they lead us to Vhok?'
Kashada again questioned Zasian's decision to keep the half-dragon around. Myshik was barbaric, filled with battle-lust and always craving treasure. She had said as much at her rescue, suggesting that she and the Cyricist simply leave the creature within her prison sphere. But Zasian had refused, claiming to hate wasting resources. He argued that he could imagine a host of different situations where having the winged hobgoblin around would be useful.
Kashada wondered if the priest would come to regret his decision in time.
'They lead to another place,' Zasian answered, 'where there is much wealth for you to claim in the name of your clan.'
Myshik's eyes brightened considerably at the mention of potential riches. 'If that is so, then I care little for where we go.'
'I thought so,' Zasian said.
The priest looked to Kashada.
She nodded, letting him know that she was ready.
'You both know what to do,' he said. 'Begin.'
The pair turned and left him then, moving deeper into the misty woods.
Kashada led the way, listening for the sounds of the faint conversation she had detected a moment before. She cast a simple spell as she walked, one that permitted her to tread upon the shadows as if they were solid surfaces. The magic quelled the noise of her passing and she glided along, reveling in her freedom.
I spent too long in that damnable sphere, she thought, shuddering. The Dark Goddess herself would hardly have fared better in such a stretch of time.
Beside the woman, Myshik strode with solid, purposeful steps, yet his footfalls remained soft.
So, Kashada mused, he does know the value of subtlety. Perhaps he will be of some use after all.
At one point, the woman caught a sound and held her hand up to signal Myshik to halt. She stood very still, listening. The voices she had detected before were stronger, though still too distant to make out words. They were moving in the right direction.
Kashada knelt down next to the half-hobgoblin to discuss their plan. 'Remember,' the mystic said as they rose and prepared to separate, 'our signal must be strong so that Tekthyrios will hear it. But do not get too caught up in the fight. The idea is to fool them and send them running about in confusion, not go toe to toe with them. Understand?'
Myshik's red eyes squinted at her and he smirked. 'I am not a fool,' he said sourly. 'The cunning as well as the strength of a dragon flows through my veins. I know my purpose.'
Kashada smiled, though she knew the barbarian could not see it behind her veil. 'Very well,' she said. 'See you on the other side.' She turned to go then, stepping lightly through the undergrowth and leaving the half-dragon to carry out his own part of the scheme.
Kashada kept the voices to her right as she circled around to the left. She wished that Zasian had been willing to wait until nightfall to conduct their plan. So many more shadows to work with. He's waited twelve years for this, she thought. What's the hurry now?
A few more steps carried Kashada to a low ridge. Beyond it, on the far side of a trail winding through the woods, a trio of figures rested upon a fallen log. She noted their slender, coppery features and woodland clothing and nodded in satisfaction. Elves.
A patrol, she decided, and far from home.
They sat huddled in discussion, but she noted that they kept a vigilant eye on each direction of the trail. Though they sat, they held their postures erect, wary. They were watching their surroundings carefully.
A bit spooked, are we? Kashada thought. This will be fun.
The shadow-mystic studied the environs near the three elves and selected an area of gloom directly beneath them, where the shadow of the log against the ground was deepest. She focused her mind and let her fingers dance a delicate pattern in the air. She felt the energy of her magic connect with the shadow and watched as it began to move.
The shadow wriggled and expanded. It grew darker and spread.
One of the elves noticed the effect and gave a startled shout. The three of them leaped from their seats and backed away.
The shadow rose from the ground, deepening until it had become black as midnight. It changed shape and divided until four blobs of darkness separated themselves from one another. The blobs lengthened and crouched as the three elf scouts pulled their swords free and went into defensive stances. One of them put a horn to his lips and blew a long, plaintive note.
Calling for reinforcements, Kashada realized. Good. Myshik is bound to hear that. Can Zasian?
The blobs became feline in shape, lithe hunting cats on the prowl. One of the unearthly beasts let out a yowl, a haunting cry that made the three elves shiver.
One of the scouts lunged at the shadow-cat closest to it, but the magical beast shifted to the side, dodging the blow. The cat leaped at its attacker as if it were pouncing on a rabbit.
The elf screamed and fell back as the shadow engulfed him. The other cats rushed at his companions. The group became a swarming, chaotic fracas. Snarling cats tumbled, bit, and raked at the elves while the scouts frantically sliced back at them.
Kashada waited and watched, listening to the raucous sounds of battle.
A shout from her left caught the mystic's attention. She glanced in that direction and spied four more elf scouts rushing through the forest, following the trail. They reached their beset brethren and joined the fight.
Excellent, Kashada thought, and she crept away, moving to swing wide of the elves' position and get around them, heading toward the cave where she and Myshik were to meet Zasian.
She reached a point where she was certain she was out of sight of the roiling fight behind her and started walking faster. She had taken perhaps half a dozen steps when a figure popped into view directly ahead of her.
Like the others, the figure had pointed ears, angular features, and a slender build, but unlike them, she wore a delicate set of plate mail and stood with a noble bearing. A radiant aura surrounded her. Kashada squinted at the bright light and faltered to a stop.
'What trouble are you causing in my woods, witch?' the woman asked, brandishing an incandescent sword.
Zasian waited for the sign that his two minions had begun their attack. Tekthyrios stirred, struggling against his cerebral bondage again. The effort to keep the dragon's consciousness contained had become almost an afterthought to Zasian. He had mastered the art of it quickly, and despite a few instances of sudden, sneaky efforts to catch him off guard, the storm dragon had ceased trying.
But as he waited, Zasian idly toyed with Tekthyrios, taunting the storm dragon with the knowledge of what was about to happen. When the creature at last understood the priest's plan and his own fate, he began anew the effort to break free of his captivity.
No, Zasian whispered to the dragon. I need your skin a little while longer.
Tekthyrios did not answer, but he continued to hammer at the barrier blocking him from control of his body.
There's nothing you can do about it, Zasian conveyed.
Perhaps, the storm dragon replied, surprising the priest. But you will not escape quite so easily as you think.
Are you certain? Zasian asked. Who will tell them what has become of us? You? What will they do even if they figure it out? Come after us? By the time anyone finds you here, we will be long gone.
Nonetheless, the dragon projected, yours will come due.
I think not, Zasian replied. The Black Sun's plot is unfolding nicely.
And I am safely a part of it, Zasian thought privately.
How many can make that claim? Others may believe they serve the Prince of Lies, but few truly understand the depth and breadth of his schemes. Sooner or later, Cyric's going to succeed at something magnificently terrible. Where better to be standing when the world comes crashing down than at his right hand?
A shout of alarm in the distance brought Zasian out of his ponderings. The attack had begun.
