he couldn’t be sure. He heard the wind echoing through the cave, and he could still smell the fire, though his father had put it out long before …
“He came out of nowhere; he was like an animal,” said Skagi, as furious as Ashok had ever heard him. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
Ashok couldn’t blame the warrior. Blindsiding him like that-he was worse than Chanoch.
Then he heard Uwan’s voice.
“All right, everyone get back,” he said. “Jamet, take your recruits inside the tower. Cree, take your brother and see to his face.” A pause. “Vedoran, help me with him.”
Blurred shapes leaned over Ashok with their hands outstretched.
Come with us, brother, the phantoms said. We’re going to throw the dice.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Ashok awoke, he was in the cave. The scar from his campfire blackened the floor, along with Lakesh’s blood. He reached up to feel the wound in his chest, the wound Uwan had given him, but it wasn’t there. His flesh was unmarked.
“A dream?” he said aloud, his voice groggy with sleep. Slowly, Ashok sat up and rubbed his eyes. The cave was still there. He smelled the lingering smoke and blood. His weapons were on his belt, and he could hear the sounds of the enclave stirring for the new day.
Everything was as it should be.
Gods, please no, Ashok thought. Ikemmu-his deepest desires given form-all of it couldn’t have been just a dream.
He heard footsteps coming down the tunnel. Ashok’s father came into the chamber, his red hair wild and dust-covered.
“You’ve been out on the plain,” Ashok said.
His father grunted. “Yes, while you were safe abed,” he replied.
“Hardly safe,” Ashok said.
“Lakesh. Yes,” his father said, waving a hand and dismissing Ashok’s brother. “We have more important things to worry about now. I’ve been scouting. There’s a party approaching the caves a few miles out. We don’t know how many there are or what they are, but it’s clear they’re headed this way. They know we’re here.”
Ashok stood and faced his father. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“You’ve heard the pack calling,” his father said, “when we sleep, and the caves are quiet?”
“The shadow hounds?” Ashok said. “Yes. They’ve moved their hunting grounds closer to the cave. We’ll have to deal with them some day.”
His father nodded. “That day is today,” he said. “I don’t want us hemmed in with a shadow hound pack to the north while enemies approach from the south. Take two of your brothers with you and get rid of the hounds. I’ll handle the threat from the south.”
As his father turned to leave, Ashok said, “I’d rather go alone.”
That brought a rumbling laugh from deep in his father’s chest. “If you want to kill yourself, go ahead,” he said. “I have other sons.”
When he was gone, Ashok looked at the fire and blood stains on the floor and thought of the city of towers, already fading from his waking memory. If he concentrated, he could taste the Cormyrian wine, dry and smoky on his tongue, and smell the forge fires. He felt something clutch his chest, and he closed his eyes against the ache.
When he opened them, he was standing on the Shadowfell plain. A hound struck him in the chest, its teeth gnashing, and found the tender flesh of his throat.
“No!”
Ashok sat up in his bed, screaming and clawing at his throat. A dark shape and a weight held him at the shoulders. He punched out with loosely clenched fists, rolled off the bed, and pinned the hound to the floor.
“Cease, Ashok, cease! It’s Vedoran.”
Ashok’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, and suddenly he could see everything. He was lying on the floor next to his bed with his hand across Vedoran’s throat. Vedoran held up his hands, showing that he had no weapon. He regarded Ashok calmly.
“Do you know me?” he asked.
Slowly, Ashok nodded. He sat up and took his hand away from Vedoran’s throat. The shadar-kai sat up gracefully, his arms still raised, making no sudden movements.
“Is this a dream?” Ashok asked. He looked around, but the tower room was empty. Skagi, Cree, and Chanoch were not there.
“Uwan thought it would be best if there were as few people here as possible, in case you had another nightmare,” Vedoran said. “I volunteered to stay with you-”
“Is this a dream?” Ashok demanded again, cutting him off.
“If I say no, it proves nothing,” Vedoran said reasonably. “That’s the power of the nightmare. You don’t know what’s real and what isn’t.”
Ashok laughed faintly and put his head in his hands. They were clammy and trembling. “So I’m damned?” he said.