Forge of the Mindslayers: Blade of the Flame Book 2 (43 page)

Diran grinned.

“Anyway, she told me her ‘friends’ have taken possession of Mount Luster—and they’ve taken custody of Galharath. No doubt they’re going over the psi-forge facility inch by inch to glean all the information they can. I get the impression that Yvka’s risen in status in the Shadow Network thanks to her association with us. First she was able to deliver Grimwall to them and now Mount Luster.”

“I don’t like the idea of the Shadow Network possessing the capability to create psi-forged,” Diran said. “Imagine the destruction an army of constructs like Solus could cause.”

“Warforged aren’t mindless machines, you know,” Ghaji pointed out. “Creating them is one thing. Controlling them is another. Besides, according to Solus, the psi-forge’s energy matrix—whatever that is—was damaged when he attacked Galharath. There’s no guarantee that the Shadow Network’s artificers can repair it.”

“True, but if the Shadow Network can restore Galharath’s mind, they might be able to get the kalashtar to cooperate with them.”

Solus’s attack had done more than damage the internal workings of the psi-forge. It had reduced Galharath to a drooling idiot. Diran had attempted to heal him several times but without success. Whatever injury had been done to the kalashtar’s mind was beyond Diran’s power to repair. Galharath had been taken to Perhata and locked up in the baron’s prison, where he’d
remained for the last few days … until the Shadow Network had taken him. Diran wondered how the Network had managed to get Baron Mahir’s cooperation, and he wondered what Asenka thought about having to give up the prisoner. He suspected she was less than thrilled.

“If you couldn’t heal him, I doubt very much the Shadow Network can,” Ghaji said.

“How’s Solus doing?” Diran asked.

He’d spent so little time in Perhata these last few days—mostly just to sleep and restore his supplies—and he hadn’t seen much of the psi-forged.

“His vision is still blurry, despite Tresslar’s attempts to fix it, but Solus doesn’t seem to mind. He’s happy enough with Hinto to guide him. You ask me, they make an odd pair.”

Diran smiled. “People have said the same about the two of us, you know.”

Ghaji snorted but otherwise didn’t reply.

Diran was pleased that Hinto had formed a bond with the psi-forged. They complemented each other well: Hinto helped Solus maintain mental stability, while the psi-forged helped the halfling emotionally. Diran had a feeling theirs was a partnership that would last, but only time would tell.

“How fares Tresslar?” Diran asked.

Ghaji shrugged. “He’s still mad as a nest of hornets over the loss of his dragonwand, though he tries to downplay it. You know he’d rather die than admit how much he’s come to rely on the thing. He says he’s working on a way to locate the dragonwand, but it might be mere bluster. Still, he
has
been spending a lot of time in the artificer’s workshop Baron Mahir has granted him use of, so who knows?”

“How are
you
feeling, my friend?” Diran asked. “By defeating Chagai, you’ve had the opportunity to lay an unpleasant part of your past to rest.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but the truth is that I don’t feel much of anything. Killing Chagai didn’t bring back any of the people we killed during the time we served together, and I’d put our association behind me the day I left him lying wounded on a field in the Eldeen Reaches. The world’s a better place with him gone, though, that’s for certain.”

“As one of the Purified, I must remind you that all life is sacred,” Diran said, then he smiled. “However, in this case, I can’t help but agree with you.”

“What of you?” Ghaji said. “Cathmore was a large part of
your
past.”

Diran considered his reply for a time before speaking. “Of all the teachers I’ve had over the years—my father, Emon, Tusya—Cathmore is the only one I wish I’d never had, but I can’t deny that I learned from him, that the man I am today was shaped at least in part by his teachings. However, I do not feel any joy that he’s dead, nor do I feel any relief. No matter what we do, or who we outlive, the past remains with us—always.”

“Which brings us back to Makala,” Ghaji said softly.

