Tower of Doom r-9

by Mark Anthony

  A goblyn lunged at her with its spear. Jadis leapt easily out of its path. Growling, she whirled quickly, only to have another spear jabbed in her face. She ducked it narrowly, then backed away. The long spears made it impossible to get close enough to slash at the goblyns with her claws. Her tail brushed the rough stones of the wall. She had little room to retreat. Grinning toothily, the four goblyns drew their spears back, ready for the plunge.

  Jadis tensed her limbs as if to spring. Hastily, the goblyns waved their spears upward as though to strike at her underbelly. But it was a feint on her part. Staying low instead, Jadis charged, crashing into two of the goblyns. Their spears flew from their hands and clattered to the floor. She broke one creature's neck with a lazy swipe of a paw, then sank her teeth into the skull of the other, piercing its brain. Whirling, she saw the other two goblyns lunge. She sprang high. Landing atop the two goblyns, she bore them to the floor. They struggled desperately, trying to sink their sharp teeth into her flesh. She beat them to it, ripping out their throats with swift precision.

  A heartbeat later it was over. Jadis sat back on her haunches, observing as the eyes of the goblyns flickered like dying coals, then went dark. She turned and slunk swiftly down the corridor, following Caidin's scent. Jadis's black-velvet ears twitched, homing in on a sound? a faint noise floating on the dank air. Voices. She quickened her pace. Suddenly she halted, shrinking into a dark alcove. A dozen paces away, an iron door swung open with a shriek of rusted hinges.

  "That is truly all, darkling?" a low voice demanded. "I have only to place the Soulstone upon the altar to invoke its power?"

  "That is truly all," a wheedling voice replied, raising the hackles on Jadis's back. There was a pause. "You need me no longer. Will you not release me?"

  Laughter rang out on the foul air. "We shall see, darkling."

  Baron Caidin stepped into the corridor, pulling the iron door securely shut. Jadis froze. Caidin strode past her hiding place. In moments he was gone. The dark air seemed to swirl and coil about the werepan- ther's form. Moments later a woman with coppery skin walked down the corridor, moving gracefully on bare feet. Jadis reached the iron door. She noticed a small opening in the wall low to the ground. Kneeling, she peered through the hole. Her eyes needed no torchlight to make out the squalid chamber beyond.

  "Greetings, Velvet-Claw."

  Jadis gasped at the high-pitched voice. "How do you know that name?" she asked warily.

  "I know many things."

  A form that might once have been a man scuttled into view. Jadis curled her lip in revulsion. Filthy tatters of cloth clung damply to skeletal limbs as dark and gray as ashes. His colorless eyes bulged, staring madly, as if he gazed upon some unseen world of nightmares. By the tarnished earring he still wore, she knew him to be a Vistana. Suddenly she remembered Caidin's words. He had referred to this creature as darkling. Jadis had heard of such beings-cast-out Vistani, pariahs of the gypsy clans, whose souls were willingly consumed by evil.

  Jadis steeled her will. "Is that why you're here? Because you know certain things of value to Baron Caidin?" Broken laughter grated against cold stone. "Of course, Velvet-Claw. Why else? I certainly do not stay here because I like the food." The cadaverous gypsy snaked out a bony arm and snatched up a mushroom-colored beetle. He popped the insect into his mouth and crunched down with alacrity.

  Jadis swallowed her unease. "I have a bargain for you, darkling. You badly want your freedom, don't you?"

  A wary yet intrigued grunt was her only reply.

  "Here it is then. I have the power to free you from your ceik But first you must tell me what you and the baron were speaking of just a moment ago."

  A silence ensued. Finally, the darkling spoke. "I cannot do that, Velvet-Claw. The truth I speak for Caidin is his truth. Your truth is something… different."

  Jadis frowned. She had no time for riddles. "Then we have no bargain." She started to move away from the opening.

  "Wait!" The gypsy went on in a hissing voice. "I cannot tell you what words I spoke for the baron. You see, I can barely remember them now that he is gone. That is the nature of the Sight. Yet I could tell you something else… something that would grant you the means to defeat him."

