One of the chief aspects of keeping his head in a fight was to keep an awareness of his surroundings. Countless battles had been decided because the victorious army had seized better ground than the defeated army.
If they were going to get out of here alive, if they were going to reach the Tower of the Spider before ten thousand angry valgast warriors swarmed them, Mazael was going to need a distraction.
Fortunately, he had just walked past a perfect distraction. Over fifty of them, in fact.
He ran into the chamber at the apex of the Tower of Beasts, looking at the steel cages holding the razormanes. Romaria followed a half-step behind him, her Elderborn bow ready in her hand.
“Truly?” she said. “You’re going to let them out of their cages?”
“Aye,” said Mazael. “And you’re going to stand by that lever,” he pointed at a metal lever next to the archway, “so we can escape in haste once I open the cages.”
“This is a mad plan,” said Romaria, but she didn’t argue as she moved to the lever.
“It worked in Armalast, didn’t it?” said Mazael, hurrying to the first cage.
In truth, he suspected it might work quite well. The razormane that he had fought in the Shadow Market had been fast and deadly and strong, far stronger than a human or a valgast. If it had knocked Mazael to the ground, if he had stopped moving for an instant, it would have ripped his head off without hesitation. To control such a powerful creature in battle, the valgasts had to employ harsh spells of control.
Which meant, he suspected, that if given the opportunity, the razormanes would turn upon their valgast masters like a brutalized hound biting a cruel kennel master.
He pushed the stone seal into the lock of the cage and turned it. The lock released with a loud clang, the cage shuddering. Mazael did not open the door. Given how often the razormanes tested the bars of their cages with their scythe-like forelimbs, he expected the creature to figure it out before too much longer. He opened another lock, and then another.
Mazael had opened his eleventh cage when the razormanes figured it out.
“Mazael!” said Romaria.
Three of the cages burst open, the unlocked doors swinging open, and the razormanes skittered out. As they did, Mazael heard the sound of a distant explosion, a flicker of harsh orange-yellow light shining through the archway. Someone had brought a magical spell to bear. Azurvaltoria, most probably.
Mazael sprinted for the archway, yanking Talon from its scabbard and shoving the seal back into the pouch at his belt. Two more razormanes burst from their cages, their angular heads rotating back and forth as they sought prey.
Then, almost as one, they charged after Mazael.
Romaria yanked the lever and threw herself through the archway. The massive steel portcullis shivered, and Mazael forced an extra burst of speed from his legs. He hurtled through the archway just as the portcullis fell with a resounding clang, passing so close that he felt the breeze of its passage upon the back of his neck. Another half-second and the falling portcullis would have impaled the top of his head like a pumpkin speared upon a knight’s lance.
Mazael whirled just as three razormanes slammed into the portcullis, slashing with their forelimbs. Sparks flew from the steel, but the portcullis held. Mazael glanced to the side and saw Romaria raise her bow, taking aim at the creatures.
“No, don’t,” he said. “We need them alive and healthy. And I don’t think they can break through that portcullis.”
The sound of another explosion roared out behind him, accompanied by a flare of fiery light.
The three razormanes attacked the portcullis again, and then turned and moved with terrific speed into the Tower of Beasts.
“They’re going to go down in search of prey,” said Mazael. “We, meanwhile, are going to go up. Hopefully, the razormanes will distract the valgasts long enough for us to escape.”
Romaria nodded and lowered her bow, running after Mazael as he hurried to rejoin the others. He reached them just as Azurvaltoria raised her hands over her head and thrust out her arms. Fire burst from her fingers and knit itself into a rotating sphere. The sphere hurtled from her hands, tumbling towards the plaza below, and Mazael’s eyes followed its descent into the crowds of valgasts.
Again there was a flash of fire and a rumbling explosion, and Mazael saw a dozen valgasts go tumbling through the air, their bodies wreathed in flame, and a scream of fury and rage rang through the cavern. Hundreds of valgast warriors rushed towards the Tower of Beasts, weapons in hand. They would storm into the Tower in pursuit of their enemies, but Mazael hoped they would encounter the enraged razormanes instead.
