I use what the Source has provided to reach into their brains. They feel the pinch of my mental fingers on the root of their minds, drop their weapons, and fall to the floor. I navigate the swirl of their pain and fear, and locate the unconscious mental mechanism that commands their hearts to beat.
I turn the mechanism off. As one they gasp, clutch their chests, die.
I know more Shadovar will come unless I prevent them.
I tap the well of power in my head, charge the walls of the chamber with a feedback matrix of mentally constructed corridors and walls, a labyrinth of the mind. Anyone attempting to transport into the chamber will find their physical form unmoved and their mind locked in an unending mental maze of their own making.
Alone and secure, I walk under the Source, formalize our mental connection. It welcomes me. I look up into the crystal and lose myself in its depths. Deep within the red sea of its form, flickers of light flash truths. I am already drifting. The pulsing in the Source increases. Perhaps it is addicted to me, as I am to it.
Rivalen rose into the air to face his trial. Hope did not pollute his spirit. Protective wards and contingency spells did not shield his person. He would rely on the Lady of Loss for his protection and he would prevail as her servant or he would die as her heretic. He took his holy symbol in his left hand, watched as the dragon closed its jaws over Kesson’s form and Kesson, as insubstantial as a shadow, passed through and out the top of the dragon’s head.
Furlinastis crashed into Cale and Riven and both men tumbled earthward, trailing shadows like dark comets. The dragon reared up, beat his wings, pulled up, turned his long neck to look back upon Kesson.
Dark energies burned on both of Kesson’s fists. He pointed his right hand at the dragon.
The earth and sky alternated rapidly in Cale’s vision as he and Riven spun uncontrollably toward the ground. He glimpsed Furlinastis, heard his roar, and used the shadows around him and Riven to transport both of them atop the dragon.
They appeared in time to hear Kesson Rel pronounce an arcane word and point his right hand at the dragon. Furlinastis tried to veer as he breathed a blast of life draining energy onto Kesson Rel.
Kesson stood in the midst of the killing breath, unharmed, and a churning mass of dark energy streaked through with crimson went forth from his hand, struck the dragon’s wing, and in an instant, withered it to a nub.
Furlinastis roared, flapped his withered wing futilely, as he, Cale, and Riven spiraled toward the earth. Cale shouted the words to a healing spell as they fell, channelled the energy into the dragon, but it was not enough to repair the lost wing.
Rivalen recalled his own fight with the green dragon outside the walls of Selgaunt. He’d learned a lesson in that combat, one he intended to teach to Kesson.
A cluster of shadows streaked out of the sky toward him, arms outstretched, mouths open and shrieking hate. He held his holy symbol in hand, channeled Shar’s power, and reduced them all to wails and vapor.
His eyes still on Kesson Rel, he traced a circle in the air with his holy symbol, spoke a long prayer, and reserved only the final, triggering word.
Furlinstasis spun wildly through the air and flapped his one wing frantically, but it only caused him to spin more rapidly. Cale and Riven held onto each other, onto the dragon’s neck ridge, and watched the ground get closer and closer. Furlinastis roared with pain and frustration.
Shadows and wraiths whirled past them, brief flashes of red eyes and black forms. The air was thick with the vile vapor of their destruction. By chance, Furlinastis passed through some of the undead, as did Cale and Riven, and cold leaked into his bones.
“Leave him, Cale!” Riven shouted.
But Furlinstastis’s uncontrolled descent was taking them toward the battlefield where the Lathanderians, many of them aglow with rosy light, fought an army of shadow giants.
“I can’t,” he said. “Look! Steer clear of them, dragon!”
But Furlinastis, lost in rage and pain, showed no sign of having heard Cale’s words and his mountainous form plummeted toward the battle.
With nothing else for it, Cale tried to shadowstep himself, Riven, and the dragon to ground. He deepened the darkness around them, tried to eliminate their momentum while at the same time moving them safely down to the plains.
He felt the lurch of movement but they did not materialize on the plains. They appeared in mid-air, slowed not stopped, and immediately began falling at full speed again.
