Two daggers flashed out, one piercing the man's sword hand, the other bouncing off his chainmail. A cry escaped his lips, but was cut off by Shay's hammer smashing into his chest. The Dukarr was dashed backward like a rag doll against the far wall, but he kept his feet and reached his uninjured hand to his belt, drawing out a slim wand and pointing it at the companions.
DoHeney cringed at the sight of the wand, and Jundag dove to the side, desperate to avoid the magical weapon. Avari could not use her greatsword in the tight space, but remembered her new short sword. She drew it and charged, but too late.
The Dukarr tried to say the words that would activate the wand, but speaking, and even breathing, became impossible as the half-elf's fingers tightened around his throat. He batted at Shay's arm, his eyes bulging. The blows weakened as the grip at his neck tightened. His larynx collapsed with a crunch and finally the bones of his neck cracked under the pressure.
Avari was aghast. Not at the manner of the dark squire's death, but at the mask of vengeance that obscured the features of the charming half-elf. But Shay had not finished; with the man still pinned to the wall, he put his hammer aside, withdrew the silver balance of Tem from his cloak and pressed it to the iron crescent on the Dukarr's brow. A flash of light and a sickening screech from the circlet sent chills up Avari's spine. The dark thing writhed at the touch of Shay's icon, then dropped away to smolder on the floor, a dark smudge against the stone.
Shay's face returned to his more familiar visage as he let the limp figure slump to the floor. He looked at Avari with an innocent mien, as if the previous moment had not occurred, then his eyes widened as they focused beyond her. She whirled to see the two wagloks halfway across the room, slavering with rage as they charged.
Jundag regained his feet and grinned; this was an attack he understood. Weapons in hand, he ran straight at the charging hulks. Avari was close behind, now unhampered by the tight corridor and wielding a gleaming Gaulengil. Shay retrieved his hammer and followed DoHeney, who was racing to the fight, his crossbow raised.
Jundag met the attack with a raised sword, but just as an axe arced at his head the tall tribesman dropped and rolled, stabbing up under the waglok's skirt of iron rings at the moment he crashed into the creature's shins. The towering beast sprawled forward, blood pouring from the severed arteries of its groin.
A crossbow bolt buzzed past Avari's ear a scant second before she met the other waglok, chinking into its shoulder and taking it off balance. Gaulengil flashed through the opening, cleaving the axe's haft, ripping through the thick iron rings of the waglok's armor, severing ribs and finally piercing the monster's black heart, all in a single stroke. Avari skidded to a stop as her opponent collapsed, its chest cloven through, and stared at her blade in awe. Black blood seeped into the sword's polished surface, leaving nothing behind but the sheen of purest silver. She glanced at her companions then sheathed the blade, hoping that none had noticed the peculiar sight.
"Right nicely done," DoHeney quipped, firing another bolt point blank into the beast that still lived, ending its agonized moans. "That blade ye got's mighty handy, lass. Now let's get these bodies stashed, quick like."
They had just bent to the task when a high-pitched voice sounded from the stairs.
"What you do?" a little beast asked in accented pidgin. "You hurt big guards. Why dat? You no like big guards?"
DoHeney leveled his crossbow at the little creature, but stopped when Shay gripped his shoulder and whispered "Prisoner" into his ear. The dwarf nodded, but kept his weapon loaded and ready. Shay slowly walked toward the creature, speaking calmly, but this only seemed to disturb it.
"You must be bad top-side folk," the small beast deduced. "Nobody ever talk nice to Irke before. I go tell masters!"
But as it started to turn, a flow of magical syllables caught its attention. With a flick of the half-elf's wrist and a spark of light, a trusting smile passed over the small creature's face.
"Oh! Me understand now. Yes. You friends. Yes. Me glad to see you here." The little thing grinned, showing broken and yellow teeth, now completely enamored of Shay.
