forth, and smoke rose up from the deep wound on its back. It was knocking trees aside in its throes, and Zasian could see more of the humans gathering near the beast. He suspected some might even be trying to heal the thing.
He swooped in low, aiming for the newly made clearing, and raked the entire area with a swipe of his massive tail. The satisfying thunk of scale on flesh and the abrupt screams of several of the defenders let him know that his attack had been effective. He circled once more, scanning the area. Numerous unmoving figures lay scattered around. The giant wooden bear still thrashed, but its movements had become feeble and sporadic. It wouldn't survive much longer.
That ought to do it, Zasian decided.
The priest selected a tree from among those still standing at the edge of the clearing. It was larger than most, and it jutted at just the right angle, toward the dying creature. He rolled toward it and flew hard, zipping just to one side of the trunk. As he soared past, he slapped at it with his tail. There was a tremendous booming crack, and the tree splintered in half, leaving a jagged stump. The rest of the tree toppled over to one side.
The jarring impact sent agonizing pain up the storm dragon's spine. Zasian was fairly certain that he had fractured bones. He gritted his teeth and spun away, trying to climb.
Fighting the pain of his injury, the priest gained altitude. He climbed in a spiral, circling above the ruined tree. When he was high enough that he could not even make out the clearing for the fog anymore, he spun over and dived.
No! Tekthyrios screamed from within the confines of his mind prison.
Yes, Zasian replied. Your usefulness has ended for me.
As he plummeted down toward the clearing, the priest began to cast one final spell. The jagged spike he had created came into view, and Zasian angled toward it. At the last moment, he finished his spell, releasing the magic. Just as the wyrm's body plunged down atop the sheared-off tree, impaling itself upon it, Zasian felt himself recede from sensation as a dragon. He coalesced into his own form, freshly recovered from the pocket dimension where he had secured it. When the rejoining was complete, the priest found himself trapped inside the belly of the beast.
The impact slammed Zasian hard, jarring him even within the relatively protected environs of the dragon's stomach. The blow left him woozy, but even in his muddled state, he heard the horrific howl of agony reverberate through Tekthyrios's body. The priest felt the creature shudder once, then the dragon wretched, and Zasian was thrown clear.
He landed atop a mound of coarse earth and bounced to the far side of it, sliding into a gully. The cool dampness of the soil felt pleasant against his scorched skin. Still unsteady and in pain, Zasian rose up onto his knees and peered back at his handiwork.
Tekthyrios thrashed feebly, impaled upon the sheared-off tree. The dragon's eyes rolled back in his head and he gave one plaintive cry. As Zasian watched, he struggled to get his clawed legs beneath himself. He tried to lift himself free of the deadly spike. After several unsuccessful attempts, Tekthyrios gave up and sagged back down, his head lolling to one side.
'Priest,' the dragon gasped, his eyes closed. 'You will… pay,' he said, his last word little more than a death rattle in his chest.
Zasian watched for a moment to make certain the dragon was truly dead, then wove a quick spell of healing to cleanse away the acid burns he had endured while within the beast's belly. Once renewed, Zasian turned and trotted into the mists, seeking his companions.
Kashada chuckled and initiated the delicate, intricate gestures of a spell.
The elf advanced several more steps and raised her glowing, preternatural sword with both hands. As she closed the distance between them, she kept her milky, iridescent gaze on the mystic.
Kashada found those strange, opalescent eyes unnerving. She nearly lost her concentration and her spell and had to take a step back as she completed the incantation. She wanted to stay well clear of that incandescent blade's reach.
Near the warrior's feet, beneath a thick clump of ferns at the base of a large tree, shadows began to writhe. Tendrils of them thickened and darkened. The tendrils then snaked outward from beneath the ferns and lashed at the elf's ankles, rapidly encircling them.
The elf paused in her advance and stared down at her feet as the tendrils grew to become grasping black tentacles. The tentacles thickened and climbed like unholy vines. In the span of a couple of heartbeats, they had engulfed the woman's legs and hugged her waist, squeezing tightly.
Kashada smiled, though she knew her adversary could not see the expression. 'Don't scream,' she advised. 'You'll lose your air faster that way.' She giggled then and started to turn away.
The aura that surrounded the elf blazed brighter, hurting Kashada's eyes. The glow pulsed once, twice. The third time, the mystic felt her magic dissolve as the black appendages disintegrated and vanished.
Kashada gasped.
'What were you saying?' the elf asked, stepping closer and raising her blade high again.
Bitch, Kashada thought and spun away. The glowing sword arced down and sliced very near the mystic. She felt hot, shadow-sapping energy warm her skin where the blade passed. She darted to one side and sought a spot of deeper darkness.
The warrior hoisted her weapon high again and stalked after Kashada, following her step for step. 'Don't run, witch. You'll lose your air faster that way.'
Kashada spied a small draw where water rushed through during wet weather. A large branch, fallen from some nearby tree, had become wedged there, and debris had piled against it in rainy days past. The resulting natural lean-to protected a dark recess. The mystic dived toward it, engaging her magic.
As she hit the ground beneath the debris, the servant of Shar saw the world change around her, becoming faint and faded. At the same time, the shadows deepened, firmed, became more substantial. Of the elf woman and her wicked sword, there was no sign.
Kashada lay for several moments where she had landed, catching her breath. Then she rose to her knees and peered out. In almost every way, the shadow-forest mirrored its material counterpart, with the exception that everything sat absolutely still. No branches swayed in the breeze, no birds flitted from limb to limb, no rain fell. All was dim, unearthly silence.
The mystic smiled and crawled out from beneath the dead branch. She climbed to her feet and scanned her surroundings, seeking some sign that her adversary had found a way to follow her. Satisfied that she was alone, Kashada turned and followed her original path, making her way toward the cave.
Zasian did not mention there would be ghaeles in the woods, the shadow-mystic thought. Just as he failed to mention in Sundabar that I would remain imprisoned within that Shar-forsaken sphere for twelve years, she added sourly. Such oversights will come back to haunt him, she vowed. Blessed Shar will make certain he has his day of reckoning. Cyric cannot protect him from that.
As Kashada neared the point where she suspected she was to meet the others, she sought another place of deeper shadow. She spied a felled tree ahead. The massive trunk had snapped from its stump perhaps five feet up from the forest floor and still rested against the rotting base, forming an angular, offset arch. Beneath that span, welcome darkness invited Kashada. She quickened her pace and stepped beneath it. She slipped one of her daggers free and flipped it around to grasp the blade end. She took a slow, calming breath and shifted.
The forest came alive again. Green replaced faded silvery gray. Leaves danced and whispered as breezes ran through them. The smell of earth and decaying wood filled Kashada's nostrils. Somewhere, a bird chirped.
The Sharran held still and peered around. She saw no sign of the ghaele. Somewhere in the distance, a horn wailed, a distressed call for help. Perhaps the ghaele had heard it too and had gone to assist whoever was sounding it.
Confident that she had slipped away from her pursuer, Kashada stepped out from beneath the fallen tree. She checked the surroundings once more. There was no one.
Satisfied, the mystic turned toward where she believed the caves to be and began walking again.
The baleful call of the horn ceased, replaced by a faint roar. Then a rumble of distant thunder reached Kashada's ears. She suspected that Zasian, in the form of Tekthyrios, was wreaking havoc among the folk guarding the cave.
