To Rouse Leviathan, page 41
Then Max began to advance. He became Death herself, dispassionate, unyielding and unstoppable. Kreeg fought on, but he knew he was beaten. It was only a matter of time. He became desperate, his parries and attacks wilder, less controlled. Every time Kreeg left the smallest opening, Max cut him, until he was bleeding from numerous wounds. The Commander threw himself at Max, but was driven back again. “Finish it, you cold-hearted butcher!” Kreeg hissed.
Max only smiled grimly and continued his ruthless onslaught. Kreeg put everything he had into one last suicidal offense. He dove forward, rolling under Max’s blades, and came up for a disemboweling sweep. Max leaped backwards and the Commander’s blade caught only cloth. Max’s left sword came down, followed immediately by the right. The first blow drove Kreeg’s sword aside, the second severed the Commander’s arm at the elbow. Kreeg gasped in agony and the sword dropped from lifeless fingers. Max whirled and a blade slashed across the backs of Kreeg’s legs. The Commander sagged, his knees striking the stones with a dull sound. He leaned forward, balanced painfully on ruined limbs. Kreeg reached for the fallen sword with his remaining arm. Max kicked the blade away, sending it skittering across the floor. He stood poised, one blade raised. Max regarded Kreeg impassively. The Commander waited for the final stroke, resigned to his fate.
“I changed my mind. I was going to leave you a cripple, but you deserve better. You were a warrior, after all,” Max said, his tone distant. He spun again and Kreeg collapsed in a shower of blood.
As the Commander died, Max became aware of the battle around him. As ordered, Kale and the Immortals had attempted to take the Princess to the stairs. Before they reached the end of the gallery, the black dog had rallied its strength. The huge brute bounded after them, shaking itself free of the Prince’s clothes and weapons. Two Immortals now lay bleeding on the stones and the slavering beast leaped among the survivors. Celeste did not remain idle during the attack. She tore one arm free and yanked an Immortal’s dagger free of its sheath. The Princess twisted and slashed the face of the Immortal holding her other arm. Her blade left a pale red gouge across his nose. The gray soldier staggered back with his arms upraised. The first Immortal reached for her and Celeste cut him across the forearm. The other soldier charged, but Celeste nearly gutted him and he retreated.
Celeste slashed again at her captors and turned to run. Kale tackled her and the dagger spun out of her grasp. The Harrier climbed onto her back and slammed her head into the stone floor, stunning her. He jerked the Princess roughly to her feet and dragged her toward the stairs. The two surviving Immortals joined the Captain and each grabbed an arm.
“Bring the Princess to me!” Molid yelled from below. “Hurry!”
Three more Harriers and two Immortals entered the building and formed a defensive line, raising a hedge of blades against the dog. The black beast, snarling horribly, prowled the wall of swords and searched for an opening. Max stepped past Kreeg’s body and glanced over the railing. The two Harriers had carried Molid to the Gate, the Mhoul hanging heavily in their arms, one leg twisted and nearly useless. Then Molid had activated the ancient portal with some device she carried. The air between the stones now twisted like a living thing. Max could feel the power throbbing through the air and his skin prickled. The two Attendants and the litter bearer carried Ssardon through the Gate and the shimmering curtain swallowed their forms. The Assassin behind them took a last look around and followed the goblin into the void. Max saw Sha’lor’s body lying on the stone floor near the Gate.
Max heard something behind him. He turned to see Morgan charge through the main doorway, wielding the aurellium sword. The big man felled the two Immortals holding the Princess. They struggled weakly as Morgan finished them. Kale leaped clear, dodging a vicious cut. The other soldiers quickly reformed their line to face enemies on both sides. The huge dog took advantage of the momentary confusion and leaped. His bloody jaws engulfed an Immortal’s throat. Morgan shoved the Princess toward Max and attacked the Mhoul soldiers. He drove through their ranks and scattered them. Morgan killed a Harrier and found himself facing the black dog over the body. He stared for a moment at the wild red eyes and the slavering jaws. The beast crouched, snarling.
“Don’t worry,” Max called, as he cut the Princess’ bonds. “He’s with us.”
