Phen tried to make a mental map of Cole’s passage from the point he recognized, but it was no use. Too many turns and archways, and then two sets of stairs. Phen saw the wizard come to a dark alcove with a great iron door centered in its far end. Cole rapped on the steel and a head-high window opened inward spilling orange torchlight in a rectangular beam. A pair of dark skittish eyes looked out. Then after a loud clank the door creaked open. Cole spoke to the man at length, allowing the hell-born scorpion, and then Spike, to ease into the area. Spike had to scurry past them all into the deeper shadows in order to keep Cole’s venomous pet from seeing him.
The dungeon guard was terrified of Cole’s new creature. His fear caused the wizard to cackle with delight. Soon Cole’s zard assistant arrived. Phen overheard part of their conversation.
“Let us see if that thing running loose down there can survive my new friend,” Cole told the zard.
“Thinkss we’ll be rid of it soon,” the zard said.
“I hope so. I didn’t mutate that breed bastard so it could take over our lower levels,” Cole snarled. “The giant Flick caught me has probably starved to death by now. It’s a pity we had to leave it in chains. He might have been able to rid us of the breed freak.”
“A curiouss battle, Masster Cole,” the zard commented. “One I would haves liked to ssee.”
Cole nodded his agreement. “Escort this hell-spawn to the lower gate, Zalvin; maybe it will rid us of our problem so that we can at least examine the pure blood’s internals before it starts to rot.”
“Yessss, Masster Cole,” Zalvin gave a short dutiful bow. Cautiously, as if leading an angry dog, the zard urged the scorpion down a darkened stairway and disappeared.
After Cole left, the dungeon master shut the iron door behind him. The instant the door banged shut, Phen lost contact with Spike. He began to worry about his familiar. Phen tried and tried to reestablish his link with the lyna, but just couldn’t do it. With a frustrated sigh he put his head in his hands and tried to think.
“Are yew all right, Pin?” Princess Rosa asked.
He started to correct her pronunciation of his name, but decided that it would be pointless. To her, she was saying Phen. It was her Seaward accent that caused her to pronounce it wrong. Earlier he had asked her what the people of Seaward call the little appendages that helped a fish swim. “Feens,” she’d replied. After that he gave it up.
“I’m all right, m’lady.” He forced a smile. “It’s just that I need to get that Silver Skull away from here.” He doubted that Queen Shaella even knew Cole was tampering with its magic.
“Eat and rest.” Princess Rosa was barely older than him, but her smile was motherly. She offered him the bigger part of the meal that had come up. “Getting some rest will help you think.”
“Aye,” he agreed and reached for a piece of the hard bread on the tray. “What’s this?” he mumbled. He could see the corner of a gap in the floor. He snatched up the bread and took a bite, and then held it in his mouth as he moved the tray over and began dusting the filth off of the wooden floor. In a matter of moments he revealed a rectangular trapdoor with a finger hole in one end to use as a handle. He stuck his finger in it cautiously and raised the hatch, revealing a ladder that led down into the darkness. Chewing his bread, he smiled at the Princess.
He cast an orb of light into his palm, causing Rosa to yelp, then he leaned his head into the hole. Phen was delighted at what he saw down there.
“What is it?” Rosa asked, peering down to see what had the boy grinning so broadly. “It’s just a room full of old books.”
“No, m’lady, it’s much more than that.” He grabbed one of the sausages from the tray and started down the ladder. “It’s Pael’s library. There’s more power hidden in this room than anywhere in the world, save for maybe Xwarda.”
“What will you do?”
“Hopefully, I’ll be able to find a spell that will help get us and that Silver Skull away from here.”
“Do be careful, Pin,” Rosa said rubbing the stump where her fingers used to be. “Pael’s was such an evil sort of magic.”
Phen reached up and gave her good hand a squeeze. “It wasn’t his magic that was evil, Princess,” Phen said, hoping that it was true. “It was his heart.”