“Down!” shouted Azurvaltoria.
She ducked behind the stone railing, and as she did, Mazael saw a blaze of fire on the steps to the temple. The Prophetess was casting a spell, and so were a dozen of the valgast wizards near her, blue and green and red fire snarling up and down their staffs as they joined their powers together for a single massive attack.
Taking cover seemed like a very good idea.
Mazael ducked behind the railing, Romaria crouching behind him, and an instant later the spells went off.
The stone walkway shook like a rope trembling beneath too much pressure, and for a moment Mazael feared it would collapse into the city below. Green and blue fire howled around the railing, seeming to crumble the stone like old cheese, and cracks spread through the floor beneath Mazael’s boots, a grinding, rasping noise filling his ears.
The fire winked out with a snarling hiss, the air smelling of smoke and ozone. The walkway hadn’t collapsed. Cracks riddled the entire structure, and Mazael felt a faint, disturbing tremor going through the stone.
“Another attack like that,” said Romaria, “and we’re all dead.”
“A dragon,” said Azurvaltoria, heaving herself to her feet, “should not die by falling from the sky!”
“We’re underground,” said Sigaldra.
“All the worse,” said Azurvaltoria. More fire burned at the doors to the temple, reflecting in the gleaming carapace of the giant stone spider. “Run!”
Mazael nodded and urged Romaria forward, and they raced across the shuddering walkway. Azurvaltoria shoved herself away from the railing and ran towards the Spire of Spells. Sigaldra started after the dragon and stumbled on one of the widening cracks in the walkway, and Adalar caught her arm. She nodded her thanks and kept running.
The walkway shook again, and Mazael ran faster as more light blazed below.
He ran into the archway at the bottom of the Spire of Spells, a half-step behind Romaria, and a thunderous crack echoed behind him. He turned just as the walkway fell from both the Spire of Spells and the Tower of Beasts, hurtling five hundred feet to smash against the plaza below.
Mazael hoped it killed a few of the valgasts.
He looked around, fearing that one or more of his companions had fallen to their deaths, but all of them had gotten off the walkway before it collapsed.
“Ha!” said Sigaldra, glaring over the edge. “The fools. Let us see if they can follow us now.”
“Likely there are other walkways that lead to the Spire,” said Mazael, his mind racing.
“They needn’t even bother,” said Azurvaltoria. “Behold.”
She pointed, and Mazael saw dark shapes swarming up the sides of the Tower of Beasts and the other stalagmites. Some of them were soliphages, clinging to the rock walls with ease as they climbed. Others were valgasts riding giant black spiders, similar to the ones the Skuldari warriors used during their raids against the Grim Marches. A distant flash of metal caught Mazael’s eye, and he spotted Rigoric climbing alongside the giant spiders, moving even faster than the soliphages. In addition to superhuman strength and healing, the Mask of the Champion evidently granted him the ability to climb walls like a spider.
And he was climbing them fast.
Mazael had beaten Rigoric twice before, once at Greatheart Keep and again during their duel in the caverns of the V
eiled Mountain. Both times had been a close fight, and Mazael did not want to have to fight the Champion and the soliphages at the same time. He didn’t think he could win that fight.
“Go!” shouted Azurvaltoria. “Into the Spire! Hasten!”
They ran into the archway, a purple glow shining from the depths of the structure. The corridor opened into a large central shaft, similar to the one they had seen in the heart of the Tower of Beasts. A broad spiral stairway rose into the heights of the Spire, vanishing into the purple glow. Unlike the Tower of Beasts, dozens of stone tables stood in rings around the base of the stairs.
Each of the stone tables held a dead valgast.
Some of them looked freshly dead, blood still dripping from regular cuts upon their chests and stomachs where their organs had been removed. Others looked as if they had been dead for years, withered to husks of yellowed hide and bone.
Three valgast priests stood upon the stairs, holding staffs crowned with human skulls. Unlike the other valgast wizards that Mazael had fought and killed, these wizards had tattoos of black ink marked onto their pale hides. The tattoos made them look as if they wore their skeletons on the outside of their flesh.
