Emperor of Ansalon

Chapter 22

Ariakas, sleeping very lightly, heard a noise in the anteroom beyond his chamber. Silently rising, he grasped the reas shy;suring hilt of his sword and stepped through the door into the pitch-dark chamber. His ears strained without success to detect any further sound.

"Oh-hello, warrior." He recognized Ferros Wind-chisel's voice. The Hylar sounded as though he were in a foul mood.

"Couldn't sleep?" asked Ariakas.

"It's this damned itch," groused the dwarf. Ariakas heard sounds of vigorous scratching accompanied by a muffled series of curses. "It seems to be spreading," added Ferros. His voice now had a serious tenor.

"Firebug bites?" Ariakas did his best to keep his voice casual, but he felt an ominous sense of concern. The Hylar snorted and kept scratching.

Ariakas muttered his incantation, and the gemstone in his helmet-still resting on the floor where it could illu shy;minate the room-flared into light. Ferros slouched against the wall, blinking irritably against the illumina shy;tion. The warrior was shocked at the appearance of his friend, though he tried to conceal the feeling with a mask of impassivity.

Both of Ferros Windchisel's arms were red, with cracked skin flaking off around his elbows and spread shy;ing toward his wrists and shoulders. The Hylar scratched them vigorously. Far more distressing to Ariakas, how shy;ever, was the new disfigurement of the dwarf's bearded face. Windchisel's right cheek was puffy and distended, with a rough growth of patchy scabs covering all the skin between his eye and his beard. In fact, some of his facial hair had tufted away, leaving the characteristic red, sore wound that Ariakas had seen on many of the faces around him during the past two days.

The warrior met his friend's frank stare, wondering only for a second if the Hylar understood what was hap shy;pening to him. The bleak despair he saw was tinged with fury, confirming that Ferros Windchisel knew his fate only too well.

"I can't believe I wanted to visit this hell-hole!" snapped the dwarf, awkwardly changing the subject. "It boils my blood just to think that these little degenerates come from the same stock as the clans of Thorbardin! Why, when I see how they treat each other. the stupidity and violence…."

The voice trailed off, and Ariakas respected Wind shy;chisel's silence. For some time they sat together, each pri shy;vately recalling the events of their brief but profound friendship. Ariakas wondered about the future-would Ferros try to return to Thorbardin, running the risk of carrying the plague there? He didn't think so. The war shy;rior resolved to himself that, when they returned to Sanction, he would see that the Hylar was given a role in the temple-something suitable to his abilities, that might somehow alleviate the pain of his self-imposed exile.

"It was that damned Fungus Mug!" spat Ferros Wind-chisel explosively. "That first night-it started then!"

"But you never went back there," reminded Ariakas.

"Seems like it doesn't matter," the dwarf replied. "It's plague-once it sets in, I can't fight it. I'm going to end up like these. " His voice trailed off into strangled silence, and for long, excruciating minutes, Ariakas felt his friend's silent pain.

"There might be something I can do … a chance, any shy;way," Ariakas began slowly. "A spell against disease could perhaps reverse the infestation."

"D'you think so?" The Hylar's eyes lit with hope, and Ariakas could only shrug.

The warrior knelt beside his companion. Bowing his head, Ariakas reached out and placed his hands over the sores on Ferros Windchisel's arm. Mouthing the ritual of healing, he called upon his Dark Queen, pleading with Takhisis for the power to heal the scabrous wounds. But the flesh remained moist and weeping beneath Ariakas's palms. Gritting his teeth in an animalistic snarl, Ariakas groped for the power, the faith, to heal the dwarf's cruel affliction. His fingers touched the rotting flesh while his words beseeched Takhisis. And still his goddess did not respond.

At last, exhausted by the effort, the warrior collapsed backward in dismay. Ferros Windchisel leaned his head against the wall, his eyes tightly shut as if in pain- though Ariakas knew it was a spiritual and not a physi shy;cal hurt that sapped his friend's vitality.

