Zellohar
Page 24
CHAPTER 27
Calmarel's boot heels clicked through Castle Darkmist. Servants, slaves and lesser nobles scuttled from her path as she strode past, oblivious to their presence. Her steps took her toward the inner recesses of her labyrinthine home, deep within the great stalagmite. She finally reached her goal, an ornate door at the end of the castle's deepest corridor.
The door was exquisite, its surface adorned with elaborate portrayals of the five Dark Gods. Pergamon the Punisher, Lord of Pain, stood swathed in his thorned chains and executioner's hood. Phekarr the Flaming One grinned maniacally as his inferno raged around him. Mortas the Deathless One stood like a statue, horrible and vacant as death itself. Seth the Defiler, Mistress of Serpents, lay among the scaled coils of her minions. And atop the door, lurking above the other four, hung Xakra the Tangler, Mistress of Chaos, among her myriad webs.
Behind the door lay the clan catacombs. Here the greatest Darkmists who had ever lived slept forever: the monarchs, priests and priestesses, sorcerers, warlords and mighty Nekdukarr. Those deemed unworthy of this vaunted resting place were cast into the black waters of the underground sea.
No lock or handle marred the door's glossy surface, but when Calmarel touched it, the energy of the guarding wards dissipated and the portal swung open. Clenching her slim jaw, she entered the gloom. A cold torch lay inside the entrance; a word of command set it blazing. Her gifts allowed her to see well enough in the dark, but fire was useful for more than light.
"Xerryll, attend me!" she called out. "I have a task for you."
Silence met her request, and she glared into the shadows that shrouded the catacombs. Open crypts yawned in the walls as far as the eye could see, some occupied, others empty, waiting. From one of the passages issued the faint sound of scuffling feet on stone and a soft whine-growl. Whatever made the noise ventured no closer.
"Xerryll, attend me NOW!" she commanded.
A ghastly form shambled into the torchlight. A shiver of fear traced down Calmarel's spine, betraying her anxiety. She covered the weakness with sheer bravado, as always, stamping her foot in impatience. But she could not completely quench her desire to flee screaming from the chamber.
The beast, or rather the thing, that lurched into the light was a horror to behold. Though it still possessed the semblance of a man, the body was wasted and skeletal, the flesh hanging like rotten meat on a wire frame. Its skin was a grey-green hue blotched with sickly yellow, greasy strings of hair scattered in patches across the broad skull. Once-muscular legs were now crooked and angular, as if broken and inexpertly set, the feet raw stumps of worm-eaten carrion. It resembled the occupants of the catacombs more than a living creature, yet alive it was.
Calmarel's fear was prompted not by its hideous appearance. Rather, the creature represented something that the priestess refused to consider: failure. Its very existence, the physical embodiment of inadequacy, repulsed her. It had once been human—beautiful and powerful—a great priest who aspired to be council mediator. He had undergone the Rites of Ascension... and failed, doomed to suffer the Dark Gods' wrath.
Thus punished, it now hunched before her, a rotting semblance of its former self. But although it resembled just another animated corpse, this fate was far worse. For the creature was still aware; still felt every festering sore, every boring worm and maggot; still possessed a soul. This was an ichtholl, and every moment of its interminable existence was torment.
"Get my spy," Calmarel demanded with more bravado than she felt. "And hurry, I have little time."
Hatred flashed in the ichtholl's rheumy eyes, but it turned and shambled out of sight. Calmarel sighed in relief and waited. Soon it returned, a small, dark object clasped in one claw-like hand.
"Put it down," Calmarel said, waving the thing back. As it complied, she scooped up the artifact, then hastily dropped it again when something moved on its glossy surface.
"How dare you!" she yelled. She located the poisonous spider that had been clinging to the object and squashed it with the toe of her boot.
The ichtholl's rotten lip curled from its ghastly teeth in a sneer as it shambled forward. Calmarel grabbed the artifact and backed toward the door, her eyes riveted on the creature as it advanced. Imprisoning the ichtholl in the catacombs was dangerous and unnerving, but necessary. She waved the torch to ward it back, but spoke in a sly, conciliatory tone.