In a flash, Mazael realized the purpose of those priests, even as Romaria spoke.
“They’re necromancers,” said Romaria.
“Intruders!” thundered one of the three priests. “Intruders in the sacred precinct of the Spire of Spells. Rise and slay!”
The priests gestured, green fire snarling up and down the dark lengths of their staffs, and the dead valgasts rose, symbols of necromantic fire burning upon their brows and chests and limbs.
“Defend yourselves!” shouted Azurvaltoria, fire burning around her fingers as the three priests began casting spells.
###
Sigaldra drew back her bowstring and released, sending an arrow speeding towards the valgast wizards upon the stairs.
It did no good. The arrow struck the wizard on the left, but the shaft shattered into a spray of splinters and rusted flakes. The three wizards had warded themselves against weapons of wood and steel. Perhaps Mazael’s sword or Adalar’s talchweisyr could harm the valgast priests, but Sigaldra’s bow and short sword could not.
Unfortunately, Mazael and Adalar were busy with the undead valgasts. Scores of the creatures rushed forward, green fire burning upon their foreheads and limbs. It reminded Sigaldra of the awful day of the Battle of Sword Town, the day that Ragnachar had been slain and that Lucan Mandragon had used the terrible secrets of Old Dracaryl to raise hordes of runedead.
Fortunately, these undead lacked the deadly power of the runedead, or their creators lacked Lucan’s driving willpower. The creatures were strong but clumsy, and Mazael and Adalar and Romaria tore through them like a storm. The dark blade of Talon flashed with golden fire in Mazael’s hand, the blade lopping off heads and limbs. The talchweisyr did not glow in Adalar’s hand, though the blade seemed to give off a peculiar vibration. Romaria had put away her bow and instead drawn her bastard sword, wielding it two-handed against the enemy.
Sigaldra feared that the wizards would strike them dead while they struggled against the undead. No doubt that had been their plan, but the valgast priests had failed to account for Azurvaltoria. The dragon stood wreathed in flame, her human form outlined against the snarling power of her magic. The valgast wizards unleashed an attack at her, volleys of green and purple fire, but Azurvaltoria crossed her arms over her chest, and the blasts of dark magic shattered against her fiery corona. As their attacks crackled out, Azurvaltoria struck back, hurling lances of howling flame at the valgasts. The wizards cast their own defensive spells, the fires breaking against their wards, but Azurvaltoria’s attacks hit them hard. The wizards staggered back, the stone stairs around them crackling and splintering.
For a moment Sigaldra felt useless in such a battle. She was not like Romaria, and could not wield her short sword alongside Adalar and Mazael, and her arrows could not penetrate the wizards’ defensive wards.
Nor could her arrows kill the undead creatures, but she realized they still hit with heavy force. Sigaldra loosed her arrows at the undead creatures’ legs, the shafts hammering into their limbs. The impact staggered them, and it took a few instants for the creatures to regain their balance.
When facing swordsmen like Mazael and Adalar, a delay of a few seconds was fatal. Sigaldra sent arrow after arrow at the undead, and Mazael and Adalar cut them down before they recovered. Fire snapped back and forth between Azurvaltoria and the valgast priests, and for a moment everything was chaos and fire and thunder. Part of Sigaldra urged her to hurry, to find a way from the Spire of Spells and escape before the soliphages and the spider-riding valgasts caught up with them. They were Liane’s only chance of rescue, and if they were killed here, the Prophetess would kill Liane.
The only way forward was to win this fight. Sigaldra shot another undead valgast, a withered thing that almost looked like a giant spider itself, and Adalar seized the opening to take off its head with a sweep of his curved Dark Elderborn blade.
Azurvaltoria’s voice rose in a furious scream, her fingers hooked into claws, the cords in her neck standing out with strain. For a moment Sigaldra was sure that the dragon was about to be slain, but it was not a scream of pain but a battle cry. Azurvaltoria thrust her hands, and blazing fire erupted from her palms and howled out to strike the stairs. The entire Spire of Spells shook with the impact, and one of the valgast wizards erupted into a fire so intense it left behind only a twisted, charred skeleton. The other two wizards fell to their knees as they clutched their staffs before them. Some instinct told Sigaldra that the wizards’ defensive spells had collapsed, and she shifted aim to shoot an arrow at the wizard on the left.
