Issola (28 page)

"What was that, Loiosh?"

"Something from that guy overhead, I think, Boss."

"Good.
Did it accomplish anything?"

"I don't know. But one of them is down."

I saw it, then - one of the Jenoine was down indeed, and wouldn't be getting up again, and there was no mystery about what had taken it out: the dragon was holding it down with two paws and tearing chunks out of the thing with its teeth, and scattering it in all directions, as if to tell us that good, old fashioned gore did, indeed, belong in a battle of gods, demigods, and wizardry.

Well, okay. Score one for our team.

Aliera turned her back on Morrolan and took two steps, which brought her next to the Demon Goddess her mother the two of them stood facing one of them - perhaps the one that had laid out Morrolan. I watched, motionless. The three of them began moving in a circle, and as far as I could tell, not doing anything else. I glanced around, trying in get an idea of what else was going on. Another of the Jenoine stood on what I have to call the shore for lack of a better term, staring out over it with its hands extended - probably, I suppose, doing whatever it was they came here to do in the first place

I supposed I should do something to stop it. Heh.

Another continued to be dismembered and gutted by the dragon, who wanted to make a thorough job of it, and the remaining one stood with its back to the one on the shore, making sweeping gestures with its arms while the gods stood around it, trying to close but unable to - Barlen, in particular, was scraping his huge reptilian feet in the dirt as if scrabbling for a purchase. It is not every day that one gets to see the gods stymied; I might have even enjoyed it if I weren't part of the whole thing.

Judging from the sparks and flashes that occurred in front of the Jenoine, the gods were throwing all sorts of things at it that didn't get through, and there was that god overhead, dominating everything, making flashes of light that made the daylight seem brighter than bright. It was all very magical and stuff. I tried to watch everything at once. I was conscious, once more, of how relaxed I was now that the time for action was at hand. My fear was somewhere behind me - I recognized it, but it was as if it were someone else's fear. I don't know, maybe that's how heroes feel. If I ever meet a hero, I'll ask.

Teldra knelt down next to Morrolan and bent over him. The Jenoine facing Aliera and the Demon Goddess moved toward Verra, and she moved toward it, and there was a flurry of activity, and Aliera gave a yell or a scream that I saw more than heard. Sethra turned toward Morrolan and Teldra, as if noticing them for the first time, and yelled something to me that I couldn't hear over the other sounds, which had done nothing except gotten louder - the roaring was almost painful.

Then Sethra pointed Iceflame at the Jenoine that was tussling with Verra and moved into the maelstrom. Aliera took a step in that direction, fell, stood up, took another step, fell again, stood up again, and fell once more. The Jenoine stood over Aliera, both of its hands raised in fists over its head, looking like it wanted to pummel Aliera physically, which couldn't possibly have done her any good. The dragon, which had finished its meal and was now trying to get at the Jenoine who was holding off the Lords of Judgment, turned toward us, then, its mouth open, showing teeth the size of Blackwand, and began to move in our direction.

Then, just as if things weren't weird enough, Morrolan's right arm, still holding Blackwand, raised itself until it was pointed at the Jenoine - apparently without any direction from Morrolan himself, who gave every appearance of lying senseless on the ground, Teldra still kneeling next to him, bent over him. It was downright disconcerting. Blackwand gave out some sort black flash, and the Jenoine reeled for an instant and took a step backward. Aliera rose to her feet and pointed Pathfinder at its breast. Maybe Morrolan was alive after all. The dragon, for no reason that I could see, stopped as if it had struck a wall, rolled over - something that big
does a lot of rolling over when it rolls - and then came to its feet once more, and shook its head in a very human gesture. I took a step closer to Morrolan, so I could get a clear view of his face.

"He looks dead, Boss."

"I
think so, too. I
hope it doesn't discommode him."
Then Teldra stood up and looked at me, and if there had been any doubt about Morrolan's condition, Teldra's expression would have removed it.

If you ever feel like torturing yourself, playing the "if only" game is a good way to go about it. If I had heard what Sethra had been yelling at me, or had managed to guess it. If I had known what they were doing. If I had moved a little quicker or a little slower. If, if, if. You can kill yourself with ifs.