  Jadis had little to lose. "Done." After a long pause, the darkling spoke in an eerie, almost chantlike voice; "You must journey toward the dawning sun, Velvet-Claw. I see… I see the shadowed forest surrounding you. Do not fear- there is no creature here more fearsome than you. Venture onward. Then… ah, yes… then the trees part like a dark curtain. There it looms before you. The broken remnants of faith forgotten. Shattered dwelling of old gods… cursed gods so ancient they forgot their own names long ago. It is… it is a… cathedrair There was a long silence. At last the darkling spoke again. Now his voice seemed hoarse and weary, as if he had just undergone some great exertion. "That is all the Sight will reveal to me, Velvet-Claw. You must journey to this ancient cathedral. I do not know what you will discover there-only that it will grant you the means to destroy Baron Caidin."

  Jadis's eyes glittered suspiciously. "Is that it?"

  "That is your truth, Velvet-Claw."

  At last she nodded. "Then the bargain is complete."

  She stretched out a hand, and suddenly sharp claws sprang from each of her fingertips. She slipped one of her talons into the door's rusted lock. It was time to fulfill her end of the deal.

  A short while later, the werepanther leapt through the window of her private bedchamber. Onyx fur rippled, and in moments the woman Jadis stood in the cat's place. A strange thrill fluttered in her heart. Somehow, she sensed that the darkling had indeed spoken truthfully to her. Whatever this ancient cathedral was, she was certain she would find something of importance there. Humming to herself in satisfaction, she turned to pick up her gown of green silk from the bed. As she did, she caught a glimpse of her naked body in the silver mirror. A chill spike plunged deep into her heart.

  "It cannot be, love," she whispered to herself in disbelief. "It cannot."

  She reached out and tentatively touched the livid mark that darkened the flesh beneath her collarbone. It had grown even more, and now, quite clearly, had assumed a distinctly ominous shapethe shape of a skeletal hand.

  The darkling cringed in the shadowed mouth of the slimy drainpipe, waiting for twilight to fall. His eyes had grown too used to darkness, and the light of day was painful in its brilliance. At last the burning eye of the sun sank beneath the distant horizon. Chill blue shadows mantled the countryside. The shriveled Vistana crawled from the drainpipe, picking his path down the rocky slope of the tor to the rolling plains below.

  Cackling happily, he hobbled across the moor. How wondrous it was to be free again. He wondered where he should go, what he should do. There were so many more relics of darkness he had learned about, so many objects besides the stone and the bell that were capable of wreaking massive strife and woe, and glorious mayhem. He would see them all unearthed from their ancient tombs. That would show the others once and for all how foolish they had been to cast him out. But first, perhaps, he would find some throats. Yes, that was it-some smooth, lovely throats to snap and crush with his long, shriveled hands. That was what just what he needed to revive himself after such long confinement. His mirth bubbling weirdly, he pushed his ravaged body on, into the purple gloaming.

  Suddenly the darkling paused. With a gasp he turned around. His pale eyes shone as round as moons in the dimness. "No," he croaked. "No, you cannot be here. I would have seen your coming long ago."

  "That is not so, Accursed One." Three figures stepped from the cold gloom. "Your powers have diminished since you were banished from the clan. We blinded your Sight, so that you would not sense our coming."

  The darkling shuddered violently. This could not be happening. He thought he was finally free! "Varith, Karin, Riandra-please, do not harm me. I will leave this domain, yes? I will go far away. You will never see me again!"

  The Vistana women cast back t
he hoods of their cloaks, revealing three faces-one fresh and young, one full in bloom, one wrinkled by time. Sorrow and pity shone in their wise eyes.

  "We cannot allow that, Accursed One. We cannot let you bring your darkness to another land, as you did to our clan. It must end here."

  The darkling spun around, desperately searching for an escape, but the gypsies had surrounded him. He fell to his bony knees. "I beg you!" he pleaded piteously. "Let me be! I will try… I will try to live in the Light once more."

  The eldest of the three gypsies clutched her walking staff tightly. "It is our wish, Accursed One, that you dwell in the Light as well. But it is too late for you to do so in this existence. It is far too late."

  The jeweled rings each gypsy wore began to pulsate-one with leaf-green brilliance, one with dusky- blue radiance, one with midnight-purple darkness. Holding the glowing rings before them, the Vistani closed in.