An unknown time later, Lyrelee and Tale Splintersteel awakened. Both of them saw Ferros and, though the

priestess's eyes widened in dismay, neither said any shy;thing about the Hylar's rapidly advancing affliction. Shortly, a column of Zhakar guards arrived, with the captain informing Ariakas that they would escort the companions to the king. Rackas Ironcog himself would show them the fungus warrens.

"This is one tour I'm not going to take," Tale Splinter-steel noted as the others prepared to leave. "I have some old companions I'd like to see. I'll meet you back here before dinner."

"Very well," Ariakas agreed, not displeased to be rid of the wretched dwarf for a few hours.

The monarch of Zhakar met them as they emerged into the Promenade. The fiery glow emanating from the two large side caverns continued to cast the vast hall in a reddish hue, and Ariakas could not help but be im shy;pressed by the spectacle of the tall columns stretching up into the midnight distance. The beastlike statue framing the king's throne loomed in the darkness like a living creature, protecting-or menacing-the monarch who sat at its feet. Two ranks of the lizard-mounted cavalry flanked the walk. The beasts bowed their scaly heads in tribute as Ariakas walked past.

Rackas Ironcog sat in his great throne at the feet of the massive statue. The king wore a long, fur-covered robe, and when he rose and advanced toward his guests, the garment trailed onto the floor behind him.

"The guards will escort us," Ironcog informed them. "There are things in the warren that are not always friendly." Without elaborating, the king started toward another large cave mouth extending from the vast cav shy;ern. Ariakas noticed that Tik Deepspeaker, too, accompa shy;nied them, though the savant remained well in back of the royal party. Ariakas walked beside the king while Lyrelee and Ferros Windchisel followed along behind.

The warrior gestured to the large, smoldering cave mouth across the promenade. "It would seem that you keep large fires burning in your realm," he observed.

Rackas Ironcog nodded. "The passages beyond that cavern extend to the very bowels of Krynn!" he boasted. "From far below, the flames of the great Lavasea itself rise to warm Zhakar."

"A sea-beneath your city?"

"Indeed. That fiery lake is the source of the fire and lava throughout the Khalkists-and we dwell nearest its heart!"

They passed into the small cavern opposite the great, smoldering cave mouth and followed a chiseled stone corridor.

"We have a long descent-though not nearly so far down as the Lavasea," the king informed them as they reached one of the metal cages signifying a lift station. An advance company of the guards, about ten warriors, descended first, and while the group waited for the cage to return, Rackas Ironcog did some explaining.

"The warrens of Zhakar are an extensive network of caves and caverns, mostly dating back before the Cata shy;clysm. The network is divided into three sections, with the nearest of them the lizard warrens. There we raise the creatures you've seen around here."

"They look like good mounts," Ariakas noted. The potential speed and power of the subterranean steeds had indeed struck him as very impressive. If the Zhakar could somehow be allied with his draconian horde, the warrior calculated that a company of lizard riders would make an excellent strike force.

"Good food, too. You've seen the warclaws up here- they're the ones that our most accomplished fighters use. But there are far more of the fastclaws-rarely ridden, but commonly used for meat."

"I see," Ariakas muttered, none too taken with the notion of a reptilian repast.

"The second warren is the water warren," the king continued. "It serves as the great cistern of our kingdom

— a reserve that would last us for many years of drought, should the mountains dry up overhead."

"And then there are the fungus warrens?" guessed the human warrior.

"Aye. They were begun as the primary food source of Zhakar, and many of their chambers still serve as useful farming quadrants. Here, for example, we grow the mushrooms from which we brew our tea. The drink pro shy;vides the only relief we get from the discomfort caused by the mold plague. But I gather that you are not inter shy;ested in the fungus we use for food?"

"No-it is the one that has caused your plague that we desire." Still, Ariakas thought, at least that explained why the Zhakar forced themselves to drink the stinking tea he'd first noticed in the Fungus Mug.

If the king had any questions as to why these visitors were interested in such a product, he gave no indication. Instead, when the empty lift cage finally returned to their level, he gestured them forward. Another ten guards waited while the royal party entered. "They'll follow us down," King Ironcog explained.