"Attacking me won't help you, but I might be persuaded to free your soul... if you tell me of the Rites of Ascension." The creature hesitated and Calmarel's heart pounded in excitement. With the secrets of the rites, she could not fail in her quest to become mediator. But her hopes melted as the ichtholl's voice rose in a horrible wail. It scuttled back, raising a rotting arm as if to ward off an invisible blow, then turned and lurched into the shadows.
"Fine!" Calmarel spat, furious at being denied once again. "Then rot away down here with all the other dead Darkmists!"
She whirled and ran through the door, slamming it shut and quickly reactivating its wards. A heavy weight slammed against the other side, but she was confident that the spells could not be breached by force. Wiping the nervous sweat from her brow, she leaned against the wall until her pounding heart quieted.
"I will not be a failure like you," she promised herself. "I am better than that. I am better than you... Father."
Banishing the unpleasant encounter from her mind, Calmarel looked closely at her prize. The small black spider's eight ruby eyes glittered up at her, its obsidian legs tapping an impatient tat-a-tat-tat upon her palm. Yes, this will suit our purposes well, she thought, placing it in a pouch at her waist. She started back to her quarters, her steps growing ever more confident as her distance from the catacombs increased. By the time she reached the populated areas of the castle, no one could tell that she was ever anything but in complete control.
What in the name of all the gods do we think we're doing? Jundag wondered as the rope slipped foot by foot thorough his sweaty hands. We are not being paid enough to do stupid, impossible stunts like this! This is...
...amazing! thought Avari as she crept by the sleeping dragon's spiked back. Her senses were heightened to a fevered pitch; she could smell the musky, reptilian odor of the beast, see every exquisite detail of its interlocking scales, hear the rumble of its breathing. Her grip shifted on the rope, the coarse fibers biting into her palms. What would father do if he...
...had ta open me big mouth! the dwarf silently berated himself. Yes, we must find the gem or the world is doomed! Now I'm doomed. Be a hero, DoHeney, earn some respect from the elders! Well, they can take their respect and stick it...
...higher... Shay concentrated solely on the dwarf, blanking his mind of all else, especially the immense dragon that lay mere paces from where he stood. ...just a little higher and... steady, steady, not too fast, and—he is there!
DoHeney's position, which so delighted the half-elf and so dismayed the dwarf, was hovering in the air at the level of the spire's peak. Two ropes were tied about his waist, the ends held by the warriors who stood on opposite sides of the spire, skirting the dragon to guide the floating dwarf, for this was not a true spell of flight, but simply levitation. Shay could move the dwarf up and down, but only the ropes could pull him ahead.
Oh, pointy ears, I'd give you the evil eye right now, if I could see you! DoHeney thought, keeping his eyes on the rock formation as he neared. He had not been pleased to hear the priest's plan. The idea was that Shay would levitate the dwarf above the dragon and the warriors would maneuver him into position with the ropes. DoHeney would grab the gem, they would pull him down and they would be off with their prize!
"Right," DoHeney grumbled as he mimicked Shay's voice. "'I have to cast the spell, and we need Avari and Jundag's height to pull you over the dragon. So you have to be the one! Besides, you seem to be very good with your hands.'" The dwarf continued his quiet tirade, cursing everything and everyone involved in putting him in this position as the two warriors pulled him
the final few feet to the spire's peak. As the magnificent jewel hove into view, his breath left his lungs with a gasp, all thoughts of vengeance melting away.
"Oh, Mother o' Earth and Rock!" DoHeney whispered. "Your works o' beauty humble me!" The awe-struck dwarf plucked up the stunning gem—it covered his entire palm—and slipped it into a soft pouch at his belt. Looking down at Avari, then Jundag, DoHeney gave the signal to be lowered back to the ground.
Shay's eyes were fixed on the small figure high above, the muscles of his neck and back seized in a mass of knots. The oppressive heat and the effort to concentrate on the spell, with the close proximity of the dragon, had sweat rolling down his brow and dripping from his nose. Only when he saw DoHeney give the signal did the priest allow himself to relax.
Almost done, we are almost—
WHUFFFFF!!
As a blast of hot air hit Shay's legs, his heart leapt into his throat and he whirled toward the dragon's head in terror. But the beast was merely shifting in its sleep; the eyes remained closed and the steady breathing resumed.
