Vestapalk cut him off again. “Meat is not what Vestapalk needs. The Voidharrow sustains him, but he must also sustain the Voidharrow.”
He loomed over the tribe. A few hunters finally rose to their feet. A hatchling cried out and was slapped into silence by its clutch-guardian. Sistree stared up at the dragon with wide eyes.
“You will serve,” said Vestapalk. His mouth opened and Tiktag watched the silver-red stuff drip like venom from the dragon’s mighty jaws as he drew breath.…
CHAPTER SEVEN
I don’t like this,” murmured Gerar.
Nu Alin prodded his host to reply. “The pack of Gerar is strong,” Rooga whined. “There is nothing to fear.” His host eased a paw over the top of the low wall that they—and half of the pack of gnolls, silent for once—crouched behind, and pointed a gnarled finger across the broken plaza before them. “See the treasure chest.”
“There are still three minotaurs,” Gerar growled. “There was only supposed to be one.”
One or three, soon I will be rid of this stinking body, Nu Alin thought—and Rooga snarled in reaction. Gerar looked at him with narrow eyes. Rooga ducked his head in submission. Nu Alin could feel his host’s surprise at the sound that had come out of his own throat. That brought a brief flush of pleasure. He was almost strong enough to control his host directly again. He fed off the fear of those whose bodies he stole, and the prospect of the looming battle had stirred more than a little fear in Rooga, even with Nu Alin’s will bolstering him.
The unexpected presence of additional minotaurs had agitated all of the gnolls. Across the plaza, their intended prey crouched around a small fire. Two watched chunks of meat smoke in the flames while the other watched the shadows, bull-head turning back and forth, a massive axe in his hands. Two minotaurs would have been acceptable. Three was perfect. One of the minotaurs crouching over the fire was a brute, a head taller than either of the other two. Nu Alin had already selected him as his new host.
If Gerar didn’t back down. Nu Alin exerted his control over Rooga a little more directly than he had before. “Look at that chest,” he said through the gnoll’s mouth. “Imagine what’s inside.”
Rooga’s alarm grew, feeding Nu Alin’s strength. He thrust Rooga back. His time was at hand. If Gerar noticed that Rooga’s voice was suddenly rougher and more stilted than normal—Nu Alin could force his host’s body to respond, but the nuances of voice were more difficult—he didn’t show it. The chest in question, a rough box slung by straps from long poles for easy carrying, didn’t actually look like much. Nu Alin could imagine it empty as easily as he could full, or filled with rocks instead of treasure. What he imagined inside it wasn’t important, though. He watched Gerar’s eyes drift from the minotaurs to the chest, before returning to the minotaurs.
“There are three of them,” he said again.
Behind them, ordered to keep their heads down and thus unable to see what lay ahead, gnolls shifted impatiently. If they were heard, the element of surprise would be lost. Nu Alin thrust Rooga’s muzzle even closer to Gerar’s ear. “The rest of the pack waits for our attack. They’ll unleash the hyenas from the other side. The minotaurs will be caught between us.”
There was no response from Gerar. Nu Alin bared his teeth and added, “If we turn back now, the pack will believe you’re a coward.”
Gerar jerked his head around and glared into Nu Alin’s eyes.
Rooga wanted to roll over and bare his throat to the pack leader. Nu Alin held his body still and glared back, daring Gerar to deny what he said.
Gerar’s muzzle twisted into a silent snarl. His breath blew into Nu Alin’s face in short, sharp bursts—then he turned and gestured for the other gnolls. Faces looked toward him. Hands tightened on weapons. Muscles tensed. Gerar glared disdainfully at Rooga, then turned back to study the minotaurs. Below the level of the wall, he lifted his spear and held it steady, waiting for the perfect moment to signal the charge. The gnolls pressed close.
“Yeenoghu!” bellowed Gerar, thrusting his spear high. He vaulted the wall and the gnolls followed in a cackling, screaming rage.
Nu Alin jerked Rooga’s body, sending him stumbling after them. The gnoll was gibbering—Nu Alin’s strength wasn’t enough to control both body and voice, not yet—but his terror was lost in the chaos.
