Emperor of Ansalon

Chapter 17

Again Vallenswade and a half-dozen of his comrades formed the escorting party. Ariakas saw that one of these still carried his red-bladed sword, and the human felt a flash of ela shy;tion, then chagrin when-as if in reaction to his hopeful shy;ness-the weapon-bearer fell back from the rest of the party.

On the smoothly paved walkways, they passed through the large cavern. As they approached the mouth of one of the smaller connecting passages, Ariakas real shy;ized that the shadowpeople had not in fact brought the Zhakar dwarf into their warren. Instead, they were tak shy;ing the two prisoners out to meet him.

"We have brought him to another place, near here," offered Vallenswade, causing Ariakas to wonder if his captor had in fact been reading his thoughts.

The warrior tried to concentrate on not thinking about escape, but that only seemed to bring the matter to the forefront of his awareness. Around him the guards shifted, and he saw several of them regarding him with narrowed, watchful gazes.

Vallenswade led them down the twisting, narrow cor shy;ridor. The route finally branched into a side passage and proceeded to climb a very long flight of stairs-at least a hundred steps. Puffing slightly from the exertion, the warrior plodded along, noting with disgust that neither the shadowpeople nor his fellow prisoner seemed to have any difficulty with the ascent.

At the top, they reached a landing, followed by more mazelike passages. Ariakas forced his mind to wander, tried to remember pleasant nights spent drinking with Ferros Windchisel. He thought of the woman beside him, imagining Lyrelee in the throes of passion, and found the image enticing. This train of thought occupied him for a long time, until he realized that Vallenswade had stopped.

"We are holding him in here," said the Shilo-Thahn, gesturing to a low, arched doorway in the cavern wall. The portal stood open, and in the light of the gem Aria shy;kas could see a wall no more than twelve feet in from the doorway.

Stooping, Vallenswade led Ariakas and Lyrelee into what proved to be a long, albeit narrow, room. A dark figure lay on the ground at one end of the chamber, while a lanky shadowarrior squatted beside the prone shape. That shape, Ariakas quickly deduced from the once-splendid robes, was Tale Splintersteel.

"He lives," Vallenswade said, again startling Ariakas with the answer to an unspoken question.

The shapeless bundle stirred, and now the warrior saw the cloaked face, with the split in the mask revealing the dark, hateful eyes.

"I might have known you'd be back," said the dwarf bitterly. "Come to gloat over me now?"

"I'm here because I demanded proof that you still lived," replied Ariakas.

Vallenswade, meanwhile, looked sharply between them. "Are you two bitter enemies?" he demanded.

"Give me that hook there, and I'll rip his guts out," Tale Splintersteel offered pleasantly. "That's how good of friends we are."

Ariakas, meanwhile, narrowed his eyes; Vallens-wade's question indicated to him that the shadow-people's skills stopped far short of complete mind reading. Even if they could anticipate reactions on a moment-to-moment basis, he felt it unlikely that the shaggy warriors knew anything detailed about his and Lyrelee's intentions.

"Then why did you press so hard to see the dwarf?" the Shilo-Thahn queried Ariakas.

"Ask him," the human replied, flipping a scornful ges shy;ture to the huddled Zhakar. His response meant nothing — it was merely a stall for time. To his surprise, Vallens shy;wade whirled, ready to confront Tale Splintersteel with the question.

Ariakas cast a quick glance behind him, seeing that two of the simian warriors-not, alas, the one with his sword-had followed them into the room. Already, at his sideways glance, those two stiffened, reaching for the hooks that swung from their shoulder straps.

The human warrior moved even as the idea entered his head, lunging for one of the Shilo-Thahn, sensing Lyrelee leaping immediately behind him. His victim pulled the great hook free, but Ariakas batted it away with his forearm, and then bore the fur-covered warrior to the floor. The pair rolled over and over, grappling for advantage. The shadowperson was nimble, but the human had greater strength. Slowly, deliberately, Ariakas wrestled the squirming creature into a pin.

He heard Lyrelee shout behind him, recognizing her harsh battle cry. The sound was followed by the snap shy;ping of bone, and a sharp bark of pain as another Shilo-Thahn went down.

Ariakas punched with all his fury, driving his fist into the apelike face of his foe. The shadowperson's head cracked backward onto the floor, and the yellow eyes drooped shut as the body went limp. Ariakas leapt to his feet and turned his light toward the door.

The other two Shilo-Thahn guards lunged into the room, one wielding his great hook and the other, more clumsily, brandishing Ariakas's red-bladed sword. Lyre shy;lee and Vallenswade were somewhere behind him-Ari shy;akas had to hope that the priestess could immobilize the leader.

