“We can’t forsake the gods entirely, Vedoran,” Uwan said. “The shadar-kai need guidance.”
“Tempus’s guidance, and everyone else be damned,” Vedoran said. “That was the law you made, and that is the law that will break you as it broke Natan.”
He surged forward, and steel rang off steel. Uwan absorbed Vedoran’s slash off the edge of his blade, and the bitter shriek hurt Ashok’s ears. Uwan countered with a low thrust aimed to hamstring Vedoran. Ashok knew the blow would never land, and he marveled anew at Vedoran’s speed as he leaped back, pushed himself off the wall, and came into the fray again.
Ashok dragged himself to his cell door and used the bars to lever himself up. He had to put weight on his feet and get the blood moving through his dead limbs. Pain shot up his arms as he strained to climb the bars. He finally got his feet under him and let his weight drop. The pain was excruciating. He gripped the bars and shook.
The pain-he hadn’t inflicted so much on himself in over a month, but his body remembered what it was, and his mind cleared of every thought but staying on his feet. He would endure the pain, use it, and then go after Vedoran.
Outside the cell, Uwan’s fight continued. The leader had worked Vedoran around into a corner. With his back to the wall, Vedoran teleported in a blur of shadows that flew around Uwan and coalesced behind him into a wraithlike image of Vedoran.
Uwan turned and thrust automatically. The weapon was an extension of his instincts, and when it passed through Vedoran’s shadowy form, Uwan lost his balance. Fortunately, in his incorporeal form, Vedoran couldn’t take physical advantage of the misstep. He laughed at Uwan instead.
“You wanted to end this quickly,” Vedoran said. “I can see it in your movements. But this isn’t that kind of fight. You’ve forgotten I didn’t start out training with your military. I was trained by the sellswords of Pyton. We don’t fight with fever in our minds.”
“True,” Uwan said. He eased back to catch his breath. “But I’ve seen the fighters of Pyton and Hevalor. They fight with grace, but it’s a soulless dance. That’s what holds you back from being a truly great warrior, Vedoran. You don’t fight for anything but your own survival.”
“Survival isn’t enough,” Ashok said. Speaking was a chore, but he could feel his quivering muscles beginning to balance him again. He didn’t dare let go of the bars yet, but he was gaining strength.
Ashok caught Uwan looking at him, assessing his condition. He gave the leader a quick shake of his head, a warning to keep his head in the fight.
Vedoran’s shadows fled, his body solidified, and Uwan waded back into the fight as if it had never ceased. They drove each other round and round, into corners, trapping blades, and just when it seemed one would take the other, someone would teleport to escape death.
Ashok couldn’t count how many times they repeated the duel cycle, nor did he know how long they could maintain their pace. Both showed signs of fatigue. Uwan’s hair stuck to his face in soaking ropes, and Vedoran’s breath came fast and loud in the quiet chamber.
“Would it make any difference, Vedoran, if I told you I was wrong?” Uwan said when he’d taken on his own wraith shape for a brief respite. “I wronged you and the other warriors who do not stand for Tempus. If you would let me, I would make amends.”
Necrotic energy sizzled in the air around him. So much shadar-kai magic in one place seemed to draw the energy of the Shadowfell to them.
Ashok thought of the living shadows pulling at his body and shuddered. He flexed his muscles and released the bars, testing himself. The room tilted and spun. He grabbed the bars before he fell, ramming his palm against the metal in frustration.
Meanwhile, Vedoran regarded Uwan in amusement. “You don’t have Natan to whisper in your ear anymore. If I’d have known his death would bring about such clarity, I’d have killed him long ago.”
Uwan shook his head, refusing to take the bait. “It was never Natan. He wouldn’t punish anyone for not sharing his beliefs. I made the choice, because I thought it was best for Ikemmu to be united, and what better banner of strength could we have to stand under? I thought the rest of the city would see it my way eventually.”
“Netheril thought much the same,” Vedoran said.
“Yes,” Uwan said. “But you always make your choices with the best intentions. You tell yourself you won’t let it end that way, not this time. Isn’t that what you told yourself, Vedoran, when you swore your oath to Beshaba?”
“But your crime was worse,” Ashok said. When Vedoran glared at him, he said, “You had no faith to give them, only the show of it. It isn’t too late. You can retain your honor.”
As he spoke, Uwan became corporeal. Vedoran didn’t see it, and Uwan raised his sword. He came in sharply at the left before Vedoran could get up a defense. The leader put his blade at Vedoran’s throat, but he held the strike.
“Yield,” Uwan said. “Do as Ashok says: keep your honor, redeem yourself.”
“In Tempus’s eyes?” Vedoran spat. “Work your blade, Uwan. Your god will never save me.”
“Not Tempus,” Ashok said. He met Uwan’s eyes over the raised steel. “Earn forgiveness from Natan, from yourself.”
“From Uwan,” Vedoran said.
Uwan shook his head. “There’s no need-”
The words ended in a choked gurgle. Uwan stumbled back and dropped his sword. It clattered on the stone amid Ashok’s cries of fury.
Vedoran released the hilt of the dagger he’d been holding, the blade now buried in Uwan’s chest. The leader grasped the hilt and pulled the blade free before he collapsed on the ground.
“Now you can forgive me,” Vedoran said as he kicked Uwan’s greatsword across the room and turned to face Ashok. “You’re next,” he said.
“You bastard,” Ashok said. “You worthless, twisted creature.” He released the bars. His muscles trembled, but now it was pure rage, a longing for the release that came with killing. Vedoran had done more to invigorate him, to call back the nightmare’s master, than he would ever know.
Ashok stepped to the door of the cell. He had no weapon, no armor, just the visceral rage to guide him. Vedoran raised his sword to keep him at a distance, but he looked pleased.
“Almost,” he said. “What you need is … ah.” He went to Uwan and retrieved his bloody dagger from the leader’s slack fingers. He tossed it to Ashok, who caught it without thinking, letting the blood smear his palm. “Now we’re ready.”
“You shouldn’t be so smug,” Ashok said. He fell into a crouch. “I’ve killed brothers with blades smaller than this.”
“They were weak, just like you,” Vedoran said.
He came at Ashok hard and fast with an overhand strike that couldn’t be blocked. Ashok dodged, but his reflexes hadn’t nearly recovered enough to keep pace with his emotions. He over-compensated and fell on his stomach. Vedoran’s sword hissed through the air. Ashok gritted his teeth and teleported. Vedoran’s blade rang off the stone floor with another deafening shriek.
Ashok reappeared inside his cell. He stayed in the far corner in his wraith form-the same place where he’d seen his father and brothers and their emaciated shadows, though he tried not to dwell on these thoughts. He thought instead of how to turn the fight to his advantage. That was the first step.
He stayed inside the cell, forcing Vedoran to come to him. The close quarters favored his dagger heavily, and Vedoran couldn’t make him dance quite so much with so little room to maneuver.
“Where is the warrior who stood on the Span with me?” Ashok asked. He could feel corporeality seeping back into his limbs, but the question burned at him through the bloodlust. “Where is that shadar-kai who guided me through the nightmares?”
“We’re still on that bridge,” Vedoran said. “We’re still falling. But it’s almost over now.” He slashed at Ashok’s wraith body. The blade passed through his chest but caught his arm as it became flesh and laid it open.