by Eve Forward
Valerie gave a final invoking wave to the mirror, and the image stabilized.
“That’s as clear as I can get it without risking that white-robe’s attention,” she said. The four villains watched and listened to the conversation in the mirror’s depths.
“And I know not where they are now,” the centaur was finishing, “but the last Segment, I believe, is still their goal. Assuming they get out of Putak-Azum, whether they rescue the Druid or not, I think that’s where they’ll head ... wherever it is.”
“Very good,” Mizzamir said, nodding his head. “Well, keep up the good work, then.” Robin looked startled.
“You mean I can’t quit now?” he quavered. Mizzamir shook his head.
“No, Robin of Avensdale. Your work is proving far too valuable. Besides, I still need a Segment! It is very, very possible they will not survive long in Putak-Azum, in which case we will be spared the trouble of confronting them. And, as you know, it is not so far a remote contingency that the villains will turn instead to another goal, or that they have other, deeper plans that they may not have told you. So return, Robin, and continue your heroic mission.”
The centaur sighed, his equine sides and human chest heaving in unison. “Yes, Arch-Mage Mizzamir.”
Valerie dismissed the image with a wave of her hand.
The company exchanged glances.
“Can we kill him now?” asked Arcie angrily.
“I could use a bit of fresh meat,” agreed Valerie.
“Wait a minute,” broke in Sam. “I’ve got an idea.”
“Enough with ideas, Sammy,” said Arcie. “Let’s us just be sharpening up our weapons, aye?”
“No, really. Look, the problem now is Mizzamir knows where we’re going, right? We know that, but neither Robin nor he knows that we know, so if we were to tell him something new, a change in plans, for example, and he tells Mizzamir, then they won’t know any better, get it?”
“I think that yon pointy hat squeezeled yer brains a bit, old chum,” answered Arcie doubtfully, but Valerie nodded.
“I see what you’re saying,” she said. “We give them a red herring, let Robin report it, then snuff the centaur and Mizzamir won’t have any further news to go on. He’ll be confused, at least.”
“Yes, close enough,” answered Sam. “What shall we tell him, then?”
“’Tis an opportunity for some supreme lying,” said Arcie gleefully. “Let’s us make it a right doozy.”
Robin appeared in a hallway of Putak-Azum. He had no idea where the others were, or even where he was for that matter ... Mizzamir had been able to send him back to a safe open area in the tunnels, dredged from his memory of the time he himself had walked those halls during the War. “If you do not find them after a few hours,” he had said, “return, and I shall send you to another area.”
Robin still had his glowing wand to light his way, and Valerie’s magic necklace to keep the walls from crushing him, so he managed to keep a fairly brave pair of hearts (like all centaurs, he had two hearts and four lungs) as he trotted down the halls.
He was just negotiating a flight of stairs when a voice spoke out of the shadows, “Here, Robin!”
Robin shied, then recovered himself when he saw it was only Sam waiting at the top of the stairs.
“Oh, it’s you,” the minstrel gasped thankfully, his ears flicking. “My hooves, I’ve been looking all over for you ... where are the others?”
“Waiting for you,” answered Sam in a voice so pleasant that the centaur felt a faint prickle of unease ripple across his hide. “We’ve been finding out a few things about this place and were just waiting for you to turn up. I was sent to look for you.”
“Oh, thanks,” replied Robin. “Where do we go, then?”
“Ah, follow me, minstrel,” answered the assassin with an oily smile.
He led the centaur up the rest of the stairs and into another hall. They wound through a number of galleries and rooms until Sam finally walked directly into a wall and vanished with a faint shimmer. Robin balked. After a moment Sam stuck his head out through the wall with another shimmer. He looked annoyed.
“Come on, ponyboy, it’s perfectly safe,” he snapped.
The head vanished again, and Robin, ears up in caution, stepped carefully to the wall. He extended a hand, touched it; his hand passed through the brown stone as though it was not there. It isn’t there, he told himself firmly. I just saw Sam walk through it. Nervously, feeling his way with his forehooves, he stepped through, to find himself in a room with the assassin waiting impatiently.
He looked behind him quickly as the assassin led on; the way he had come looked like another blank wall.
“We’re going in circles, dammit,” cursed Thurbin, as they wandered into another room. “I swear by the bones of Rockhead we’ve been here before.”
