Geth's wrist, trying to make Tetkashtai drop the crystal as Geth had in Fat Tusk.
But Tetkashtai was faster. She slid Geth's toe under the shaft of his own hunda and flipped it up into the air. His left hand caught the staff in mid-air, twisting it and knocking Natrac's clumsy blow away.
'What was it Vennet said to Dandra in Zarash'ak?' Tetkashtai asked with Geth's voice. 'Not a spear as such, but on short notice, I think a staff will do?'
A thought set the hunda stick ablaze in her grasp, though Geth felt nothing of the flames. Tetkashtai flicked the hunda again and the burning wood cracked across Natrac's good arm. The half-orc yelped and dropped his staff. Geth felt Tetkashtai's surprise at the ferocity of her strike. 'Harder than I intended,' she said. She flexed his muscles. 'Strong. Fast. You might not be a kalashtar, shifter, but I think I like your body.'
If you like that, growled Geth, you're going to love this. Gathering all of his remaining strength, he struck deep into himself, into a place the presence hadn't even tried to approach-and shifted.
Tetkashtai gasped at the wild power that surged through his veins, swooning as his lycanthrope heritage rushed over her. The yellow-green storm of her being flared and guttered like a torch in the wind. In that moment, Geth pushed out against her control, spinning his body around fast and slamming the back of his right hand against the cold stones of the wall. Pain shot up his entire arm and his clenched fist twitched in pure reflex to the impact.
Before Tetkashtai could do more than wail in frustration, the psicrystal slipped between his fingers and bounced across the floor with a soft ringing sound. The pain in the shifter's right hand was matched by a searing burn in his left. Geth hurled the flaming hunda away from him and collapsed back against the wall, his chest heaving.
As suddenly as she had stiffened, Dandra relaxed, her eyes gliding closed. Singe held onto her, clutching her tight until the chime of Medala's power faded and the kalashtar wrenched him away. She examined Dandra, then spun to the wizard. 'What happened?' she demanded.
'I don't know,' Singe choked. His head spun and throbbed. It was a good thing that his ignorance was the truth, because whatever Medala had done to him had left him without the will or energy to spin out a lie.
Maybe she knew that too, because she didn't press him any further. She turned to Dah'mir as the green-eyed man stood watching. 'Something's wrong,' she said. 'Tetkashtai is fighting your power.'
'Amazing,' murmured Dah'mir. 'She's doing what you failed to, Medala.'
A chill ran through Singe's body. Someone else might have been intimidated by the possibility but Dah'mir seemed intrigued. Maybe even proud.
Medala's face twisted with jealousy but Dah'mir took no notice. He glanced at the young Bonetree hunters as he turned to sweep away. 'Keep a watch on her and the wizard both,' he told them.
In spite of her rage, Medala trotted after him like an obedient dog. Singe shrank back as the hunters turned to him with the smiles of foxes set to watch a chicken coop-smiles that faded as Ashi stepped over Singe and took up a position facing her own clan. Her eyes were dark from whatever attack Medala had inflicted on her, but her jaw was set and her sword was drawn. Muttering in frustration, the hunters slid back into the shadows.
Ashi didn't speak. Neither did Singe. His head pounding, he crawled back to Dandra and lay down close beside her.
'Lords of the Host,' hissed Natrac. The crook end of his hunda poked Geth's chest. The shifter slapped it away and looked up at him.
'She's gone,' he growled. He leaned his head back against the stone wall for a moment more, and released his shifting. It faded away, taking the worst of the pain in his hands with it. Some of whatever energy Tetkashtai had drawn from him trickled back as well. He heaved himself to his feet. There was a stink of burning flesh that he hadn't been aware of while Tetkashtai controlled his body. He clenched his teeth and tried to breathe shallowly.
The whitefire had scoured the corridor, scorching the stone. Dandra's crystal lay shining against the black remains of a goblin foot. Geth slid the pouch from his belt and approached the crystal with caution. His head told him that Tetkashtai couldn't take hold of him again unless he actually touched the crystal, but his heart was still afraid; he could feel the presence's touch ripping at his essence, bending his body to her will. Taking up a fallen razor-still warm from the blast of flame-he flicked the crystal gingerly back into the pouch.
'You're going to keep it?' Natrac spat in amazement.
'Dandra can control Tetkashtai,' said Geth stiffly, knotting the pouch's drawstrings again. 'She'll need the crystal when we rescue her and Singe.'
'If we can rescue them.'
'When.' Geth stood up and replaced the pouch on his belt. 'We're going to get out of here. How's your arm?'
'It hurts,' Natrac said, 'but at least it's still attached to me.' He looked down at the remains of the creeping limbs and grimaced. 'Do you think there's more of them?'
The shifter glanced at the shadows that the few remaining hands had fled into-he thought he could still see them, hiding like bugs in the crevices. The final wails of the vanished phantoms continued to hang in the air, too. They changed slowly as he listened, becoming less frightened and more anguished, as if the defeated spirits were somehow reliving their ancient torture. The hair on Geth's arms rose. A darkness seemed to settle over the corridor.
'Geth…' said Natrac softly.
'Aye,' Geth grunted. 'We need to keep moving.'
His hunda stick was burning bright, more than half its length afire from Tetkashtai's touch. The blades that the severed limbs had carried were scattered across the corridor, but Geth's skin crawled at the thought of wielding one of them. He needed a weapon of some kind, though. He snatched up the burning hunda carefully. Thrusting it ahead of him like a long torch, he set off along the corridor at a brisk trot. Natrac followed close, his eyes on the shadows behind them. Though both he and the half-orc could see well enough even without the added light, the fire gave Geth back a feeling of control and strength.
Especially when the phantoms' wails rose into wrenching screams. Especially as the smell of blood grew stronger. Especially as the corridor narrowed and passageways opened off of it, plunging away into the darkness of Jhegesh Dol.
Geth stopped short, pulling up so quickly that Natrac bumped into him and yelped before clamping his tusked jaw shut. 'What is it?' the half-orc whispered.
'The corridor. Look.' Geth held out the burning staff. The corridor they had been following split into three passageways, all identical.
'Just keep going,' urged Natrac.
'I don't know which passage to take!' Flame hissed and popped as Geth switched his makeshift torch from one side to the other. 'What if we're not supposed to keep going straight? What if we're supposed to turn?'
'What if we're not?' Natrac asked desperately. 'How much time is there before sunrise? How long have we been in here?'
A terrible roar, as close as if something very large and very frightened was being tortured nearby, rolled over them-then was broken by the heavy, wet chop of a falling blade. The roar rose sharply, then subsided into deep, horrified weeping. Geth clenched his teeth and stepped into the corridor straight ahead.
The stones of Adolan's collar grew so cold that they burned his skin. Gasping in pain, Geth leaped back, almost trampling over Natrac. 'Not that way!' he snarled, his teeth bared. He touched the stones with his free hand and scraped a fingernail against them. It came away with white specks of frost melting on it. He showed it to Natrac. The half-orc grimaced.
Geth turned to the passage on his right. Fingers held against the stones, he stepped forward carefully. The collar grew icy again-not quite so cold as before, but distinctly frigid. He swallowed. 'I don't think this is the way either,' he said. He moved back to the left-hand passage and walked into it.
The eerie chill fell away from the collar and Geth let out his breath. 'Here,' he said with relief. 'This way-'
His relief melted like the frost on his fingertip at the thin noise that came hissing along the passage. It was the coarse, sliding whisper of metal on stone, the sound of a knife blade pressed against a grindstone.
