The Night Parade h-4

by Scott Ciencin

  It doesn't matter, she thought, that won't change the way I feel about Krystin. But what if it's true?

  Myrmeen was able to rip a single battle cry from her lips despite the toxin Tamara had injected into her throat when she slept. If she was going to die, she would die as a warrior, a prayer for vengeance for herself and her daughter on her lips as her life was claimed.

  The pincers did not blind her. The spider-arm did not run her through. Tamara released her hold on Myrmeen and backed away, rapidly becoming human once again.

  A child shouted, "Myrmeen!"

  The fighter knew Krystin was behind her. She motioned for the girl to stay back as she fixed Tamara with her gaze. A strange look passed between them and, with horror, Myrmeen identified the nature of the expression both women shared: recognition.

  Tamara fled into the shadows and was gone. Myrmeen turned and took Krystin in an embrace. The girl's repeated contact with Shandower's gauntlet during the long trek from Calimport had infused her with some of its power. That power had been enough to burn much of the poison from Krystin's system.

  "Love," Myrmeen whispered. "Love you, too."

  Krystin stared at her, sadness welling in her eyes, overcoming her shock. She opened her mouth to speak and found herself silenced by Myrmeen's raised hand.

  "The others," Myrmeen croaked. "Must warn them."

  "But-"

  Myrmeen took Krystin's hand and dragged the girl with her. "Now!"

  Nineteen

  As they followed the winding corridor that led to Reisz and Ord's chamber, Krystin vainly tried to force Myrmeen to stop and listen to her, but the fighter silenced her each time.

  "You have to know. You have to understand-" Krystin began. A hiss came to them from around the next bend, where they could see flickering yellow-orange torchlight and nothing else. Myrmeen froze and Krystin swallowed her next words. The hiss sounded again, revealing itself to be more of a whisper that was paradoxically very loud, as if the speaker had been next to each of the women.

  Myrmeen looked down and saw the shadow stretching off from her boots shorten and deepen. The torches behind her were being snuffed out, one by one. Shadows suffused the corridor, stealing across the walls, moving into the cracks of doorways to seal them. A terrible voice came to them:

  "Did you know that when I was a little boy I used to burn the other children? They told me to stop, told me that they'd feed me into the flames, and you know what? They did. I liked it."

  Myrmeen had heard the leathery voice before, in her nightmares. She was not surprised when the light before her grew more intense and a long, thin shadow suddenly stretched out, piercing the splash of yellow-white light that insinuated itself upon the stone floor.

  A red-haired man covered in sweat turned the corner, his eyebrows and hair burning as smoke leaked from his nostrils and mouth. He wore a red shirt that was opened to the waist and belted with black leather, then ran to midthigh. The rest of his body was bare, revealing his intensely muscled physique. The patches of tight, curly red hair on his chest, arms and legs, glowed bright orange and seemed to smolder. Flames licked at his clenched fists. He smiled knowingly at Myrmeen as he said, "Your presence is requested."

  Although exhausted from her battle with Tamara, Myrmeen raised her sword. The fiery-haired man frowned and lifted his open palm, revealing a seemingly endless tunnel that appeared to be a gateway to a dimension of flames. A tongue of fire leapt across the distance separating them and flicked the sword from her hand. The metal was molten slag before it struck the ground and Myrmeen yelped as her brain registered that her hand was burned and soon would blister. She could feel the rush of displaced air and the taunting presence of unnatural heat even though the flames had retreated into the monster's hand.

  "That was rude," he admonished, his features twisting cruelly as he fought to contain the murderous energy within him. The call of the flame rose to infuse his entire body with a white, pulsating glow. "But, then, I have not been entirely given to proper etiquette myself, have I? My name is Impera-tor Zeal. I have been instructed by Lord Sixx to escort you to a private audience. Please follow me."

  Myrmeen did not move. As the man before her spoke, she heard the skittering and laughter of creatures emerging from the shadows at her back and became determined not to look over her shoulder. Krystin held on to the fleshy part of her upper arm, the girl's nails biting deeply enough to draw blood.

  She also was trying not to look back.

  "Do not make me repeat myself!" Zeal snarled as he pointed in their direction, his index finger losing its consistency and becoming a wavering line of fire. "Come with me or you both die!"