Reflexively Ariakas backed up a few steps, looking toward the creature with his sword-but, as if they understood his intentions, the simian warrior bearing the hook charged him from the left. Ariakas ducked under a vicious cut, or at least, he thought he did. At the last second, however, the apelike warrior reversed the direction of his blow, and the curved metal head jerked around the human's arm. The Shilo-Thahn pulled, and Ariakas lurched off his feet.

Tucking his head, the man somersaulted between the two attackers, determined to attack the one who had felled him-but with a flash of insight he changed his mind, springing headlong at the warrior holding the great, two-handed sword.

Obviously the fellow had never wielded such a blade before. He swung it broadly, and Ariakas feinted, waiting for the slashing blade to swing past his face. The heavy weight pulled the Shilo-Thahn around in an off-balance follow-through, and the human lowered his head, slamming his skull into the warrior's furry gut.

The creature went down with a great exhalation of breath, and the human's heart leapt at the sound of his blade clanging loosely to the floor. He broke from his gasping opponent and snatched up the sword as the sec shy;ond warrior reached toward him with that gleaming hook.

But now Ariakas was armed. The red blade whipped upward, then flicked to the side, parrying the shado-warrior's attack with a ringing clang. Next Ariakas thrust, driving the blade through the creature's chest. The apelike body proved surprisingly frail, a leather bag filled with sticks and straw, and the human's single stab was immediately fatal. In the follow-through motion he swung back and killed the warrior on the floor.

Whirling about, Ariakas saw that, with the skillful use of his long hook, Vallenswade had driven Lyrelee into a corner. Of the guards, two writhed on the floor, legs bro shy;ken by Lyrelee's kicks; three more were still.

Ariakas sprinted down the long room. Vallenswade heard him coming and turned from Lyrelee, ducking away from her leaping kick as if he had eyes in the rear of his skull. The hook came up, but once again the crim shy;son blade smashed the weapon aside. Vallenswade barely parried an otherwise fatal thrust, but when he lashed out with the hook again, Ariakas bashed it so hard that the weapon fell from the simian hands. Unarmed, he stood before the human with his hands at his sides. Then, with rigid dignity, he bowed.

"You have reversed our positions," Vallenswade said calmly. "I offer my congratulations."

"The amazing thing is, I think you mean it!" Ariakas mused, shaking his head.

Lyrelee, in the meantime, jerked Tale Splintersteel to his feet. The Zhakar's robes were a mess, covered with mud, dust, and crusted blood, but he stood steadily, blinking impassively behind his black-cloaked mask.

"I want you to lead us out of here," Ariakas declared, raising the blade slightly to emphasize his determination. With a shrug, Vallenswade refused. "It would be far better if you did not escape," he said.

"I hate to disagree with you, friend-but I think it would be far, far better if I did escape," Ariakas retorted with amusement. Then he grew serious. "Lead us out of here, or I'll be forced to kill you."

Vallenswade blinked, as if considering the bleak prospect, but he did not reply-nor did he move.

"Do you understand?" demanded Ariakas, suddenly conscious of precious time slipping away. How long before more shadowpeople-a dozen, a score, even more — arrived to help?

"I understand. My refusal means my death," replied Vallenswade simply. "I had hoped to live somewhat longer than this," he admitted.

Ariakas glared at him. "Show us the way out of here, and you'll be spared!"

"I thought I made it clear that you should not escape-

It would be bad."

For a moment Ariakas quivered at the edge of murder, raising the blade toward Vallenswade's unprotected neck. Finally he spun away in disgust. His eyes fell on the two wounded shadowpeople, both of whom still groaned and quivered on the floor. Turning back, he fixed his captive with a deadly stare.

"Show us the way out of here-or I'll kill them!" he threatened, gesturing to the wounded pair.

Vallenswade flinched, lowering his brows in an un shy;happy frown. "Why?" he demanded. "Why must you kill three of us? Their deaths gain you nothing."

"I don't want their deaths!" fumed the warrior. "I want to get out of here!"

"Then kill us and go," retorted Vallenswade. He looked away, as if bored with the conversation.

The murderous force built within Ariakas, but sud shy;denly it dissipated, and he was left with a feeling of emptiness and despair. He and Lyrelee would have to make their way through this maze on their own, and whether or not Vallenswade was alive or dead behind them didn't seem to make much difference.

He cast his eyes over the wounded shadowarriors, noting that one bore the tight bundle of a net on his back. That would do just as well.

"Tie them up," he told Lyrelee. "All three of them. And hurry-it's time we're out of here."