“No, we haven’t,” corrected Dusty cheerfully, holding up a map. “We were in a room like this, but that one had just a bunch of footprints in the dust. This room has footprints and hoofprints. See? They go right up to that wall there,” he added, pointing.
“Right up to the ...” began Dana in surprise. Tesubar hurried forward and examined the wall. He reached out to touch it, and his hand moved through the solid stone with a faint shimmer.
“It’s an illusion!” he gasped. “A passageway!”
“They must have gone that way!” cried Tasmene, gripping his sword.
“Well then, let’s follow, what?” answered Sir Reginald boldly, and he started for the wall. Lord Tasmene gripped him by his armored arm and held him back.
“No, good sir knight,” he said firmly. “We have done much today, and my brother is weakened from his spellcasting. We will rest and recover, and then follow. After all some of Fenwick’s finest men now guard the only exit of Putak-Azum.”
Sir Reginald sighed. “Very well ... But I shall guard this passage so that the villains do not sneak up upon us and cut our throats as we rest!” he asserted. He sat back against the solid part of the wall, and the others went about setting up camp in the room.
“The great forgotten Fangclaw Army of Darkness?” asked Robin doubtfully, as he sat with the others in the ancient alchemical lab. Valerie nodded solemnly.
“When Light began to grow in power, many of the forces of Darkness hid in the depths of the very mountain we now sit in. Like clockwork unwound, they gradually fell into stasis ... but they are still there. Ice trolls and goblins and demons, vampires and demons, even a number of the great evil dragons ...”
“Like Kazikuckia?” asked Robin, eyes wide in fear.
“Kazikuckia would be a mere lizard compared to these wyrms. In addition, the war machines of the great Dark Lord, and his mighty armies of lizard-men and evil warriors. All lie in slumber, waiting for the night when I bring this.” Valerie touched her amulet with her jet fingernails.
Nightshade croaked softly.
“But how ...?” began Robin.
“Robin, you remember when those reptile-men skeletons attacked us, right?” interrupted Sam. “Valerie’s a Nathauan ... they know about things of darkness way down in the earth.”
“The shark bitch ‘as been leading us the way all along,” muttered Arcie, his voice resentful. “She were just waiting for Sam to be stupid enough to give her back the amulet...”
“You shut up!” barked Sam crossly. Arcie glared at him and went on, “And all the pretending to have but weak magic were just a front... she’s prolly about so powerful as, say, Mizzamir.”
“And now you must all do as I say,” purred Valerie evilly. “With my amulet, I can destroy you all. Your lives hang by a thread, and I hold the shears.” Her teeth flashed in the dim light, deadly sharp points. “Especially you, centaur ... You’ve been gaining weight, haven’t you? That’s nice ... I’ll have enough for breakfast, should you cross me.” Robin gulped, his ears quivering in terror.
“Now then,” said the sorceress, “there will be no more talk of rescuing that blasted Druid. We rest
now, but tomorrow we plunge straight down into the bowels of Putak-Azum, to wake the sleeping armies. If you behave, I may keep the forces of darkness from ripping you to bloody shreds.” Her teeth flashed again, and the companions moved off into various corners to settle down to rest. Nightshade watched with a beady eye from his mistress’s shoulder as Robin pretended to sleep. As soon as the centaur judged everyone else had fallen into slumber, he rose as swiftly and as silently as he could. He looked closely; even Blackmail was still, and looking the other way. Was this the time to steal one of the Segments? But he couldn’t begin to guess where to look, and to try fumbling around in the villains’ pockets would be suicide ... He would make his report now, and hope that Mizzamir would find that sufficient.
He left the room as quietly as possible, not noticing the smiles in the darkness behind him as he left. “Slumbering forces, eh?” asked Mizzamir, rubbing his hairless Elven chin. Robin nodded.
“You can’t send me back there ... That sorceress wants to eat me!” he whinnied. Mizzamir patted him gently on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Robin ... the bracelet will get you out of there just ahead of one other spells. And think of what a song it will make!” he said, cajolingly. Robin looked doubtful, as Mizzamir paced the floor of the Tower. The stained-glass window was gone, not yet replaced, and a warm breeze blew in, scented with jasmine.
