The Bander Adventures Box Set 2

by Randy Nargi

  Niam asked Medgal, “Is your father among them?”

  The boy shook his head and led them to the third door. He explained that it was a servant’s corridor that provided a shortcut to the gallery. They passed through the door and wound their way through a warren of passages until they reached an antechamber that ended in a set of large double doors. The antechamber looked like it was the site of some sort of magical battle. Its wood-paneled walls were scorched and blackened by fire. Sculptures and furniture were upended. And the carpet was darkened with blood.

  “My armor!” Bryn Eresthar exclaimed. He lifted a breastplate made of crimson metal from where it had been tossed in one corner of the room.

  Bander tensed. “Silbra Dal was wearing that armor.”

  “Not a good sign,” Meomannan Quill said.

  Wegg touched the burned wood. “This just happened.”

  “What is behind those doors?” Bander asked Medgal.

  “That is the long gallery. It’s the largest room in the manor. The study is on the other end.”

  Bander asked for more details and the boy did a good job of describing the layout of the gallery and the other rooms it connected to. According to Medgal, the study connected with the southeast tower. So even if the second Donden Cage wasn’t in the study itself, they could fairly easily check the tower.

  But they were rapidly running out of time.

  “What’s the plan?” Faramir Boldfist asked.

  "I'll go first—to the left. Then you go to the right. Mages cover us. Bryn will shoot anyone who gets close. The rest of you stay back and guard the rear. I don't want anyone sneaking up behind us. We meet at the other end and then prepare to enter the study."

  “Got it, Captain.”

  “If we are overwhelmed, I’ll order a retreat and then we all run like hell back into the servant’s corridor. Ready?”

  Everyone responded that they were ready, so Bander kicked open the door and rushed to the left.

  He was in a cavernous long gallery that spanned the entire length of the keep—maybe 70 or 80 yards. The east wall was filled with tall, wide windows. The rest of the gallery was lined with portraits, sculptures, tapestries, and finely-carved furniture for as far as he could see.

  There were a bunch more bodies on the ground. Guards, mages, and doldar.

  But there was only one person standing.

  It was Silbra Dal.

  And she was casting a spell at him.

  The magic bolt crackled through the air. But fizzled before it could strike him.

  “Cease your attack!” Meomannan Quill yelled at her.

  But she didn’t.

  “It’s us,” Hirbo Thrang called. “Stand down!”

  Bander and Faramir Boldfist moved closer and Bander saw that tears were streaming down Silbra Dal face, which was a mask of anguish. What was going on?

  But she continued to attack them. This time she cast a fireball at Faramir Boldfist which would have incinerated him if Meomannan Quill hadn’t created some sort of sphere of protection which shielded the warrior.

  Bander eased towards the wall. If he could get close enough to knock her down—or out—maybe they could snap her out of whatever was making her turn on them.

  But then he caught a glimpse of her chest and he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  There, lodged right over Silbra Dal’s heart, was a siddith. Controlling her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sobbing.

  And then she motioned, casting a spell.

  A wall of fire exploded up from the floor knocking Bander back. He rolled, trying to put his burning clothes out.

  “Hold your breath!” Hirbo Thrang yelled.

  Bander did so and Hirbo Thrang cast a suffocate spell at him which pulled all the air away and doused the flames. Then he released the spell so Bander could breathe.

  “She’s got a siddith in her,” Bander said, as he got to his feet.

  “I can see it,” Hirbo Thrang said.

  “Where?” Bryn Eresthar asked, squinting.

  “That dark spot. Right on her heart.”

  Bander said, “Everyone pull back. Try to stay out of range of her spells.”

  Silbra Dal loosed another magic bolt—the one spell that could be cast over longer distances. This one nearly exploded into the boy.

  Luckily Bander pulled him away and the bolt just grazed Medgal. Still, he screamed in pain.

  “Everyone back in the antechamber. We need to figure out how to get past her.”

  “I can take her out,” Bryn Eresthar said quietly. He raised his bow. “It’s the only way.”

  “No!” Hirbo Thrang said.