"Why don't the rest of you tidy up while I have a talk with our new friend?" Shay said over his shoulder. "Oh, and DoHeney, make sure you have a good look at that fellow in the alcove; he may have some interesting things about his person."
They hurried to drag the bodies into a small guard room and clean up the spilled blood with the Dukarr's cloak. Fortunately, after eighty-seven years of habitation by such foul creatures, the floor was filthy enough to hide any spots they missed. They found Shay in the relative security of the dark stairway, chatting with the little creature he had ensorcelled. He met them with somber features; something was wrong.
"We are in a difficult position," the priest said, tugging on his goatee in contemplation. "Our friend Irke informs me that there are not, in fact, four gems, but only one."
"Yes," the little messenger croaked. "Me sorry. Only one. Big red rock, very pretty. Irke take rock to guarding place, leave there with guard. Only one rock in guard place, guard keep rock for big boss. Big boss use red rock for big magic."
"Well, that solves that," Jundag said. "They managed to open the doors with only one of the gems, and with only one they are not going to be much of a threat, so we can just tell the Beriknor council about it and..." The stern looks he was getting stopped him in mid-proposal. "What?"
"Magic does not work that way," Shay explained. "If the diary says it takes all four to open the doors, then it takes all four. Darkmist must have hidden the gems separately while he figured out how to tap their power."
"Yes," Irke insisted with a grin. "Dat him, Darkfish. He big boss. Take red rock from guard for long time. Look at close. Do much magic. Den give it to Irke to take back to guard."
"So what do we do now?" Jundag asked, eying the opening behind them. "Just sit here and gab until we are spotted?"
"He must have the other three, but where?" Shay cursed.
"We have to take the one we know of." Avari's voice was set with determination. "At least we'll cut his power by one quarter." They all nodded, though they lacked her confidence.
"Then let us be off," Shay sighed. "Irke, which direction to the pretty red rock?"
The small creature's face lit up with glee. It pointed down the stairs, then followed as the group descended, jumping about and grabbing Shay's cloak, babbling on and on about the pretty rock.
Calmarel glowered down at the cool, pale body on the altar. The spy's corpse lay undisturbed by her glare; he was, after all, dead. She slapped the corpse's face in frustration and watched the head tumble off the slab and roll into the corner, a blank look frozen onto its features.
"Orc-birthed weakling!" she cursed at it. Her interrogation had proven too much for the man's spirit to endure; his soul had crumbled into raving insanity. She had worked for hours, but had not been able to retrieve one mote of useful information.
One last try, she thought in frustration.
Calmarel stepped back from the altar, closed her eyes, and reached for the spider medallion on the thorned chain. Praying to her dark patrons, she clutched the amulet and jerked down hard, driving the sharp barbs of the chain into the tender flesh of her neck. Blood flowed from the wounds, great swollen drops of crimson that ran down between her breasts and along the chain's links to wet the spider medallion in her clenched fist.
The power began to flow.
It took potent blood to sate the two Dark Gods, but Calmarel was a Noble of Clan Darkmist, whose ancestors had worshipped Xakra and Pergamon for millennia; hers would suffice. She shuddered with pleasure as the power filled her. One final time, she stretched her mind into the ether, homing in on the crumpled soul of the spy.
One touch and she knew it was no use. There was nothing left of the man's psyche but a never-ending scream of anguish. With one last surge of disgust, she bound the tortured soul where it was, hovering in Limbo. There it would lie in torment forever, unable to
pass on, to find peace.
That will teach him, she thought petulantly, ignoring the fact that he was well beyond any capacity for learning.
With a shiver of satisfaction, she shook a gobbet of blood from her hand and stalked out of the room, her garments flowing and trinkets jingling about her. The weak-willed spy had been such a disappointment. It was difficult to find a subject worthy of her attentions, one who could endure her torments with strength. Someone... interesting.
And now she would have to inform Lysethra of her failure. But Calmarel was already putting the distasteful event out of her mind. Instead, she focused on the task to which she must attend before she and Lysethra visited their estranged brother.
