Under the Crimson Sun

“No, it doesn’t,” said another voice.

A blonde with curly hair was standing behind him. Drahar hadn’t the first clue who she was, but his trained mind instantly detected that she had a powerful talent-albeit raw and unfocused.

“I will aid you, Lord Chamberlain,” she said, touching his shoulder. He could feel her power flowing into him. “Together, we will make this thing pay for what it did to Rol.”

The chamberlain grabbed onto the woman’s power, and for a moment it nearly overwhelmed him. She was obviously untrained-which, if nothing else, proved she was not born and raised in Urik. Hamanu’s templars tested every child born under his rule and placed them appropriately. A child of her ability would have been fast-tracked to the King’s Academy just as Drahar had been-but where his placement was due to his station, hers would’ve been entirely due to ability.

But Drahar was in no position to dwell on the waste of letting her potential lay fallow. Right now what he needed was the strength of this woman-whose name, he now knew, was Feena Storvis, the sister to the one with the eye patch-to stop the Voidharrow.

Perhaps now he might not lose. At the very worst, he’d put up a better fight.

Karalith was making sure that everyone who was still upright got out safely.

One half-giant grabbed her and asked, “When do we get our money?”

“Go to the Three Brothers Stable by the City of the Dead and wait for us there, you’ll get paid. Tell the thri- kreen that I sent you, and say the word ‘geresche.’ ” It was a codeword that was meant to sound like elven, but it truly meant nothing. But it signaled to Tricht’tha that the fighters had truly been sent by someone from the emporium.

Once they all got out, she found Zabaj, holding a large metal box filled with their profits from the increasingly dangerous job. “What’s going on?”

Karalith blew out a breath. “Everything’s going to hell is what’s going on. Whatever Rol’s turned into, it’s powerful enough to take on the chamberlain. Feena’s gone to help him.”

“What?”

As soon as she’d said it, Karalith realized she should have kept her mouth shut.

Zabaj immediately dropped the box onto the stone floor. It hit with a rattling thunk and Zabaj ran back the way Karalith had come.

With a sigh, she hauled the box of ceramic coins and made her way to the exit. She wasn’t sure where Komir was, but she trusted her brother to take care of himself. She needed to get the hell out of there before the chamberlain and the monster conspired to destroy the entire arena.

Zabaj ran through the catacombs of the arena and what he saw chilled him to his very bones.

Intellectually, the mul knew that Feena was a mind-mage. Not a trained one, and she mostly only used her skills to help fool victims in the game, and to occasionally block the emporium members’ thoughts from other mind-mages.

So it was easy for him to forget how powerful she was.

There she stood, side-by-side with Drahar, magic coursing through them both, lattices of energy that were intertwined and being thrown at the monster that Rol had been changed into.

For all his life-both in the arena and with the emporium-Zabaj had solved most problems with his might. Either he’d punch things or lift heavy things or do something else that required his prodigious strength.

This, however, was a fight where he wasn’t sure what good his physical abilities would do.

But Feena was fighting for her life, and she was the woman Zabaj loved. He was still angry at her for making him go back on his word and become a part of this foul place, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t lay down his life for her if necessary.

So he charged the creature, slamming it into the wall.

Feena felt a surge of joy as Zabaj’s bulk sent the Voidharrow smashing into a wall. So focused was the otherworldly monster on the magical end that it had lost track of the physical.

Drahar, with Feena’s help, took advantage of the distraction to strike as hard as possible.

In truth, the actual spellcasting was all Drahar. Feena’s lack of training in the Way prevented her from being an active participant, instead being relegated to being a power source. She was simply the water that flowed through the pumps-Drahar was the well that did the work to bring it out.

Zabaj’s arrival, however, weakened the creature enough that Feena was able to split her focus briefly. Drahar could handle things for a bit.

Instead, Feena turned her attention to the corner of the Astral Plane where she saw Rol curled up into a ball.

But she sensed nothing. Rol’s presence was gone from this mindscape.

Still, she reached out mentally, tried to find a spark, a presence-something that might have remained of Rol within.

Rol-it’s Feena. Please tell me there’s something here. Tell me that some part of you is hanging on.

“… go away …”

The voice was small, faint-Feena barely heard it. It was cloaked in agony and despair and loss.

But it was definitely Rol.

Listen to me, Rol, I can help you.

“I’m beyond help. Just let me die in peace.”

In truth, he was very close to that. His last spark of consciousness was flickering and dying. A few more moments and it would be too late.

And even the tiniest spark could be fanned into a flame.

We’re here fighting for you, Rol. Me and Komir and Karalith-Zabaj is fighting the creature you’ve turned into. And Gan’s been here all along trying to save you.

“I can’t be saved, Feena. There is no Rol Mandred anymore, there’s just the Voidharrow.” The voice grew louder, but the despair thickened.

So you’re just going to give up?

“What choice do I have?”

Feena was suddenly furious. I guess you’re right-there is no Rol Mandred. Because the Rol I know, the Rol that my brother pledged his lifelong friendship to, would never give up without a fight.

“How can I fight myself?” A glimmer of hope started to shine through.

You can take back control of your own body. I can help you.

“It’s no use, Feena. It’s not even my body anymore.” The hope started to weaken, and the voice grew faint again.

You can at least try to stop it from causing further harm. Zabaj and Gan and I are trying to fight it. You can help us.

“Gan’s here?” The hope came through more clearly then. “He’s still alive?”

Yes, and fighting for you.

A pause.

“What do you need me to do?”

Feena thought for a moment. I can give you a mental boost-it might be enough to give you physical control of at least a small part of the creature.

“All right.”

Determination pierced through the veil of despair, fanning the flames of Rol’s consciousness. Feena diverted some of her power into Rol, hoping that what she took from Drahar could be spared.

She felt Rol concentrate on his right arm, thinking about all the things he did with it: punching people, holding knives, putting it around pretty women, eating fine food, eating bad food, eating that fantastic jerky, drinking far too much ale, and throwing open doors to make dramatic entrances.

Feena found herself learning a bit more about Rol than she expected just from that …