The minotaur on guard spun around instantly, any warning he might have shouted lost in the screams of the gnolls. Warnings were hardly necessary. The two minotaurs by the fire were on their feet as well and grabbing for weapons that were just out of reach.
They didn’t have time. The shadows on the far side of the broken plaza exploded as the remaining gnolls burst from hiding, along with the pack’s hyenas.
The largest minotaur dove back to the fire and seized the rough skewers of cooking meat. Roaring with rage, he hurled them like spears. The weight of the meat dragged the flying skewers down but the force of the throw was still powerful. The hyena leading the charge went down with hot metal sizzling in its chest.
Nu Alin knew that he was going to enjoy that body.
At his full strength, Nu Alin wouldn’t have hesitated to push Rooga up to the minotaur and make the leap from body to body. Still weak, he would need to take the big creature by surprise. He needed a distraction.
Most of the gnolls who charged with Gerar focused their attention on the minotaur who had stood guard. He’d retreated to a fragment of old wall, something to put his back against, and was keeping the gnolls at bay with sweeping swings of his axe. Nu Alin lurched Rooga to Gerar’s side and yelled in his ear. “We have to go after the big one!”
He turned Gerar and pointed. The largest minotaur was at the center of a storm of hyenas, but acquitted himself well. Huge fists hurled the animals away. A few came charging back into the fight, only to be met by a swift dip and toss from the minotaur’s horns—impractical natural weapons, but effective.
Nu Alin felt Gerar stiffen at the sight, however. “We don’t have to fight him.”
Fury seized Nu Alin. “He’s going to run,” he rasped with Rooga’s voice.
“The hyenas will bring him down.”
“There aren’t many of them left,” Nu Alin said tightly. He grabbed Gerar’s arm and dragged him out of the melee. “Fight him! Take his horns. Make a helmet of his skull so all of Thunderspire fears Gerar.”
Gerar hesitated, weighing the merits of such a trophy—and while he hesitated, the big minotaur shook off the last of the hyenas, looked around, saw the trouble his companions were in, and decided to save himself. He took off across the plaza like a juggernaut. Nu Alin bit off a curse and made Gerar’s decision for him. Rooga’s terror gave him a burst of strength. Nu Alin shoved the gnoll in the direction the minotaur had fled. “Go!”
Caught off balance, Gerar moved. Nu Alin stayed with him, forcing him along. When the few gnolls that weren’t caught up in the frenzy of fighting the two smaller minotaurs looked up, he waved them back. “This will be your kill, Gerar,” he barked as he drove the leader of the pack along. “Yours and yours alone. You can take this cow!”
Gerar looked a little bolder at that, and when the minotaur glanced back, he roused himself to a blood-curdling howl. Behind them, the other gnolls echoed the cry. The big minotaur’s eyes narrowed and he put on a burst of speed, breaking out of the plaza and diving into a passage leading to another part of the ruins. Gerar slowed as they approached the same passage and held back Nu Alin as if hunting the minotaur had been his idea all along.
“He’ll try to ambush us,” the gnoll growled. “He’s probably just around the corner of the passage waiting for us to come out.”
“Let me guard your back,” Nu Alin told him. The passage wasn’t long—maybe ten paces. He could see where it widened into another chamber. They moved in silently on the tough pads of gnoll feet. Nu Alin’s control over Rooga had solidified just as it was time to leave his body. He felt frustrated at that.
The hammerfall of the minotaur’s hooves had ceased. I
f he listened with Rooga’s ears, Nu Alin could hear the creature’s harsh breathing echo in the chamber beyond. If he extended his own senses, he could feel the heat of his body. The minotaur was indeed waiting to ambush them, but not where Gerar expected—he lurked farther out in the chamber, ready to bring his weight and horns to bear in a deadly charge. Gerar would have to come out into the open if he wanted to attack, and then he’d be at the minotaur’s mercy.
Nu Alin held his tongue. Gerar’s fate didn’t matter.
They reached the end of the passage. Gerar peered out into the chamber and asked without turning his head, “Are you ready?”
“More than ready,” Nu Alin spat through Rooga’s mouth.
