two charges aloft, with Kaanyr, Kael, and Aliisza all close behind.
'To the portal!' the angel shouted to be heard over the roaring wind and shattering stone.
The four fliers winged their way toward the opening watched over by a pair of majestic solars. The gateway no longer rested upon solid ground, but instead hovered in the open air. Tauran shot through the portal first, and the rest followed him. As Aliisza reached the mouth of the doorway, she paused and turned back to gaze at what was left of the great floating island.
It had fallen far beneath them by that point, nothing more than a cascade of tumbling rock, soil, and vegetation. It disappeared into a thick layer of cloud that spread out below them.
She wondered if anything sat below the falling detritus, For a brief moment, she thought of actually soaring after it, just to make sure. Then she realized what she was contemplating and shook some sense back into herself.
Someone else's problem, she told herself. You've done enough rescuing for one day.
Turning back to the doorway, she darted through, and the two solars followed close behind.
CHAPTER FOUR
Myshik found the descent through the earth unsettling. It wasn't the magic itself; his draconic heritage had made him used to that. No, he did not mind most preternatural exercises. But sliding through solid rock was something new.
The half-dragon felt neither substantial nor ethereal. He couldn't find a word that quite described it. Regardless, the spell that Tekthyrios had employed was strange.
It's as though the rock slides through me, he decided.
Once the celestial guards had been dispatched, the storm dragon had instructed Myshik to enter the cave and seek an inscribed circle upon the ground. The symbol was easy to spot, and once Myshik stood within it, Tekthyrios engaged the magic.
The half-dragon began to sink into the ground immediately, as though it had turned to quicksand. But it did not suffocate him, and once over the initial fear, Myshik found the journey fascinating.
He descended for several moments then suddenly found himself falling through a white void. He engaged his wings on instinct, struck the bottom of the vacancy without much force, and settled easily into a crouch. Myshik tried to peer around, but a bright, pearlescent glow surrounded him, and he was forced to squint as his eyes adjusted. At last, the draconic hobgoblin's vision returned, and he could examine his surroundings.
Another figure drew his attention. It lay huddled near his feet, unmoving. It faced away from him, so he could not discern the nature of the creature, other than to note that it was a humanoid dressed in a simple brown robe and had long, rather unhealthy hair.
Myshik felt over his shoulder for the handle of his axe to reassure himself, then he began to examine the place.
He discovered that he stood at the bottom of a perfect sphere, and the glow of light seemed to radiate from the walls, indeed the entire inner surface of the room. The chamber was not very large, perhaps only ten paces in diameter. Utterly devoid of any furnishings or features, it would have proven to be a rather mind-numbing prison, should he have found himself trapped there.
A cursed existence, the half-hobgoblin thought, glancing again at the figure.
Is she there? the storm dragon's voice inquired, bouncing around in Myshik's head as his father's and uncle's once had.
Yes, he answered. She?
Indeed, came the reply. Wake her, but do it gently. She has been there a long time and may not know what to make of a visitor, especially one of your… um, countenance.
As you wish. Myshik stepped closer to the figure.
Fighting the urge to grip his axe, the half-dragon knelt down beside the figure. He reached one clawed hand out and tapped the woman once, softly, on the shoulder.
She did not budge.
Myshik tapped again, then he took hold of her shoulders and shook her.
With a shriek, the woman rose up lightning fast, turning with fingers outstretched. She lunged at Myshik, who fell back involuntarily from her unexpected onslaught.
Her wrinkled and pale face framed eyes as black as midnight that burned with hatred, or perhaps insanity. Her gray hair hung in long, limp clumps around her face and nearly down to her waist. Her breath smelled foul, and Myshik could see only a few cracked, yellowed teeth as she sucked in air for another scream.
She came at him where he had sprawled, hands outstretched to throttle him or claw his eyes out. He let her momentum carry her forward, over his own body, then used his feet to propel her past himself. She soared beyond him and struck the sloping side of the sphere with a gasp and a thud.
She's enraged! the half-dragon said as he clambered to his feet. Wants to rend me! How do I stop her without maiming her?
There was a soft laugh in his head not of his own mind's making. She is harder to maim than you might imagine, came the answer. Speak to her. Call her name. Kashada.
Myshik turned to face the crazed woman and saw her gathering herself for another charge. Her face contorted in rage or fear, and her eyes glazed with it. The half-dragon doubted she would make sense of his words.
'Kashada!' he called out. 'I am not here to hurt you!'
The woman shrieked and rushed at him, her fingers bent into the shape of claws. She reached for his face, his eyes, but the draconic hobgoblin leaped high and used his wings to gain even more elevation. Her pell-mell charge overbalanced her, and she stumbled into a heap against the opposite slope of the sphere.
Myshik dropped deftly to the surface once more. 'Kashada!' he said, more forcefully. 'Hear me! I have come to take you from this prison! Let me help you!'
Kashada whirled, staggered like a drunken thing, and glared at her would-be rescuer. 'Shadows!' she screamed at him. 'There are no shadows!' She swayed where she stood and began to sob, clenching her eyes shut in misery.
Her mind is lost, Myshik thought, projecting to Tekthyrios. She has no reason left. She screams of there being no shadows.
Of course! Tekthyrios said. How clever. Myshik, you must create a shadow for her. You can restore her mind if you can show her a shadow. Do it!
The half-dragon scowled, looking around the sphere. He had not noticed it before, but with light glowing from the entire inner surface, no shadows were cast anywhere. He could see no way to shield any area from the light.
Kashada howled, a forlorn wailing that reminded Myshik of the jackals in the great desert of Anauroch, singing to the moon at night. She kept her eyes closed, uninterested in attacking him further.
A thought struck Myshik. Working quickly, he removed his cloak and draped it upon the lowest point of the sphere, essentially the floor. He reached into an inner pocket and pulled out an oblong bundle. Unwrapping it, the half-dragon produced a glowing, prism-shaped white crystal twice as thick as his thumb and as long as his hand. He knelt down upon his cloak and held the crystal over it. He placed his other hand between the glow of the crystal and the dark cloth of the cloak. A faint shadow formed there.
'Kashada,' Myshik called. 'Look, a shadow.'
The crone's eyes flew open, and she ceased her wailing. She stared at Myshik for a moment, cocking her head from side to side like some predatory bird. Then she spied the light in his hands, and the patch of darkness he had created. She shrieked in delight and rushed forward. Myshik flinched, expecting her to strike at him again, but instead she knelt down, cooing softly.
'Darker,' she demanded, still staring at the shadow. 'It must be darker. Make it darker!' she finished with a scream.
Myshik frowned, uncertain. Then inspiration struck. He rose to his feet again and loomed over the crystal,
