Crypt of the Moaning Diamond

by Rosemary Jones

  Ivy’s discussion with Archlis was growing louder, which caused Osteroric and Norimgic to back farther away. Norimgic grunted something at Osteroric. “If she pitches her voice any higher,” said Osteroric, “she will bring the shrieking beasties back. She is a very formidable female, says Norimgic.”

  “He is right,” said Sanval, watching Ivy cock her head forward so she was standing almost nose to nose with Archlis, her gaze locked with the magelord’s. It was a deliberate tactic, he realized—one that she had used to equal effect in the camp on the officers in the Thultyrl’s Forty and that camel she had punched out of her tent. If she could get Archlis to back down even one step, she would be on top of him in a flash. But Archlis was more resolute than a Procampur officer or a dromedary. He did not budge.

  “You must lure the destrachans away from their lair,” Archlis said. “I am running out of bugbears, and they do not make good decoys. They are too slow and too easily caught.”

  “Poor Hackermic.” Osteroric sighed.

  “Why not just use that fancy spell of yours? Why not just sneak around them?” Ivy demanded.

  “That fancy spell, as you call it, ends as soon as we pass through the barrier,” Archlis said, waving a hand at the sparkles of light still shimmering in the air.

  Gunderal gave a little sniff and whispered to her sister, “And he doesn’t have any more charms like the one he just crushed. Have you noticed all his spells use other objects—no magic coming just from him.”

  Archlis frowned but ignored the sisters. “We are still far from where I need to be, yet the sounds that we just made drew the destrachans immediately.”

  “They are what forced you back the first time, not Fottergrim’s hobgoblins,” guessed Ivy.

  “I retreated a strategic distance to consider my options,” Archlis said in dignified tones, looking down his long nose at Ivy.

  “Ran like a hare,” said Mumchance to Kid, not trying to be quiet. Archlis ignored him too.

  “Why us?” Ivy pressed the point.

  “I have no more silence charms,” Archlis admitted in a disgruntled tone.

  Gunderal poked her sister in the ribs. Zuzzara patted her on the head in acknowledgment of her cleverness. Swatting her sister’s hands away, Gunderal pushed her topknot straight and fluffed up her side curls.

  “So I need a distraction—something to lure the destrachans away from this tunnel,” said Archlis to Ivy. “You seem more intelligent than those hopeless hobgoblins or my bugbears. Destrachans like to play with their food. If you make the chase interesting, you can lead them a long way from here.”

  “Which helps you and doesn’t help us. I fight for who pays me. Not for who is sure to get me killed. Same for all of us. Offer me something better than what he has.” To Sanval’s surprise, she pointed straight at him. He knew red-roof mercenaries sold their loyalty to the highest bidder, but still he had not expected so blatant an offering of betrayal from Ivy.

  “If you can get the destrachans away from their lair and destroy them while I retrieve my treasure, then I will lead you out of the ruins,” promised Archlis. “Which is more than that gentleman can do.” Not seeing too much enthusiasm on their faces, the magelord added, “And a reasonable fee. Gems or gold. Whichever you wish. But only if I retrieve my treasure.”

  Ivy pointed out that the odds of their success were not great, but she did not question whether Archlis would keep his promise. Sanval wondered at her ability to trust the skinny magelord’s word. Perhaps Ivy had lied to him earlier, and she or one of the other Siegebreakers did have some magic concealed about her person that would protect her friends and defeat the creatures. After all, everyone knew that red-roof adventurers had all sorts of fantastic abilities, and maybe she was just intending to run away from the magelord as soon as she and the other Siegebreakers were out of sight.

  But Archlis could not succeed in his mission and return to the walls of Tsurlagol. Sanval knew that it was his duty to stop Archlis, even if it took him away from Ivy. Besides being the right thing to do, it might also be the best way to help Ivy and her friends. If he fought Archlis, the rest could escape. He just had to pick the right time for his ambush.

  “So,” said Sanval to Osteroric. “You might have something worth trading for.”

