A rage built inside Thorn as she fought for control. She wasn't going to die. Not like this. Not at the hands of a Brelish soldier. She had barely enough strength to lift her arm, but she grabbed at Toli's chest, hooking her fingers into his chain mail shirt.
Toli screamed. For a moment, Thorn thought she was on fire; a burst of heat engulfed her hand and flowed up her arm. But it was more than heat; it was strength, a surge of energy. It swept over her body and the pain of her injured lung evaporated before it. All the while, Toli howled in agony.
He pulled free of her grasp after several seconds, but it felt like eternity. He fell to his knees, and his skin was pale and sweaty. He lay still for a moment, staring at Thorn, the steel flashing behind her as medusa and Valenar continued their dance.
Then he changed.
His eyes were the first thing she saw. They weren't human eyes anymore; they turned orange and black, the eyes of an animal. His jaws lengthened, pushing forward from his skull, sharp fangs gleaming in the light. Then he seemed to burst, his human skin and clothing falling to the floor to reveal a creature standing in his place.
A wolf.
He recovered his strength during the transformation and leaped at Thorn in a blur of fur and fang. But Thorn's muscles were still singing from the surge of energy. For her, the wolf seemed to move in slow motion; it was a simple matter to roll out of its way and rise to her feet. The beast skidded against the stone floor, snarling and spitting. Whatever this was, it wasn't Toli, and Thorn didn't hesitate; she drove Steel into the creature's neck.
The blow didn't stop the wolf; instead, he twisted his head and snapped at her wrist. He was surprisingly strong and knew how to use his weight to his advantage; in an instant, he'd pulled Steel from her grip. The dagger buried in his neck didn't seem to bother him, and Thorn saw only a tiny trickle of blood.
Wolf. Steel doesn't hurt him. Shapechanger…
It all became clear. As the wolf leaped at her, Thorn held her ground and raised her hands. Ghyrryn's axe flashed into her grasp, and Thorn lodged the haft between the jaws of the beast. She used her training, spinning and slamming the beast to the ground. As the wolf gasped for air, she raised the gnoll's weapon and drove the spearhead into the beast's exposed belly, aiming for the heart. The wolf howled, and blood flowed out in a dark fountain. The spear had a cutting edge, and Thorn placed her foot on the wolf and drew the blade toward her, slashing deeper into its chest. The howl faded, and the room went silent.
Caught up in the frenzy of battle, a few moments passed before Thorn realized what that silence meant. As she pulled her weapon free from the bloody wolf, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. A blade made of black marble. The blade that had belonged to the Valenar elf. The only sound in the chamber was the furious hissing of Sheshka's vipers… directly behind her. She felt the point of a sword pressing against her back, and the touch caused more pain than mere steel could account for.
"About that deal…" Thorn said.
"You hold a myrnaxe," Sheshka said. Her voice was cold but steady. "Where did you get it?"
"It was a gift," Thorn said.
"From whom?" For a woman who'd just been surprised by assassins twice in one night, Sheshka was disturbingly calm. She might have been discussing the price of tribex.
"A friend."
Thorn winced as the point of the blade dug into her back. Though it was just a single motion, it felt as if Sheshka were carving into her flesh and pouring salt into the wound. Steel had warned her about this sword; apparently, it was as dangerous as he'd claimed.
"Enough games. Tell me why you are here. Who sent you? And what do you know of these others?"
"Yes. About that-"
Thorn never got to finish her sentence. The silencing mist was still effective, and she'd heard nothing from the hall. But she saw a flash of motion. A woman in the archway, wearing a dark cloak fastened with a blue pin. Hands outstretched before her, fingers twitching… magic. War magic.
Fire filled the room, sweeping everything away in a wave of light and heat.
The air was scalding, and the smell of scorched flesh was overpowering. Thorn pushed past the nausea and fought to overcome the pain… only to realize that there was no pain to overcome. Her flesh, her clothes-the fire hadn't touched her. She'd felt the blazing heat, but she wasn't burned; her hair wasn't even singed.
Illusion?
No. The damage to the room around her was real. Her intuition told her that Sheshka was crumpled on the ground behind her, and the wolf…
… wasn't a wolf any more.
The body on the floor in front of her was badly burned. A wound gaped in its chest, and Steel protruded from the corpse's neck. But it was unmistakably the body of a human man. Even beneath the facial burns, Thorn could see it was Toli.
She'd make sense of all this in the hours ahead. But she needed to deal with the assassin who'd tried to broil her right away.
Thorn took an instant to send the axe back into her glove, then snatched Steel from the scorched corpse. The sorcerer had ducked behind the doorway, and Thorn approached the arch carefully, ready for her enemy to leap out again.
"What do you see, Steel?" She kept her voice low.
Searching now, Steel replied. I don't feel anything out there, but the aura of the silencer may be hiding weaker signatures.
Thorn spun around the corner of the door, thrusting at the level of the woman's kidneys. Nothing. The hall was empty. But Thorn could smell her-flesh and wildflower perfume, a lingering hint of sulfur and guano. She'd fled toward the main room. Thorn followed, switching Steel to a throwing grip.
The great chamber held chairs, tables, another pit of sand, and a large hearth. A statue of a harpy with outstretched wings filled one corner, while a more abstract sculpture of crystal and marble lay next to the fireplace. She found no sign of the woman. The main door to the chamber stood open, and Thorn could see the body of an armored medusa lying in a pool of blood in the hall beyond. Thorn sniffed the air, trying to trust to her newfound senses. Was the sorcerer using invisibility to hide from her?
Despite her newfound gifts, Thorn was no bloodhound. But it seemed that her trail led back to the door-that the woman had fled. She started to follow, but Steel's voice stopped her.
Let her go. You must tend to Sheshka. She cannot be allowed to die until you have completed your mission.
Sheshka! Thorn ran back to the silent hall. She closed her eyes before entering the bedchamber, but there was no need. The medusa was sprawled motionless on the floor, and the smell of blood and burnt flesh filled the air.
CHAPTER TWENTY — FIVE
The Great Crag Droaam Eyre 19, 998 YK
"Sheshka?" No response came, and the serpents were silent. Thorn held Steel over the body of the medusa queen. "Steel, is she looking at me?"
No, Steel replied. I fear this may be a lost cause.
Thorn opened her eyes to a dire sight. The basilisk Szaj had suffered the worst, and charred bones protruded from his corpse. Sheshka had been partially shielded by the statue of the Valenar elf, but that had simply spared her from instant death. Many of her scales had been burned away, leaving blackened flesh below. Her breathing was slow and faint. She had a deep cut on her left bicep and a piercing wound in her right thigh. The Valenar might have lost his battle, but he'd stained his blades before he fell. Sheshka had defeated her opponent, only to be taken by treachery.