  The darkling's cry of primal agony rent the night. Abruptly it ended, its echo drifting through the rising mist. The three gypsies stepped back, sorrow and pity written across their disparate faces. The three jeweled rings were quiescent once more.

  On the ground in their midst lay the darkling. A silver, rune-covered dagger protruded from his sunken chest. His frozen hand still clutched the knife, and his pale eyes stared upward, gazing no longer on nightmares, but simply on emptiness.

  "Has he found an end?" Riandra asked in a chantlike voice.

  "He has found an end," young Karin replied firmly.

  Ancient Varith knelt and covered the darkling's pale eyes with two dark leaves. Slowly, leaning upon her staff, she rose. "He is Accursed no longer, but dwells now in the Light." Tears streamed freely down her wrinkled cheeks. "Fare thee well, Brinn. Fare thee well, child of Vistani."

  Drifting tatters of mist coiled about the dead body of the darkling, concealing it in a damp gray shroud. A sharp wind blew the fog away. The corpse was gone. Karin bent to pick up the silver dagger. The knife glimmered dully in the half-light as she slipped it carefully into the leather sheath at her hip. Then the three women turned away, vanishing into the deepening night.

  Seventeen

  Mika stood before the mirror in her chamber in the Black Boar, clad once more in the baron's gift-a gown of lavender silk. By this she knew she was defeated. Shame, sorrow, guilt-all these things seemed to evaporate like mist in the heat of her desire for Caidin. He owned her now, utterly. Mika loathed herself for this. Yet even worse, she still wanted Caidin-more than ever. Leaving the inn, she picked her way through the muck toward the gilded carriage that waited to deliver her into sweet imprisonment.

  "Milady!" a voice called behind her. "Milady, please wait!"

  Mika turned in surprise. A young woman dashed down the muddy street, coming to a breathless halt before her.

  "Begging your pardon, milady, but it's my grand- mama." Worry was written clearly across the peasant woman's flushed face. "She's terribly ill."

  Slowly, Mika shook her head. "I'm… I'm sorry. I was-"

  "Please, milady." The young woman rung her hands desperately. "Please, won't you come?"

  Mika opened her mouth wordlessly, casting a look of longing at the waiting carriage. Finally, realizing that she could not turn the disconsolate young woman away, she nodded. Moments later, she followed the peasant woman-whose name was Lillen-through the main room of a neatly scrubbed cottage.

  "She is in the back chamber, milady. This way. She barricaded the door, but Elgar-that's my husband, milady-Elgar removed the hinges. She was very adamant in her wish not to see a healer."

  From the back room came the crash of something breaking, followed by a shrill cry. "Leave me be, Elgar! And put my door back on, do you hear?" A peasant man, so young his beard was little more than fuzz, dashed out of the room, ducking to avoid a small clay vase that flew through the open door, way. It hit the far wall and shattered.

  The young man gave his wife a chagrined look. "It appears your grandmama is feeling better, Lillen."

  "She certainly seems to have a strong arm," Mika noted dryly. Carefully, she peered into the back room.

  "I see as usual my granddaughter has ignored my wishes."

  Startled, Mika realized that what she had at first thought only to be a small heap of rumpled blankets on the bed by the window was in fact a tiny, shriveled woman. She blended well with the threadbare bedclothes. Only her eyes stood out. They were bright as polished stones, shining with sharp intelligence.

  Mika cleared her throat. "You granddaughter has told me that you require a doctor."

  The old woman snorted. "My granddaughter says all sorts of foolish things. I am sorry you made the trip here, milady, but I have no use for a doctor. I am dying, that's all."

  "Grandmama!" Lillen gasped in protest, but a flick of the old woman's piercing eyes made her shut up.

  Mika nodded gravely. "Do you mind if I come in for a moment all the same?"

  The old woman threw up her arms in defeat. "Oh, very well." She glared at the young couple, who clutched each other in concern. "But you two stay out!"

  As Elgar led a sobbing Lillen back to the main room, Mika sat on the edge of the bed and opened her black satchel. The ol‹} woman grudgingly revealed her name-lrsyla. After several minutes of silent examination Mika leaned back, her expression solemn.

  "You are dying, lrsyla. But it is not from an illness. You're just very old, and your body is worn out."

