Where was Rufus, though? Before he could check. Tentacles rose from the water all around him. Fist twisted and dodged and had to make a wide turn that took him briefly further away from the entry. He barely made it past that tangle before another of the tentacles erupted from the ground right under him. It tore at the back of his legs with its spikes and sent him stumbling once more.
Suddenly, Fist was grabbed from behind and lifted into the air. Ooh!
Rufus, three times his normal size, carried Fist under one arm, Maryanne on his shoulders.
“You’re supposed to be fast with that mace!” Maryanne shouted.
“I kept tripping,” he said as Rufus leapt over a rising mound in the water. They neared the entrance and Fist suddenly thought of the end of his dream. Do not throw me!
Why I do that? Rufus wondered just as a series of mounds rose in front of the entrance to the palace. They weren’t going to make it.
Climb up the side! Justan sent through the bond. There’s another entrance at the top!
The tall blocks at the base of the pyramid were too high for most people to climb, but at his current size they weren’t a challenge for Rufus. The gorilla-like rogue horse placed Fist atop that first block and climbed up before helping the ogre to climb to a firm position on his back.
Trollflesh rose up all around the base of the pyramid, covering the entrance completely and moving up the side of the blocks. Enormous tentacles rose high into the air and reached for them.
Fist reached out with threads of earth and air as Rufus climbed, sending down a lightning strike at the base of the tentacles, causing them to jitter and collapse. Another fire was started and spread across the water, climbing tentacles and mounds alike.
“I thought you said no electricity!” Maryanne complained.
“I am not worried about anyone getting hurt anymore,” Fist explained.
* * *
When Tarah had described the direction that the bond was pointing, Murtha immediately figured that Djeri was being held in the Old Hospital. Tarah and her friends followed the part-dwarf across KhanzaRoo’s flooded streets and islands. On three occasions they had no choice but to swim across a channel that had become too wide to jump and too deep to wade.
Cletus, as usual, had a great attitude about these “dips” as he called them. The first time he called out, “Dips are for the dirty!” Then before splashing in the second time, “Oh! Time for another dip!” And the final time, before a fancy dive, “Frieeendips!”
That last one made even worried Tarah crack a smile.
Lenny hadn’t been as amused. “Aw, shut yer yap, you long-legged, noodle-armed pixie!” he griped. In his opinion they’d had enough swimming to last a lifetime over the last ten days.
“What is he?” Murtha wondered, eyeing the gnome as she helped Tarah out of the water. “Is he really a pixie?”
“I don’t think those really exist,” Tarah replied. “Cletus is . . . Let’s just call him unique.”
When they approached the entrance to the hospital, a group of trollkin were gathered outside. When they saw Tarah and her friends, they snarled. One of them shouted, “We’re under attack!”
“No you’re not!” Murtha shouted back at them just as three more trollkin exited the building. “We’re here for Djeri! We know he’s being kept inside!”
“What’re you talking about!” said another one, a huge part-human that Tarah recognized as Khurley, one of Mellinda’s closest servants. “I ain’t seen Djeri in days. I heard he ran off.”
“He’s inside,” Tarah insisted, walking towards him. “And I’m going in after him.”
* * *
Justan stepped back from the palace entrance as it became completely encased in trollflesh. A solid wall of the flesh began to push into the darkened corridor after him and a face formed in the surface. The voice that came out of it was female and sinister, a voice Justan remembered well.
“If it isn’t Sir Edge! I didn’t imagine I’d see you in KhanzaRoo.”
Justan didn’t feel like replying. He blasted the encroaching mass with a cone of frost from Rage’s tip, slowing its approach and freezing the face solid.
“I didn’t think she’d actually follow us inside,” said Xeldryn, holding out the glowing orb that he had pulled out of a pouch at his side to light the area.
“Let’s go up the stairs,” suggested Herlda. “You know she has few limits.”
As soon as they exited the corridor and turned up the stairs, Herlda was proven right. With a sickening slurp, the wall of flesh surged past the place where Justan had been standing and struck the opposing wall with a thump. It began to enter the stairwell.