Gerar threw himself out of the passage with another howl, rolling across the chamber floor to come up in a crouch, spear twitching from shadow to shadow. “Rooga!” he barked. “Come now—”
Nu Alin heard the minotaur’s bellow as he emerged from hiding, saw Gerar jerk around to face him, felt the subtle vibrations through the stone floor as the massive beast charged. He heard Gerar screaming for his help. He didn’t answer. He didn’t move—except to throw back Rooga’s head and do what he’d longed to do for weeks.
Force himself out of the gnoll’s body.
The filaments of himself that he had extended through Rooga’s limbs, the sheets that he had wrapped around bones and organs, released their hold and drew back into the gnoll’s torso. Nu Alin felt what remained of Rooga’s mind come screaming back from the void that had been its prison. He plucked at nerves as he pulled free and the screaming rose to a wail. Rooga’s pain and fear had been delicious as first, but after so long trapped in the gnoll’s body, they’d become sour. Nu Alin pushed up.
Rooga’s torso bulged. His ribs creaked. The scream in his mind never reached his throat—Nu Alin already filled it. His jaw cracked. The skin of his muzzle stretched and tore.
And Nu Alin thrust one glistening pseudopod out of Rooga’s mouth into the air.
Perception was different outside of a host. There was a familiar moment of disorientation as he reacquainted himself with seeing in all directions at the same time, then everything came into focus. He looked down at Rooga’s wide-eyed, pain-wracked face at the same time as he examined the walls of the passage. The rough stone surface was just a little too far away for him to reach easily. He gave a last tug deep within Rooga and the gnoll’s spasming body lurched two steps closer. Perfect. Nu Alin stretched out and anchored himself on the wall, then dragged the rest of himself out of Rooga.
The gnoll collapsed like a discarded robe, trembling and whimpering as blood poured from his ruined face. Nu Alin flowed across the wall, up to the ceiling, and out into the chamber. He could already feel the air, the very energy of this world, attacking him. The form with which the Voidharrow and the Elemental Eye had blessed him was meant for a different place. Little bits of his naked substance dried and flaked away as he moved. His liquid self evaporated. He would need to act swiftly or all of his carefully hoarded strength would evaporate with it.
Neither of the combatants below noticed the silvery-crimson crystalline blob that crawled across the ceiling. The sounds of their battle thumped against his skin like fists on a drum. Gerar had survived the minotaur’s charge and now held his enemy off with his spear. The minotaur had drawn a broad-bladed knife, more of a tool than a weapon, but dangerous enough with his powerful muscles behind it. Gnoll and minotaur circled each other warily.
Distract him, Gerar, Nu Alin thought. That’s what you’re here for.
Clinging to the ceiling, he stretched down toward his new host.
Gerar saw him—the gnoll’s eyes went wide and he froze for an instant. Caught up in the frenzy of battle, the minotaur didn’t hesitate. He lunged at Gerar, knife slashing. Gerar ducked to the side on instinct, but the attack was a feint. The minotaur twisted around and kicked out with one heavy hoof. His blow caught the gnoll’s shoulder and sent him spinning across the chamber. The minotaur straightened, satisfaction on his brutish face, and started toward the injured gnoll.
Nu Alin twisted his dangling body and released his grip on the ceiling.
He fell across the minotaur’s shoulders like a serpent falling from a jungle tree. The minotaur roared in surprise and tried to push him off, but clutching fingers passed right through his attacker’s fluid body and his roar became a muffled moan of panic as Nu Alin spread across his face. Before the minotaur could think to close his mouth, Nu Alin thrust himself inside. Past teeth, over flailing tongue—he slid a portion of his substance into the minotaur’s nose as well, slithering through nostrils to join himself at the back of the mouth and slide down the minotaur’s throat. The staggering beast fell to his knees, fighting for breath, still trying to claw at the ooze that invaded his body. Nu Alin sent fine filaments of himself through the small gaps in the minotaur’s flesh. He flowed like water in his veins and through his muscles. The minotaur would be a fine, strong host. With care, he might last for months. The minotaur’s struggles weakened as Nu Alin took control of his limbs, his lungs, his heart.