Her instinct had been true. The arrow slammed into the valgast wizard’s throat, snapping his head back, and he collapsed to the smoking stairs. The final wizard heaved himself up, leaning against the railing as he pointed his staff, and Sigaldra started to aim.
She needn’t have bothered. Mazael bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time, Talon drawn back. The wizard started to turn towards him at the last moment, but it was too late. Talon hammered down, the blade shearing through the wizard’s neck. Both the pale head and the spindly body collapsed down the steps, staining the stone with dark blood.
Sigaldra looked around, fearing the undead would rush her, but the battle was almost over. Adalar, Mazael, and Romaria had cut down most of the undead, and only a few creatures remained on their feet. Azurvaltoria made a complicated rolling gesture with her right hand, and the remaining undead caught fire and collapsed to the floor.
Silence fell over the chamber, but through the archway leading back to the destroyed walkway, Sigaldra heard the shouts and cries of the enraged valgasts and the tapping noise of the legs of the giant spiders and the soliphages against the rock.
Azurvaltoria waved her hand in front of her face with irritation. “The only thing that smells worse than a burned valgast is a burned undead valgast.”
“Then let’s get away from both,” said Mazael, beckoning towards the stairs. “Come!”
They ran up the stairs, weapons at the ready, and the steps gave an alarming shudder beneath Sigaldra’s boots.
Yet they were the only way out, so she kept climbing.
###
Adalar kept his talchweisyr raised, his eyes scanning the gloomy, purple-lit shaft for any sign of enemies. At every landing, a slender balcony encircled the shaft, and those balconies offered perfect vantage points for archers. Romaria had also realized the danger and had her Elderborn bow ready. Adalar wouldn’t have thought it possible to use such a large bow while running, but he had seen Romaria’s near-supernatural skill with the bow on many other occasions.
“How much farther?” said Mazael.
“There,” said Azurvaltoria, pointing at a balcony perhaps two-thirds of the way up the shaft. They were only four or five levels below it. “We…”
“Down!” said Romaria, raising her bow.
Adalar ducked, looking up as he did, and the dark shape of a valgast warrior appeared on one of the balconies overhead, arm outthrust to hurl a spear. Mazael twisted with blurring speed, Talon flickering around him, and the spear struck his sword and bounced away. Romaria’s bow twanged, and the valgast warrior went rigid as an arrow sprouted from his throat. Azurvaltoria cast a spell, and flames engulfed another valgast.
“Look out!” said Sigaldra.
A shadow reared up behind the burning valgast, a huge black spider the size of a small horse, similar to the ones the Skuldari raiders had ridden upon the surface. A valgast warrior in heavy bone armor sat upon the back of the spider, a mace ready in his hand. Romaria shot another arrow, but the shaft bounced off the warrior’s cuirass and clattered against the balcony.
The spider crouched at the railing and then leaped, hurtling down the thirty feet from the balcony to the stairwell. It landed with a crash in their midst, its legs bending, and the valgast warrior raised his mace.
Unfortunately, either the valgast had overestimated the strength of the stone stairs, or they had been damaged by the furious exchange of magic between the priests and Azurvaltoria. A shudder went through the steps, followed by a loud cracking noise, and the section of stairs beneath the giant spider collapsed. The spider fell, the valgast warrior shrieking, and struck the next level of stairs. The spider’s abdomen hit the edge of the stairs and burst open with a spray of yellowish slime, while the valgast warrior flipped over his saddle and tumbled to his death against the floor far below.
The jump had left a gap a dozen yards wide in the stairs, and Sigaldra teetered at the edge, flailing for balance. Adalar grabbed the back of her belt, pulling her back, and she fell against him. He and Sigaldra stood at the bottom edge of the broken gap in the stairs.
Mazael, Romaria, and Azurvaltoria stood at the top edge of the stairs.
Mask of Spells (Mask of the Demonsouled #3) Page 15