Myshik's eyes bulged when he realized he could not move.
Zasian watched, smirking, as the hobgoblin strained to break free of the repulsive magic. You truly are a simpleton, whelp of Morueme. Always two steps behind the rest of us. As bad as the half-fiends and their fool angel. 'Are you done, yet?' he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
'I could heave this blade such that it would lop off your head, Banite,' Myshik growled. He continued to struggle and did not notice Kashada step behind him.
'Yes, but you don't know what other little tricks I might have up my sleeve,' Zasian replied and nodded to the shadow-cloaked woman. She nodded back and stepped closer, planting what Zasian assumed was a dagger against the small of the hobgoblin's back.
Myshik froze, and his eyes rolled as he tried to peer back over his shoulder at the woman. Her free hand snaked up and took hold of the axe. He resisted for a moment then arched up straighter. Zasian chuckled, imagining how she was pressing her point home. Myshik released the axe and Kashada tossed it to the side. She did not move away from the half-dragon.
'Have you heard the saying, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' Myshik?' Zasian asked. 'I believe the nomadic tribesmen who roam the desert near your home use it often, as do the genies in various parts of the cosmos.'
Myshik glowered, but he did not say anything.
'Yes, I killed the storm dragon, but you never served him. It was me in control of his flesh and blood, me to whom you swore fealty.'
The half-dragon's eyes widened the slightest bit as that realization sunk in.
'I shouldn't think that it would matter too much to you what happened to Tekthyrios,' Zasian continued. 'I don't believe your father or uncle would be too keen to hear that you were in the service of a storm dragon. The storms and the blues never have gotten along too well, have they? Always squabbling over territory, domains, or some such, right?'
Myshik frowned, but eventually he nodded. 'But why?' he asked. 'Why the disguise, the trickery?'
'In due time, whelp of Morueme, in due time,' Zasian answered. 'For now, just know that I am no friend of Vhok's. He was a tool to me, nothing more. In fact, he still serves me in that fashion, though he does not yet realize it. Also know that I do not serve Bane. That lie was a necessary part of my deception with Vhok.' Zasian paused and studied the half-dragon, gauging his reaction. Myshik had stopped glowering. So far so good, the priest decided. He continued. 'You have two choices to consider now. One is to take a stand, try to fight against me, and die as a result. That is no threat, it is a certainty. It isn't, however, a particularly appealing result to me, because despite your stubbornness and rather simple outlook, I find you useful.
'Which brings me to the other choice. Serve me, as you had been serving me when you believed I was a storm dragon. The terms will be the same. Do as I ask, willingly, eagerly, and I will make certain you receive generous compensation for your efforts. Plus, you get the opportunity to thwart Vhok, make him one miserable demonspawn. That ought to convince you right there.'
'I accept,' Myshik said.
'What?' Zasian said, taken aback. 'No need to think about it? No deliberations over which choice is the lesser betrayal to your conscience?'
Myshik smiled. 'As you said, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' What is there to think about? My uncle gave me very clear instructions.'
Zasian's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Perhaps he is more cunning than I gave him credit for. I will have to watch him, he decided. He nodded to Kashada, who stepped back from the half-dragon and slipped her dagger back into her belt.
Myshik relaxed and moved to pick up his axe. He stopped before he actually took hold of it and glanced back at Kashada. 'You're not going to use me for target practice when I scoop this up, are you?' he asked.
'Does she have a reason to?' Zasian asked.
'No,' Myshik replied, 'but I wasn't sure if she knew that.'
'I don't think we need fear a reprisal from you,' the priest said.
Myshik gave him an even stare for just a little longer than Zasian thought appropriate, then he lifted the axe from the ground. He slipped it back into its spot upon his back and turned to face the other two. 'So, what is your intention?' he asked.
'Kashada and I have business elsewhere,' Zasian answered. 'We must take a journey, one that is likely to be a bit treacherous.'
'Yes, this cave you have brought us to,' Myshik said. 'But where does it lead? Where are we going?'
'Follow me,' Zasian replied. He turned and began to walk through the mist-filled forest, pushing past the foliage that sprouted up from every direction. The dampness clung to everything, and the sounds of its dripping echoed softly through the woods. The priest could see a faint path winding among the odd, rolling ridges of ground. Zasian picked his way along it, listening for sounds of pursuit or ambush.
'This ground is odd,' Myshik commented from behind Zasian. 'What is this place?'
Zasian smiled. 'It's not really ground at all,' he said. 'We are passing from the House of the Triad into the World Tree. This is the veil between those two places.'
Myshik was silent for a moment, then he exclaimed, 'It's bark! This is a branch!'
Zasian grimaced. 'Yes, but lower your voice, Morueme. There are a few enemies still around-and new ones on our trail-that will not take kindly to our passing through here.'
The priest grinned as he imagined Vhok and the others pursuing him, trying to catch up before he slipped away. Stay close, cambion, he thought. I am not finished with you yet.
They walked on in silence for some time longer, Zasian keeping a watch ahead as he followed the path. It wound between the rounded, rolling ridges of the rich, brown, woody substance and the twisted, angled trees.
Not trees, Zasian reminded himself. Branches. Twigs, perhaps.
The surrounding terrain grew higher and steeper on either side of the path, forming a narrow defile. As the trio descended into the canyon, it began to rain. The patter of drops from the gentle downpour caused little more than a whisper on the spongy ground.
Zasian pulled the hood of his cloak up and around his head, shielding him from the moisture. 'Keep an eye out, now,' he cautioned the other two in a soft voice. 'Other things live on the World Tree, and some of them are not friendly. Sometimes, even the tree itself becomes your enemy.'
The defile grew narrower and narrower, until Zasian felt his shoulders brushing against the sides as he walked. Just when it seemed that the walls had closed together too much for them to continue, the canyon ended in the entrance to a cave. The path vanished into the darkness beyond.
'Here we go,' Zasian muttered, half to himself. 'A bit of light, and…' He muttered a quick prayer, waved his hand over the head of his mace, and the weapon glowed with the light of day, illuminating the passage. 'Kashada, Myshik, wish this unhappy place a fond farewell. We're beyond its reach, now.' And with that, he ducked into the narrow opening and entered the blackness.
CHAPTER NINE
'Where are we going?' Kaanyr asked as he trailed after the angel. 'You seem to know what this place is and why Zasian would come here.'
'It is a doorway between worlds,' Tauran replied, his gaze still turned toward the ground. 'This part of the House borders on the World Tree. I think Zasian is going to try to travel along it to reach another plane.'
Kaanyr caught sight of a second set of booted prints in the soil, smaller and more delicate than the first. 'It doesn't look like he is alone,' the cambion said, pointing.
Tauran stopped and knelt down, again running his finger through the depression. 'I think you're right.'
'Look,' Aliisza said, pointing a bit farther down the path. 'There's more over here. It appears someone engaged in a scuffle.'
The angel rocked back on his heels, gazing into the distance, deep in thought. 'This makes things quite a bit more interesting,' he said, pulling on his chin. 'Where did he get an ally?'