“I suppose it does.” Diran let out a long, slow sigh. “I should’ve killed her the moment I realized she’d been tainted by the vampire’s curse.”

“How could you? You love her.”

“If I truly loved her, I would’ve done what needed to be done. Instead, I told myself that I should allow her to choose, that she was strong enough to bear the curse if she so wished.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

Before Ghaji could respond, a woman’s voice cut in. “You wouldn’t be the first fool for love, and I doubt very much that you’ll be the last.”

Diran and Ghaji looked up at the same time to see Asenka approaching. She wore a thick fur cloak with the hood down, and
the sunlight—what little there was of it, at any rate—accented the highlights in her strawberry-blond hair.

The half-orc scowled. “Did you follow me all the way from Perhata?”

The commander of the Sea Scorpions smiled as she reached them. “That I did.”

Ghaji’s scowl deepened. “My senses must still be suffering from the after effects of Galharath tampering with our minds.” He stood up and turned to Diran. “See you back at the King Prawn for dinner?”

Diran had intended to continue searching for Makala until he was too weary to continue, but he nodded and said, “I’ll be there.”

Ghaji put his hand on Diran’s shoulder for a moment, and then, after a nod to Asenka, the half-orc warrior turned and began the trek back to Perhata. When Ghaji had gone a dozen yards or so, Asenka sat on the rock he’d vacated.

“You know he let me follow him,” she said.

Diran smiled. “Yes.”

“He’s a good friend.”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Diran said as he gazed at the half-orc’s retreating form.

They sat in silence for a time, listening to the moaning of the wind as it blew through the hills.

After a while, Asenka said, “You’re not really searching for Makala out here, are you? At least, that’s not all you’re doing. She’s more likely to be holed up in Perhata, since that’s where …” Asenka trailed off, as if realizing she was about to say something she shouldn’t.

“Where the greatest supply of food is located,” Diran finished for her. “You’re right, of course. I’ve been coming out here to ‘reacquaint myself with solitude,’ as Tusya, the priest who was my mentor in the Church, would put it. When one wishes
to hear the voice of the Silver Flame most clearly, one must first calm the unquiet mind.”

“Is it working?”

Diran smiled. “Not in the slightest.”

Asenka laughed then immediately apologized. “Sorry, I know it’s not funny.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Laughter is a sound of life, and while it might not have mystical healing powers, it’s a powerful medicine in its own right.” Diran broke off and stared into the distance, seeking Ghaji, but the half-orc was no longer in sight. “It’s a medicine I could use more of. For a man who’s dedicated himself to combating evil and preserving life, I spend far too much of my time surrounded by death.”

“Aren’t life and death two sides of the same coin?” Asenka said. “One can’t exist without the other.”

“I suppose,” Diran allowed, “but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She paused as if trying to decide how best to proceed. “You’ve been doing more out here than just getting to know solitude again, though. You’ve been hoping to lure Makala out into the open. That’s why you haven’t gone too far into the hills. You want to remain close to the city.”

Diran turned to regard the Sea Scorpion commander, impressed anew by how perceptive she was. “Yes. Whether she’s hiding here in the hills or in Perhata, I’d hoped that she’d seek me out.”

The dark spirit Makala had inherited from Cathmore would bring forth the cruelest aspects of her nature, which alone would cause her to want him dead, but she’d also realize that now Diran wouldn’t rest until he had freed her from her dual curse—the vampire’s taint and her symbiosis with the dark spirit—and so in order to preserve her own life, she would have to end his.

“I take it that you haven’t seen her,” Asenka said.

Diran nodded. “And I don’t understand why.”

“I do. Somewhere inside her, maybe so deep that even she’s not aware of it, she still loves you.”

“And you know this because …?”

Asenka looked at him for a long moment before answering. “Because if I were in her position, I’d feel the same way.” She stood before Diran could respond. “Well, I’ll leave you and solitude alone with each other. Did you mean what you said to Ghaji, about returning to Perhata for dinner?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you then.” Asenka started to go.