  Meomannan Quill said, “You know as well as I do that no one can resist the control of a siddith. She isn’t able to help herself. She will destroy us. You didn’t see what she did in the courtyard.”

  “He’s right,” Bander said.

  “What are you saying?” Hirbo Thrang asked.

  “We have to—”

  And then the floor buckled and the walls shook, and they were all thrown from their feet. A loud crack echoed throughout the gallery and part of the ceiling collapsed—right on top of Wegg.

  They all raced to clear the wood and debris from the healer and Bander carried him back into the antechamber. He was injured, but conscious. Barely.

  “I’ll be fine,” he croaked.

  Bander walked back into the gallery. The wall of magical flames from Silbra Dal’s spell still burned, so there was no way he could get close enough to knock her unconscious.

  “Take the shot,” he told Bryn Eresthar. Dynark help us all.

  The former Lord Governor nodded and then kneeled to brace himself. He was a good fifty yards away from his target, and Bander knew that his friend’s vision wasn’t what it used to be. But he also recognized the concentration on Bryn Eresthar’s face. He was using the ability he shared with his sister and other descendants of Forn. It wasn’t quite magic, but it was certainly unnatural.

  Hirbo Thrang looked away, a forlorn expression on his face.

  Bander looked away too, his gaze moving to the big windows. Was it noon already? Were they too late?

  And then he heard a thwack as Bryn Eresthar let loose the arrow. It shot through the flames and found its mark.

  Silbra Dal cried out. She clutched at her chest, staggered and, fell to the ground.

  The magical flames faded and Bander sprinted down the gallery.

  She was still breathing when he arrived at her side, but blood bubbled up through her mouth. He cradled her head.

  “He’s in there,” she whispered. “The Cage…” Her eyes fluttered and she coughed up more blood.

  “Stay with us, Mistress!”

  But she fell back dead, or nearly dead.

  He looked down at her chest and saw that Bryn Eresthar had made a remarkable shot. His arrow impaled the siddith through its one gruesome eye, which now oozed a black ichor.

  “Wegg!” he yelled. “Do what you can for her!”

  The healer motioned for Faramir Boldfist to help him. The big warrior picked up Silbra Dal’s limp body and carried her back into the antechamber. Wegg dragged himself after them.

  Bander turned to Niam. “Do you remember how to get back downstairs?”

  “I think so.”

  “Take Meomannan Quill and Faramir Boldfist. Go back to the Tree Heart. See if you can get it to work again.”

  “Yes,” Meomannan Quill said. “Good thinking. If we can activate the Tree Heart, we might disrupt the Donden Cage.”

  “Move, now!”

  Niam called for Medgal to lead them back to the staircase, then he and the others departed, leaving just Bander, Hirbo Thrang, and Bryn Eresthar.

  Bander looked at Bryn Eresthar. “Do you still have that arrow I gave you?”

  Bryn Eresthar nodded.

  “Good. I need you to make one more perfect shot.” He quickly outlined his plan. Then he checked one of the weapons Haltin Moor had given him—while
Bryn Eresthar readied his bow and the relorcan arrow.

  “Ready?”

  The others nodded.

  Bander listened at the door but didn't hear anything. He cracked it open a bit and peered inside.

  “Enter!” a low voice said.

  There, about forty feet away, was the dark mage Morin of Thect. He stood over another man—a mage by the looks of him—who was laying on a divan. The other man had a siddith in his chest, just like Silbra Dal, and he was staring off into space.

  The dark mage peered at them through dark, dead eyes. "You are the mighty Bander? And I see Bryn Eresthar and Hirbo Thrang skulking behind you…"

  “And you are the cowardly Morin,” Bander said. “Now that introductions are concluded, why don’t you step away from that man so we can dispatch you without injuring him.”

  Morin laughed a hoarse laugh. “This man is Aglaard Shie. I doubt you have any interest in saving him. Besides, he is not a man any longer. He is merely my tool.”

  “Tool for what?”

  “I believe you know that already, else you would not be here.”

  “We want the Donden Cage back.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “We will take it by force.”

