“We still have to cross again. That may be more troublesome.”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem.” Grigor pushed past her. He headed up to where the Reaper’s Eye stood waiting.
“Wait!” Shiera called. “You don’t know what else might happen!”
“I would think the floor trap enough,” he responded as he neared the artifact. “Besides, once I stir up the power within the Eye, he’ll be only too grateful to let me—us—leave without hindrance.”
“What are you talking about?”
He looked at her in some surprise. “Surely you of all people can see that this is not a tomb as we know it. Pathfinder, this temple-city, first built to honor what they believed was a god, was in the end turned into a prison for what they finally realized was actually a demon…”
“Tzadn the Reaper,” she murmured.
“Yes, exactly. The Reaper has been sealed in here since centuries before the Worldwound. He will be very grateful to those who release him. You should remember that.”
Her thoughts raced. What he said made sense in retrospect. Still … “If he’s so powerful, how were they able to seal him in?”
“A detail of little interest to me. What is in the texts I have studied—and that you have not—is that his might is considerable. Far more considerable than that of the thing I once had to swear fealty to. He will not only restore me, but make me a thousand times more powerful!”
“And then you’ll take over the world? Is that what all of this is about?”
He chuckled, a disturbing sight considering his deteriorating skin and surreal eyes. “Now what would I want with the world? I will have the power to do whatever I desire … and without the headaches of trying to rule over millions.”
Shiera doubted it would all be as simple as he said. Even if Grigor had no dreams of conquest, at some point his continual lust for power would leave a trail of death. She suspected there already was such a trail, and that it would only widen terribly.
She knew her options at this point were few, but she could not let him achieve his goal. As Grigor turned from her, she used his fixation on the Reaper’s Eye to act.
But the moment that she attempted to move against him, he flicked the staff in her direction. Her body locked, and she fell forward.
“Yes, I was expecting that about now,” Grigor commented as he continued to where the Reaper’s Eye floated. “I did offer you a chance to make things easier on yourself. I also promised you punishment if you tried to betray me.”
She tried to speak, but could not. All she could do was watch as Grigor dismissed the staff and, with both hands, reached for the smoky stone.
Shiera tried to close her eyes, but even that reprieve was denied to her as Grigor gripped the Reaper’s Eye. Shiera waited for the inevitable destruction.
And waited. The paintings on the ceiling continued to be paintings. The walls continued to be blank walls.
And Grigor …
Grigor held the Reaper’s Eye high, and smiled.
27
THE REAPER
At long last, Grigor held the key to his glory … and his very life.
Beautiful … so very beautiful … He turned the Eye around, admiring its perfection, so simple and yet at the same time so obviously powerful.
“I will free you, Reaper, and all I ask in return is the power I deserve, the preservation I require, for the service I give you…”
Reaching out with his thoughts and power. You can feel me. You can hear me. There is link enough. Give me the thing you see in my mind and I will be your servant forever.
He waited. When nothing happened, he shook the artifact. When that proved just as ineffective, Grigor almost threw the thing at the floor, only at the last moment realizing what he was about to do.
With growing impatience, Grigor set the Eye back above the platform, where it again floated with no aid. Glaring at the artifact, he summoned his staff.
The “eye” in the center of the stone flickered.
Grigor hesitated, but when nothing more occurred, his anger and frustration returned tenfold stronger.
“I will not be ignored!” Yet, as he shouted, Grigor felt part of his left cheek tear apart. Pausing, he felt at the spot. Sure enough, there was a tremendous gap forming.
He could almost hear Toy’s chuckle in his mind. Running out of time, Grigor?
Pain shot through him his bones began to crack. The exertion had proven far more stressful on his body than he had thought possible.
No longer able to control himself, Grigor spun and raised the staff with the clear intention of striking the stone.
The stone pulsed.
Lowering the staff, Grigor stared in anticipation. He was absolutely certain that the Reaper’s Eye was a direct conduit to the trapped demon, which meant the creature should see that his full freedom depended on the witch’s good graces. In Grigor’s mind, his action with the staff had served to show Tzadn the determination the mortal had to see the demon fully free.
The stone pulsed again, and again. A humming sound now arose from the Eye. A dark aura formed around it.
Power flowed from the stone and filled Grigor.
* * *
Shiera felt the spell that Grigor had cast on her start to fade. She doubted that her captor had decided to be benevolent. Had the magic simply run out? Or had something else caused a disruption in it?
She had the horrible feeling that she knew just what that something else was. Shiera also doubted that Tzadn was rewarding Grigor for his efforts. No, something else was going on.
Grigor paid her no mind, instead spreading his arms and laughing as the stone’s energies surrounded him. At the same time, Shiera noticed something subtle and unsettling happening above the stone.
Rising, the aura began taking shape. It was vaguely humanoid, with a head and a sweeping body like the ghosts of fanciful tales, only of the same smokiness as the Reaper’s Eye. A vague spot opened in the “head,” akin to the one that gave the stone the second part of its name.
And then, even as that happened, two lengthy appendages separated from the shadowy form, stretching to half again the body’s length and sharpening into what resembled a pair of wicked scythes.