With a last look at the dog Morgan turned. “Guard Celeste. Molid is mine,” he said.
“While you’re down there, see what happened to Sha’lor,” Max called as he escorted the Princess to a safe distance. Tak, Diomedes, and a stocky figure appeared in the entry. Max waved to them.
“Harriers! To me!” Molid shouted.
“Hold him back,” Kale ordered and ran for the stairs. A Harrier tried to block Morgan’s path and died. The last two soldiers, a Harrier and an Immortal, charged after Morgan, forcing him to stop and defend himself. Morgan shattered the Harrier’s rapier with a single blow. He seized the man by the throat and threw him at the Immortal. The dog pounced on the staggering Immortal and savaged him to the floor. Morgan killed the Harrier as he rolled free of the tangle. Without looking back, Morgan ran down the stairs.
Molid saw Morgan coming and the sword the big man carried. Gesturing frantically, the Mhoul hobbled toward the Gate as the Harriers tried to help her. Morgan reached the bottom of the stairs and raised the aurellium weapon. The blade’s golden motes sprang into life, as they reacted to the Mhoul’s alien energy. The entire sword began to glow with stolen life forces. With a shuddering cry, the Mhoul sagged, nearly collapsing in spite of the Harriers’ support. Kale attacked, slashing at Morgan’s head. Morgan parried the blow and kicked the Captain in the stomach. He swung at the Mhoul and the deadly blade carved through cape and metasilk; to expose the withered flesh of Molid’s back. The sword vibrated madly as it fed, the golden surface sparkling with dancing flecks of light. The Harriers dropped the Mhoul and reached for their weapons. Morgan killed one before he could draw, but the second managed to parry his backslash. The Harrier counter-attacked desperately, knowing Molid’s life depended on him. The onslaught drove Morgan back a step or two. Molid crawled to the Gate and dragged herself through the portal as Morgan battered down the Harrier’s defense and killed him. The Captain recovered and charged Morgan. Morgan ducked and whirled. His blade cut deeply into Kale’s back and the Captain fell. Morgan rammed his blade through Kale’s body and then leaped after the Mhoul, but the shimmering between the stones vanished and the Gate fell silent.
Morgan roared in frustration and pounded the sword’s pommel on the ancient stones. His emotion suddenly spent, he leaned against the rough surface of the Gate. He felt very tired and his head ached. Now that the Mhoul was gone, the motes in the aurellium blade slowed and soon became still. Morgan looked toward the stairs. Ssardon’s litter had tumbled to the landing and lay there in a tangled heap. The litter rested on its side and something had collapsed the curtained framework. He could see Sha’lor lying between him and the litter. As Morgan started toward her, he noticed Max descending the stairs. Max came slowly down the steps, his eyes fixed on Sha’lor. Celeste came running past him, but he did not seem to even notice her. The huge dog bounded after the Princess. Morgan and Celeste reached Sha’lor at almost the same time. The Ha’ashtari lay on her side, her legs drawn up, clutching her right arm to her breast. Pain twisted her face and a sheen of sweat glistened on the mahogany skin. Sha’lor kept her eyes tightly closed and did not move. Her breathing came in ragged gasps.
“She’s still alive, but something’s wrong with her arm,” Celeste said.
Morgan gently pulled Sha’lor’s arm free and turned it so they could examine the limb. The Ha’ashtari groaned and a trickle of blood leaked past her tight lips. Twin puncture wounds marred her forearm. Red, puffy flesh surrounded the injury and the entire arm was beginning to swell. The skin felt hot and tight.
“What is it?” Celeste asked. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I think it’s poison. From some kind of bite,” Morgan said.
Max looked up the stairs at Tak, who had just appeared at the top. “Get that brain heavy runt down here!” Max shouted. “Now!”
Tak nodded and vanished. Max joined his friends at Sha’lor’s side. Tak reappeared, with Diomedes stuffed under one arm like a sack of grain. The Carnite took the stairs three at a time, Diomedes grunting in protest with each bound. Celeste gently touched the Ha’ashtari’s cheek. Sha’lor groaned and writhed in her pain. Morgan put his hand on the Princess’ shoulder.
