City of Towers_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [121]
Hadran still had a hand on her shoulder. He was spreading an object across her chest. Jewelery? A necklace? “Let it go,” he said soothingly. “All is forgotten. All is forgiven. You are finally home, and nothing else matters.”
Someone was combing her hair, straightening it and tugging at it with a dozen small brushes.
The pain across her back was becoming more specific, concentrated into distinct points, as if a dozen small needles were pushing slowly into her flesh. The light before her eyes faded until it was the barest flickering of firelight.
The image of fire brought new thoughts. Fire … flame … Flamewind the sphinx, and her words—
You killed him, Lei. Those watching you have plans for you, and a life with Hadran was not what they wished.
A surge of anger rushed through her, and she managed to lift her head a little. This couldn’t be real! Hadran is dead!
“Lei! Lei, let it go!” It was Daine. He caught her head between his hands and pushed her back down into the cold, into the stinging. Small rocks had been scattered across the surface of the table—or were they on her skin? It was so hard to tell. Daine’s fingers continued to brush gently against her forehead, driving away the pain. “It’s all over, Lei,” he said, massaging her scalp. “Forget your fears. We’re together, and—”
“Lei! Wake up NOW!” It was Daine’s voice again, but louder and urgent. For a moment she was on the battlefield of Cyre, with blood and steel all around, and in that instant she followed the command without thought. She opened her eyes.
It was not a hand that she had felt on her forehead. It was a tentacle. Her first sight was of slick, purple skin, a round mouth lined with needle teeth, and deep black eyes with glowing golden pupils. Four tentacles ringed the vicious mouth of the creature that was bending over her, and they were carefully holding her head in place. She could see a barbed, razor-sharp tongue emerging as the mouth, descending toward her forehead, and with every ounce of strength she possessed she threw her head to the side.
She broke free of the confining tentacles. The piercing tongue scraped against the side of her head but failed to penetrate her skull. Hissing, the figure stepped back.
At first, she thought she was still dreaming. Silhouetted against the light, her enemy seemed to be a man—tall, thin, and regal. He wore a cyan robe of rich brocade, covered with swirling, interlocking lines of golden thread. But his head was a violet nightmare, powerful tentacles writhing around the lamprey mouth.
Stinging thoughts will send our work awry, she thought—
No, it thought. It was almost impossible to separate the alien thoughts from her own. She could sense its aggravation at the delay in its work.
Enforced tranquility drains the derivations of shadows. Release your fears. Embrace your fate.
Her head was beginning to clear, and she could feel her limbs again. It felt as if the icy liquid had eaten through the back of her clothing and tiny crystals had formed along her skin. She raised her head and stared into the creature’s inhuman eyes.
Go to Dolurrh, she thought.
Xoriat, it returned, naming the Plane of Madness. We must ride the imperfect mind.
It moved in, bending over her, the steel manacles pinning her in place. The suckers on the beast’s four tentacles latched onto the sides of her head. There was no chance of breaking free now.
Release your thoughts. Embrace eternity in me.
The piercing tongue stabbed down.
Lord Chyrassk,” Teral whispered, and he and his comrades prostrated themselves. Daine watched in horror as the hideous being entered the room. The creature did not speak, but the tendrils around its mouth twitched, and Daine could feel its satisfaction as if it were his own.
Chyrassk strode across the chamber to the table where Lei was bound and began to fill the basin in the table with glowing fluids.
“Lei!” Daine cried.
The gaunt figure continued its preparations, adjusting the fluids in the basin and arranging