The Reaper … Shiera suddenly thought with growing fear.
That which might have been the god or demon spoken of in the fragments of text she had uncovered continued to grow and rise over both the stone and Grigor. Shiera couldn’t believe he could not see what loomed above him, yet it was clear to her that he still only saw the stone.
The shadow moved over Grigor. The point of one scythe touched him on the shoulder.
The same smoky aura that surrounded the stone abruptly engulfed the witch. He let out a gasp.
The aura sank into Grigor, and as it did so, the shadowy form sank into the Eye again.
Grigor let out another gasp, and would have dropped to his knees if not for the staff supporting him.
Shiera felt her strength and mobility nearly fully restored. However, she remained still, certain that any movement would draw Grigor’s undesired attention.
She need not have worried. He turned to her anyway.
Shiera gaped.
Gone was the dry, sallow flesh, the cracks and crevices where dead skin and sinew had broken away. Gone were the unreal eyes, the death’s head grin … everything that hinted of Grigor’s long overdue death.
Instead, the facade of youth that he had sought to maintain all this time was a facade no longer. Grigor stood before her in the bloom of life, his skin pale but pink. His hair was now lush jet-black, his eyes a brilliant gold.
“Yes! Yes!” He laughed with childlike glee. “You see?”
Shiera only nodded. Grigor hardly noticed, so caught up was he in what he had gained.
“Only the beginning!” Grigor cried. He took the staff and tapped the dais twice. Then, grinning wide, he returned his attention to the stone. “We are one!” he proclaimed to the stone. “Gra
nt me the rest of the power I desire and I will spread your influence beyond the Worldwound, beyond the known world…”
Grigor stretched out his arms in obvious expectation of something else happening. Yet after several seconds, Grigor continued to wait to no avail.
“Do you hear me? I will swear my allegiance to you, take your desires to the lands beyond! All I ask is the power to do all this! All I demand is my right as the one to find and free you!”
Shiera took a step back. Elements of the tableau unfolding before her began to take on a new meaning, one that contradicted everything she had assumed up to this point.
“It can’t be,” she murmured to herself.
Although she barely whispered, Grigor somehow heard her. “What? What sense does this make?”
“What does it matter, O dear master?” asked another, oddly familiar voice. “What does it matter, when you have so little time left to enjoy your regained youth?”
Shiera and Grigor turned as one. At first, she marveled at the sight of the newcomer, for of all of them, she would have doubted that Raffan could have found his way to this chamber without aid. Then she noticed his vacant stare and Toy clinging tightly to his back and neck. A chill ran through her.
“The patron is not done with you,” Raffan’s mouth started … but the familiar’s finished. Toy straightened so that Grigor could see him clearly. “The patron is most certainly not finished with his most errant of servants.”
The weasel opened his other eye.
The demon orb began to shine.
* * *
Grigor had known all along that at some point near his moment of victory Toy would attempt to destroy him. However, he had expected it to come sooner, not later. Now, even though for reasons he could not fathom he had yet to be granted the Reaper’s full favor, Grigor felt more than confident in his ability to rid himself of the accursed familiar.
The weasel’s demon eye—the gift Grigor had himself granted the ungrateful wretch—burned with power that it should not have contained. Yet Grigor wasn’t worried. Before Toy could do anything with the powers the witch’s old patron had clearly granted him, Grigor began spinning the staff before him with one hand.
“Toy. My duplicitous little Toy. I’ve been wondering exactly when I would have the pleasure of your company.” Grigor studied both the eye and Raffan. “But if this is your choice of weapons, you come poorly armed. His full power cannot reach this far. You may carry a glimmer of it, but not enough.”
“You would be surprised what a glimmer of power can do, O Grigor … just see…”
Near the witch, Shiera shouted, “No!”
Too late, Grigor also saw what Toy intended. “Raffan” took a step onto the tiles.
The walls shimmered. Images formed on them—images of mummified priests who, weapons in hand, began stepping free.
Cursing, Grigor held the staff before him. The tip flared.
An explosion of fire struck just inches from Toy and his macabre mount. The familiar stared and stared at the flames, which died with unnatural quickness under his gaze.
Grigor attempted to crush the familiar and the corpse with the power stored in the staff, but again the demon eye worked against him. His spell easily dissipated.
He cannot have that much strength. The other’s reach cannot stretch this far!
What sounded like the flapping of wings caught his attention.
“Above!” Shiera called.
He knew she did not warn him out of loyalty, only survival. Still, Grigor understood that he could thus rely on the woman to guard his back, as her only true defense against the monstrous priests.
Grigor remained aware that none of this struggle would be necessary if only he could fathom why he had not been granted all the gifts the demon should have given him in gratitude. Without Grigor, Tzadn the Reaper would remain trapped in Uhl-Adanar. It might be a thousand years or more before anyone else cunning enough would locate the lost temple-city.
The flapping grew louder. Grigor thrust the staff point up over his head and felt it impact something that gave way.
He gave the staff a twist. Above him, a whooshing sound told that his spell had worked. Completely aflame, the winged undead that had been just about to pounce on him crashed into a wall.