“Up faster!” Justan said.
The group obliged. They had just turned the corner when the flesh surged forward again. Gwyrtha, too large to climb easily in the confined space, began shifting into her smaller and faster form. Deathclaw eyed the encroaching flesh with interest.
“I could burn through it,” the raptoid suggested.
“Not in this confined space,” Justan said as they kept climbing. “You could catch us all on fire.”
Justan! sent Fist through the bond. We reached the top, but the behemoth is climbing after us! He sent Justan a vision of troll flesh growing up the building on all sides.
“She’s climbing the building!” Justan called up the stairs. “I think she plans to encase us!”
“Ohh I aam!” called a voice from the darkened stairwell beneath them, followed by another thump as the flesh surged forward again.
Now Justan knew she was listening. Deathclaw, he sent. Go to the top of the building and help Fist keep Mellinda from suffocating us. You can let your sword loose up there. Deathclaw nodded and darted up the stairs past all the others. He told Fist the raptoid was coming.
Artemus, Justan said. I need you
The old wizard had been quiet along the journey. The Scralag had been difficult to deal with the closer they came to KhanzaRoo. Something about being this close to the source of the behemoth’s origin made it want to break free.
I’m here, said the wizard, his voice sending a chill breeze through the bond. I’ve been watching and gathering myself.
Good, Justan replied. Because the frost power from my sword isn’t doing much.
I can hold her back, Artemus assured him. But you’ll need to stand close to her. Tell me when you’re ready.
They continued up the stair well until they arrived at the mid-level of the palace. The king stopped. “I’ve got to let Stolz out.”
“He’s here?” said Jhonate. Tarah had told her about the bonding wizard’s time in KhanzaRoo and the situation he had been in when Djeri went missing. “Still?”
Sighing, Xeldryn nodded. “I’ve been keeping him locked away for his own protection.” He gave it a second thought. “Truly it’s for the people’s protection.”
“Go and get him, then. I’ll hold Mellinda in the stairwell,” Justan promised them.
“No you wooon’t,” said her voice from the darkness below.
Jhonate went down a hallway with the king and most of his guards, while Herlda stayed with Justan, holding an orb of her own to light the way.
“What is your plan?” Herlda wondered, her voice concerned.
Justan drew Peace and let the calmness overtake him as he drew Artemus dagger from the sheath at his waist. “To wait for the right moment.”
That moment came seconds later as the flesh surged ahead again, filling the stairwell to swell out into the corridor in front of him. Mellinda’s face was smiling, showing him sharpened teeth.
“Soon,” she promised.
Gwyrtha growled, ready to come to Justan’s defense as Herlda stumbled back. “Why are you just standing there?”
Now would be a good time, Justan told Artemus, pointing the dagger at the flesh, the calming power of Peace the only thing keeping him from jumping aside.
Ice sprouted from the crack in the naming rune on the blade. The behemoth’s fles
h surged forward again, Mellinda’s mouth open, but upon touching Artemus’ dagger instantly froze. The spell echoed down the length of the behemoth’s flesh, freezing it solid all the way down the stairwell and the corridors below, leading all the way to the building’s entrance.
“Wow,” Justan said as his hand slowly lowered. The blade hadn’t even pierced the flesh. He let go of Peace’s power. Are you alright after that, Artemus?
Surprisingly fine, said the old wizard. The elemental enjoyed that so much it didn’t put up much of a fight.
That is good to hear, Justan replied. Try and stay with me because we may need it again.
“What was that?” Herlda said wide-eyed. She backed away from Justan as the king and Jhonate returned, Stolz and his bonded with them. They stared at the frost that caked the flesh and the surrounding wall.
Justan turned to face them as he sheathed the dagger. “It was my great grandfather’s magic.” He smiled at the stunned looks. “It’s a long story, but it worked. She’s been stopped down here for now.”
The eyes of the trollkin were still wide and Jhonate pointed. “Are you sure?”
Justan turned back around to see the frozen face of Mellinda glowing a soft red.