Chapter Forty
Gerard could smell the evil radiating from the archway before him. His eyes saw nothing but black on black, for there was no light here. The darkness was so thick, so absolute, that a torch flame would have been swallowed whole. But his ears heard the shape and texture of the walls, and his nose smelled the sweet taint Deezlxar left in the air. The dark master of hell was close. Gerard could feel it. The battle lust began to boil in his blood. His teeth ached for demon-flesh and his heart was pounding a potent rhythm in his chest.
After craning his elongated neck to and fro to stretch his shoulder muscles, he eased through the archway into the greater blackness beyond. He was ready to face the thing that stole his ring. He was ready to face his destiny—or so he thought.
“How dare you come seeking my destruction!” A voice so deep that it shook Gerard’s guts exploded all around him. “What are you, that you think you can challenge me?”
“I’m the one that terrorizes your domain, the thing that you cannot control,” Gerard growled back defiantly. “I’m the thing that makes your minions tremble. Now show yourself.”
A sweeping blow sent Gerard tumbling sideways. He hadn’t seen it coming, or what had made the attack, but whatever it was, it was huge. He saw that he wasn’t mistaken about its size when he sent an orange gout of flame up into the air above him. The illumination revealed a three-headed crab-like monstrosity that had six legs. It was already bearing down on him again. This time Gerard ducked the coming appendage and raked his claws across the creature’s underside. His claws found thick leathery hide and hard bone where he’d expected to find vitals. The beast squatted down, almost pinning him to the hard flat floor, and only the slick greasy coating on Gerard’s plated flesh let him slip free.
Gerard sent a churning blast of purple energy into the demon’s side as he rolled away. It struck with a thump and exploded, sending wet pieces of matter everywhere. The thing howled out in pain as it danced around to face Gerard. As big as it was, the great gouge in its side was only a minor wound. It retaliated with its own magic, a triple blast of white-hot demon’s fire, one coming from each of the dragon heads that loomed over Gerard. Gerard howled out a primal roar and charged right through the scorching blast. He was part dragon and therefore fire, even demon’s fire, had little effect on him. He leapt at Deezlxar’s chest, where the three necks branched away, using his long hand and toe claws as if he were a raccoon leaping up on the side of a tree. The monster shrieked and darted one of its other heads at him. The blackness was now punctuated with long bright burns in his vision, but Gerard somehow sensed the attack. He jumped away and latched onto the attacking head just as its jaws clamped down on itself with a bloody crunch. Then Gerard blasted out another fiery roar. One half of Shokin cackled, while the other spoke a spell. Ancient whispers sounded in his mind and a static lavender blast pulsed from his hand exploding a chunk from the head he was now clinging to.
Gerard had to dive away from the beast as it twisted around and screamed. He somersaulted through the air, churning his tail and contorting his body so as to land on his feet, but Deezlxar continued around with a bone crunching lash of one of his six appendages smacking Gerard in midair. Gerard spun and flailed, trying to land well, but it didn’t happen. Mostly his head and neck caught the floor with the bulk of his body coming right down on top of him. He crunched into himself so hard that his tail bones impacted the back of his head. Bones were broken. One of them jutted up out of his arm. He could feel raw, nauseating pain where exposed nerves and marrow were touching air. With his other arm he yanked the broken one crudely back into its proper shape and let loose a horrific yell. Then he turned and called forth blast after blast of magical energy,
while Kraw, and both halves of Shokin did the same inside his mind. A swarm of poisonous insects, a jagged streak of crimson lightning, then several balls of roiling purple energy came pulsing out of his fingertips and assailed the beast.
Deezlxar countered most of them with shielding spells. The poisonous bugs found his blood more toxic than they were and they soon sputtered to the ground and faded into nothing. The lavender blasts charred the Abbadon’s flesh as it advanced, but none of it did enough damage to stop the coming attack.
Another streak of lightning found Deezlxar’s wounded head, and sizzled the life out of its eyes, but still Deezlxar came on. The Abbadon had taken Gerard’s best and it was still ready for more. Gerard knew that he had to retreat and regroup. There was no way that he could win this battle, not this day. His armor plates were crooked and several other bones were broken besides his arm. The gore that had splattered his body was starting to sizzle on his flesh.