Cale cursed, tried again, but had the same result. He was stepping them down toward the ground, but doing little to change the dragon’s trajectory or speed.
Rivalen stepped from the darkness around him to the darkness around Kesson Rel. Kesson grunted with surprise, but recovered quickly. He reached for Rivalen with his left hand, still charged with energy, still incorporeal. His hand passed through Rivalen’s forearm, the energy discharged, and agony lit Rivalen. He felt his arm withering from the shoulder down, disintegrating into desicated flesh and hollowed-out bones.
Enduring the pain, he spoke the trigger word to the spell he had prepared and a field of anti-magic surrounded him, surrounded Kesson.
All of Rivalen’s magic items went inert. All of the spells affecting both of them ceased functioning. Kesson turned corporeal. Rivalen grabbed Kesson’s wrist with his one good hand and they fell together, leaking shadows.
Rivalen squeezed Kesson’s wrist with all of his shadow borne strength, with enough force to snap the bones of ordinary men. But Kesson’s bones did not snap, and he matched Rivalen’s strength with his own.
“We will see who is the stronger,” Rivalen hissed into his face as they flipped and tumbled earthward.
Flapping his wings, Kesson tried to right himself, but Rivalen’s weight made it impossible.
Regg deflected a giant’s slash with his shield, slipped on the wet grass, but managed to drive his blade into the huge creature’s thigh. It roared, grunted, fell. Regaining his balance, Regg beat back an awkward thrust of the giant’s sword and drove his blade into the creature’s throat. It gurgled as he withdrew the blade, and it fell face down on the plains.
All around him men and women shouted, cried out in pain, roared. Light from Roen’s priests kept the field awash in a rosy hue, preventing the giants from using the darkness to their advantage.
A roar from above drew his attention. He looked up to see Furinastis tumbling like a falling star toward the battle. The wyrm’s form filled the sky, a cloud of scales and shadows. Uncontrolled and roaring, the enormous creature was plummetting straight for the field where Regg’s company fought the shadow giants. It winked in and out as it fell, tracing an irregular line through the sky.
Regg unleashed a flurry of blows on the giant attacking Trewe, managed in his fury to drive the large creature backward.
“Sound the retreat, Trewe! Now! Now!”
Trewe sounded a blast but it was too late.
Cale grabbed Riven and shadowstepped off Furlinastis’s back the moment before the dragon hit the earth. They materialized off to the side of the battlefield and watched the dragon hit.
Men and giants saw the falling dragon, shouted, scrambled to get clear as the wyrm crashed to earth, causing the ground to shake as much as had Kesson Rel’s earthquake, crushing men and giants, cutting a chasm in the plain and pushing huge, wet chunks of soil, grass, and trees before his huge form. Bones, metal, and scales shattered under the impact.
Kesson and Rivalen, clasping one another, twisted and tumbled earthward. Rivalen, with only one arm and surrounded by a field of anti-magic, could do nothing but hold on. Kesson shouted the lengthy incantation to a spell that could disjoin the anti-magic field, the only spell that could affect it, while with his free hand he tore at Rivalen’s face with nails like claws.
Rivalen endured the pain, felt blood flow warm and sticky over his cheeks and jaw, and tried to maneuver Kesson underneath him. But there was no way to control their fall.
Through grit
ted teeth, he answered Kesson’s disjunction by reciting one of the Thirteen Truths, spraying Kesson with the blood leaking into his mouth.
“Only hate endures.”
They slammed into the ground before Kesson completed his spell.
Agony exploded in Rivalen as bones shattered, as ribs spiked organs, but he smiled through the pain—until he realized that Kesson, despite the fall, despite the damage he must have suffered, had not lost the thread of his spell.
Black veins form on the surface of the Source, ooze forth from its orange flesh. Eventually their ends detach from the Source and hang loose below it. I reach up, take them in my hand. They are warm, pulsing. I scream as they burrow into the flesh of my hands and forearms, but the pain vanishes quickly.
The Source’s energy flows into me unadulterated and I scream with pleasure.