Shay breathed a ragged sigh, then realized that the levitation spell was no longer in his mind. DoHeney! He looked up.
The dwarf clung to the spire, his feet scrabbling for purchase. Oh, thank the gods! Shay thought. At least he didn't fall on the dragon.
Blood seeped from beneath DoHeney's ravaged fingernails, wetting his tenuous grip on the spire. His initial cry of alarm had been stifled behind clenched teeth, but his subsequent thoughts raged in a seething torrent, including many gruesome scenes involving a certain half-elf.
"I'll wring that pointy-eared buffoon's neck!" he mumbled, whipping his legs around the column to take some pressure off his torn fingers. He felt a warm rush along his arm where a point of rock ripped through his shirt. He hung there, trying to devise a means of escape from his precarious perch—"So I ken throttle that smirkin' half-elf!"
Jundag and Avari stood in shock, gaping up at DoHeney. They had felt the line go slack and had seen him start to fall, but could do nothing; before them lay a sleeping dragon, behind them a fiery chasm. The dwarf's waving hands caught their attention, directing them back to the bridge. They watched as he fumbled some slack into one line, then looped it over the top of the spire. Using that as a sling to support himself, DoHeney began to knotting the other rope.
What is he doing? Avari mouthed to Shay at the bridge.
The priest stood pale and sweating, ignoring her question.
Their stranded friend had finished his knot work and again motioned for them to back up onto the bridge. Avari finally understood as the rope tied to the spire came taut. This would either work, or DoHeney would fall right onto the sleeping dragon's back. She swallowed, and motioned for Jundag to tighten his grip on the rope.
Well, me lad, it's time, DoHeney thought. He said a quick prayer, looped his belt over the rope and began to slide, using his feet against the line to regulate his speed.
The line sagged. He could feel his muscles straining as he passed over the dragon's head, pulling himself higher to get as much distance between it and his tender skin as possible.
The effort opened the wound on his arm, the sleeve of his shirt already thoroughly sodden. A swollen drop of blood fell unseen—to spatter onto the nose of the dragon. The long forked tongue flicked out and licked the droplet in an involuntary reflex; the dragon slept on.
DoHeney slid right into Shay's waiting arms, and the dwarf was too relieved to meter out his aforementioned wrath. Shay cut him free of the line while Jundag and Avari tied the still-taut rope around a boulder, and the four companions retreated back across the bridge toward the relative safety of the main keep. The great onyx doors had just come into view when their luck finally failed.
Phlegothax soared deep in a dream. He was flying down toward a village at full speed, frightened peasants fleeing before him. He grabbed one in his jaws and swooped back into the sky, crunching happily into the bones and soft flesh. He felt the warm blood spurt into his mouth; it tasted like... like... dwarf.
Dwarf? The dream village faded and all of the sudden his mother was there. The sleeping dragon felt a rush of pleasure; once again he was young and carefree, feeding on the succulent, struggling dwarves his mother brought to him. The dream was so real he could smell their scent, taste the sweet blood.
Phlegothax gave a snorting sigh and lazily opened one eye. He caught a glimpse of movement beyond the bridge; maybe his next meal had arrived. He would catch it later. He closed his eye to sleep... but something wasn't right; he opened it again. Something did not feel right. Something to do with... the gem! He could no longer feel its power radiating through the spire!
The dragon surged up, pupils narrowing to knife slits, his wrath issuing forth in a deafening roar.
The bloodcurdling howl shook the entire cavern, spurring the companions into a sprint, raw terror urging them on. It was one thing to stand against a raging ogre, but trying to outrun a creature whose maw could envelope a wagon in one bite... well, that was just too much.
Shay muttered a steady litany to Tem as he ran, frantic to find some means to delay the beast. As they shot through the portal a desperate idea clicked into his mind.
"Shut the door behind us!" he shouted, skidding to a stop and fumbling for the proper pouch. "I have a plan!"
Jundag and DoHeney groaned simultaneously. The priest's last plan was in the process of getting them killed!
Jundag and Avari's shoulders slammed against the slab of onyx while Shay began an incantation and DoHeney sagged to the floor in a panting heap.