  The corridor was becoming stuffy. The air was changing, taking on an unnatural consistency as the darkness drew closer. Myrmeen realized that in moments she would be enveloped by the living shadows of the night people.

  "Are my friends with you?" she asked quietly.

  "They're all here!" he bellowed. "It's a party! A celebration of our new beginning! Come one, come all-come now or I will boil the moisture from your bodies and have you dragged!"

  Myrmeen shuddered involuntarily. The shadows surrounding her grew cold and she felt something that might have been a hand brush against her leg.

  Imperator Zeal aimed his hand at Krystin's face. "Come now or I will disfigure the child."

  "All right," Myrmeen said quickly.

  "Good decision," Zeal said, his features relaxing slightly. "Besides, we don't have far to go."

  They walked through the twisting corridor to the pit where Myrmeen had found Krystin several hours earlier. The chattering creatures at their backs occasionally nudged them on. Sometimes the monsters whispered taunts meant to provoke Myrmeen into turning and facing the gathering of darkness that followed close behind, but she ignored them. When she stepped into the open theater surrounding the pit, Myrmeen was not surprised to find a host of creatures every bit as grotesque as the ones she had imagined at her back. Most were human enough to stand on two legs and look out through lumps of flesh that could, from a distance, be mistaken for heads.

  More than a hundred of the inhuman tormenters of dreams were gathered around the pit. Myrmeen saw beings with mouths covering their entire bodies, creatures that shook uncontrollably, and men and women with skin of every color-

  including one woman whose flesh changed color whenever she moved or laughed. Colors rippled through the voluptuous frame of the naked rainbow woman as she kissed a tall man's arm. His flesh was covered with eyes that his black leather and armor were designed to protect with crystal coverings woven into his suit.

  Lord Sixx was extremely relaxed and seemed only mildly interested when Myrmeen and Krystin were led into the room. Imperator Zeal's entourage remained in the corridor's shadows, then spread out to block every avenue of escape other than the shaft at the center of the large chamber.

  Finally Sixx looked over and smiled, his arching brows and widow's peak pointing at the three sets of eyes peering out from his skull. Zeal approached Lord Sixx with the prisoners, the fiery-haired man bowing as he reached the dark man who held dominion over them all. "Lord Sixx, may I present-"

  "You may not," Sixx said as he dismissed the rainbow woman with a gentle pat to her bottom and approached Myrmeen. "I know who this is, you idiot."

  Myrmeen noticed that not all of his eyes moved at the same time, and she was unnerved by the sight.

  Imperator Zeal lowered his gaze and backed away. "Of course, milord," he said.

  "Myrmeen Lhal," Lord Sixx declared in his rich voice, "ruler of Arabel, a fine city. Who sits upon your throne, Myrmeen? One of yours? Or one of ours, perhaps?"

  The implication caused her heart to leap into her throat as she thought of Elyn, the Harper who had masqueraded as Myrmeen, ruling the city in her stead.

  "Ah," Sixx said softly as he tasted her fear, "sweet."

  Myrmeen understood her mistake.

  "Don't worry," Sixx muttered assuredly, "your friend is safe. Bu
t you might be surprised to learn how many of our kind have replaced humans in positions of power throughout this world. I'll give you a hint: Zhentil Keep is more for us than an excellent hunting ground."

  The Zhentarim, Myrmeen thought, the Harpers' blood enemies. If the shadow people could infiltrate ranks such as those, then no agency in the world was safe from their spies. She considered that even the Harpers could be compromised.

  "He's lying," Krystin said. "He always lies."

  Lord Sixx turned his gaze to Krystin in amusement. "Have we met?"

  "That's what Alden said," she muttered.

  Sixx shrugged happily. "Alden is a confused child. You can't take his rambling to heart. It may prove fatal not only to you."

  Krystin looked away, something in Lord Sixx's words seeming to strike home.

  "Where are the others?" Myrmeen asked.