Gerard spun and clawed deep slices across one of the Dark One’s necks, then he did the only thing he could do to survive. He flashed himself away with a spell.
He appeared in the empty blackness somewhere away from Deezlxar and immediately began trying to heal himself with his magic. He wasn’t done with the Abbadon yet, but he was no fool.
***
As much as Shaella wanted to march the huge, hairy, bone-wielding gorax into Locar to straighten out the breed, she couldn’t. She’d promised Ra’Gren aid, and the gorax would go far toward keeping Queen Rachel’s army from crossing into Dakahn. Shaella had to remind herself that it was Bzorch and his barbaric breed giants she was mad at. Not all of the people of Locar had betrayed her, just the breed.
She found that she couldn’t be mad at Flick for retreating from the battle as he had. His Choska had been critically wounded, and Ra’Gren’s men lost the fight anyway. The feel of the wind in her hair, and Vrot’s young, strong muscles churning his wing strokes under her, confirmed the decision.
Cole was another matter. She was completely infuriated with Cole. Despite her orders, he’d let one of the Choska slip into the world without being bound, and had instead bound the will of an overgrown insect. Gerard hadn’t loosed those demons for her to squander. She wasn’t sure if Cole was going mad down in the dungeons, where he spent most of his time these days, or if he had some strange purpose that she didn’t know about. Cole had always been more like her father than Flick. Maybe that’s what it was. She would deal with him soon. It had to be done.
Shaella hated having to bother with Ra’Gren again, but it was necessary. She was certain he would put her in a mood. She decided that she would save dealing with the breed for last, that way the fires of her wrath would be fully stoked when she found them.
The statue-filled bailey before Ra’Gren’s palace was crowded as she circled low over it. Clouds were building up in the sky and she wanted this part of her day over with so that she could fly above the coming storm on her way north to Locar.
She loved to skim the tops of the storm clouds. The kinetic energy built up in them was powerful and seemed to charge her blood.
The people below cleared away for her as she brought Vrot smoothly down. With a wide snap of his wings his hind legs touched the ground. The dragon took a lurching step before his front claws went forward and his wings pulled in. Shaella didn’t bother to dismount.
“Go fetch your king,” she ordered a uniformed man who was posted at the top of the steps. His expression showed his reluctance to do any such thing, but he didn’t balk. He glanced at the dragon fearfully, then turned and strode into the palace entrance.
It didn’t take Ra’Gren long to appear. He was followed by a dozen of his overlords, all but two of whom chose to stay high up on the stairway away from the dragon. Ra’Gren’s expression was angry, yet curious, as he strode powerfully toward her. He stopped when he was on a level with Shaella’s eyes. Just to be difficult she had Vrot raise her up a little higher so that Ra’Gren was forced to look up at her or back up a few steps.
“You failed me in Seareach,” Ra’Gren barked. “Your creatures were of no real help.”
“I didn’t agree to help you take Wildermont,” Shaella snapped. “I only agreed to help you defend against the Eastern Alliance. Those hellcats were supposed to be a gift to help you guard the pass, but still you lost it.”
“Nevertheless, those things failed us.” He looked at the messenger who’d arrived earlier with the particulars of the battle. It irritated Ra’Gren that Shaella knew what happened before him. “My man tells me that your half-breeds betrayed you and helped Jarrek win the day. If this is the sort of assistance you give, I’m not sure I want it anymore.”
“You’re an old fool.” She hawked and spat at the ground a few steps below him. “Do you even know what sort of threat approaches?” She looked at him hard, hoping he would try to come down on her for calling him a fool in front of his court. His face was red, and cords throbbed under his clenched jaws, but his eyes kept darting down to Vrot’s slobbery maw and then back to her. His voice was level and controlled when he spoke.
“Tell me of this threat.”