In the black vault of the minotaur’s mind, Nu Alin’s will swept over that of his terrified host. A name came to him: Apech. At another time, he might have toyed with Apech, savoring his fear. Not this time. With a swift, brutal thought, Nu Alin slapped Apech back and sealed him away in his own mind. He drew a hot breath through Apech’s nostrils and opened Apech’s eyes to the sight of Gerar standing over him, spear poised to thrust. The gnoll gave a nervous little bark as his frightened gaze met Nu Alin’s. For a moment, neither moved.
The spear stabbed down. In the same instant, Nu Alin threw Apech to the side. What should have been a blow to the minotaur’s heart instead skittered along the right side of his ribcage. Pain seared his side, but Nu Alin grabbed hold of the spear as he rolled, dragging it out of Gerar’s grasp. He brought Apech back to his hooves and looked at the gnoll, then turned so that Gerar could see the wound. Blood ran freely down Apech’s shagging hide. Not taking his eyes off Gerar, Nu Alin concentrated briefly, shifting his own substance around the wound. Pain faded and blood stopped flowing as silver-crimson liquid crystal filled the gash. Gerar’s eyes nearly bulged right out of their sockets.
Nu Alin flipped the spear around his grip. “My turn,” he said with Apech’s voice.
Before he could move, though, before he could even raise the spear to end Gerar’s foul, stinking life, awareness of the Voidharrow came crashing over him.
He knew what it was immediately, just as he had known when it swept over him as he wandered wounded and dying in the labyrinth. Then, before the Voidharrow had ebbed back, he’d known that it had been freed from its prison. This time, though, it was more than just free. It was thriving. As if, like him, it had been dormant, resting and recovering its strength. Now it was awake. Nu Alin felt its power call to him. It pressed against his consciousness, swelling like a storm surge ready to break over an ocean coast. Then it did break and Nu Alin felt it as a cresting wave, washing over the beach and retreating—but leaving some of itself behind.
How was that possible? Nu Alin turned where he stood until he knew, in what passed for his guts, that he faced the Voidharrow. It was a beacon in his mind, strangely divided but with that same strong presence at its core.
A presence that was already moving away from him.
“No!” Nu Alin screamed. His minotaur’s body turned the word into a hoarse bellow. He dropped the spear and ran at the wall, beating his fists against solid rock. “Don’t go! I am your Herald!”
It was too late. Uncaring and distant, the Voidharrow moved on. Nu Alin’s fists slid against the unrelenting rock. Nothing had changed. The Voidharrow was still there in his mind, pulling on him—he would just have to travel farther before he joined with it.
Nu Alin turned away, willing his crystal form into knuckles broken against the wall. Gerar was gone, wisely fled in the face of something he didn’t understand. Nu Alin briefly considered returning
to the gnolls’ den and keeping his promise to slaughter them. The distant touch of the Voidharrow had given him his strength back. Rendering the pack forever silent would take little effort.
But no, he was the Herald and that was more important than anything else. The senses of his minotaur host would guide him through the labyrinth. He could be free of Thunderspire Mountain within the day, then he would follow the Voidharrow to the edge of the world if he had to.
And if the Voidharrow was truly free, Gerar and the other gnolls would find their end soon enough, anyway.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The sight of the massive hole that gaped in the side of the lonely hill left Albanon with an eerie sense of familiarity. Though maybe not so much eerie as deeply disturbing—and not so much familiarity as dread. He and the others might once have climbed out of that pit in triumph, but that didn’t change what waited below. He shivered in spite of the day’s warm sunlight and put his back to the hole.
Shara grabbed his arm and turned him right around again. “Going somewhere?”
“I thought I’d check the horses.”
“They’re picketed with feed and water in reach. They’ll be fine until we’re back.” She punched his shoulder. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
He poked her back with the end of the staff that he carried. “Other than a long drop to a cavern full of undead and possibly a very angry dragon?” he pointed out.
“Shara’s right.” Kri rose from the brink of the hole and stepped back. “I know magic that will let us reach the floor of the cavern, and from your descriptions, I think the undead were roused through a ritual by the lich who led you here. I suspect that as long as we don’t attempt to interfere with them, they won’t interfere with us.”
The Temple of Yellow Skulls Page 9