  Osteroric bent closer to Sanval to listen to his whispered instructions. The bugbear pushed back his battered helmet and scratched his fuzzy head. He puckered his lips and blew out a long and stinking breath. “Hsssh,” whistled Osteroric. “This could be big trouble for me. Bigger trouble for you. I wonder what Hackermic would have done.… He was even smarter than Norimgic.”

  “Does that matter?” asked Sanval, loosening the straps on his breastplate.

  “Not really,” agreed Osteroric. “Hackermic is dead. We are not.”

  “Then we trade,” said Sanval.

  “Then we trade,” said Osteroric. “But I think that you will end up the same as poor Hackermic.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  You have no choice,” stated Archlis. “You’re running out of time. Or didn’t you notice the water tricking along the floor there?”

  With some dismay, Ivy saw that Archlis was right. The telltale silver streaks of water caught the light of the torches. Right now, only little puddles formed along the crack between the wall and floor; but she knew there was more coming.

  “Eventually the river will flood out these ruins,” Archlis complained. “There must have been some storm in the mountains to bring this much water into the ruins so late in the summer.”

  Ivy decided not to enlighten Archlis about the true cause of the river’s sudden rising. It probably would not improve their relationship. “So,” she said. “Any last suggestions on how to draw those beasts out?”

  “Walk forward until you are on the other side of my spell wall,” Archlis said to Ivy. “Then start running. The destrachans will follow you. If you survive, follow us down that tunnel.” He pointed to an arched and shadowed entrance. “And if you try to follow us now, I’ll burn you where you stand.”

  “We will do what you asked. But you must keep your part of the bargain as well.”

  Archlis did not respond to her last comment. Instead, he suddenly grabbed Kid by one skinny arm. “The goat-boy stays with me,” said Archlis. “I need his skills.”

  “That was not part of our bargain,” Ivy said. She lunged for Kid, but Archlis pulled him out of her way. Zuzzara swung her shovel at the magelord, intent on breaking his hold on Kid. Rather than hitting Archlis, the shovel twisted in her hands and bounced back, striking her on the top of her head. Zuzzara sat down abruptly. Gunderal immediately raced to her sister’s side, standing above the dazed half-orc, and raised her hands, her own injury forgotten.

  “Do not even try, little genasi,” said Archlis. “My charms make me immune to any and all magical attacks.”

  “At least my magic comes from me,” snapped Gunderal. “It isn’t stolen charms and looted trinkets.”

  Eyes narrowing at the insult, Archlis began to raise the Ankh. Ivy stepped between them. Chin out, gaze steady, she challenged Archlis, “Hurt her, and we turn back. You can play games with the destrachans on your own.”

  “An idle threat,” returned the magelord, but he lowered the Ankh. “You have no hope of finding the way out. The tunnels will be flooded within the day. Help me, and you help yourselves. Once you have distracted the beasts, return to this chamber. I will come for you here.”

  “Go, my dears, go,” said Kid, wiggling in the magelord’s cruel grip. “I will see you again.”

  “Course you will, stupid,” said Zuzzara, climbing shakily to her feet. A trickle of blood ran down her forehead, and she brushed it impatiently aside.

  “If you hurt him, I will find a way around your charms. I promise,” said Ivy. She could not bear to look at Kid. Stay together—that was the rule of her group, the most basic bond that bound them together, no matter how many tricks that fate played on them. For the last ten years, she h
ad begun every day at the farm hearing the muffled sounds of her friends’ voices echoing in her ears—all the little arguments and senseless jokes that old friends told each other. More recently, the click of Kid’s hooves had been part of that. She did not know how she could return home and fall asleep each night without the comfort of knowing that they were all safely under one roof.

  Whatever Archlis was going to reply was interrupted by a howl from Norimgic. The big bugbear was yelling something in Orcish at Archlis.

  “What do you mean he’s gone?” snapped the magelord. He glared at the two bugbears. Osteroric was now wearing Sanval’s breastplate and sporting a “who me?” expression. “I was just trying it on,” said Osteroric about his new armor. “And when I looked up, he wasn’t here anymore!”

