Free Dragon War: The Draconic Prophecies - Book Three by James Wyatt

better.
    At the sight of it, though, he felt strength surge in his limbs, and he fought harder to pull himself up. The sludge slithered and hissed around him, resentful of the disturbance. He kept his eyes on the light, and he thought he heard a voice calling his name.
    “Stay with us,” someone whispered in the darkness. “You belong with us.” Bony hands gripped him, and faces surrounded him. They were dark-eyed and gaunt elves, the phantoms of the Paelions—the third branch of the Phiarlan family, slaughtered because of him. “Your destiny lies with us.”
    “No,” Gaven murmured, “I’m sorry. No.”
    The distant light sent a tingle of warmth into his icy skin, and he longed to let it fill him, penetrate to his bones. Mustering his strength, he lifted one foot from the mire and set it down in front of the other.
    “You can’t leave,” the voices around him said. “You deserve this fate, though we did not. Stay.”
    “I’m sorry,” Gaven said. His voice sounded stronger. He raised the other leg. Sticky tendrils of shadow snapped off him, leaving behind round sores on his skin. His strength surged, and soon he was walking in slow, stumbling strides toward the amber glow.
    Faces crowded around him, smears of shadow trying to hide the light from his eyes, Paelion ghosts seeking to keep him in their clutches. He pushed them aside.
    Rienne’s voice wailed behind him, “Bring me with you! Don’t leave me here!”
    He turned around to find her, and the darkness enfolded him again. He tried to turn back to the light, but it was gone, and shadows coiled around him again.
    *  *  *  *  *
    “Another will is opposing me,” Havrakhad said. His face was pale, and shadows pooled beneath his eyes. “Someone is trying very hard to keep him imprisoned.”
    “Who?” Aunn asked.
    “I don’t know. It might be helpful if you could tell me what happened to him.”
    Cart and Ashara turned to Aunn, and Havrakhad followed their eyes.
    “Very well,” Aunn said. “Ashara, you still have the shard?”
    “Of course,” she said. She drew the dragonshard out of a pouch at her belt. The lines of Gaven’s mark burned red as hellfire in the pinkish crystal, throwing stark shadows on the walls. Havrakhad recoiled.
    “Already I think I understand a great deal more,” the kalashtar said. He looked at Ashara. “That’s the evil I sensed around you. I apologize for misjudging you.”
    Ashara set the shard down on the desk in front of Havrakhad, who leaned forward for a closer look without touching it.
    “What is this?” Havrakhad said. “The pattern inside—it resembles a dragonmark.”
    “That’s what it is,” Aunn said. “It’s Gaven’s dragonmark, the Mark of Storm.”
    Havrakhad’s eyes shot to Gaven and scanned his skin. “You say it’s his mark. Do you mean …?”
    “Yes. His mark was removed and transferred into the dragonshard.”
    “Leaving him in this state.”
    “Actually, no,” Ashara said. “He endured the loss of his mark well enough. He seemed normal for some time. He didn’t fall into this stupor until after the shard was back in his hands.”
    “I take it that his dragonmark was removed from him against his will,” Havrakhad said.
    “Correct,” Aunn said. He wasn’t pleased with this line of questioning, but he was loath to withhold any information that might help the kalashtar save Gaven. After two failed attempts, Aunn was beginning to feel an urgency, as though Gaven could be utterly lost if Havrakhad couldn’t restore his mind soon. Never mind the additional challenges morning would likely bring, starting with Jorlanna ir’Cannith.
    Gaven’s hand fell onto the dragonshard, making Aunn jump in surprise. Gaven held his arm as though it had lost all circulation, but he had fixed his eyes on the shard and was moving his whole upper body in an effort to pull the shard from the desk into his lap.
    Aunn started to reach for the shard, but a rumble of thunder outside stopped him