"If you think it's necessary," Ariakas replied coolly. "Though you'll find that we can take care of ourselves pretty nicely."

The significance of the remark wasn't lost on the Zhakar ruler, who looked meaningfully at the mighty sword worn on the warrior's back. "Of course-of course!" he agreed. "But you must understand-as your host, I simply couldn't allow any threat to be offered to your person while you are the guest of my kingdom."

"Your solicitude is very reassuring," Ariakas said wryly, wondering if the king in fact desired the guards to protect himself from his guests. Of course, the warrior meant what he'd told Whez Lavastone the day before- he was nobody's assassin. He would deal with the monarch of Zhakar and leave it to the dwarves to settle the issue of who their ruler was to be. At the same time, of course, he would not hesitate to respond quickly and violently to any overt treachery on Rackas Ironcog's part.

The cage rattled downward through the shaft in the rock until it finally clanked to a halt on a solid stone floor. Guards outside the lift threw the cage door open, and the four passengers emerged into the warrens.

Immediately Ariakas was struck by the pungent scent in the air. In a way it reminded him of the Fungus Mug back in Sanction, though the stench here was far more overpowering-and yet, somehow, at the same time more natural. It was as if the entire cavern had been steeped in the stuff of the bitter Zhakar mushroom tea, yet all the liquid had been poured away, leaving only pervasive and strong-smelling dregs.

In addition to the odor, the air was extremely humid. Somewhere not too far away they heard a gentle lapping of waves against a stone shore, and Ariakas suspected that the water warrens were very nearby. Still, the light from his glowing gem showed nothing more than a sur shy;rounding cave of slick, wet rock. Several passages led in different directions.

"This way," said Rackas Ironcog, leading them toward one of the passages. Avoiding the king's trailing robe, Ariakas fell into step beside him, while his companions followed behind. Ironcog paused only long enough to let the file of warriors precede them into the darkness, while the rattling of the lift behind them announced that the Zhakar of the rear guard had arrived in the warrens. The cage door opened and the other warriors emerged and followed.

A steady, rhythmic drumming pulsed in the corridor before them, seeming to come from very near at hand. "What's that?" Ariakas inquired, as soon as he heard the noise.

"Don't worry," the king reassured him. "It's a pair of my drummers in the vanguard. We like to announce our

presence so that some of the, er, less cooperative inhabi shy;tants of the warrens know we're coming. It gives them the chance to get out of our way, and avoids an unpleas shy;ant encounter for all concerned."

"What sort of inhabitants are you talking about?" wondered the human.

The dwarven monarch did not elaborate.

For a long time they marched through the darkness to the steady beat of the drums. Around them dripped sta shy;lactites and columns of natural rock. The spires of stalag shy;mites often rose toward the ceiling like gargantuan fangs. Water trickled here and there through these war shy;rens, and the dank, moldy smell continued to grow stronger.

Often they passed large patches of fungus, where mushrooms had sprouted on a surface of wet rock or within the smooth silt of a clear, shallow pool. All in all, this cavern network seemed more alive than any subter shy;ranean location Ariakas had ever seen-including the lair of the Shilo-Thahn.

Abruptly the drums grew louder, the beat a trifle faster. When Ariakas raised his eyebrows in silent ques shy;tion, the king dismissed his concern with a casual ges shy;ture. "We are approaching the growing warrens. This is the place where we have to be most cautious."

The warrior checked the rank of Zhakar before them. The dwarven guards held weapons at the ready, except for the two drummers. Looking behind, he saw that the rear guard, too, marched as if they expected trouble at any minute.

The cavern narrowed and began to twist and wind. The sound of the drums muffled slightly as the foremost dwarves passed around a corner of the cave. Ariakas's senses suddenly tingled in alarm, and he turned to cast a quick look at his companions. Ferros Windchisel scowled suspiciously while Lyrelee returned his look with concern.

Then with a silence as abrupt as a physical blow, the pounding drumbeats ceased.