"Which way?" asked Ariakas when they reached the first intersection. The chamber where they had found Tale Splintersteel-and left a securely trussed Vallens shy;wade and his two companions-lay some distance behind them along the winding tunnel.

"Here," Lyrelee indicated unhesitatingly.

Prodding the muttering Zhakar dwarf ahead of him, Ariakas turned into the passage. His gem light illumi shy;nated the path before them, and the priestess walked slightly behind in order to gain the benefit of the illumi shy;nation-and to remain concealed from any watchers in the shadows.

They followed the new corridor for some time, and then the priestess indicated another branch that they should take. For some time they made their way through the maze, and the young woman's memory produced a firm recommendation at every fork.

Finally, however, they came into a large chamber that neither of them recognized. No less than six different tunnels led, in various directions, through the subter shy;ranean darkness.

"Now where do we go?" Ariakas asked, but Lyrelee could only shake her head.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I know we didn't come this way before."

Abruptly Ariakas stiffened. His senses tingled. The five-pointed star, holy symbol of Takhisis, winked at him from its pendant at Lyrelee's neck. He reached out and snatched it, ignoring her shout of surprise.

"Look!" he said, holding the star flat in his hand. Extending his arm, he displayed the holy symbol. The centermost tine of the star, the point that lined up with the passage across the chamber, glowed slightly. Ariakas looked at Lyrelee, his eyes narrowed shrewdly, and she nodded.

"I see it, too," the priestess whispered. "What? See what?" demanded Tale Splintersteel. "Shut up," Ariakas barked, roughly pushing the Zhakar forward.

They proceeded farther, coming to several more branches. Each time Lyrelee and Ariakas both observed that one point of the star glowed until they had made their decision. Thus guided, they moved very quickly through the maze of the catacombs. With each cross shy;roads the star seemed to grow a little bit brighter.

Around them the air grew moist, and then the corridor they followed opened into a large cavern. The illumina shy;tion from the gem light was swallowed by darkness above and to the sides-even below. A narrow, flat ramp extended like a bridge from the entrance, but to either side of the ramp yawned nothing but an apparently infi shy;nite blackness.

Vertigo rose to rebel in Ariakas's stomach, but he roughly forced aside the hesitation and, prodding Tale Splintersteel before him, boldly stepped onto the bridge. The priestess followed, and they moved cautiously out shy;ward.

No sound except their own breathing and footsteps disturbed the vast cavern. A scattering of loose gravel covered several patches of the bridge. Wary of a trap, Ariakas prodded some of the stones with his boot, and as they swept off the path he heard them splash into water some distance below.

'The lake," Lyrelee said softly. "We're crossing it."

Ariakas nodded, his attention riveted to the bound dwarf in front of him. If Tale decided to try and escape, this bridge would make a good place. Though the human felt he could deflect an attack, he warily won shy;dered if the Zhakar might hurl himself into the darkness.

"Remember the long stairway down to the wharf?" Lyrelee asked. "We're way above that, now-maybe even as high as the main catacombs."

They reached the end of the bridge without mishap- apparently the Zhakar valued his miserable life too much to make a suicidal escape attempt. Once more, stone walls enclosed them, and they picked up the pace of their march.

"It won't be far, now-I know it!" Ariakas replied.

A few more passages brought them into sight of a dis shy;tant, pale source of illumination. Then a figure-a human figure-came into view, hurrying toward them followed by several other men.

"Lord Ariakas! Thank the queen you're alive!" Wryl-lish Parkane swept his arms outward to clap Ariakas on the shoulder, ignoring the woman and the dwarf. The warrior saw that the priest carried a holy symbol, the match of Lyrelee's, in his hand. "When I emerged from High Communion and heard that you'd come down here, I was elated," the patriarch gushed. "Then, of course, when it seemed you were missing, we were terri shy;bly worried! But you felt my summons?"

"If that's what is was, it worked," the warrior agreed, handing the medallion back to Lyrelee.

"And you're safe. Did you encounter difficulties?"

"Your Sanctified Catacombs aren't as sacred as you think," Ariakas replied. "We've got a source of trouble down here, but I'll tell you about that later."

For the first time Ariakas looked at those who accom shy;panied Parkane: Patriarch Fendis, two other blue collars he recognized from the temple, and a lone figure who stood some distance back from the rest. That gaunt, dark-haired man wore a black robe, and had the most piercing blue eyes Ariakas had ever seen.

Noting his attention, the patriarch stepped back to make introductions. "Allow me to present Harrawell Dracart-of the Black Tower," he added unnecessarily. The wizard's robe clearly indicated Dracart's allegiance.