  "Bring them," Lord Sixx said as he raised his hand, slapping his fingers against his palm as if he were summoning a waiter in an expensive dining establishment. The crowd of monstrosities parted and the two remaining Harpers were brought forth. Myrmeen could tell from the fresh cuts and contusions lining their bodies that they had struggled bravely before they were subdued, but they were only flesh, and the members of the Night Parade were much more. Ord refused to walk of his own accord and had to be dragged. Reisz held himself with a quiet dignity, despite the roughness of the talons and claws that shoved him forward. Both men had been gagged with sashes of black silk.

  "Let them speak," Myrmeen commanded.

  "No," Sixx said lazily, "I'm tired of their ranting."

  Myrmeen looked at him, stunned to have been refused.

  "Let me explain," Lord Sixx said as he lowered his head like a snake inspecting its latest kill. "You are not in control here. You breathe because I wish it and for no other reason."

  "Do not anger him," a voice said from behind Myrmeen, "It will only make it worse."

  The fighter turned, recognizing the voice of the mage she had presumed dead. When she saw his pallid skin, drawn lips, and blood-drenched smock, she knew something was terribly wrong with him. "Lucius?"

  "Shandower is dead," the mage said, his voice appearing to have emerged from the base of a tunnel, as if he were speaking from a nearly unreachable distance. "I helped them kill him, Myrmeen. They threw his gauntlet into the pit, with his bones." He turned to Lord Sixx. "Please release me. My time is done."

  "In a just world, perhaps," Lord Sixx said. "When you reach such a place, you will have stories to share with the other com-plainers, those who suffered unnatural ends. Now be quiet or I'll loll them all."

  Lucius felt a trace of his old strength flow into him as he said, "You promised to spare them if I cooperated."

  "True," Sixx said and laughed, "but your involvement is not yet finished and their lives are still in the balance."

  Myrmeen could not believe what she was hearing. "Lucius, you must not help them. If you give them what they want, they'll have no reason to keep any of us alive. What happened to you, that you could betray us like this?"

  The mage hesitated. "I am dead."

  The fighter drew a sharp breath and suddenly identified the smell of rotting flesh among the putrid odors of the monstrosities gathered near the pit.

  "They have trapped me here between this world and the next," Lucius said. "Cyric's emissaries call to me, screaming curses because I will not come, but I cannot, though I am dead."

  Myrmeen spun on Lord Sixx. "What do you want of him?"

  The Night Parade's leader glanced at her as if her intelligence had suffered an instant, rapid decline. "He must retrieve the apparatus, of course. Shandower was not a powerful mage. He merely employed them. His skills would have been useless in sorting through the puzzle box of wards surrounding the apparatus."

  Lucius shook his head. "You have denied me use of my spells. There is nothing I can do."

  "What I made you forget, I can make you remember," Sixx promised.

  Krystin hugged herself so tightly at these words that she forced blood to leak from the wound in her arm. A figure burst through the crowd of abominations, a flaxen-haired youth who leapt to her feet and licked her blood from the floor.

  "Alden," she whispered. When he looked up in response, she saw that he was no longer human. His eyes gleamed bright red and his teeth had become wolflike canines. The lower half of his face had lengthened, jutting straight outward to accommodate his snapping jaws. Alden's features had shortened, his brow becoming considerably more brutish. His hair stood out in wild patterns, matted in tangled clots near his sopping mouth. He latched onto her leg with a single hairy claw, and Krystin screamed.

  "Child!" Lord Sixx shouted.

  Alden's head snapped around, his eyes wide with fear. He panted like a frightened dog.

  "Do not embarrass me before our guests," Lord Sixx said as he struck Alden on the back of the head, causing him to release Krystin and scamper into the recesses of the crowd. "You must forgive him. He was just happy to see you."

  "What have you done to him?" she whispered.

  "He is becoming," Sixx said with a touch of pride.

  Krystin waited for him to finish the statement. When it was clear that Sixx felt he had answered sufficiently, she asked exactly what Alden was becoming.

  Lord Sixx opened his hands. "Who knows? Perhaps his father, Dymas, will have an idea when he arrives. For now, we have other matters to consider." He looked at the mage. "What is your decision, Cardoc?"

  Lucius whispered, "I am weak. I cannot help you."

  "Then everyone dies and we are delayed slightly longer until we find someone who can." Sixx shrugged. "I've only chosen this tack because I am impatient."