"Look out!" shouted Ariakas as he saw sudden move shy;ment behind his companions. Shocked, he realized that the words had made no sound-even in his own ears! He yelled another warning-nothing!

Tik Deepspeaker, from behind Lyrelee, raised his hands and uttered a short chant, though Ariakas heard no sound. The priestess whirled, stumbling into a stone outcrop, and the warrior realized that the savant had blinded her. Grasping his sword, Ariakas instantly heard the cacophony of battle around him-as in the Fireplaza, the touch of the potent weapon had broken the spell of magical attack.

Before he could strike, Ariakas saw a Zhakar rush toward Lyrelee's exposed back, stabbing brutally. Des shy;perately, the priestess whirled away and lashed with a foot that sent her attacker staggering against the wall. Ariakas touched the hilt of his blade to the priestess's shoulder. She blinked and focused her eyes, once again able to see.

Zhakar rushed from all sides. Ariakas cut down a pair, then lunged toward the king. His blow was brought up short when he glimpsed a Zhakaran spear carrier who darted past him and thrust his weapon into Lyrelee's side. The priestess grunted and staggered. Ariakas chopped downward, splitting the skull of the murderous dwarf. Lyrelee fell forward and lay motionless on the ground amid a growing stain of blood.

Ferros was luckier-he raised an arm and took a treacherous hit on his metal wrist plate. Still, the blow knocked the Hylar backward, where he almost tumbled into Ariakas.

Snarling in fury, the human warrior whirled toward the robed king. The Zhakar monarch shrieked and darted down the passage, but Ariakas chopped savagely, propelling his sword through a vicious overhead swing. The gleaming blue blade chopped through the regal robe and into the shoulder beneath. The terrified Zhakar went down, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side. Vaguely Ariakas sensed the rest of the royal guard fleeing down the corridor, but he focused on the pathetic creature at his feet. The warrior kicked sharply and knocked the wretch over, finally hauling him free of the robe. The mold-encrusted face of a Zhakar stared at him, eyes wide in terror-but Ariakas could not suppress a shout of pure rage.

The dwarf before him was not the king!

In fury Ariakas ran the trembling creature through, casting the dead body aside as if it were an empty flagon of beer. In the seconds before the ambush, he realized, Rackas Ironcog must have arranged for this pathetic fool to take his place, allowing the king to escape with the rest of the dwarves.

Where were they? He suddenly realized that the corri shy;dor was empty of Zhakar. The guards before and behind them had vanished into the darkness. Ariakas felt certain he would hear the dwarves if they remained in the same cave. Furious, he realized they must have escaped through a secret passage.

He saw Lyrelee's body, lying facedown in a spreading pool of blood. He knelt and gently turned her over, knowing she was dead-but still, the dull vacancy in her half-opened eyes tore at him like a physical wound.

"Bastards!" he hissed, his eyes searching for a Zhakar-any Zhakar-on whom to vent his fury. He looked at the woman's corpse, thinking of the pleasures that body had given him, before his rage drove him rest shy;lessly to his feet.

He heard a groan and turned to the gasping figure of Ferros Windchisel.

"My eyes! They gouged my eyes out!" blurted the dwarf, his voice cracking in despair.

Ariakas looked at his friend, seeing that-though patches of mold already caked his cheeks-the Hylar's

eyes were fine. He leaned forward, touching the hilt of the great sword to Ferros Windchisel's chest, breaking the spell of blindness. The Hylar blinked quickly, and groaned.

"Well, okay-they didn't gouge my eyes out," he admitted, sitting up and wincing in pain.

"How bad is it?" Ariakas asked.

"Bastard broke my wrist," grunted the Hylar. "Not my axe arm, though."

"Here-I'll help," the human offered. He reached over and placed his hands on the wounded wrist. Closing his eyes, Ariakas tried to conjure up the image of Takhisis, to plead with her for a spell of healing. Instead, that great well of fury opened up. Burned by the rising flames of rage, his faith would not, could not, summon the help of his goddess. With a muffled curse, he sat back on his heels, defeated.