“This isn’t right!” Shiera insisted. “This is all wrong!”
Grigor didn’t care what she meant. All that mattered was fending off the guardians, and he had a notion as to how to do just that.
Backing up to the Reaper’s Eye, the witch seized the stone with his free hand. He held it high above him.
As he suspected, the guardians slowed.
“Don’t do that, Dolch,” Shiera muttered. “You have no idea what you’ll unleash.”
“Oh, I have every idea, Pathfinder! I’ve been remiss! So long as the Reaper’s Eye exists, Tzadn cannot be wholly free. That is how they bound him to Uhl-Adanar—the Eye is the true key to his freedom … and my triumph!”
He threw the stone as hard as he could at the floor.
Time came to a halt.
The guardians froze where they were, even those flying through the air. There was no flapping of wings, no movement of cracking limbs and rattling metal. Grigor knew that he retained the ability to move, yet what happened next took place in such a short moment that he, Toy, and the woman barely had time to blink, much less act.
The Reaper’s Eye ceased its plummet. Before Grigor’s startled gaze, the smoky stone flew back up past him and onto its normal perch. However, once there, it did not simply come to rest. Instead, it began to shake violently … and as it did, the chamber followed suit.
A fearsome wind stirred from nowhere. It rose with such violence that it tore the drier and thus lighter undead from the floor and tossed them in the air. There, they collided with the already tangled winged figures, creating utter chaos above the witch and the others.
“You did the worst thing possible!” Shiera shouted.
“I nearly had him freed!” Grigor retorted.
“Yes … and that was the worst thing you could have done for him!”
Before Grigor could figure out just what the damned woman meant, he saw Toy, still astride the corpse, guiding his mount with ease across the tiled floor. With the mummified priests in chaos, nothing prevented the familiar from closing on his former master.
“Our master is not finished with you yet!” Toy repeated. “He—”
The weasel squealed as a small bolt struck him squarely, knocking him from his perch. The moment Toy’s contact with Raffan’s corpse broke, the body ceased moving.
A very startled Grigor looked over his shoulder, to where Shiera quickly worked to reload a handheld crossbow.
He gestured. The crossbow went flying.
“You are very skilled with that, but I suspect the second one would have been meant for me.”
“I have a better chance of survival if you survive as well,” she countered, pointing up. “Speaking of which…”
He did not have to ask at what she gestured. Grigor spun the staff up again, concentrating. A brief shot of blue flame engulfed the oncoming guardian. Sizzling fragments from Grigor’s target went flying in several directions. Grigor used the staff to send some of those burning fragments at other mummified figures, setting a number on fire.
But as he finished, he sensed the magic stored in the staff fading to dangerously low levels. Grigor swore under his breath. While the demon had restored him to full life, none of his new power aided him against the guardians. Grigor could not yet understand why, since surely the undead represented Tzadn’s jailers. If the demon hoped to be completely released from the stone and Uhl-Adanar, then surely he should have done more to help Grigor.
The answer came to him. Somehow, this must be Toy’s doing. Furious, Grigor spun the staff in a swift circle. A strong wind stirred to life, sending the nearest guardians flailing back.
Grigor had no doubt that despite what he had seen, Toy not only lived, but s
till plotted. The corpse upon which the familiar had ridden continued to stand as if hung from the ceiling by some invisible thread, but Grigor knew that Toy would have other means at his command.
Where are you, you little vermin? The witch rapidly surveyed his surroundings. The guardians were already recovering from his last spell. Grigor calculated he had only a minute or two before they were again a danger to him. Yet no matter where he turned, there was no sign of the accursed creature—
Of course! Grigor turned to the stone. Staff before him, he moved behind the stand above which the Reaper’s Eye floated.
Toy stared back at him from behind the display, both eyes wide open … but not in fear.
“Good Master Grigor,” cooed the weasel. “So nice of you to join me finally.”
In reply, Grigor lunged with the staff. Toy easily evaded the strike. Indeed, he used the staff to rush up toward the witch’s face.
Only then did Grigor realize just what both the weasel and their former patron had in mind.
Grigor twisted the staff around, putting a halt to Toy’s advance, but failing to shake the familiar free. Toy cackled as the witch tried in vain to toss him off.
“Be not so afraid, Master Grigor!” the weasel mocked. “Let us talk! Perhaps we will see eye to eye!”
“You’ll not have your chance, you little vermin!” The witch looked around and found what he was looking for right beside him. He swung the staff—and Toy—as hard as he could at the stone’s platform.
At the last second, the familiar released his hold and somehow landed on his feet. He scampered up the other side and popped up next to the Reaper’s Eye.
Grigor nearly made the mistake of looking directly at the familiar. Fortunately, Shiera, perhaps actually believing Grigor would let her live once all this was settled, jumped forward and seized the weasel by the tail.
It was clearly one of the few things that Toy had not expected to happen. Hissing, he twisted like a snake as he sought to free himself from the woman’s grasp.
She was smart enough, Grigor noted, not to hold on for very long. Shiera tossed the weasel in among the guardians, perhaps hoping they would fall upon him.
Pathfinder Tales--Reaper's Eye Page 26