  “So he did not dare stay and face the beasts.” Archlis snorted. “You were right. He is not like the other nobles of Procampur. But he is also doomed. There is no way out of these ruins without my help. And to secure that, you must lead those creatures away from here.”

  Ivy hoped Sanval had a better plan than she did. Right now, the only thing that she could think about was running faster than those destrachans. And losing the big guy in armor was not going to make her life easier, especially if what she suspected were true. But no need to make Archlis nervous. Show a brave face—that was her mother’s constant advice. Keep quiet and think—that was her father. Time to remember both those lessons.

  “Let’s go, then,” said Ivy to the others. She plunged through the invisible wall that Archlis had raised between them and the destrachans’ sensitive ears. She felt a magical prickle on her skin and then just nothing. The wall was gone. She looked back but could see nothing but the burning of the bugbears’ torches behind her. Archlis stood watching, one hand gripping the Ankh tightly, the other hard on Kid’s shoulder.

  Standing directly under the hole created in the ceiling by the destrachans, Ivy could hear nothing. She could see nothing. But she knew that the monsters were out there, just waiting for them.

  “Come on,” she said, much quieter than she normally would. “Let’s run!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Ivy doubted that Sanval had fled blindly into the dark. Silly, stupid man—she was sure that he was intent on some plan involving some great heroic deed that would get himself killed but save everyone else in the world. He was that sort. She’d known too many like him. Besides, hadn’t he said something earlier about attacking Archlis on his own?

  But, she was fairly certain that it just was not in his well-polished, honorable soul to do anything so ignoble as leave them defenseless. He must have thought that she could save the others by herself. He had obviously picked what he decided was the more dangerous target—Archlis—and decided to go it alone. Yes, that would be a Procampur type of reasoning. Ivy’s own self-confidence bubbled up when she realized that Sanval’s Procampur sense of protocol would not have let him abandon the Siegebreakers if he had thought they needed his protection. In a strange sort of way, he had just paid her a compliment. Now, if only she could pay it back—preferably by finding him later and shaking his head until she rattled some sense into his skull.

  Mumchance trotted up beside her, breaking into her thoughts about the future by worrying her about their present situation. The dwarf pointed at the sidewalls of the tunnel. “Narrow. Maybe not wide enough for those monsters? Slow down a moment.”

  Was it possible that the sightless destrachans would enter a tunnel too narrow for their enormous bodies and wedge themselves into immobility? If Archlis had lied about going in the other direction and actually planned to leave through this tunnel once she had killed the beasts, it was satisfying to think of him stuck behind those monsters, staring at their huge flailing tails, unable to get past them. Then Ivy remembered the way the destrachans had crumbled the ceiling of the chamber with their weird vibration cry. Nice idea, but it was not going to happen that way, she knew.

  “I don’t think that they can get stuck,” she said out loud and then wondered if something besides her own group had heard her. How loud was too loud? “Is there any way that we can hear them before they hear us?”

  Mumchance shrugged. “Maybe. They are big and pretty noisy.” He placed his hand against the ground.

  “Mumchance,” said Ivy to her friend, “do you remember why we got into this business?”

  Zuzzara answered, because the dwarf had dropped to his knees and then stretched flat on the ground, still trying to hear the approach of the destrachans. He pulled Wiggles out of his pocket and set the little dog down beside him. Wiggles looked ready to take a quick nap, her pointed chin resting on the dwarf’s rump. It had been a long day for a small dog—a long day for all of them.

  “We got into siegebreaking because we needed money,” said Zuzzara, rubbing the bump left on her head by the shovel. “Especially after we flooded out our last rainmaking customer.”

  “Besides that,” Ivy prompted.

  “Because we are good at what we do,” said Gunderal, looking like a defiant flower as she stepped up to her sister and fingered the bump on Zuzzara’s head with gentle hands. “Ivy, I can hold the river back. I could twist my water-calling spell to keep these tunnels from flooding for a while longer. I’m sure of it.”