  “The three of you? That’s laughable. Where is Meomannan Quill? He may provide me with somewhat of a challenge.”

  "He's dead. And for that, you will pay."

  “I doubt that very much. In fact, I believe your presence here is a diversion. Quill is no doubt trying to restore the artifact. He will fail, of course. I had no further use for the Tree Heart, so I destroyed it.”

  “Impossible,” Hirbo Thrang said. “You cannot destroy an artifact.”

  “You have no idea what I am capable of.”

  Bander asked, "Why are you doing this?"

  “I do not need to explain myself to you.”

  “Perhaps, but over all the years I have been dealing with madmen such as you, I’ve noticed that you all enjoy boasting of your plans. So tell us. Why destroy an entire city and poison another?”

  Morin looked through the window, ignoring the question. He said, “The time is almost upon us. Which of you chooses to die first?”

  Bander took a step forward, but Hirbo Thrang stopped him.

  “The plan won’t work,” he whispered.

  Bander didn’t say anything.

  Hirbo Thrang continued in a quiet voice, “He is a theodrenca. My spells cannot hurt him.”

  “Very good,” Morin said. “Not many are familiar with the old ways. You are correct, Hirbo Thrang. Your magic is powerless against me.”

  “Who said anything about magic?” Bander said. Then he signaled to Bryn Eresthar, who—in a single fluid motion—raised his bow and fired the relorcan-tipped arrow at Morin of Thect.

  At the same time, Hirbo Thrang cast a push spell at Bander, which flung him across the room at Morin.

  The dark mage was distracted by the arrow. He cast a hold spell which froze the arrow in midair, a good twenty feet from its target.

  But Bander’s body had a considerably greater mass than an arrow. He weighed as much as a stag or a bear. And even though Morin quickly disrupted Hirbo Thrang’s spell, Bander was already in motion, hurtling at the dark mage at a speed of a galloping horse. Which meant that it took Bander just over a second to smash into Morin.

  And maybe a half second to grab the mage’s neck and release the hidden blade strapped to Bander’s sleeve.

  Thunk!

  The spring-loaded stiletto shot out and nearly the full six inches of blade sunk into Morin’s neck, discharging enough relorcan tincture to neuter a dozen mages.

  Still, the effect wasn’t instantaneous. Or maybe it didn’t work at all.

  Morin roared in pain and cast some sort of spell which caused his body to crackle with electricity. Bander was flung off and he careened into a heavy bookcase, landing hard.

  He rolled away as the bookcase came crashing down, barely missing him.

  Morin’s eyes began to glow and he stood upright. Magical energy arced between his hands, growing in power.

  He didn’t appear to be suffering any ill effects; he must be immune to the relorcan. That was not good.

  Bander scrambled to his feet and moved in closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bryn Eresthar snatch the arrow from the ground where it had fallen. Hirbo Thrang was moving around the other side, flanking the dark mage.

  But then Morin let loose a spell, and this time Bander’s magic resistance had no effect. A powerful blast of cold smashed into his chest and then he felt himself jerk upright like a puppet on a string, lifted a yard off the ground. His limbs felt frozen and could barely move his fingertips.

  Morin took a deep breath.

  And Bander convulsed in unimaginable pain. It felt like he was being torn asunder from the inside out.

  He watched in horror as smoke-like wisps of energy were drawn from his body and consumed by Morin. Slowly, inexorably, his life was being drained away.

  His vision began to fade to black, and everything felt icy cold.

  Was this how it was going to end?

  No. It couldn’t be.

  He fought against Morin’s spell, concentrated on moving his hands—even just a fraction of an inch. And then a little more.

  He willed himself to keep going. Block out everything. Especially the pain.

  And then he was able to touch the satchel at his waist.

  Yes.

  His fingers burrowed into a pocket, closed around something sharp and hard. It was one of the glass caltrops Haltin Moor had given him. Miraculously unbroken.

  He pressed on one of the spikes, let it cut him. The pain was good. Pain meant he was still alive.

  His eyes fluttered and he could see again. Barely.

  Morin too was floating, pulling him closer. Glowing wisps of aether drifted into Morin's mouth like he was inhaling Bander's life force.