“Step back,” he said and followed his own advice, moving out of the way in case the flesh surged forward again. What is this, Artemus?
Elemental magic, the wizard replied and Justan switched to mage sight to see a swirling thread of fire magic thawing the closest section of the flesh. Justan drew rage, prepared to act.
The face of Mellinda melted away and a new face pushed forward, one that was similar, but different. A bald head emerged from the flesh followed by a set of shoulders and the rest of a body. It fell onto the floor, naked and vaguely female as if a half-formed trollkin had been born in front of them.
It pushed itself up to look at them and Justan saw an enormous half-healed wound that stretched across its body from shoulder to hip. It reached up towards him and Justan saw gemstones glittering on the back of each finger.
“It’s Mellinda herself!” said Xeldryn. “Reborn.”
“No,” said Justan, understanding the pleading look in its eyes. Had it been in there all along, trying to get out, or did it somehow form there just now? “Arcon?”
The figure coughed and hacked up a mixture of yellow fluid and blood. “Justan,” it said in a mangled voice, for Justan was the only name it had known him as. “Knew I . . . Heard your voice. I . . . I’m . . . sorry for what I did.”
“Arcon . . .” Justan could think of nothing to say to this man. He had been a part of so much evil and yet he felt pity swell up within him. “What do you want from me?”
“I’m finally free from her, but the . . . rings keep me alive. They’re part of me now.” He held out his arms, showing all of the embedded gems. “Take them. Cut them off . . . Let me die.”
Justan stared at him a long moment, Peace held lightly in his hand. The man was going through incredible pain, but he wasn’t thinking clearly. The rings might actually heal him now that he was out of the Troll Mother. Of course he would then be in Mellinda’s body.
Jhonate stepped forward. “If you will not do it, I’ll-.”
Justan held out his hand to stop her. He had made his decision. He swiped down with his sword.
As Peace’s blade pierced the flesh of Arcon’s arms, the world slowed for Justan. His thoughts merged with Arcon’s and the mage’s horrible history with Mellinda passed through his mind.
He saw the mage look down at the green moonrat eye that had rolled to his feet those years ago on the road through the Tinny Woods. He heard the seductive voice of Mellinda offer her sensual promises. He saw Arcon’s twisted thinking as he began to trust in the voice behind the eye, to desire this voice and the idea of meeting the woman behind it.
He saw Arcon hand eyes out to others at the school. He saw Arcon create the plant golem with Mellinda’s help and how in the aftermath of it Mellinda began convincing him that Cadet Piledon should be killed. Justan knew Arcon’s thoughts, how he resisted Mellinda, nearly throwing the eye away many times but was unable to give up the possibility that her promises would come true.
Then came the murder of the cadet, his escape from the Mage School and the meeting where he learned the painful truth of Mellinda’s identity. The months of Arcon’s life continued to fly by as Justan saw his tortured existence at the side of Ewzad Vriil, his theft of the Rings of Stardeon, and the moment that Mellinda returned to the eye in his chest.
As Peace left Arcon’s flesh and the mage’s hands fell to the floor, Justan had a complete understanding of who Arcon was and how he had come to be in this position. A few bad decisions, some of them horrific, had put him in a place he could not get out of. He had been trying to escape ever since.
Justan went down on one knee next to the man and placed the sword in Arcon’s lap, letting Peace continue to take his pain.
“Thank you, Justan,” said the mage as his body began to shut down. “Forgive me . . .”
“Arcon, I cannot forgive you for all that you have done. That’s not my place,” Justan said. “But I will forgive you for the wrongs you did to me. Sleep well.”
A slight smile curled the mage’s tortured face and he went still.
Justan reclaimed Peace from Arcon’s body, a partial plan forming in his mind. Fist, how are things up there?
Justan caught an image of the exterior of the palace on fire. Deathclaw was running a circuit around the upper levels of the palace. The raptoid held Star held out as the sword rose to its full power, immolating any troll flesh that neared it. Maryanne shot shock arrows at any enormous tentacles that swung too close and Fist sent lightning bolts into clusters of tentacles or mounds that weren’t already on fire.