  "You said you did not want me to use my magic against you," Lucius said.

  "I would still prefer that to be the case," Sixx said honestly. "I am the only one who can release you from your torments, and the lives of all you care about are in my grasp. The decision, however, is yours."

  Myrmeen touched the dead mage's arm and immediately drew her hand back in disgust at the cold flesh her fingers encountered. Lucius looked at her sadly.

  "I must do as he asks," he said.

  "I know," she said, trying to clear her mind of the idea that was forming. "But you said it yourself, you're weak. You're going to need help. Let me help you."

  He nodded and trained his gaze on Lord Sixx.

  "I don't care how you do it, just get on with it," Sixx said, annoyed. He gestured, and Krystin was thrown to the creatures guarding Ord and Reisz. "Try to betray me, and their deaths will be works of art that we will talk about far into the future."

  Myrmeen looked to Krystin, who was trying to control her fear, then turned her gaze to Sixx. "I understand."

  Lucius stared into the pit and said, "Let us begin."

  The mage gave a short list of objects he would need, stressing that the most important items were a silver mirror, a box that Sixx felt was large enough to contain the apparatus, and two lengths of extremely strong rope, so that he and Myrmeen could be lowered into the pit, where the apparatus waited. In the time it took to fulfill the mage's requirements, Lord Sixx had released the dampers he had installed in the sorcerer's mind, allowing Lucius full memory of the battery of spells he had memorized over the years and constantly replenished. The mage considered the spells he could use to gain vengeance on Lord Sixx and the creatures near the pit: he could rain acid upon them, draw their breath from them, or use a spell of wilting-but all these evocations would harm those he was trying to protect as well.

  Soon a pair of makeshift harnesses was fashioned with the ropes. Several of the Night Parade's strongest members held the ropes as Myrmeen and Lucius crept backward, yanking as hard as they could to test their protectors' mettle. The ropes might as well have been secured to boulders. Lucius backed to the edge, then leapt into the darkness, his boots catching the upper rim as he tugged on the rope and was gradually fed enough line to make his descent. Myrmeen quickly
followed him, disturbed by the leer of the first monster that held her rope. She restrained herself from making an impolite gesture and quickly vanished into the pit.

  "Zeal, you simpleton, don't just stand there. Give them some light," Lord Sixx roared. The fiery-haired man flinched at the insult, then proceeded to follow his master's command, crouching at the lip of the pit and allowing his hands to be consumed by twin suns of flame that lighted the shaft for a depth of nearly thirty yards.

  "They're fifty feet down, but I don't see any niche," Zeal said.

  "We don't need a commentary. Let the humans accomplish their task," Lord Sixx chided.

  Within the pit, Lucius and Myrmeen descended another twenty feet before the mage motioned for the fighter to stop.

  "It is here," he called as he clapped three times, indicating that no further rope should be given.

  Myrmeen saw a section of smooth rock that looked no different from the rest of the shaft. Suddenly she realized what was different about this patch of stone: On its surface were the mummified remains of several dozen insects, a few roaches, and even a butterfly that might have been pinned in the album of a collector.

  "Do not touch the stone," Lucius warned.

  "Have no worries," she responded.

  Lucius appeared to be no longer listening; he was casting a spell. Suddenly a glowing, silver ball of light materialized over their heads. A cloud of blue flame burst from the surface of the stone and was absorbed by the spell trap, which also provided all the illumination they required.

  Above, Imperator Zeal allowed the fires consuming his hands to fade and he returned to the crowd, standing well apart from Lord Sixx.

  In the pit, Lucius touched the newly polished rock surface and spread his fingers upon the stone. Uttering a few simple words, he dispelled the magic holding the small section of wall in place. The burned umber stretch of rock disappeared and was replaced by the niche Shandower had mentioned. The box containing the apparatus was in plain view, three feet inside the hole into which a man could comfortably fit, provided he remained in a crouch. Myrmeen resisted the urge to reach inside and snatch the box, which was large enough to house a crossbow. The box they had brought with them was black and plain, the steel container used to protect maps and scrolls in the event of a fire. Myrmeen found it strangely comforting that these unnatural creatures could get lost as easily as any human.