CHAPTER 26
Avari pressed her sweat-drenched cheek against cool stone, dampening the likeness of a long-dead dwarven hero. Only his semblance and the ten-foot-thick pillar into which it was cut stood between them and certain discovery. An entire company of beasts was clattering past, armed and armored for war.
The only way to move through the Hall of Pillars—as it was labeled on the map—was by keeping the massive pillars between them and the overlooking balcony while avoiding the occasional throng of noisy troops. One more expanse of open floor lay ahead, their goal looming dark and foreboding at the end of the room: the last stair they would have to descend.
That they had gotten this far without being caught was chiefly due to Irke's aid; their enthusiastic little guide had led them well through the populated regions of the keep. Shay's suggestion that all the regular troops be avoided had been met with a fervent "Yesyes, stay away from bigbadhurthurt guys!" The resulting route of twisting corridors left them hopelessly lost, but also safe from any large contingents, at least until they neared the Hall of Pillars.
When they followed Irke around a corner to find themselves face to face with six armed orcs, the little guide had been caught in the middle and took a spear thrust meant for Shay. Afterward, he lay on the flagstones, a look of surprise on his homely features until Shay knelt and closed the little creature's eyes.
But now, after a number of sprints, they were almost at the end of Irke's poorly described trail. They huddled behind their pillar as a large company of assorted orcs, ogres and other things marched by in more disarray than order. The troops crossed the hall and disappeared into a passage, leaving the room empty.
With a glance at the balcony overlooking the hall, DoHeney hissed an abrupt "One, two, three, go!"
The others needed little urging, sprinting into the dark portal. Avari's long legs reached it first and she bolted into the darkness, much to her immediate dismay.
A pile of rubble met her shins, gouging her and sending her pitching into the sharp stones. Her squelched cry of pain warned the others enough to slow them before they piled into her, pushing her further into the jumbled mass.
Apparently, the ceiling had been collapsed in an attempt to seal off the lower levels. Slabs of rock still hung from the ceiling at crazy angles, and balanced on precarious piles of debris. It must have taken months, but the dark forces had cleared a narrow path bordered with the rubble Avari had so painfully encountered.
"Here, lass." DoHeney proffered his little ceramic bottle.
Avari sipped, then let him rub a cool salve onto her raw and bleeding hands. The bloody rents in her knees closed, and the cuts on her hands lost their sting. They continued their descent with more prudence, and reached the bottom without twisting ankles or dislodging any of the fallen stones.
"This can't be it," Avari said, toeing the thick layer of undisturbed filth covering the floor at the stair's egress.
"There," Jundag said, pointing at a trail of scuffed prints.
"Well, at least we won't be meetin' any troops down here," DoHeney said, kneeling to draw a quarter-inch deep line in the dust. "'Cept fer that trail, nothin's been down here in a long time." Six passages exited the domed chamber, but the scuffed trail led down only one.
"It looks deserted." Jundag stepped forward, keeping off the trail either from superstition or prudence.
"That may be, lad," DoHeney admitted, stifling a sneeze at the dust. He flipped through the diary's pages, "but I would'a swore on a stack o' holy scriptures that this was where the little beastie was headin'."
The others looked at the dismal surroundings, but decided to continue on. To come all this way and miss their goal simply because they failed to look around a corner was unthinkable.
"This must be it," Shay whispered with excitement. "It is just as Irke described. See! There are double doors of black stone and—Avari, hold up your light. What in the name of..."
Quiet groans answered as the light glinted off of a huge locking mechanism mounted in the portal. Dismay at such a formidable barrier after all their efforts hit them like a blow. DoHeney offered to try to pick the lock, but that only got a derisive snort from Jundag, which started a whole new argument.