We’re holding her back, but it’s only temporary, Fist admitted. She’ll get to us eventually.
Justan nodded. He could see that. “We are not in a good place.”
“Perhaps she will tire of hounding us,” Xeldryn suggested.
Stolz sighed. “Not Mellinda.”
“So we’re dead,” said Rembis. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Jhonate was watching Justan’s face, gauging his reaction. “What are you thinking, Edge?”
He looked down at Arcon’s still form. “There’s something I might try.”
He approached the frozen wall of troll flesh, partially thawed where Arcon had burned his way out. Perhaps he could do battle with Mellinda right here. He took a deep breath. Steeling himself, he thrust peace into the flesh and sent out his thoughts.
“Nothing,” he said bitterly.
“You have to pierce a soul to use that kind of spirit magic on it,” Witch Jasmine reminded him.
She was watching him with very interested eyes and Justan realized that she had been standing in the same place the whole time. She had watched his every move and he had totally forgotten she was there. He wondered if she had used her magic to make that happen.
Justan understood where she was going with her logic. “And troll flesh doesn’t have a soul.”
“That’s why we have to strike the brain,” Jasmine said.
Justan thought back to his dream and how he had confronted Ewzad Vriil. The rings were the one exception to that rule. They had the power to pierce flesh with bonding magic and manipulate it from a distance.
He looked down at the floor, at Arcon’s hands where the Rings of Stardeon now gleamed in the light. No longer were they part of the mage’s flesh. They were just two sets of five rings, each one linked with a golden chain.
Justan thought back to his dreams once more and how in the end he had become Ewzad Vriil. “Damn.”
Chapter Twenty Nine
Lenny threw his first Buster Junior at the trollkin with the insect antennae. The moment the hammer left his fingers, the air runes in the handle propelled the weapon forward at continually increasing speed. It struck the trollkin in the center of the chest, the magic in the hammer’s
head striking with double the regular impact.
The trollkin was knocked backwards, his arms flying forward as his ribcage shattered. He hit the water with a splash and twitched as he tried to suck air in through his collapsed lungs.
“Try not to kill them!” Tarah said, her spear tip slicing deep into the belly of the trollkin in front of her. It clawed at her armor and she spun, swinging the butt of her staff down low to slash it behind the knees, causing it to fall backwards. “Remember they’re just people!”
Lenny watched the trollkin he had felled shudder as the kernel of power inside it activated. The trollkin swelled, the insectile portion of its body taking over as a hard chitinous shell formed over its torso.
“Them?” Lenny barked, trying to decide whether to throw his second Buster Junior or just stick with Buster.
“Just break bones or take off a limb and they’ll be okay,” Murtha assured him, kicking out the side of the knee of the next trollkin that had come to fight Tarah. “A head doesn’t count as a limb.”
Willum dodged a swing of a massive clawed arm and buried the axe in the hip of a part-merman. Theadore laughed as he sucked the magic from the trollkin’s body. “Ho-ho, Willy! These trollkin have quite the lifeforce!”
“Good,” he said, wrenching the blade free as he spun, his scythe slicing deeply into the back of the same trollkin. He aimed the axe horizontally at the next oncoming enemy. Slash! A blade of air shot from the axe, lopping off both the trollkin’s legs at the knees.
Cletus was swift and efficient. He stood over the unconscious bodies of two trollkin while he faced Khurley. The part-human, covered in contusions and with a broken jaw, began to mutate. His head swelled, a pointed horn growing from the center of his forehead. His arms lengthened, his claws growing.
The gnome seemed unfazed by his opponent’s change. He hummed his song mumbling lyrics as he spun his chain, weighted by two balls. One of them, the one named ‘Really Heavy,’ struck the budding horn in the center of Khurley’s forehead, rocking his head back. The other one, a spiked ball named ‘Spikey’, caught him in the adam’s apple.
Behemoth (The Jharro Grove Saga Book 6) Page 42