Cale and Riven watched the dragon bury men and giants under the mountain of its form. Furlinastis roared with pain. Cale presumed that the force of his impact had caused many of the weapons borne by the men and giants crushed beneath him to penetrate his scales. Shadows swirled around the dragon. Dirt and soil formed a hillock in front of him by the time his body came to stop.
Cale saw Regg shouting orders, ordering his men and women to realign. Shadows churned around the surviving giants as they too tried to regroup. The shadowwalkers appeared amongst the Lathanderians, clots of darkness amidst their light.
Furlinastis lurched to his feet. Corpses and weapons impressed into his body dangled from the scales of his chest and abdomen. Blood leaked from a score of wounds, poured around a giant’s sword that had been buried to its hilt in his chest. He extended his neck and roared his rage into the sky. He turned to face the giants. The Lathanderians rallied to either side of him.
“Where is Kesson Rel?” Riven said.
Before Cale could answer, a surge of unadulterated pleasure ran through him. He gasped, stopped, sought its source, found it in his mental connection with Magadon.
Mags? What happened? Where are you?
It is wonderful, Erevis, Magadon said, and his mental voice sounded as if it were floating. Power leaked into Cale’s brain, images, memories, knowledge.
Cale shook his head to clear it, cursed.
“What is it?” Riven asked.
“Mags is at the Source. He’s in Sakkors.”
“What? How?”
Cale shook his head, blinking as his eyes started to water, as the tone of Magadon’s mental impressions grew harsher. He grabbed his head in his hands, tried to hold it together.
Mags, get away from the Source. Don’t do it. Don’t.
When Magadon spoke again, his mental voice sounded deeper, harsh as a rasp. Don’t? You fear the power I hold. You are a liar and a betrayer.
Cale endured the mental storm in his brain and said to Riven, “We have to get to him. He’ll be lost.”
“He’s been lost a long time already,” Riven said.
Cale glared at the assasin. “He’s half a man. I’m not leaving him. If he were whole. …”
He winced as more and more mental energy poured into his mind. Magadon was awash in power and enough of it was leaking through their mental connection that it made the veins in Cale’s temple throb.
“He cannot be whole unless we kill Kesson,” Riven said. “That first, then we help Mags. Otherwise you, me, and everyone else here dies. Then Sembia. Then the rest. You know it, Cale. You saw Ephyras.”
Cale knew Riven was right, but he feared that Magadon, in his mentally wounded state, would be irretreivable if they didn’t get to him soon. Meanwhile, the emptiness within him beckoned, expanded, opened wider, ate at him. Riven must have been feeling the same thing. They had to kill Kesson Rel or die.
“There,” Riven said, and pointed across the plain, where they saw Rivalen and Kesson rise on shaky legs and face off.
Hang on, Mags.
The Source awakens fully, then awakens me fully. The hole in me is filled, the emptiness bridged. My mind is magnified. My power is amplified. Knowledge fills me. I swim in the warmth of the Source’s mind, my mind one with it, my will one with it.
But I am not content.
Rage burns like wildfire through my consciousness. It is born in the mind of the fiend and dwarfs everything else in my mindscape. Its fire consumes the weak barricades of conscience that try to stem its spread. What little of the man that remains in me flees before it. Bits of regret, guilt, love, leak out of the conflagration of my rage and flee my mind.
I am hate.
And I am power.
My mind reaches out into the world, senses the minds of other creatures, some of whom are responsible for what happened to me. My hate is indiscriminate.
With a slight effort of will, I cause Sakkors to move toward the Shadowstorm.
Kesson pronounced the last word of the disjunction and it shredded Rivalen’s sphere of anti-magic. Rivalen rolled over, felt in the grass for his holy symbol, found it, and closed his hand over the cold metal. He climbed to his feet, hissing with pain.
Agony blurred his vision. His withered arm hung limp from his shoulder. The shadows enshrouding him had cushioned his fall, but the impact had still ruined his body. Shattered ribs stabbed into his lungs, filling them with blood, and his wet breathing bubbled. One ankle was shattered, causing him to hobble. A ringing sounded in his ears. Shadows spun around him as his regenerative flesh tried to undo the worst of the damage.