  But the mage had a pained expression on his face. Troubled.

  And then there was an arc of energy that shot out from Hirbo Thrang’s outstretched hands.

  Strength, power, life. It all welled up inside of Bander.

  His head instantly cleared.

  Hirbo Thrang must have cast an envigor spell. It would transfer Hirbo’s own life force into Bander. But that was suicide. His friend was already fatally weakened from helping to revive Bryn Eresthar.

  “No!” Bander yelled.

  And then he broke all the spells surrounding him.

  He dropped to the ground, ignored the pain of his twisting ankle.

  Just launched himself at Morin.

  Nearly 250 pounds of bone, muscle, and rage slammed into the mage.

  He pried Morin’s mouth open and shoved the glass caltrop inside. Then pushed him away with one hand and unleashed a colossal uppercut with the other.

  As Bander staggered away, he heard Morin’s head explode. Then he felt blood and skin and chips of bone pepper him.

  And then he collapsed.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  WHEN BANDER AWOKE, IT WAS MORNING. He was on a rough-hewn cot in a small room he recognized but couldn't immediately place.

  Bryn Eresthar and Hirbo Thrang stood over him.

  “I guess he’s alive,” Hirbo Thrang said.

  “You owe me some gold, my friend,” Bryn Eresthar said to the mage.

  “Only if he lasts until evening. That was the wager.”

  “Silbra Dal?” Bander’s throat was dry, and he could barely speak.

  “I am here, Captain.” Her voice came from across the room, but it sounded quiet and weak. But at least she was alive, thank Dynark.

  Bander slowly sat upright. He was light-headed and he had a difficult time focusing his eyes. But he was able to make out the form of Silbra Dal in another cot by the fireplace. Now he knew where he was: the cabin of Darrick in Staiger’s Grove.

  Hirbo Thrang said, "Wegg tended to Silbra Dal until we could all get out. Then one of Etthar Calain
's healers brought her back. She's weak but alive."

  “Just like you.” Bryn Eresthar clapped him on the shoulder. “Though Meomannan Quill did not seem especially relieved to see her resurrected.”

  “I don’t blame him,” Silbra Dal said. “After what I did.”

  “What about the siddith?” Bander asked.

  Hirbo Thrang motioned at Bryn Eresthar, “Beady-eye here, made a good shot. Killed the siddith before it burrowed too deeply into her and necrosis could set in.”

  “And the Cage?”

  “Oh, we failed. The cursed thing detonated,” Bryn Eresthar said with a straight face. “Destroyed the fortress, lots of innocent victims, even us. We’re all dead, you see. This is the afterlife—”

  Hirbo Thrang elbowed Bryn Eresthar. “Forgive his poor attempt at humor. The truth is that Meomannan Quill was not able to reactivate the Tree Heart. At least not in time. But our friend here was struck with a rare bit of inspiration.”

  “Remember that relorcan arrow? Well, the dark mage stopped it in mid-air,” Bryn Eresthar said.

  “I remember. We thought he might do that,” Bander said.

  “Indeed. Well, why you were distracting him by letting yourself get drained to death, I snatched up the arrow and plunged it into Aglaard Shie. It was he who was under Morin’s control, and he who was working to activate the Donden Cage.”

  “So the arrow stopped him?”

  “I don’t know if it was the arrow itself, jammed in his neck, or the relorcan on the tip, but noon came and went and Aglaard Shie was too dead to do anything about it.”

  Hirbo Thrang said, “But we took the Cage, gathered our dead and wounded, and got out of that damnable place.”

  “Where’s the artifact now?” Silbra Dal asked.

  “Meomannan Quill has it. He and the other Grand Guildmasters are in Rundlun meeting with the Viceroy.”

  Bander said, “There are still vermin in the Imperial Palace. Tad Stircas, Forwin Lath, probably more traitors.”

  “Yes, they will need to be ferreted out,” Bryn Eresthar said.

  “And what of the rest of the team? Wegg? Faramir Boldfist?”

  “They are all outside, waiting for the two of you to wake up.”