Or you can kill someone else with them, I suppose.

I looked up at the Necromancer, hoping maybe she could do something, but she hadn't even noticed Morrolan fall, and I dared not disturb whatever she was in the middle of.

One thing I know about revivification is that time is critical. I stood there, Spellbreaker spinning, and tried to think of something I could do that would get this over with fast, so Aliera or Verra or Sethra could start working on him. My arm twitched again in its sling, just to let me know that it would probably be useful again when it was too late. I would have liked to have at least dragged him away from the fight, but I couldn't with one arm. Then Aliera went flying backward, tumbling backward like a seed bag without the seed, landing next to the dragon. I thought she was dead, or at least injured, but she put her hand on the dragon's head, and, using it like a handhold, rose to her feet at once, shook her head in a gesture terribly reminiscent of the dragon's, then turned back toward the battle.

It was terrifying to think that one of those things was entertaining the Demon Goddess, Sethra Lavode, the Necromancer, a dragon, and Aliera e'Kieron - after having killed Morrobn e'Drien. Quite terrifying. And another one was holding its own against the Lords of Judgment, against the gods themselves. I just didn't belong here at all. Aliera didn't seem too worried - she raised Pathfinder, gave a scream that was so loud I heard it over the roaring, and charged.

The Jenoine noticed her, flung the Demon Goddess away, and faced Aliera.

Pathfinder seemed about to take it in the neck, but it held up a hand and, just as before, Pathfinder was held motionless, as was Aliera.

Evidently, they had succeeded in re-establishing their link with the Sea. I wondered if that meant we could retreat now, call it a lost battle, and go home.

I guess not.

Verra jumped on its back, biting and scratching at it like a tag in a brothel who just discovered that someone has borrowed her favorite gown and gotten a wine stain on it.

The Jenoine spun quickly, striking Aliera with the Demon Goddess's feet - the whole thing suddenly looked more like a tavern brawl or a scene in a farcical play than an apocalyptic battle between the forces of Good and Evil. Aliera was knocked backward again, while the Goddess fell from its back, landing at its feet, leaving its back to us. There was the perfect backshot I'd been looking for before, but I will confess to you that never for an instant did it occur to me to take it.

It did occur to someone else, however.

I felt a pluck at my side, as if a clumsy cutpurse were operating against me. I reached down to grab the wrist, forgetting that that hand didn't work. Before I could do anything else, Teldra was past me, holding the Morganti dagger she had pulled from its sheath at my belt.

Before it could turn around, Lady Teldra struck it, hard and low in the back.

No matter how powerful the Jenoine, a Morganti dagger between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp its style. I guess it was the surprise, the unexpectedness of the attack that did it, but, of all the sorceries and Great Weapons and gods and dragons and necromancies, it was that attack with that weapon that got through. The Jenoine jerked and tensed, spun around, and its face, insofar as I could make out an expression on its alien features seemed twisted into a grimace.

For a moment that, in my memory at least, stretches out forever, I felt hope; could it actually be that after Iceflame, Blackwand, and Pathfinder had failed, that thing had succeeded? Teldra had stuck it deep, that was for sure, and maybe, just maybe.

Time stretched out, and everything took a horribly long time.

The Jenoine reached behind itself, and when its hand came back into view, it was holding the Morganti dagger, which it neatly and smoothly buried in Lady Teldra's breast.

16

The Jenoine, having destroyed Teldra, turned away; obviously still in pain, and, it seemed to me, maybe even a bit disoriented. Well, I suppose if you've just had a powerful Morganti dagger plunged into your vitals, you are permitted a little disorientation. Aliera shook herself and started to stand, the Demon Goddess rose to her knees, Sethra lowered Iceflame and turned toward Teldra. The Necromancer stood there, apparently oblivious. Morrolan remained dead, but not as dead as Teldra was or I felt.

I was close to her; I took a step and knelt down beside her, suddenly as oblivious as the Necromancer to both my friends and to the Jenoine. The expression on her face was one of mild astonishment. Her eyes were opened, but sightless, vacant; there was nothing there. It was all gone. Teldra was gone.