Avari tuned the contentious men out. She wasn't used to the stress of sneaking and hiding, and it was taking a toll on her nerves. Listening to the men bicker wasn't helping. She leaned against the doors to rest until they resolved their dispute, and felt the heavy slab rock back on its hinges.
"Excuse me..." Avari said, breaking into the argument.
"Please, Avari, just one moment—"
"...but I think it's open."
"What?" Three pairs of eyes stared as she pulled on one of the foot-thick slabs, and it swung out several inches.
"It's not locked," she said. "How else would Irke have gotten in? He didn't have any keys. So if you're done arguing..."
The abashed males took their positions and prepared to open the door.
"Remember," whispered Shay, "Irke said there is only one guard, but for all we know, it could be a rock troll or demon or something even more vile."
Uneasy chills raced up their spines at the thought of what they might face, but resolve settled their nerves. That they had made it this far was miraculous; there was no turning back now. The two warriors pulled, and one of the doors swung open without a sound. They tensed, but nothing happened. No alarms rang in their ears, and no beasts raged out at them. The only thing that did accost them was a blast of hot, dry air that reeked of noxious gas.
"Brimstone," DoHeney said, wrinkling his prodigious nose at the stink as they edged into the yawning cavern.
Tears sprang into their eyes at the cloying atmosphere, but through the haze of fumes they could see that the once-living cavern was now dead. The water that had breathed life into the stone, forming stalactites, flowstone and calcite fans, had long since dried up. A hewn trail stretched ahead through the jumble of dead formations, looking like a path through some gods-forsaken hell.
"Where's the guard?" Avari asked, stifling a cough at the vapors and stifling heat.
"Off in a dark corner drunk, I hope," the dwarf offered. "By the Nine Hells, it's hot in here." They shed their cloaks, and Shay motioned them down the rough path toward the glow. As they reached the source of the illumination, Jundag stopped and grunted in disgust.
"Another chasm."
"With a bridge," Avari said, trying to sound optimistic.
The stone bridge spanning the narrow chasm appeared to be the only way across. Avari peered over the side of the gorge, but pulled her head back with a soft squeak of pain.
"That is really hot," she warned, tears streaming down her face. "Keep away from the sides."
Nodding agreement, they edged toward the bridge, but before they reached the arched structure, both the dwarf and the half-elf stopped, staring into the mists across the chasm.
"A spire of stone," Shay explained as he pointed. After a moment, they could all distinguish the thin column that towered to ten times Jundag's height, its base obscured by heavy haze.
"Look! Atop the spire. There is a glow!" The priest's voice betrayed his excitement. "That must be—"
"The gem," Avari whispered, her eyes glowing in anticipation of their goal. "Come on!"
They started down the other side, but Shay's hands grabbed the warriors' arms with hysterical strength. Avari looked back at him; his eyes were wide with horror, and fixed upon the base of the spire. She turned and—
"Holy Eloss defend us!"
Wrapped around the base of the column, lay an enormous beast.
Its back arched twice Jundag's height, great armored scales gleaming crimson in the lurid light. A row of spines as thick as a man's arm crested its back, and the barbed tip of its tail twitched as a cat's will when it stalks a rat. Wings the size of a ship's sails rustled along its heaving sides, and directly before them, platter-sized nostrils pulsed out puffs of searing air. Thankfully, the eyes were closed in a deep sleep.
"Draco pyromanicus rufiotyrannus," Shay whispered as he began to back up. The phrase plucked a familiar chord in Avari's brain, but she could not remember from where. In fact, she had trouble remembering why they were even here. It took a tug on her sleeve to tear her eyes from the vast beast; she looked at Shay, and realized that the others were already halfway back across the bridge. She followed, but her gaze kept returning to the row of sword-long teeth edging the beast's maw.
A flurry of conversation exploded when they finally drew out of the beast's sight, but since it consisted of hand motions and mouthed words, the result was confusion. Shay dragged them back to the onyx doors, and when they had calmed down, began to outline his plan.
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