Before she’d taken more than a few steps, Diran said, “There’s something else Tusya used to tell me.”

Asenka stopped and turned back to look at him. “What’s that?”

“‘Solitude’s all well and good at times, but it’s a damn poor conversationalist.’”

Asenka grinned then returned to sit on the rock next to Diran once more, and after sitting quietly for a time, they began to talk.

S
karm lay on the floor in his true form, half dozing. Since returning to her mountain lair several days ago, Nathifa had done nothing but sit at her table and stare into Espial’s obsidian eye sockets. For the most part, Nathifa remained silent as she gazed into the skull’s eyes, but occasionally she muttered barely audible words:
Yes, no, I understand …
The Amahau, still attached to the head of the artificer’s wand, rested on the table next to Espial, but Nathifa hadn’t so much as looked at the artifact since placing it there. Skarm knew better than to expect any gratitude from his mistress, but after all the trouble—not to mention the physical agony—he’d endured in order to retrieve the damned thing for her, the least she could’ve done was show a little excitement over finally having the Amahau in her possession, but no … she only had eyes for Espial.

Skarm shivered. In the last day, it seemed Nathifa’s lair had gotten much colder than could be accounted for by the outside temperature, and the shadows that clung to the chamber’s walls seemed to have grown darker, thicker … and at times they had
appeared to ripple slowly, as if they had begun to take on a life of their own. The barghest hoped it was his imagination, but he knew it wasn’t, and not for the first time since entering into Nathifa’s service, he wondered just what Espial was and what fell secrets it spoke to his mistress.

Nathifa sat up straight, the sudden motion startling Skarm.

“It seems we have a visitor,” the lich said. She turned to face a pocket of shadow near the head of her bed, and Skarm peered in the same direction. The barghest saw nothing out of the ordinary at first, but then a form emerged from the shadows, and a blond, pale-skinned woman stood smiling at him. He recognized the woman as the vampire that had been present at Mount Luster. Skarm wasn’t especially afraid of vampires—not when he had a lich for a mistress—but there was something about this one that caused the fur on the back of his neck to stand up. The barghest sensed that while she was a vampire, she wasn’t
only
a vampire.

Nathifa didn’t rise from the table, but the atmosphere in the chamber became charged with dangerous potential, like the air just before a violent storm was about to erupt.

“I’m impressed,” Nathifa said. “I didn’t sense your presence until you entered the room. Normally, I would’ve been aware of you long before that.”

The vampire shrugged. “I know a few tricks. What I don’t know is who you are or why I’m here. I … felt drawn to this place, almost as if I were summoned here.”

Now it was Nathifa’s turn to smile. “You were. I’ve been waiting for your arrival.”

The vampire scowled. “You brought me here?”

The lich shook her head. “Not me—the one I serve.”

She lifted Espial off the table, turned it around to face the vampire, then she glided across the floor toward the blond woman. The vampire looked at the obsidian skull with suspicion,
but she didn’t shy away when Nathifa raised the object so that its hollow eye sockets were even with the vampire’s eyes.

The vampire gazed into Espial’s eyes for some moments, remaining perfectly still the entire time. Then she blinked several times and turned to Nathifa.

“I see,” she said.

Nathifa grinned, showing rotted teeth and dead-gray gums. “I thought you might.” The lich looked down at Skarm, who’d observed the entire scene from his position of the floor. “Get up, you lazy thing! It’s time for us to go.” She smiled at the vampire once more.
“All
of us.”

Skarm transformed into his goblin form as he rose to his feet. “Go where?”

Nathifa didn’t answer right away. Instead, she tucked Espial under her arm, returned to the table, and snatched up the dragonwand with her free hand.

“Trebaz Sinara,” the lich said. “Where else?”

Skarm tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he replied. “Where else, indeed? But we lack one very important component for sea travel, my mistress: a ship.”