  “No,” said Ivy very slowly, because she had just had a new idea, but she was not sure how everyone would react. “We don’t want to hold the river back. We want to let the river in. Archlis was right. These tunnels are low and going lower. If we let the water in …”

  “We all drown,” pronounced Mumchance standing up and dusting off his knees. Wiggles was staying close by his heels, very quiet, as if the little dog sensed danger was close.

  “Unless …”

  “We get out first.”

  “But what about the destrachans?” asked Gunderal.

  “We hope that they can’t swim.”

  “But what about Kid?” Gunderal asked. “Oh, Ivy, you are not going to leave Kid behind?”

  “Of course not. Everyone gets out. Everyone except Archlis. Don’t much care about him, do we?”

  Zuzzara giggled—one of those deep orc giggles that made people nervous. “Are we going after Archlis, Ivy?”

  “That magelord is just another tower waiting to be toppled,” said Ivy. “Let’s bury him down here and take down the walls of Tsurlagol!” She delivered this rousing speech in a low-pitched tone to avoid attracting destrachans, but it got the same reaction as all of her rousing speeches. Everyone looked like they wanted to disagree—Mumchance even opened his mouth and then closed it—and then everyone gave a reluctant nod. If Ivy was crazy enough to think it might work, then they might be crazy enough to go along with it.

  “For once, that idea actually sounds like a plan,” said Mumchance finally. “One that isn’t completely different from what we discussed before.”

  “Don’t look so surprised.”

  “No, think about it. The tunnels may be a bit deeper than we intended to dig,” said the dwarf, “but we can use them just the same. They all run toward the current city as far as I can tell, or the current city was built up on a corner of these ruins, which is more likely. We have been twisting around a lot, following that magelord, but I think we are pretty close to that southwest corner. If Gunderal could force the water toward the city, we could just wash the walls away. Or”—as Mumchance became more enthusiastic about the idea, he also became a stickler for precise details describing underhanded ways of engineering destruction—“we can at least take down that weak corner that we found earlier. The spot where you told the Thultyrl that the wall would fall down.”

  “That would be good,” agreed Ivy as they continued to explore the current tunnel. “Make us look like we know what we are doing. That is so rare.”

  “I’m serious, Ivy.” The dwarf stuck out his lower lip and blew a heavy breath. Ivy recognized his don’t-sidetrack-me-when-I-am-thinking sigh. “Look at the cracks running through the walls,” said Mumchance, p
ointing left and right. “I bet those shrieking beasts did that. If they hunt here often, the ground will already be weak above us as well as below. Tsurlagol could end up with a pretty lake on its west side.”

  “That leaves the problem of how we avoid being crushed,” said Ivy. “Or drowned. Or eaten.”

  “You will figure something out,” said Mumchance. “You always do.”

  “I do, don’t I?” said Ivy with just a little more bounce in her step as she walked down the tunnel. “Well then, let’s speed up the water coming into these tunnels, and let us hope those creatures can’t float or swim.”

  Gunderal spread out her pale fingers and made a gesture resembling raindrops falling down. Drops of water trickled off her fingers and spattered into the dust at her feet. “I’m feeling much better,” she said.

  “Knew you could do it,” said Zuzzara, “but don’t push your magic too hard. What if you can’t do what you want when you want to?”

  “Sister, I do not even understand that last sentence,” giggled Gunderal. A small smile brightened her delicate features. A few long ringlets had come loose from her topknot, and she looped one long strand around her finger very slowly. “Stopping a river is rather boring, but calling one! So much more fun.”

  “Do you think you can?” her sister asked.

  Gunderal’s violet eyes gleamed in a way that would be called a glare in a less beautiful woman. “You never think I can do anything.”

  “I am only asking.”

  “Zuzzara, I may not be as strong as you or as clever as Mimeri, but I can cast spells!”

  “I only said …”

  Gunderal stood in the shadow of her half-orc sister and stared up at her. “Well, don’t, Zuzzara. Don’t say another word! I know a thing or two about water magic.”