“Ilvani, can you tell me where you are?” Natan asked. “There are shadar-kai warriors seeking you. Can you feel their presence?”
“Yes,” she said. She stood up and walked past him.
“Wait!” Natan called as he jumped to his feet and went after her. She passed through the wall, a phantom. Natan fumbled with the door latch and ran out to the stairs.
She was already walking up the spiral, her long black cloak with its overlay of tiny chains clinking behind her. Natan followed her.
“Everything is turning,” Ilvani said.
“What do you mean?” Natan said. He felt dizzy looking up at her while they turned on the stair. “What’s turning?”
“Don’t you feel it, brother?” Ilvani said, scoffing and fluttering her hands impatiently. “You should be feeling them, every one. They will change everything, and you won’t stop to see it until it’s too late. Then the fire will come.”
“Ilvani!” Natan cried. “Tempus, what are you trying to tell me!”
Ilvani stopped so fast that Natan passed through her. He collapsed on the stairs, breathless, and looked up at her. The light shone through her flesh, and she was a specter with his sister’s voice.
“He will bear the burden of Ikemmu,” she said, and her voice reverberated off the walls, deep and angry. “The faithless will guide the faithful, but by then it may already be too late. You must look to your people.”
She tipped her head back and spread her arms. White wings burst from her spine and spread out behind her. She brought them down, and in a rush of air that Natan felt on his face, she took flight.
The tower steps disappeared, and Natan found himself floating in a formless void. The specter-angel flew above him, and as he watched she was joined by other winged folk, circling in an endless vortex of wings and light.
Natan stood up and stretched his arms out. “Ilvani!” he cried. But he knew she was gone. He watched the angels cavort in the sky beneath a glowing sun. Natan felt the heat on his face, so warm he began to sweat.
The memory of his dream came back to him then in a rush, and Natan knew what had woken him. He looked up; the angels flew higher and higher, toward the golden sun.
“Stop!” he yelled, but his voice was very faint. It barely touched the vast sky. “Come back! Don’t fly there!”
He screamed until his throat was raw, but it was all in vain. One by one the winged specters caught fire. The flames outlined their wings, and for a hopeless breath they were mighty phoenixes. Then the fire consumed them and turned their beautiful appendages to ash.
Bodies fell shrieking out of the sky. As they passed they reached for Natan, and he tried to grab onto them to stop their fall, but his hands passed through their flesh, and all he felt was the fire. His hands blistered, and he cried out in agony as they all perished before his eyes.
Natan awoke in his bed, sweating. He could still feel the fire on his skin. He stumbled out of bed, went to the altar, and turned to the corner where Ilvani had appeared. But he saw nothing, sensed nothing but an empty chamber.
Trembling and awash in horror from what he’d witnessed, Natan couldn’t find the strength to pray. He went to his bed, took the blankets off, and piled them in the corner of the room. He lay down and felt the cold stone floor start to calm him and cool the sweat from his body. His heartbeat was frenzied in his chest.
“Tempus,” he begged, “Tempus.” Over and over he said his god’s name. “Let that not be our fate. Let it not be. Let it not be.”
He slept, a dreamless stupor, but he did not see Ilvani again, or the winged specters.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Down the valley in single file,” Vedoran told them as they prepared to leave. “Lean into the cliff wall if you lose your balance.”
“The wind is strong, especially near the top,” Chanoch said. “It almost plucked me off a couple of times.”
“I’ll take point, then Skagi and Cree, Ashok, and Chanoch watching our back,” Vedoran said.
“We should use our masks,” Ashok said. “The ones we made for the dust storm. If by some chance they do see us coming, they won’t know who or what we are.”
He looked to Vedoran for support. The shadar-kai considered then nodded. “Do it,” he said.
Ashok tied the dust-covered cloth across the bridge of his nose and pulled his cloak hood up so that only his black eyes were visible. Unless he spoke, no one in his enclave would know him, and none of them were expecting to see a dead son returned to his home. Still, considering what lay ahead of him, the protection seemed as flimsy as parchment, and as they proceeded down the valley, Ashok felt horribly vulnerable.
Tempus sees you, if no one else does, Ashok thought bitterly. At any moment he expected the warrior god to reach down and expose him for the traitor he was.
The wind was indeed vicious, and more than once they had to stop and crouch low to the rock to keep from being plucked off. But the farther they descended, the easier the way became, until they touched down on the valley floor.
Ashok’s heart pounded a dull, uneven rhythm against his ribs. The landmarks were so familiar. He knew exactly how far he was from his own chamber in the caves. Everything was the same; only Ashok had changed.
They weaved among rocks, keeping low and to the shadows as they crossed the stream and approached the cave entrance from the east. Ashok felt confident they wouldn’t be spotted. The guards were looking for threats on the valley ridge. They didn’t realize their domain had already been penetrated by enemies using their own stone staircase.
As they neared the mouth of the cave, Ashok carefully readied his chain. He kept the spikes taut so they made no sound. Vedoran drew his blade and motioned for Ashok to come join him at the front of the line. The others he motioned to stay a distance back.
Ashok came forward, and Vedoran whispered, “Stay at my back when we go in. Ten feet, no farther, until we see how many guards there are at the entrance.”
Ashok nodded and waited, while Vedoran darted past him and into the cave. He came in behind and heard the surprised cries of two guards, quickly stifled when Vedoran grabbed one of them from behind and covered his mouth.
Ashok grabbed the other and clamped a hand over his lips. He recognized both guards. Those men had the watch during the enclave’s sleeping time, and Ashok had often greeted them when he left on his journeys across the plain. They had been the last members of his enclave he’d seen before he left to hunt down the shadow hounds.
He dropped his chain and took out his dagger. Reversing the blade, Ashok struck the back of his guard’s skull with the hilt. The shadar-kai went limp, and Ashok let him fall to the ground.
As he sheathed his blade, Ashok heard a sudden crack. He fumbled and dropped the dagger, but Vedoran didn’t notice. He’d broken the neck of the other guard.
Vedoran went out and motioned for the others to join them inside the cave. He dragged his guard’s corpse over to Ashok’s unconscious one and dropped the body on top of him. Fortunately, he didn’t pause long enough to see that Ashok’s guard still breathed.
The passages ahead of them were lit by torches sparsely placed along the walls. They burned a low flame, casting just enough light to mimic the perpetual dusk of the Shadowfell. It was the gateway, the long walk in the dark.
Their greatest chance of failure lay in these twisting passages, Ashok thought. Initially, the tunnels were wide and tall enough for large groups to walk abreast, but the illusion of space soon faded. The deeper caves were designed to be like a maze, with so many dead-end passages and narrow halls that the uninitiated would quickly be lost and starve to death trying to find a way back to familiar territory.
Vedoran put them in line again, with himself and Ashok up front, Chanoch in the middle, and the brothers bringing up the rear. They proceeded down the long, wide passage, keeping close to the wall. Ashok could hear the echoing voices of his enclave drifting up from the deeper caves. Each time the voices came, Vedoran halted them to listen, but it was impossible to tell how close the voices were, and how many spoke. Ashok knew it must be driving Vedoran mad.