Another unearthly howl rent the air, and the roar of a great inferno reached the companions through the narrowing gap of the portal. As the door slammed shut, Shay touched his fingertips to the stone, fairly shouting out his incantation. The grating of the locking mechanism being thrown into place was followed by a blast of heat that seared the half-elf's fingertips. They all leapt back as the dark stone began to glow dull crimson.
"RUN!" Shay screamed as he helped DoHeney to his feet. "I doubt this will deter it long!"
Jundag plucked up the slumping dwarf like a sack of meal and they sprinted down the corridor. Skidding around several corners, they dashed through the archway and into the dusty, vaulted chamber. As they ran toward the stairs, a thunderous crash from behind them shook the mountain to its roots. The doors had given way.
As they reached the stair they heard the sound they were all dreading: the popcorn crackle of splintering stone followed by another roar. When they glanced back, they saw a huge, reptilian head snake out of the passage.
The dragon's gaze fell full onto the companions, the huge mouth parting, thick black spittle pooling on the floor beneath it. The beast's shoulders filled the narrow archway as it lunged at them and... stopped, its scales scraping to a halt on the stone. It strained forward, intending to break through the arch, but the stonework was dwarven, with the strength and love of the Earth Mother in its craftsmanship. The archway held.
The great beast's bellow of rage jarred the group out of their paralysis. They clambered up the stairs as another gout of flame shot toward them. Ten steps were all they had managed before the flames swept past the portal, filling the passage with smoke. The crack of breaking stone sent the ragged troop scrambling up the spiraling stair with renewed vigor. They had rounded three bends when the scrabble of claws on stone echoed up the stair.
"Wait!" Jundag stopped and deposited DoHeney onto a step, then dashed to a large pile of boulders and put his shoulder to them. "Avari, help me," he directed. "We can not outrun this beast! We must try to block the passage!"
Avari put her shoulder next to Jundag's and together they heaved. A few of the smaller rocks rolled down the stair, but the rest held fast. Sweat poured down their straining shoulders, but the stone was just too heavy. The scratch of talons on stone just around the bend snapped them out of their futile effort. Avari glanced around in desperation. An enormous piece of ceiling slanted down onto the
stair, blocking half the tunnel; behind it was piled an unstable-looking mass of boulders.
"If we could only move that slab," she suggested, "all those rocks would fall." She looked hopefully at the half-elf. "Shay, tell me you have a spell for moving stone."
Shay laughed shortly, no humor in his voice. "I may have the power to lock doors, whatever help that was, but I have no power over earth or rock." He bent to help the two warriors in their futile attempt to roll the boulders. The din rising from below was getting too close for comfort.
"Power over earth... power... earth." DoHeney leaned against the wall, clutching his arm to his side. He muttered and shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "Power... earth... power, earth power earth-power... Earth Power!" His call startled his friends and they stopped to stare at him.
"Earth Power!" the dwarf yelled again. "Shay, hit the slab with yer hammer!"
"What?!" Shay looked bewildered. "My hammer?"
"Yes, yer new hammer! The one the dwarf priest gave ye. I shouda' realized it before... I'll explain later. Jist do it!"
Shay reached for the hammer, glancing at the other two. Would this really help, or had fear and blood-loss wrenched the last shred of sanity from DoHeney's mind?
Avari shrugged at his unvoiced query. "Do it," she said. "If it works, great! If it doesn't—"
A taloned foot reached up to claw inch-deep furrows into the stair below them, completing Avari's prophecy all too astutely.
With a whispered prayer, his weapon heavy in his hands, the priest of Tem the Balancer swung his hammer at the stone, steeling himself for the jarring collision. Thunder smashed against their ears as splinters of stone exploded from the impact. The slab shattered, the barrier holding the boulders crumbling. An avalanche of debris poured down the stair, and the dragon's roar devolved from rage and frustration into a howl of pain.
Three pairs of wide eyes stared in wonder at the hammer, while one pair squinted with pleasure. "Well, lads and lassie, let's get movin' afore we meet someone comin' down to investigate the noise!" DoHeney, his sanity no longer in doubt, smiled broadly at them, looking much refreshed.