  "A fact of which I am well aware. But try telling that to those two young ninnies out there."

  Mika laughed gently. "They only love you, you know."

  Irsyla's expression softened. "I know, milady. I love them dearly as well. But I am tired. I have lived a long, good life. Now it is time for me to sleep."

  Mika smiled warmly at her patient. "I'll leave some herbs for a tea your granddaughter can brew. It has no medicinal purposes that I know of, but it tastes nice, and it might make Lillen feel that she's doing something to help." lrsyla reached out to grip her arm in thanks. It was then that Mika noticed that the old woman's hand was missing two of its fingers.

  "How did this happen?" Mika asked with a doctor's curiosity, feeling the old woman's hand. lrsyla snatched her arm back. "I do not think you wish to know that, milady." There was an ominous tone to the old woman's voice.

  Mika looked up in surprise. "Why do you say that?"

  Irsyla's eyes glittered sharply. "Why? Because you wear a gown that belongs to him even now, milady. And I have seen you through my window, riding in the gilded carriage to his keep."

  "Baron Caidin?" Mika's heart skipped a beat. "You mean the baron did this to you?"

  The old woman slowly shook her head. "Not this baron, milady. The Old Baron."

  "Tell me."

  At last the old woman sighed. "I had thought to take the tale to my grave. I have never told it to anyone. Not even Lillen. But perhaps it is right that you hear it." Irsyla went on in a low voice. "In my younger days, I was the village's midwife. I helped the young come into this world, and to draw their first breaths. But all that ended more than thirty years ago."

  "What happened?"

  "It was a dark midwinter's night. Two of the Old Baron's knights barged through the door of my cottage to tell me I was needed at the keep. They hardly gave me a chance to gather my things before bundling me into a carriage and hauling me up the tor. There I discovered that, not one, but two women were caught in the throes of labor, sharing the same birthing chamber. One was the Old Baron's wife, the baroness. The other was his mistress, a beautiful woman by the name of Kylene, whom some whispered was a witch. The baroness delivered her child first. It was a son, and at this news the Old Baron was joyous. As I examined the child, I could see that it was not well formed. Its limbs were ill-proportioned, its spine curved. The Old Baron flew into a rage. He might have throttled the child there and then, but the baroness clutched the infant to her breast.

  "Moments later, Kylene gave birth. Her child was also a son, but this infant w
as strong and bonny like his father. It was then that the Old Baron concocted a foul scheme. 'I will not have a cripple for an heir,' he

  Alone in her bedchamber, she studied her naked form in the mirror. Now there were dozens of the hand-shaped blotches all over her body. Some of them had merged into larger splotches of dark purple, ash gray, and livid green. None of the spots caused her pain. Instead, they were all disturbingly numb. She walked with a slight limp now, and the movement of her arms was clumsy. Then there was the smell. It was so faint that pthers might not have noticed it, but the odor was clear to her sensitive nose. It was the sweet, wet scent of decay.

  Jadis peered over her shoulder to study the mottled blotches on her back. It was just as she feared. Each of the hand-shaped marks appeared in a spot where King Azalin had touched her flesh. A shiver coursed through her.

  "Be brave, love." She tried to control her fear. "It is not too late. Not yet."

  Cold air rushed into the chamber, accompanied by a rhythmic flapping sound. A shadow absorbed the morning light. She turned, hastily clutching a robe about her naked body, to see a huge raven alight on the windowsill. The ruby medallion at its throat glistened like wet blood.

  "Goreon," she gasped.. "Greetings, Velvet-Claw." The raven cocked its head, staring at her. "I bring you news from our master in Avernus."

  "What is it?" she snapped. "What does Azalin say?"

  Goreon ruffled his ebony feathers. "He has heard. your message, and his reply is this: 'Forgive me, my Jadis. I do sometimes forget the frailty of living flesh. Return to me, and I shall make your delicious body pure once more.' "

  Jadis let out a deep breath of relief. "Then I must journey to II Aluk at once."

  "Wait," the raven croaked. "There is more."

  Her blood froze in her veins.

  "Our master also speaks thusly: 'But do not forget your duty, my Jadis. Do not return to Avernus before you have discovered Caidin's intentions. My love for you is nearly boundless. My wrath for servants who fail me is boundless.' "