“Let Diomedes take a look. He’ll know what to do,” he said.
Celeste turned, and before Morgan realized what was happening, she was in his arms. He held her tightly, enjoying how she felt. She cried quietly, the tears dampening his shoulder. The dog growled, but both of them ignored the warning. Tak made it to the bottom of the stairs without mishap and set Diomedes down beside Sha’lor. The little man staggered, looking around in bewilderment. Morgan squeezed Celeste and reluctantly pulled free.
“Diomedes, Sha’lor has been injured,” Max said.
Seeing the look on Max’s face, Diomedes immediately knelt beside the Ha’ashtari. He lifted an eyelid, listened to her breathing, and put a hand on her chest, between the breasts. Max’s hand twitched on a sword hilt at that contact. Diomedes examined the swollen arm, sniffing at some residue he found there. Seemingly satisfied, Diomedes quickly proceeded to examine the rest of Sha’lor’s battered frame.
“Well?” Max asked, his voice tight.
Diomedes spoke as he continued his probing. “Respiration and cardiac function elevated, miscellaneous superficial abrasions and contusions, probable fever, judging by the sudoriferous condition, puncture wounds and intumescence of the right forearm, possible introduction of toxic . . .”
“In plain language,” Max growled. “If you want to live.”
Diomedes’ jaw popped shut and he gave Max a startled look. The little man began again, with an obvious effort. “She is breathing fast, her heart rate is up, and she has minor bruises and cuts. I think she has a fever, because she is sweating. Her arm is swollen and she seems to be in considerable pain. I can’t tell about internal injuries.”
“What about the poison?” Max asked, with forced patience.
“I think Ssardon bit her,” Diomedes said simply.
“And a goblin’s bite is poison?” Morgan asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Diomedes said.
“Fatal?” Max asked.
“I don’t know. It seems fairly serious so far,” Diomedes said.
Ra appeared at the gallery railing. “The airship comes. The Harriers outside flee. The pale ones stand and watch.”
“Who’s that?” Max asked.
“A dwarf I met in the dungeons of Ragoulgard. He showed me a secret passageway from the castle dungeons, and we came here on some kind of underground carriage. It was incredible,” Morgan said and then grimaced. “The airship must have detected the Gate in operation. We have to leave immediately.”
“Is it safe to move Sha’lor?” Celeste asked.
“If the airship bombs this building, we’ll all die,” Morgan reminded her.
Max pointed at the litter. “Tear off the upper framework and lay her on the base. We can use the handles and carry it like a stretcher.”
“Let’s do it,” Morgan said and raised his voice. “Ra, keep an eye on that dirigible. Let us know when it arrives.”
The dwarf nodded and moved out of sight. Morgan, Max, and Tak tore the litter’s curtained framework free and folded some of the curtains for a cushion on the base of the litter. They carefully lifted Sha’lor from the floor and placed her on the makeshift stretcher. She groaned at the movement. Max stared at the Ha’ashtari in her torn and disheveled clothes. “I never saw her in a dress before,” he said, with a hint of wonder in his voice.
Tak took the front handles of the litter and Morgan the rear. They hefted the stretcher, testing its balance. “Ra, we’re ready!” Morgan shouted up at the dwarf.
Ra appeared at the head of the stairs and descended swiftly. Celeste glanced down at the great hound, who sat next to her. She carefully edged away, putting some distance between her and the beast. The dog whined, but did not follow. Celeste looked at Max. “What happened to Talbot?” she asked and pointed at the dog. “How did he turn into that thing?”
“Don’t worry Princess. Talbot will be back tomorrow and he’ll explain,” Max said.
“Back? Back from where?” Celeste demanded.
“Please. It’s better to wait for your brother,” Max said.
“Tell me this. Is he alright?” Celeste asked.
Max studied the dog. “Well, all things considered, he is reasonably well.” Suddenly, the dog put a massive paw on Max’s leg and whined. Max looked down. “What now?” With an eerie show of intelligence, the beast looked up at the gallery and pushed Max with its foot. Max frowned, and then he understood. “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you,” Max said and ran up the stairs.
