Eirwyn snorted. 'I don't think even they believe we deserve that much credit,' she said, 'but with things in as much turmoil within the House as they are right now, we don't have much chance of clearing our names. They've already made up their minds, and we are left with two choices: surrender or perish.'
Kael struck at another haunt in armor and watched it disintegrate. His body flowed from one stance to the next, his movement fluid. Three more figures moved just beyond the one he dropped, waiting for a chance to get at the half-drow and his companions. 'And they did something to prevent you from just whisking us away?' he asked Eirwyn.
'Yes,' the angel answered. 'We have been dimensionally bound here until we submit to them. They caught me off guard, the moment you arrived.'
Kael stepped back to avoid a lunging stab from one of the undead and nearly stepped on Tauran, who lay in the snow between them all. He still had not regained consciousness. 'How many of these accursed things are there?' Kael asked, grunting as he swept his blade through one, then another in a single, powerful arc.
From behind him, a flash of light lit up the night sky.
Kael assumed that Pharaun had unleashed some bit of magic at the wraiths coming at them from that side. The thought that he stood in the middle of a strange keep adrift in the planar soup of the Astral, fighting side by side with both his mother and father, seemed ludicrous. After all these years, he thought, stabbing at another wraith, the whole family is together at last.
No, he thought, fighting a sudden sense of guilt. Tauran is my parent-mother and father-more than either of them could be. They may have sired me, but he gave me his care. Do not betray his dedication to you so quickly.
The number of ghostly warriors dwindled, and the companions made short work of the remaining few. When the battle was over, the four defenders stood their ground, catching their breath. Kael scanned the sky, looking for signs of the other two celestials who had approached them with Eirwyn, but there was no sign of them.
'They trapped us here and left,' he said. Anger at finding himself trapped yet again filled him. His grip upon his sword hurt, he clenched it so hard. 'That is not the way of Tyr. At least not the Tyr I thought I knew. Tauran was right. The Maimed One has strayed from the laws that defined him.'
'They are not far,' Eirwyn replied. 'They know we must choose to surrender to them sooner rather than later. It's all very cunning, leaving us here, where we are constantly beset by these apparitions. They truly leave us no choice but to comply.'
Not if I have anything to say about it, Kael thought. 'If they were to be slain, would that break the binding?' he asked. A part of him regretted asking, but the rage he felt at their imposed impotence burned within him.
Eirwyn turned to the knight. 'Do you truly mean to ask me that?' she asked. 'Do you think Tauran would allow you to do such a thing?'
'How is that any different from their decision to condemn us to death here among these walking spirits?' he retorted. 'It's as if they slew us by their own hands.'
Eirwyn's expression softened a bit. 'In their minds, we perish not through their cruelty, but through our own pride. We always have the option of accepting their offer.'
'What, to be led back to the Court in chains?' Kael said. 'To be paraded before the High Council and mocked? I think not.'
'Even if you are innocent?' Eirwyn said, her voice gentle. 'Even if doing so might mean saving your mentor's life?' She nodded in Tauran's direction.
Kael tried to release the anger building inside him. 'I'm sorry,' he said at last. 'Nothing is simple and straightforward anymore. I always believed-Tauran always taught me-that if I followed the path of goodness and righteousness, no matter how hard that was, that justice would prevail.' He looked down at the unconscious angel. 'I don't know what to believe anymore.'
Aliisza knelt beside Tauran, one hand upon his brow. She looked up at Kael and shook her head. 'He's getting worse,' she said. 'Even now, getting him away from that awful place, he's so far gone he can't fight the taint. We have to.'
Kael felt helpless. He turned his gaze on Pharaun. Though it was Zasian Menz's face he saw, Kael could see a twinkle of something kindred there, a flash of a knowing smile. The stranger shrugged at him.
Kael drew a deep breath, trying to come to terms with the decision. 'Then we all agree?' he asked, looking from one face to another. 'This is what we want to do? This is what we think is best for Tauran?'
Every head nodded.
'Fine,' Kael said, casting his sword to the ground. He couldn't really blame them for their decision. He agreed with it, in fact. It just felt so dirty to him, giving up. It was not a feeling he much cared for.
'We surrender,' he said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Vhok couldn't stand the pain any more. He relieved the pressure on his arms by levitating his weight and grunted in relief. His ankles still ached, but he no longer felt as though he would be pulled in half. He cursed softly and heard the echo of his own voice within the shaft.
The half-fiend dangled in what he imagined was the inside of a tower or perhaps a round pit in the ground. Chains connected to shackles on his wrists rose into the darkness overhead, holding him in place. More chains on his ankles anchored a great weight hanging somewhere below him. Every shift, every tiny movement sent him swaying. When he held very still, faint howls or screams sometimes reached his ears, deeply muffled.
He had no idea where he was, or how long he had been there.
The ability to hold himself aloft with magic was his only saving grace. Without that, he would have already succumbed to the terrible strain. He certainly would have been screaming by then. His arms might even have been wrenched from their sockets.
Hot vapors wafted up from below, carrying an acrid odor that burned his nostrils and throat. Even with his natural affinity for heat, the air scorched. Sweat drenched him, ran down his naked skin in rivulets that tickled him maddeningly. The fight to resist twitching wore on him. The longer he remained still, the worse the tickling became, yet every time he flinched, trying to shake the trickles free, stabs of pain filled every strained joint.
Vhok cursed Aliisza for the hundredth time. He saw her face, that cunning, clever smile, mocking him, and he screamed insults at her. Somehow, she had found the strength to escape. He had underestimated her, perhaps. Though he was angry with himself for it, she still bore the brunt of his rage.
No, he realized. Zasian. Somehow, they must have coaxed the priest into healing her.
You cursed, guileful wench, he fumed. I should have killed you when you were down. You're too clever by half, always using those supple curves and that sultry smile to twist men's hearts. Tauran will get what he deserves. His pain will come, when you turn on him as you turned on me. I am a fool for ever having loved you.
The chance had been there to take her life, but he knew he had let his own fondness for her, his weakness, get the better of him. He had also made the mistake of playing his hand too early, revealing his intentions. That had been foolish; it would have been better to lie to them, tell them that he was off to seek help and then return with enough demons to corral the group. It had just felt too damned good to finally, finally be free of that awful, wretched compulsion.
Besides, it's still ultimately her fault, he reasoned. She was the one who changed, let her human side grow too dominant, allowed herself to develop weak, caring feelings. She is the traitor, guilty ten times over, and I hate her.
The rock that lined the shaft was not natural stone, as he had seen within Vhissilka's cave complex before. No, it had been built, crafted from great worked blocks, which was why he imagined he might be in a tower. He was in another's domain, but he did not remember arriving there. He simply woke from unconsciousness to find himself strung up like a piece of smoked meat, awaiting carving.
He had been fighting the cruel torture for time immemorial, it seemed. He alternated between countering his own weight in order to relieve the stress on his arms and supporting the weight below him to alleviate the punishment to his ankles. Sometimes, in between, when his magic gave out, he had to endure the full brunt of the
