Cart shrugged. 'I'm fine,' he said.
A distant light appeared in the darkness, dim and flickering, like a beacon calling him home. Gaven tried to lift himself from the ground and move toward it, but he was mired in mud and filth. It took all his strength just to lift his head, to see the light a little better.
At the sight of it, though, he felt strength surge in his limbs, and he fought harder to pull himself up. The sludge slithered and hissed around him, resentful of the disturbance. He kept his eyes on the light, and he thought he heard a voice calling his name.
'Stay with us,' someone whispered in the darkness. 'You belong with us.' Bony hands gripped him, and faces surrounded him. They were dark-eyed and gaunt elves, the phantoms of the Paelions-the third branch of the Phiarlan family, slaughtered because of him. 'Your destiny lies with us.'
'No,' Gaven murmured, 'I'm sorry. No.'
The distant light sent a tingle of warmth into his icy skin, and he longed to let it fill him, penetrate to his bones. Mustering his strength, he lifted one foot from the mire and set it down in front of the other.
'You can't leave,' the voices around him said. 'You deserve this fate, though we did not. Stay.'
'I'm sorry,' Gaven said. His voice sounded stronger. He raised the other leg. Sticky tendrils of shadow snapped off him, leaving behind round sores on his skin. His strength surged, and soon he was walking in slow, stumbling strides toward the amber glow.
Faces crowded around him, smears of shadow trying to hide the light from his eyes, Paelion ghosts seeking to keep him in their clutches. He pushed them aside.
Rienne's voice wailed behind him, 'Bring me with you! Don't leave me here!'
He turned around to find her, and the darkness enfolded him again. He tried to turn back to the light, but it was gone, and shadows coiled around him again.
'Another will is opposing me,' Havrakhad said. His face was pale, and shadows pooled beneath his eyes. 'Someone is trying very hard to keep him imprisoned.'
'Who?' Aunn asked.
'I don't know. It might be helpful if you could tell me what happened to him.'
Cart and Ashara turned to Aunn, and Havrakhad followed their eyes.
'Very well,' Aunn said. 'Ashara, you still have the shard?'
'Of course,' she said. She drew the dragonshard out of a pouch at her belt. The lines of Gaven's mark burned red as hellfire in the pinkish crystal, throwing stark shadows on the walls. Havrakhad recoiled.
'Already I think I understand a great deal more,' the kalashtar said. He looked at Ashara. 'That's the evil I sensed around you. I apologize for misjudging you.'
Ashara set the shard down on the desk in front of Havrakhad, who leaned forward for a closer look without touching it.
'What is this?' Havrakhad said. 'The pattern inside-it resembles a dragonmark.'
'That's what it is,' Aunn said. 'It's Gaven's dragonmark, the Mark of Storm.'
Havrakhad's eyes shot to Gaven and scanned his skin. 'You say it's his mark. Do you mean…?'
'Yes. His mark was removed and transferred into the dragonshard.'
'Leaving him in this state.'
'Actually, no,' Ashara said. 'He endured the loss of his mark well enough. He seemed normal for some time. He didn't fall into this stupor until after the shard was back in his hands.'
'I take it that his dragonmark was removed from him against his will,' Havrakhad said.
'Correct,' Aunn said. He wasn't pleased with this line of questioning, but he was loath to withhold any information that might help the kalashtar save Gaven. After two failed attempts, Aunn was beginning to feel an urgency, as though Gaven could be utterly lost if Havrakhad couldn't restore his mind soon. Never mind the additional challenges morning would likely bring, starting with Jorlanna ir'Cannith.
Gaven's hand fell onto the dragonshard, making Aunn jump in surprise. Gaven held his arm as though it had lost all circulation, but he had fixed his eyes on the shard and was moving his whole upper body in an effort to pull the shard from the desk into his lap.
Aunn started to reach for the shard, but a rumble of thunder outside stopped him short. 'Cart, would you…?'
Cart's armor-plated hand closed over the dragonshard and pulled it away, and in one smooth motion he deposited it back into Ashara's belt pouch. Gaven slumped back into his chair, like a discarded puppet.
'That was strange,' Ashara whispered.
'And very enlightening,' Havrakhad said. 'I think that now I have what I need.' He stood. 'Ashara, will you please stand and face me?'
Ashara hopped down from her seat on the desk and faced the kalashtar, turning her back to Gaven.
'Now can you slowly withdraw the dragonshard from your pouch again? Let your body block Gaven's view of it, please.'
Ashara did as he instructed, holding the shard gingerly in the fingertips of both hands. Havrakhad reached toward it, but he didn't touch it.
'Let it go,' he murmured, and the shard floated up from Ashara's fingers. 'Thank you.'
He stepped around Ashara, the dragonshard suspended in the air between his hands. Gaven stirred slightly, and Havrakhad shifted the dragonshard so that it hovered over one hand. He extended the other hand to touch Gaven's shoulder, and Gaven slumped down again, though his eyes remained fixed on the shard.
'Excellent,' the kalashtar said. 'The third trial is the favored one.'
CHAPTER 8
The light reappeared, brighter than before, but this time Gaven turned away from it, buried his face in his arms to shield his eyes. The darkness stirred in response to his movement, then settled in around him again, rustling softly, cold but comfortable.
'This is where I belong,' he murmured. 'What I deserve.'
A chorus of whispers voiced its assent. 'What you deserve.'
'No, Gaven.' An unfamiliar voice cut through the whispers-a voice made of light, clear and strong. Gaven tried to lift his head, but the darkness held it down. 'You are a prisoner here,' the clear voice said.
'I was sentenced,' Gaven said, 'sent to Dreadhold…'
'But now the Keeper of Secrets holds you bound.'
'It lies,' Gaven said, a reflex. 'Truth would burn its tongue.'
'It speaks nothing but lies,' the voice said. 'Cast it off. Stand up, Gaven.'
Gaven lifted his head, pulling against the tendrils of darkness that held him down. The light was close beside him, and a man stood at the center of the light. Tall and slender, the man was a vision of beauty, like the light made flesh.
'Are you the Messenger?' Gaven asked. The darkness stirred in angry whispers around him.
'I'm Havrakhad, and I'm here to lead you to freedom,' the man said. 'Take my hand, get up, and follow me.' He bent over Gaven, extending a hand.
Gaven wrenched a hand free of the darkness and seized Havrakhad's hand. The whispers turned to shrieks of pain and fear as the darkness fled. Gaven stood on a floor of pale pink crystal. Red fire burned just beneath his feet, leading off in both directions, forming a maze of whirling lines stretching as far as he could see.
'I know this path,' he said. His eyes traced the pathways, seeing more than the glowing lines. They were the words of creation, and they spoke to him of what had been and what might yet come to pass.
'We can lead each other,' Havrakhad said.
'Wait-Rienne…' Gaven turned. A cloud of darkness formed before him, and Rienne's crying face appeared in the midst of it. She stretched her arms out to him.
'Don't leave me here, Gaven!' she wailed.