"I can still walk!" declared the dwarf.

"Good-we'd better do some of that."

Cursing softly in teeth-gritting pain, Ferros Wind-chisel rose to his feet. At the sight of Lyrelee's lifeless body he winced, and then looked at the human.

"Can't take her along," Ariakas said coldly. "I think we'll have to fight our way out of here."

"You got that feeling too?" Ferros grunted wryly.

"Still-I don't know who we're supposed to fight." Ariakas gestured to the empty tunnels around them.

But Ferros wasn't listening. Instead, the Hylar raised a cautionary hand and concentrated on the passage before them. The human froze, and in the silence Ariakas heard it too: a squishy kind of noise, repeated rhythmically.

Turning his glowing gem toward the approaching sound, Ariakas strained to see the source. His sword felt light, ready in his hands … but still he remained stub shy;bornly committed to saving the blue blade. Whatever now approached, they would face it with mortal muscle and keen steel.

Ferros looked questioningly at the weapon, but when Ariakas shook his head the dwarf shrugged and hefted his heavy axe. He wielded the weapon one-handed, whipping it nimbly through a series of arcs and slices.

"By Reorx-what is that thing?" demanded the Hylar after a short pause. Ariakas could see nothing beyond the fringes of his light spell.

Then, something moved-something huge. A great, bloated shape came into view, advancing by the side-to-side rolling of two massive, trunklike feet. The body swelled into a distended, oblong sphere that was cov shy;ered all over with scabby patches of mold and fungus.

"It's like some kind of huge plant!" gasped Ferros, his eyes wide with amazement.

Lumbering on the huge pads, the bloblike creature continued resolutely forward. The thing seemed to have no limbs other than those blunt, elephantine feet, though its size alone made it a formidable threat. Ariakas advanced, raising the azure blade, aiming a strike at the midpoint of the long body.

Abruptly something hammered into the side of his head, smashing him sideways into the cavern wall. His heart pounded in panic as he heard the clash of his sword clattering loose on the stone floor. Before he could stoop down, another blow struck his head, bashing a deep cut into his chin and hurling him backward, past Ferros Windchisel, to collapse flat on his back.

"What hit you?" asked the Hylar, advancing with his axe raised as Ariakas scrambled to his feet.

Frantically the man looked for the sword, seeing one of the fungus creature's monstrous feet trudge over it. Then he saw the source of the attack. Along the mon shy;ster's tough skin dangled a series of long, supple ten shy;drils. They blended so well that at first he'd thought they were just part of the body-but now he saw one snap loose with the speed of a whiplash.

The tip of the tentacle was a hardened ball, the size of a large fist. This blunt end crashed into the side of Ferros Windchisel's thigh, drawing a cry of pain from the nor shy;mally taciturn fighter. The Hylar went down, his leg jut shy;ting sideways at an unnatural angle.

Then the monster stepped past the sword and loomed overhead. Ariakas dived forward, tumbling to the floor and somersaulting around the monster's lumbering feet. He felt immeasurable relief as his hands closed around the hilt of his weapon-but then his consciousness reeled as a smashing blow took him full in the chest. Gasping for air, Ariakas stumbled away from the hulking crea shy;ture. Ferros Windchisel flailed on the ground as Ariakas lunged forward. A tentacle lashed, and the man chopped with his sword, almost severing the tough, woody limb. Charging past the monster, he whirled and struck again, halting the bloated beast before it could crush the immo shy;bilized dwarf.

"Thanks, warrior," grunted the Hylar as Ariakas's whirling slashes and feints drove the creature back a step.

But the shapeless creature held its ground. When Aria shy;kas pressed, it was the human who retreated before daz shy;zling blows-any one of which would have crushed bone, had it landed.

Then they saw another reason for the creature's relent shy;less and dauntless advance-it could be certain of help. In the dim limits of the gem light, but growing closer with each step, came another pair of the resolute plant-monsters. Beyond them, lost in the shadows, advanced the forms of many more.