vibration hummed against his skin.
“Is this the Span?” Ashok asked.
“The bridges,” Vedoran said, “between Pyton and Hevalor. There are three of them. The highest is ten feet below us.”
Ashok looked, and he remembered the portrait in Uwan’s chamber. But he didn’t see the bridges.
“They were built of the same material as the tower, but altered to blend in with the canyon wall,” Vedoran said.
“If enemies penetrated one tower,” Ashok said, “they wouldn’t have immediate access to the other.”
“Precisely,” Vedoran said. “We often teleport from level to level via these archways, but the towers are too far apart to teleport between them.”
Everything about the city had been planned for defense, Ashok thought. Besieging Ikemmu would be a nightmare for any attacking force.
“Are you ready?” Vedoran asked.
Ashok looked at him. “For what?” he replied, though he thought he knew.
Instead of answering, Vedoran stepped off the ledge. He dropped, his black cloak billowing behind him, and landed in a crouch ten feet below Ashok. He stood, turned, and looked up at Ashok with that same lazy smile. He walked forward a few steps, seemingly treading on air.
Ashok’s heart beat furiously against his breastbone. His legs quivered, aching for the jump. He took a moment to enjoy the sensations: the vertigo, the heat in his blood, the tense muscles poised for that instant of gratification when he stepped off the edge.
Live or die-it was all up to him.
Ashok opened his arms, caught the wind, and jumped.
The towers sped past him, impossibly fast. The slope of the canyon wall leveled out to a sheer surface, sucking away the darkness and lantern shadows like a spell. He could see the bridges rushing up to meet him, Vedoran’s form coming closer.
It was over far too quickly. Ashok’s boots hit stone, and he fell into a crouch to absorb the impact. Dust and rock scattered in his wake, the debris falling into space. With his arms spread, Ashok found balance on the edge of nothingness. Invisible hands held him up; one step backward or forward, and he was gone. But that breath in between was a century. That space was the only space that existed for him.
He looked up and met Vedoran’s half-crazed eyes. Ashok smiled. He couldn’t help it.
Vedoran laughed. The emotion seemed to steal his breath. His chest rose and fell as if he’d been running for miles. “You … You’re alive, after all,” Vedoran said. “I thought you were made of stone.”
Ashok sat down, his legs straddling the bridge. He put his hands on the curved stone tusks rising up around him. The bridge was so narrow. Navigating it with any kind of burden would be an adventure in itself.
Vedoran seemed to read his thoughts. “Only the shadar-kai use these paths,” he said. “The other races are afraid.”
“Has anyone ever fallen?” Ashok asked.
“Yes,” Vedoran said.
Ashok nodded. He lay on his back on the bridge, his arms outstretched in the constant wind. The force of the upswells was almost enough to bear their weight. He stared up at the cavern’s ceiling. Between the distant stalactites were shadows even the city’s lights couldn’t chase away, making him think of the tiefling woman with the staff.
“This city …” He didn’t know how to say it.
In Ashok’s peripheral vision, Vedoran sat with an arm across his knee, the other propped behind him, holding his weight.
“Say it,” he said.
“Is it yours?” Ashok asked. “It feels … old. Did the shadar-kai build it?”
“No one knows who built it,” Vedoran said. “The lore I’ve heard claims the shadar-kai who settled the city were led here by their gods-Tempus, as you can imagine. You’ve seen the carvings on the towers.”
“The winged folk,” Ashok said.
“The clerics say they’re Angels of Battle, Tempus’s emissaries,” Vedoran said.
Ashok caught a tone in Vedoran’s voice, something like the vocal shadow of his lazy smile. “You don’t believe them,” he said.
“Skagi calls me arrogant,” Vedoran said. “And so I am. But I’m not so full of hubris that I think any god would prepare a city just for my folk.” He nodded at the buildings below. “I’ve seen the black scars. Someone burned the angels-if that’s what they were-out of their city. Probably it was the Spellplague, but we’ll never know.”
The Spellplague. Ashok knew it only in stories: the Blue Fire that had raged across the mirror world of Faerun, its tendrils reaching even to the Shadowfell. A force powerful enough to rip apart entire cities-he could well imagine such a thing to have scarred Ikemmu. But to consume an entire people … Ashok shuddered at the thought of extinction through the blue flame.
Above Ashok, a shadow fell from the clouds, spread dark wings, and descended toward the bridge.
Ashok and Vedoran came to their feet at almost the same instant, weapons in their hands. Vedoran pointed. “Cloaker,” he said, as the thing angled toward them.
“Are you sure?” Ashok said.
“Oh yes,” Vedoran said. “The witches say that the cloakers were here when the shadar-kai first came to Ikemmu. They called it
Ashok braced his feet so he wouldn’t succumb to the vertigo of standing on the near-invisible bridge. He twirled his chain, waiting to see if the cloaker would attack.
It drifted down like its namesake, bone claws curled at the edges of the false fabric. Ashok kept the chain moving, swinging it above their heads and in front of his body. Still the thing floated, falling at a leisurely pace, coasting on the air currents.
“It’s going to pass,” Vedoran said.
“No it’s not,” Ashok said, and just in that breath, the cloaker tucked into itself. In the sudden absence of wind, it plummeted straight at them.
“Duck,” Ashok said, and released one end of the chain. It sailed over Vedoran’s head and snapped taut inches from the cloaker’s flesh.
Quickly, Ashok jerked the chain back and grabbed the other handgrip out of the air. Vedoran took out a small belt dagger, threw it, and missed. The cloaker angled out of reach beneath the bridge.
“Which way is it coming up?” Ashok demanded.
“I don’t know. Stop looking down,” Vedoran told him. “You’ll get dizzy.”
He was right. Ashok swayed on his feet. He stepped back and felt his heel go off the edge. Jerking in a breath, he righted himself. So close to the edge, but he kept his balance. He was in control. Ashok’s heart raced in exhilaration.
The cloaker appeared again from the opposite side of the bridge, spread its wings, and covered Vedoran like a curtain. To his great credit, the shadar-kai didn’t struggle. Such an action would have certainly sent him off the bridge. Instead, he dropped to his knees, then to his stomach, pinning the cloaker under his weight. Surprised by the move, the creature came loose, its flesh folds hanging over the side of the bridge.
Vedoran skidded back, his boots kicking the thing away as it tried to grab for him. The cloaker folded in on itself and dropped over the side of the bridge before Ashok could get to it.
“Are you all right?” Ashok called to Vedoran. They were over twenty feet apart on the bridge.
Vedoran jerked a nod. “This isn’t done,” he said. “It’ll come back for another pass.”
Judging by his expression, Ashok knew retreat wasn’t an option for Vedoran either. He held his chain, thinking.
“Can you hold my weight?” he said finally, coming forward.
Vedoran looked him over. Ashok knew what he saw: an underfed body, wiry muscle, and bone. But he was tall, and the tension would be incredible.
“I can,” Vedoran said. “Do you trust me?”
