A saber stab again impaled Cale's organs. Another. He could not even groan. The strength went out of his legs. He collapsed to the floor, and the fall seemed to take forever. His hearing went dull. Sounds seemed to stretch impossibly long, into a scale he'd never before noticed. Only the rasping of his breath and the irregular hammering of his heart sounded clearly and normally in his ears.
Cale lay on his side, his eyes open, his breathing labored. He felt his shade flesh struggling to regenerate, but feared it would fail. Riven had done a lot of damage. Like Cale, the one-eyed assassin knew how to kill. And the assassin knew how to betray.
In some distant part of his brain, Cale wondered when Riven had made the decision to turn on them, wondered whether the assassin had planned it all along. For a reason he could not explain, Cale thought of the Plane of Shadow. He cursed himself for a fool, a trusting fool. In his mind, he could hear Azriim laughing.
Riven walked past him, past the prone slaad, and retrieved the silver seed. Sabers still bare and bloody, he walked back to stand over the slaad. Two saber tips pointed at Azriim's heart.
"My mind is open," Riven said to the slaad. "Read it."
Azriim's mismatched eyes narrowed and Cale sensed the flow of mental energy. A fanged grin spread across the slaad's face.
"I come with you, and participate in what's to come," Riven simultaneously asked and ordered.
Azriim nodded. Riven sheathed a saber and extended a hand to help the slaad up. Azriim took it and climbed slowly to his feet. His regeneration had returned the use of his legs.
"Give me the seed," Azriim said.
Riven ignored him, and Cale could imagine but not see the assassin's sneer.
Still holding the seed, Riven turned to Cale. He knelt down on his haunches so that he and Cale could see into each other's faces. Riven's eye was cold, the hole in his other socket black and deep. Cale thought back to an alley in Selgaunt, when Riven had been helpless before him. He should have killed him then.
"I side with the winner, Cale," Riven said. "You don't see it, you never saw it, but you've already lost." He stood, spat a glob of saliva onto Cale's cheek, and added, "And I've been Second long enough."
Cale tried to grab his boot, failed, coughed up blood, but managed to groan, "You'll always ... be Second . . . to me, Zhent."
Riven stood still for a moment, and Cale waited for the finishing saber cut. It did not come, and when the assassin spoke, Cale could hear the sneer in his voice.
"It doesn't appear so now."
Together, Riven and Azriim walked to the huge crystal in the center of the room. They stood for a moment before the crystal and looked at the orange beam, the beam that powered the Skulls, that kept Skullport from collapsing.
Without ceremony, Riven handed the seed to Azriim. The slaad appeared startled by the gesture, but took the seed.
Azriim looked at Cale and said to Riven, "If he lives, he'll come looking for you."
Riven eyed Cale coldly and replied, "I hope he does."
"We need to get you some new clothes," Azriim said with a smile, then he slipped the seed into the beam.
The moment the silver seed touched the orange light, it disintegrated into a million glowing particles, all of them streaking upward like a swarm of fireflies, spreading along the net of power. The orange glow darkened, turned crimson. The air changed. Cale's ears popped. A low, vibratory hum sounded, growing louder and louder. The entirety of the chamber bucked, shook. The tower rattled. The huge crystal cracked and a million fine lines manifested along its facets.
Cale turned his head and saw that outside the cupola, stalactites detached from the ceiling, fell gracefully through the air, and crashed thunderously amongst the ruins. Clouds of dust went up from the point of impact. It was raining stone.
It was at that moment that Cale realized that the bleeding in his back had stopped. His flesh closed the wound. Though still weak, he reached into his cloak pocket and found his holy symbol. The feel of its soft velvet in his hand comforted him.
I'm the First, he thought. I'm the First.
He searched his mind for a spell, something to stop Riven and Azriim. He found one, tried to utter the words, but was unable to maintain his concentration. He could only watch them, could only bear witness to his failure.
Azriim, grinning like a lunatic, took out his teleportation rod. Riven grabbed the slaad by the arm.
"I'm coming with you," he said.
Still wearing that stupid grin, Azriim nodded and said, "I wouldn't have it any other way."
The slaad began to manipulate the rod.
From behind him, Cale heard a voice-Jak's voice-exclaim, "Riven! I knew it, you black-hearted whoreson!"
Azriim and Riven looked up in surprise.
Cale turned his head to see Jak and Magadon standing in the cupola's archway. Both looked to Cale. He tried to indicate to them that he was all right, that he would live, but managed only to blink at them.
Jak's mouth went hard.
"Bastard," he said to Riven.
As fast as a lightning strike, the halfling pulled two throwing daggers from his chest bandolier and whipped them across the chamber.
Cale heard one sink into flesh. Riven grunted, and Cale turned to see one of the blades buried to the hilt in the assassin's shoulder.
"I'd kill you for that, little man," Riven said, grimacing as he pulled the dagger free. "Except that you're already dead. And I'm leaving."
The assassin had something in his hand. He hurled it back at Jak. The halfling couldn't dodge it, and the small wooden object thumped into Jak's chest, doing no damage, and fell to the floor.
Jak's pipe.
"Be thankful it's not steel, Fleet," Riven growled.
"You've wanted this," Jak said, and started to advance across the chamber. "Now you've got it. Come on, Zhent!"
Magadon walked beside him, blade bare.
"You won't get away, Riven," the guide said.
"I already have, tiefling," Riven replied with a sneer.
Azriim continued to twist the teleportation rod. Cale tried to shout at Magadon to connect psionically to Riven, but he could not say the words.
Riven looked past Jak and Magadon and toward the cupola's archway.
"They don't look happy," the assassin said, and he and Azriim winked out.
"Coward!" Jak shouted at the empty air.
Cale followed the assassin's gaze and saw six of the Skulls streaming into the cavern. Though they were still far away, Cale could see that their mouths were open, and he heard the howls of rage and dismay that went before them. Lines of energy crackled around the guardians like lightning.