Tak looked back at Morgan. “Where are we going?”
Ra joined them. “I don’t know. Ra?” Morgan asked.
“Follow me,” Ra said.
As always, the dwarf’s remarks were brief. He moved toward the back of the building, the others following. Max soon reached the gallery. Outside, the fires of Ragoulgard cast a reddish hue on the dead city, while the three moons tinged the entire scene with silver. Max could hear the drone of the approaching aircraft and saw a large shape moving across the stars. He collected Talbot’s clothing and weapons, and also recovered his bow and quiver. Max descended the stairs at the rear of the building and looked around. He saw his friends entering an archway behind the Gate and ran to join them. The group descended a stairway, moved through a corridor, and then turned left to a second flight of stairs. At the bottom, they walked into another hallway. The light globes here were dark, leaving them in absolute blackness. The dwarf stopped and in the following silence, a whistling sound came from above the building. They could hear Ra doing something and then a light flashed. A bluish glow appeared and a luminous mist hissed from the spot of brilliance. Soon the mist filled the hall, making it light enough to see.
“What’s that?” Tak asked.
“Lumens Dolima,” Diomedes explained helpfully.
“What?” Tak repeated.
“It’s a dwarf torch,” Morgan said.
“A cylinder of glassite material, filled with a volatile, luminescent liquid that vaporizes on contact with air. A most efficacious instrumentality,” Diomedes added.
Suddenly, the keening outside ceased and there was an explosion from somewhere behind them. The floor trembled under their feet and the walls groaned in protest. The dwarf moved on, and now that they could see again, everyone began to walk faster. The glowing mist continued to drift from the torch, leaving a shining path. Max, bringing up the rear, whispered over Morgan’s shoulder. “Quite a guide. He can see in the dark, acts like he’s made of stone, and conjures up glowing smoke.”
Morgan stumbled over something on the floor and struggled not to jolt the stretcher. “I would be dead without him.”
“Do you know where he’s taking us?” Max asked.
“No,” Morgan admitted.
“Can we trust him?” Max asked.
“He used the Raav recognition signal, back in Ragoulgard,” Morgan said.
“Really?” Max remarked. “I wasn’t aware any dwarves had served in the Legions.”
“They never did. He learned it somewhere else,” Morgan said.
“I’ll ask him,” Max promised. “When we get out of here.”
There was another detonation and pieces of debris fell from the ceiling. Diomedes sneezed at the dust. “The Monachus have a strange perspective on rescue missions,” Max said, peering through the darkness behind him.
“Yes, I have some serious questions for the Mons Monachus,” Morgan said softly.
**
After countless twists and turns, Ra stopped at a heavy door. He opened it and guided them through. Once they were on the other side, he closed and barred the door. The blue mist began to fill the room, while Tak and Morgan eased the stretcher to the floor. Ra became visible in the growing radiance, holding the smoking torch.
“What now?” Morgan asked.
Ra did not respond, but handed Morgan the torch. “Wait here. I will return,” the dwarf said.
Morgan knew it would be useless to ask further questions. The dwarf vanished into the mists and Morgan lodged the torch in a crack in the wall. The mists eventually revealed a stone chamber, with several exits besides the door they had used. The room, bare of ornamentation or furnishing, looked like an abandoned cellar. Diomedes and Max went to Sha’lor. The scholar knelt beside her and studied her condition. The Ha’ashtari stirred restlessly and moaned. The swelling and redness on her arm had spread.
Celeste joined them. “Sha’lor, can you hear me?” Sha’lor’s eyelids fluttered open and her gaze remained unfocused. Her mouth moved, but she could only manage a dry croak.
“Max, do you have any water?” Celeste asked.
Max handed her his waterskin. “Here.”
Celeste managed to get some water past the Ha’ashtari’s bloody lips and Sha’lor tried to speak again. “Cowardly goblin . . . bit me,” she whispered.
“We suspected as much. We think the bite was poisoned,” Celeste said.