"This way. Let us go to the treasure chamber immedi shy;ately!" proclaimed Wryllish Parkane. He led them a short distance along a wide, straight passage. They saw no sign of the shadowpeople, though Ariakas warned them all to remain vigilant.

Soon they stood outside the door to a small room, one Wryllish explained had been set aside for the test. It con shy;tained a single brass dragon egg, raised upon a stone table.

"The mold dust will live for some minutes, you told me," Ariakas said to Tale Splintersteel. "Now is the time to give it to me-you will remain out here."

The Zhakar's eyes flashed stubbornly from the depths of his hood. "I will be present," he insisted. "Your alter shy;native, I know, is to kill me and make your test. Then, if you want this mold, you'll have no source. Or you can bring me in, and I'll be the key that will unlock the vaults of Zhakar!"

Ariakas had come to despise the wretched creature, and the temptation to kill the Zhakar was great. He had spoken the truth before-twice already Splintersteel had earned his death! Yet pragmatic considerations won out. The dwarf was right-if the mold dust proved valuable, they would need an agent with access to the source. Tale Splintersteel, as odious as the thought was, would be the ideal choice.

All eyes remained on Ariakas as the warrior nodded. "Very well-you'll go in there with us." Wryllish Parkane used the tiny key, and they stepped into the room, forming a circle around the gleaming egg. It lay like a metal-coated boulder on the low platform and reflected the light from its glossy surface.

"Quickly-let's not delay!" For the first time the wiz shy;ard Dracart spoke, licking his lips with a bright red tongue as his eyes gleamed hotly.

"Come, then-scatter the mold onto the egg!" urged Wryllish Parkane.

Ariakas remembered that scarred, tormented skin, and his stomach heaved as Tale Splintersteel stepped up to the egg. The dwarf held out his hands, and as the scabrous flesh emerged from the sleeves of his robe, sev shy;eral of the priests gasped and stepped backward. Ignor shy;ing the reaction, the Zhakar rubbed his palms together above the egg.

A fine dust powdered downward like snow, sprin shy;kling over the surface of the egg. The stuff glistened in the gem light, almost as if each speck were a multi-faceted diamond. Ariakas found it strangely pleasant that out of such astounding corruption could come an impression of such remarkable beauty.

"O Mighty Takhisis-all-powerful Queen of Dark shy;ness!" began Wryllish Parkane, his voice taut with sup shy;pressed anticipation. "Grant us thy will and thy power! Give to us thy tools, and make them from the children of our arrogant, metal-skinned foes!"

Immediately the sphere pulsed, small ripples flowing across its surface. The shining brass shell began to cor shy;rode, decaying to grimy scum in a matter of seconds. The orb shivered in steady contractions, wrinkling and bulging all across its surface.

The high priest raised his voice in a mighty prayer to the Dark Queen. The wizard muttered an incantation of his own, and from Dracart's fingers, pulses of blue magic flickered outward, wrapping the egg in a cocoon of sor shy;cery. Then the surface of the corroded sphere split apart, ripping in several directions like the jagged, expanding tracks of an earthquake. The tearing crackled loudly though the air, and a pervasive, putrefying stench filled the room.

Creatures slithered forth, dripping with ooze-but these were not the blind, malformed creations of the ear shy;lier corruption. At least ten distinct lizard beings were visible, snapping and clawing at each other. Rising upon powerful hind legs, they stood as tall as men. Talon-studded forepaws wiped the mucus from reptilian eyes, and baleful glares fastened upon the humans and dwarf in the room. The scaly humanoids advanced, forked tongues flicking from fang-studded mouths. Leathery wings, still sticky from the egg, stretched awkwardly from the shoulders of each of the monsters.

"These are not dragons!" hissed Tale Splintersteel, in awe and disbelief.

"No-not dragons," replied Ariakas, now seeing the potential of these creatures with astounding clarity. The others stood silent, waiting for him to continue, instinc shy;tively trusting him to lead.

"Not dragons-but the spawn of dragonkind." Aria shy;kas suddenly knew what these things were, what they would be called-and how they would serve him. "They are draconians."

He acted then, snatching the star of Takhisis from the patriarch's hand. Fastening his eyes onto the hideous faces of the monsters, he projected his will, his mastery, toward them. The lizard beasts stopped at the sight of the medallion, hissing and bobbing uncertainly. "Kneel, wretches!" Ariakas commanded. "Kneel before the sym shy;bol of your mistress-your queenl"

And when he raised the symbol overhead, all ten of the draconians collapsed, groveling, onto the floor.