It was easier said than done. Another barrage of blows left Thorn reeling. For a moment she wanted to just let go, to fall and forget it all. Then, for a moment, she saw Drix’s face… and Nandon’s. And she thought about the locket among the bones.
“It’s not going to end this way!” she cried. Reaching inside, she called on the strength of the dragon. As the next twisted reveler swung at her, she grabbed his wrist and spun him around, battering the others away with his body. She could feel the broken ribs tearing at her as she moved, and in her rage, she tried to draw the life from the man in her grasp… and felt nothing. There was no spark of life in the thing.
There was no time to hesitate. Holding on to the fury and the strength, she threw the man in front of her, scattering the brutes that lay between her and the window. She broke the arm of the one man who grabbed her as she ran. Then she was at the window. She struck the glass with Steel’s pommel, felt it shatter, and threw herself through.
It was a longer fall than she’d expected and far from a graceful landing. The world disappeared in a flash of pain as she struck hard stone, and she heard the crack of bone. It was hard for her to tell what was broken; her world was a mass of agony. Steel was talking but his voice was like wind; she couldn’t hang on to the words. She knew only one thing: she couldn’t stop, not yet. She couldn’t seem to stand, but Steel was still in her hand. She forced herself onto her arms, drove Steel down into the ground, and dragged herself forward.
There were voices in her mind, shouting along with Steel. She heard Daine, the Son of Khyber, but his words were as incomprehensible as the voice of the dagger.
She pulled herself forward again. She could feel an alcove up ahead-shelter.
Drulkalatar railed in her mind, mocking cries and howls lost in the torment.
Time lost its meaning as she dragged herself forward-another foot… another. Finally she was hidden from view.
Her destination reached, she fell back against the ground. All she could feel was pain. She wanted to let go of it, wanted to stop struggling, but something made her hang on.
She felt movement behind her. She tried to find the strength she needed to rise, to throw Steel.
“Relax, beloved,” Drego said. “You’ll need that fire soon enough.”
CHAPTER TWENTY — THREE
Taer Lian Doresh B arrakas 25, 999 YK
Blinded by agony, all Thorn could see was the outline of the man. But she knew his voice, and his scent.
“Come… to mock?” she said.
“Never, beloved,” he replied. “Yet surely you know that you could end all this. You’ve drawn on her strength but nothing more. If you release the dragon, she will survive this. She will make your enemies suffer for what they have done to you.”
“No…” she said. Drawing in breath was a challenge. “If I die… I die… as Thorn.”
“Mortals,” he said. “Stubborn to the last. I suppose that’s what you get for having a last to be stubborn to. If you’re so certain, then I suppose I’ll have to help.”
“Help?” she murmured.
“Just remember one thing, beloved,” he said, kneeling beside her. “It’s only a dream.”
He disappeared then and she wasn’t sure if he’d walked out of the alcove or simply vanished. The voices were still clamoring beneath the pain. Daine… Drulkalatar… dozens more.
The world faded away, and when it came back, someone was coming toward her hiding place.
Drego? No. She could hear hard boots scraping the ground, the hem of a long robe dragging.
The stranger drew ever closer. Thorn gathered her strength, and she realized what she had to do. She stopped struggling, dropped Steel, and let the tension flow from her body.
The sentry paused at the edge of the alcove. He’d heard a sound, and he’d seen the bloodstains along the stone. But sight and sound weren’t his primary senses. He perceived the living by feeling their fears, and there was nothing up ahead. Still, spear at the ready, he turned the corner.
The woman was stretched out on the stone. The sentry could see her broken leg and the blood around her, the dagger fallen to the side. And he felt nothing from her. Already dead. Something gleamed on the back of her neck, and he took a step forward to see what it was.
She moved in an instant, her hand wrapped around his leg. Surprised as he was, the sentry raised his spear to finish her. Or he tried to. Something was wrong. There was no strength in his arms. No arms. She was crushing all that he was and pulling it down, pulling it into her, pulling it…
Into the stone.
He could hear the other voices clamoring around him, the dragon, the demons, the angels. And that was his last thought for a long time.
Thorn gasped, still clutching the ankle of the guardian. The pain was gone, flushed away as the strength of the sentry flowed through her. She flexed her leg and found the bone intact. Once again, draining the life of another had saved her own.
Sarmondelaryx’s power, she thought. I used it again.
It was only then that the events of the past few moments fully came back to her. She sat up and looked around. “Drego?”
He was nowhere to be seen. More than that, she couldn’t smell him anymore. With all the other voices, she wasn’t sure if he’d really been there at all.
Voices. She picked up Steel.
You’re alive, he said.
“You sound so surprised,” she told him.
You weren’t watching you for the last few moments. Quite a remarkable recovery.
“Isn’t it? It might make you think of Toli or a certain Deneith bastard.”
Yes… Steel said. I felt the surge of power again. It seems you’re learning more control.
“So it seems,” she said. “If you were watching the last few minutes… Was anyone here before the guard? Did anyone talk to me?”
I was trying. You didn’t seem to hear. You were too busy using me as a chisel.
“No one else?”
No. If you’re thinking of Marudrix, he must have been captured. Or killed, if that’s possible. I suggest you start thinking about escape.
“Escape?” Thorn looked around herself. She could see the wall of bones far away. The towers stretched up toward the night sky, but they had changed while she was inside; they seemed to be formed from raw muscle, glistening wetly in the light of the moons. “Without Drix?”
Yes, well, I suppose you could try to find Drix and rescue him. On your own. Given your spectacular success rate to this point, I think the Citadel would prefer that you admit defeat while you’re still alive and get safely back. If you can even manage that.
“Such confidence,” Thorn said.
Then it all fell into place.
“Of course.” She cursed.
What?
“Don’t you see? It’s only a dream.”
I’m afraid I don’t see at all. And dreams aren’t exactly my area of expertise.
Thorn stood up. Her thoughts were racing, and she felt a renewed surge of energy. “The manticore told us this place was both dream and reality, right?”
Correct. If that’s literally true, it means that we are in some way on the plane of Dal Quor at this moment, that we are physically walking through dreams.
“These things play on fear. When I faced them, every time I doubted myself, every time I thought I might fail,