The Morganti dagger was deeply buried in her, and still leaking blood - with a blade that long, it must be nearly all the way through her.

I reached for the dagger to draw it out of her, though I knew it was already too late. Maybe I was thinking of saving her, maybe I was planning to attack the Jenoine with it; more likely I was just not thinking. It was hard to get a grip on it with Spellbreaker still in my hand; I was unwilling to drop the chain, and I had no other hand to use. I managed to wedge the end of the chain between my palm and the hilt of the blade, and got a sort of weak grip.

A tingling began to run up my arm, mild but unmistakable. It was different from the tingling I was used to feeling when Spellbreaker intercepted some nasty that was aimed at me - it was sharper, for one thing, and it didn't stop. I kept hold of the weapon and the chain, and the tingling increased, becoming almost painful.

"Boss,
what is it?"

"I don't know. There's something—"

Spellbreaker stirred in my hand, twisting against the smooth hilt of the dagger. I watched, fascinated, as it twisted and curled up and around, doing its snake imitation. I'd seen it before, at odd moments, and never understood why. Nor did I now; I just watched.

The links, already small, were becoming even smaller - they shrunk as I watched, which was creepy. At the same time, the end of the chain touched the blade, and then ran up its length in what was almost a caress. The other end, the end I was holding, was almost moving, though at first I didn't feel it through the tingling that was still running up my arm.

Spellbreaker's links kept getting smaller, almost vanishing entirely as distinct links, and it seemed to be getting longer overall. Was it, somehow, trying to rescue Teldra? If it was trying, did it have a chance?

I watched, fascinated. If the Jenoine had wanted to, it could have crushed my head without really trying, because between the death of Teldra and the strange things Spellbreaker was doing, I had forgotten it was there; but I guess it was distracted by Sethra and Aliera and Verra, the way I was distracted by—

—The links were entirely gone now, leaving Spellbreaker looking almost like a thin golden rope, and as I watched, it began to wrap itself around the hilt - it really
was
trying to save Teldra. I realized I was holding my breath. It continued slithering around, more snakelike than ever, covering the hilt as if it were a hangersnake trying to strangle it; I had moved my hand to get out of the way, keeping contact with the blade only through the pommel. The tingling continued, and then I realized that the weapon was actually vibrating in Teldra's breast. If there was, as I suspected, some sort of battle going on within the Morganti blade, then continuing to hold it was a bad idea.

I should let go.

I really should let go.

"Boss-"

"I
can't. I just
can't do it."

Well, if I couldn't get away from the fight, maybe I could help.

"Boss
,
do you know what you're doing?"

"Not a clue, Loiosh. Be ready to pull me out."

"I
don't know if I'll be able to."

"I
know."

There was a battle raging around me - gods and demigods and wizards and undead battling; but I might just as well have been in my old office, in the quiet space in the basement, where I used to perform witchcraft when I had nothing to worry about except how to find the guy whose leg I wanted to break, or how to get the most out of the new brothel I'd just opened.

I miss the days when I used to be nostalgic.

Lady Teldra was inside the dagger, somewhere, somehow, and I was going to go get her or... well, I was going to go get her.

I should have been surprised by how easily my awareness entered the chain, but even the action seemed normal, natural, inevitable - sending my consciousness spinning along inside Spellbreaker was the easiest thing in the world, and I could have done it at any time, if I'd ever thought to try. I was moving, flying even, through corridors of gold; endless corridors, with side paths and trails leading everywhere and nowhere, with a warm, almost hot breeze caressing my face.

I felt Teldra all around me, from everywhere - a sort of friendly reserve, giving the gold a reddish tint, and in that moment, I think I discovered her secret, I learned how she could manage to be so friendly to everyone who entered Morrolan's keep for whatever reason: She liked people. She just plain liked them. It was strange. My grandfather was like that, too, but I couldn't think of many others. Cawti, perhaps, when she let herself. It was strange, knowing someone like that; I guess it was why I had never been able to understand her, and why I always, even to myself, made ironic remarks about her courtesies, and tried to find hidden motives in everything she did; it is hard to be comfortable around someone who just likes you for no reason, when you've always—