“An army, twenty thousand strong, is marching across Valleya as we speak. They mean to storm your border and attack here at O’Dakahn. Queen Rachel didn’t like the party you threw for her men in the Seareach passage.” Shaella allowed herself a smug smile. It was nice having a spy in General Spyra’s bed. “Are you prepared to defend your borders, and if not, are you prepared to defend the city?”
Ra’Gren’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no words came to him.
“That’s what I thought.” Before he could respond she waved him to silence. “If you don’t want my assistance, if my aid isn’t to your liking, then I’ll be on my way.” She started to urge Vrot into flight but, as expected, Ra’Gren stopped her.
“Queen Shaella,” he said in a way that hid his deprecation in the tone of his voice.
Shaella heard the inflection and knew it for what it was. It was a plea.
“What can we do?” he asked her when she didn’t fly away. “I have men, plenty of soldiers, but it would take days to get them all to Oktin and Lokahna to defend the bridges.”
Shaella waved her hand and spoke a word in the language of demons. The huge gorax appeared right in the middle of the bailey among the statues in a brilliant flash. People gasped and yelled and nearly trampled each other trying to get away. Even Vrot took a cautious step back from its sudden appearance. The wolf-headed gorax growled out loudly and waved its huge bone club about. It stood over twenty feet tall, and its black ape-like chest rippled with muscle that contrasted with its thick gray fur. As if irritated at being called upon, the demon bashed one of the marble statues into a crumble. The head and shoulder of the destroyed monument flew ten feet and bounced into the base of another statue with a heavy thumping crack.
“My new friend can keep the Seaward army from crossing at Lokahna. That will buy you some time to get troops to Oktin. I doubt Rachel’s army would want to march that far north anyway, not after losing the element of surprise. Send a few thousand archers to help the gorax cover the banks of the river, and a few hundred cavalry to round up any stragglers that might win their way past him, but warn your men to stay clear. If it is in his way, and alive, the gorax will kill it if he thinks it came across the river into your kingdom.”
Looking at the gargantuan demon beast Ra’Gren found that, for the first time in a very long time, he was speechless.
***
The Shark’s Tooth fought its way up the channel against the mild current of the Leif Greyn’s diffused flow. They had long since passed under the shadow of the Dragon Spire and were nearing the open marsh where the Leif Greyn River split. Once, the route would have been impossible to travel due to Claret’s presence, but now the spiking volcanic formation was nothing but a sinister landmark amid a swampy half-submerged jungle. The normally snapper-filled waters seemed empty of life. Even the insects seemed to have better
things to do than bother Lord Gregory, Lady Trella, and Oarly as they stood on deck and watched the swamp go by.
Maxrell Tyne, now Captain Tyne, with the aid of his partner Grommen, had readily agreed to take them. After all, Mikahl owed Maxrell a fortune, and he wasn’t about to forget it. They’d taken on a Water Mage to help power the ship against the current, and so far he had done well, but he was tiring. The Lion Lord hated it, but the ship was flying the lightning star banner. This served to kept the few curious eyes they came across from lingering. Save for in the night. At night it seemed like there were always a dozen pairs of eyes watching them from the marshy darkness.
The hardest part of the voyage was going to be getting past Seareach, where the Leif Greyn’s flow was most potent. The Shark’s Tooth would travel at a snail’s pace against the current, and for a time the ship would be in the archers’ range from either side of the river. Once they were through they could hug the Wildermont shoreline and make their way slowly up to Castlemont, where King Jarrek was supposed to be trying to regroup.
As the ship moved into the dangerous run of river, Lord Gregory ushered Lady Trella below, using the dark clouds building in the sky as his excuse. He’d spotted a bug-covered, half-consumed, human body floating in the water and wanted to spare his wife the sight of it.
“There’s why we’re not being eaten alive by the flies, Lord Lion,” Maxrell Tyne said. A look from Lord Gregory, as he gently turned Trella’s eyes away, spoke daggers. Tyne cringed and shrugged his apology.
Kings, Queens, Heroes, & Fools Page 35