The last one was all he needed. Hettie had told him that one on a hill outside of Lydi. Kiranrao had not even been there. Somehow Hettie had discovered the false Kiranrao. She was using whatever power that enabled the disguise to mask herself. She was standing in front of him with the sword they had come for.

“Do you have it?” he asked tautly.

“I do,” came a quick reply. “If only you could fly, Bhikhu.” He heard the boots approaching him.

“When I am free of here,” he said, uncurling his legs and rising. The chains dragged against the stone. “When I am free, I swear you will suffer as I do.”

“The blindness isn’t permanent. But unfortunately for you, the Arch-Rike’s emissary will be here shortly.”

Paedrin felt the weight of the chains. He tried to inhale and see if he would rise. The weight of the chains prevented it. Very well. He set the edge of one foot against the base of the stone pillar. He dropped into a low horse stance, pulling his arm into position.

“What? You think you are strong enough to break a chain?” came Kiranrao’s mocking voice.

Paedrin exhaled. A Vaettir floated when breathing in deeply. The opposite was also true. Paedrin breathed in quickly and then exhaled just as quickly, pulling against the chains with all of his might. He felt the iron dig into his wrists. His neck muscles strained. His legs quivered.

“You’re a fool! You cannot break these chains!”

He felt the irony in the voice, the pleading with him to keep trying. Paedrin’s head grew dizzy from the lack of air. He rested a moment, sucking in breath again in several generous gulps, then expelling it all out and tested the iron chains once again. He strained. The chains went taut. He groaned inside of himself, drawing on the pain in his eyes to fuel his strength. The iron would not give.

Paedrin paused again, choking on his breath. He puffed more air inside him and then expelled it for the third time, drawing every bit of power he could from his legs, his hips, his shoulders, pulling and forcing the chain. The muscles burned. His thoughts grew dizzy again from the lack of air.

An iron link of chain snapped.

The sound of it reported off the walls in every direction. One of his wrists felt heavier than the other, meaning the chain had broken unevenly. As he staggered away from the stone column, he felt it drag and scrape.

He was free.

Still deep inside himself, still hunkered down in the core of his strength, Paedrin felt as if another set of eyes had suddenly opened. The pain was gone, buried beneath thick layers of resolve. Even though the skin of his eyes was wrinkled shut, every sound came at him and spoke to this new sense…this seeing but not seeing. He heard the grunts of shock and surprise. He heard the training Kishion charge at him, the echoes assailing him from nearly all sides.

Paedrin met them head on.

He swung the loose chain over his head, around and around, building momentum. He lunged into the midst of them, swinging the chain in a deadly circle. He felt it hit the first man, striking him in the face with enough force to crush the cheekbone. Without losing the momentum of the attack, Paedrin sidestepped, swirling the chain around in another arc, taking another man on the chin. Paedrin ducked low, sweeping the chain like a dragon’s tail, catching two off guard and sending them sprawling. He dived forward, rolling over his back, and was up again, sweeping the chain in two circular motions. Someone came from behind. With a shift in his stance, Paedrin sent the chain out into another man.

“Grab the spears! Get a staff!”

Paedrin sensed where the bodies were crumpled nearby him and he skillfully stepped around them, whipping the loose chain out again and catching a fleeing man on the ankle, dragging him back. He delivered a powerful blow to the man’s ear and then shoved him down, starting to swirl the chain again, lashing it over and over against the stones until it sparked.

The main gate of the Shatalin temple exploded. Fragments of wood and cinders sailed through the air, bringing a billowing cloud of black smoke. The noise was nearly deafening.

“It’s Baylen,” Paedrin heard Hettie say.

Paedrin could feel the rumble of the stone tiles as the massive Cruithne entered. Shouts of outrage sounded. Paedrin heard something whistle in the air over his head, followed by the crunch of glass and another explosion. Paedrin’s jacket fluttered from the impact and he felt the heat from the flames on his neck, but he could no longer feel any pain.

The sound of two swords clearing the scabbards appeared, followed by the clomping steps. “Best leave in a hurry,” Baylen said. “Your eyes look a little pink, but I think you’ll survive.”