Across from him, Kesson, too, climbed to his feet, his dark eyes fixed on Rivalen. One of the bones of his forearm jutted from his dark skin. One of his white horns had broken at the halfway point. Blood leaked from his nose and mouth. His breathing was rapid, labored, his eyes glazed. No doubt he, too, had shattered ribs and a cracked skull.
Rivalen heard the sizzle of a triggered contingency and in an instant, all of Kesson’s wounds healed. Rivalen cursed as Kesson spread his wings, glared at Rivalen, and mouthed words of power. Energy gathered in both his hands.
Rivalen stumbled backward, clutching the holy symbol of Shar, and incanted a counterspell. His words rose in opposition to Kesson’s as he pitted his power against the burgeoning energies gathering in Kesson’s hands.
The magical ring on his finger warmed, and the connection opened. Rivalen felt anger pouring through the mental link. It filled Rivalen’s mind, caused pressure behind his eyes, and broke his concentration on the counterspell.
I know what you did to our mother, Brennus said. You murdered her in a meadow of flowers.
The shadows spun around Rivalen. His thoughts spun similarly. He backed away from Kesson, backed away from Brennus’s accusation, all while triggering a defensive ring, amulet, and necklace.
Brennus—
Say nothing! Brennus said. I will not hear your denials, your rationalizations! You murdered my mother!
The anger pouring through the connection turned to grief. Rivalen knew that Brennus was sobbing. He had no time for it.
Kesson advanced on him, wings drawn in, power in his hand.
Rivalen tried to gather his thoughts, cast his own spell, but his brother’s words had scrambled his concentration better than anything Kesson could have said or done. He found it difficult to take hold of his thoughts. They raced around from possibility to possibility. He could pin none of them down.
I wish you to die, Brennus said.
You may get that wish, Rivalen said, and flew into the air.
Brennus seemed not to hear him. But you are my brother and it will not be by my hand. The spell sequence I provided to you before will kill you if you use it.
Rivalen had nothing around him but air yet he felt walls closing in on him, his plans unravelling before his eyes, the thread of his life being pulled from the weave of history.
I will not cause your death but neither will I cause your deification. I will simply hate you forever.
The words pained Rivalen faintly. He had felt closer to Brennus than other members of his family.
I hav
e not told the Most High, Brennus answered. Nor will I. This is between us, Rivalen. And it will be between us forever.
Rivalen understood Brennus’s meaning. He had lost his brother. Soon he would lose his life. He was about to speak when a surge of surprise carried through the connection
What is it? he asked
Sakkors is moving, Brennus answered, and cut off the connection.
Rivalen glanced back and saw Kesson touch himself with his right hand as he completed a spell—an illusion, perhaps—that caused his form to shimmer for an instant, after which he extended his left hand at Rivalen and fired a line of orange energy that Rivalen could not avoid.
Rivalen screamed as his body exploded and he fell back to earth.
Broken bones and damaged organs caused Furlinastis to roar with pain. Blood poured out of him, fountaining around the giant’s sword that spiked his chest. He was dying, vaguely aware of the Lathanderians forming up somewhere near him.
Unable to take revenge on Kesson Rel, he decided to take it on Kesson Rel’s creatures.
Lurching forward into a mass of giants, he crushed two under his body, impaled another on his right claw, pulled the giant to his mouth, and bit him half. The blood and flesh fired his rage and he roared anew.
The giants shouted and bounded forward. Blades rained down on Furlinastis’s scales. Giants shadowstepped atop his back, tried to drive their blades down into his spine. He lurched, throwing them off of him, crushed another under his body, and tore the arm off another with his fangs.
But some of the giants’ blows penetrated his scales. Furlinastis leaked shadows and blood. He was slowing, weakening.
Cale and Riven stepped through the darkness and materialized two strides behind Kesson Rel, in time to watch Rivalen’s body burst in a shower of blood as veins and arteries exploded outward from his flesh. The Shadovar prince fell to the ground in a twitching heap of glistening gore. Shadows still streamed from his ruined body.