taken. “It’s only fair that her blood help restore me.”
“If we injure her any further, she’s likely to die. As it is, we’ll have to cast healings on her and the bowman before they’re fit to travel.”
Coughing less, no longer shaking quite so hard with chill, but still too weak to resist, Jhesrhi silently thanked the Foehammer that Gaedynn was still alive.
“You… mortals,” the vampire snarled, like it was the foulest insult imaginable. “You priests. You order us to the fore to run the greatest risk-”
“And you obey,” the wyrmkeeper said, “because our master has given us authority over you.” Master, Jhesrhi noted, not mistress. Whomever he was talking about, it wasn’t his goddess. “And because you know we possess the power to compel you-or at least I assume you know. If necessary, I can provide a demonstration.”
Though still glowering with fangs extended, the undead rose and backed away. “Thank you,” the wyrmkeeper said. He stooped and tugged the staff from Jhesrhi’s feeble grasp. The runes stopped shining. He studied the tool with a knowledgeable eye. “Nice. Very nice. Now, we’re going to gag you and bind your hands. Then I’ll do something to restore your strength and take away the worst of-”
“Look!” someone yelped.
The wyrmkeeper pivoted and glanced around. “At what?”
One of the men armed with a pick made of ordinary steel and wood pointed at a rooftop. “He’s gone now, but he was there! Somebody spying!”
The wyrmkeeper turned toward the spot where three vampires stood clustered together. “Whoever it is, retrieve him.”
The pale-faced figures dissolved from bottom to top like icicles melting. Shrunken into bats with wrinkled snouts and eyes like gleaming ink, swirling around one another, they fluttered upward and vanished into the night sky.
Next the cloaked men restrained Jhesrhi, denying her any hope of using her magic. Then the wyrmkeeper prayed over her. The nasty, sibilant sound of the words made her skin crawl. But as promised, they closed her wounds, muted her pain, and brought a bit of her strength trickling back. The priest moved over to Gaedynn and did the same for him.
Shortly afterward the three vampires, in human guise once more, stalked into view. The one in the lead was carrying a motionless body in his arms. When he dumped it on the street, its cape fell open. Jhesrhi was surprised to see that under his outer garment, the dead man too wore a vestment of iridescent scales.
“Thank the Dark Lady,” the wyrmkeeper said.
“What do we do with him?” asked the fellow who’d spotted the skulker in the first place.
“It’s better that he should disappear than be found,” said the priest. “So I suppose we’ll have to drag him along with us. Get them up.”
The enemy hauled Jhesrhi and Gaedynn to their feet, and she saw that they’d disarmed, bound, and gagged the archer as well. The wyrmkeeper rubbed the black, mask-shaped ring on his finger, and she felt a powerful enchantment-no doubt the charm of invisibility-enfold the entire company, captors and captives alike.
Then they all tramped some distance through the city. Thanks to the wyrmkeeper’s restorative magic, Jhesrhi expected that she’d continue to recover from her wounds with preternatural speed. But for now she was still weak and sore, and the walk taxed her severely. She might have been glad when her foes pointed her toward the entrance to the ruins of an old warehouse, except that she had every reason to be wary of whatever waited inside.
First she caught its odor, the tang of a gathering storm like she’d smelled that afternoon. Then she saw the sparks jumping and popping on the body that was simply a huge, shapeless mass in the dark. Eyes big as serving platters glowed white at the top of the murky form.
“I see you caught them,” the creature said, its voice a sort of rumbling hiss.
“Yes, milord,” the wyrmkeeper said. “Unfortunately, a spy loyal to one of your brothers discovered us at our work. But he won’t tell anyone what he saw.”
“That’s all right, then. Tie the prisoners to my back.”
Jhesrhi felt a pang of dread and tried to shake it off. To take comfort in the fact that at least the dragon didn’t mean to torture or kill her and Gaedynn on the spot.
Someone produced a long coil of rope, and the worshipers of the Nemesis of the Gods proceeded to obey the wyrm’s command. Meanwhile, Jhesrhi noticed, although she hadn’t been able to tell it from the street, that most of the derelict building was open to the sky. A creature with wings wouldn’t have much trouble entering from above.
Or exiting in the same manner-as the blue dragon proved by lashing its own batlike wings and carrying Gaedynn and Jhesrhi aloft. In a hundred heartbeats or so, Mourktar was left behind.
SIX
29 TARSAKH-GREENGRASS THE YEAR OF THE AGELESS ONE (1479 DR)
Fires burned in the southwest. Khouryn couldn’t see the flames, but no one could miss the columns of black smoke, even against a gray sky.
He clucked and urged his dappled mare forward. The dragonborn bred big, powerful horses to bear their weight, and though his was the smallest Perra had to offer, she was still an enormous steed for a dwarf. But he’d ridden all sorts of mounts since leaving East Rift, and he managed well enough.
He caught up with Medrash and Balasar, who sat silently contemplating the smoke like everyone else. “What is it?” he asked.
“War,” Medrash said.
Wonderful, Khouryn thought sourly. Because his wife and home were on the far side of that war, and with Vigilant gone he couldn’t just fly over it, now could he?
“Pick up the pace!” Perra called. Evidently the sight of the smoke made it seem even more urgent that she confer with her master as soon as possible.
So they rode or marched faster, and by the end of the morning, Djerad Thymar came into view. For some time afterward, Khouryn kept squinting at it. He was sure some trick of perspective was making the place look bigger than it really was.
But it wasn’t so. The closer they approached, the more obvious it became that the dragonborn had built themselves a veritable mountain of a city. The structure rested on a colossal block of granite. On top of that, hundreds of gigantic pillars supported a kind of pyramid with a flattened apex. In its totality, the edifice towered more than a thousand feet high.
Since sighting the smoke, the ambassador and her retainers had been taciturn. But now Balasar noticed Khouryn staring, and grinned a fierce-looking reptilian grin. “Impressed?”
“I’d have to say yes,” Khouryn replied.
“I hear you dwarves build things just as grand.”
“We do. But we start with caverns and dig and carve. To begin in the open air with nothing more than a piece of ground, quarry all those big, heavy pieces of stone, haul them cross-country, set them one on top of another, layer on layer…” Khouryn shook his head. “Your ancestors must have been out of their minds.”
Medrash looked over his shoulder. “Keep up,” he said.
The paladin’s curt manner reminded Khouryn that grim times had come to Tymanther, not that he needed reminding. There were numerous indications as the company crossed the fields surrounding the city. Though he couldn’t quite make out what sort of beasts they were riding, he spotted several aerial cavalry patrols taking off from the platform at the top of the truncated pyramid. Meanwhile, drums thumped out a somber cadence from the open, colonnaded space underneath the bottom. He inferred the sound was a call to arms, a funerary observance, or both.
A wide ramp led up the outside of the slab. Farmers, soldiers, and other folk drew to the edges to let the ambassador’s party by. At the top, Khouryn and his companions passed into shadow. The pyramid perched above them blocked out much of the sky.