“Hmm, that is a difficulty ... I’ve not heard of slumbering forces in Putak-Azum before, but I’m sure if there are any, that’s likely where they would be ... and no one would be more likely to know than a Nathauan. Well, you must keep us informed of further developments, Robin.”
The renegades, watching in the magic mirror, nodded to themselves. Without the power of his scrying font, Mizzamir could not notice the faint prickle of another scrying power watching him in his preoccupied state.
They quickly hurried back to be looking innocent when Robin returned ... except for Sam, who lingered by the mirror, which had dulled into stillness again.
He stepped up to it, a bit fearful of what it might show, and whispered:
“Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, Where’s the last Druid of them all?”
The mirror swirled in smoke, then finally cleared to show Kaylana, apparently chained to a stone wall. Her face was pale, her eyes closed, her form still. Asleep? Or dead? He couldn’t say ... but in the image was a vague flickering light, a pulsing orangeness that seemed to ebb and flow like huge breathing-dragonfire.
Sam stood in the dim room a long moment, gazing at the graceful lines of that still face, the soft lips, the rich coppery hair falling in soft waves over the shoulders, until the image faded.
“Be you following, Sam?” asked Arcie, sticking his head back in the room.
Sam shook his head and sighed. “Yes, be right there,” he answered and plodded out of the room softly.
Robin showed up in the room a few minutes after they had all gotten settled again. They pretended not to notice his absence, and he settled down sleepily. But when the centaur at last drifted into slumber, small Barigan fingers gently slid the silver and gemstone bracelet off his wrist.
A deft hand pried loose the two pale blue stones, and they popped out with a shower of pale sparks as the magic was canceled. A moment’s quiet tinkering, then two other stones, pale lime-green stones, won from a Wilderkin’s purse, were pressed in the empty sockets, the tiny silver prongs bent to hold them in place. Then the bracelet was returned with utmost care to the sleeping centaur’s wrist.
“Sure he willna notice?” whispered Arcie, as he gently set Robin’s limp arm back down.
Sam shook his head. “Centaurs are colorblind to blue and green. He won’t notice until he tries to use it. Let’s get some sleep.”
They curled up as best they could on the dusty carpeted floor, and allowed the aches of travel to slip from their bodies. Blackmail’s dark unmoving figure sat in a corner and watched over them silently.
After about eight hours they were up and moving again.
As they wandered down a hallway Arcie spotted a small niche in the wall. Set into the niche was a largish wooden chest, bound in brass, with a large lock.
“Here!” he paused, stopping at it. “Look on this!”
“We’re not here to loot the place, Barigan,” snapped Valerie sharply. Arcie looked defiant.
“But perhaps it are full o’ gold, or muchly powerful magical items ...” he pleaded, moving over to it. Sam’s eyes widened. Was the chest quivering slightly? His danger sense tingled faintly. “... just a wee quick look,” the Barigan went on, reaching for the lock.
“Arcie! Look out!” cried Sam, too late, as the chest suddenly snapped open and leaped out of its niche, snapping like a giant clam around the Barigan’s head and torso. Arcie’s booted feet kicked outside in panic as the companions rushed to his aid.
Sam drew his dagger, and jumped ahead of Blackmail and Robin as they drew their swords. “Stop, you two! You want to cut him in half!?” he snapped.
“An Aydaptor!” breathed Valerie. “Well, I can handle that. Move, assassin,” she commanded. Sam backed to one side as Valerie began to chant. Ending on a final word, she made as if to fling an invisible object at the rocking chest, with its lid chomping down on the thief.
The results were dramatic.
“Ptoo!” the creature spat, and Arcie tumbled out onto the floor, gasping for breath. Sam raised his dagger to strike the quivering creature, but Valerie called, “Don’t waste your blade, assassin, those creatures have blood like acid.”
The Aydaptor meanwhile had dissolved into an amorphous sort of blob, its color changing to blend perfectly with the stonework. It was making an odd thrumming noise, like a lute, Robin thought, and they were suddenly startled to hear the humming form into words.
“Ooowow! No more, stop it, stop it!” it whirred, in a slightly petulant tone. “A poor Aydaptor has a hard enough time as it is, trying to find rats and bats enough to eat, without people running up and down throwing spells at it, and dragons stomping all over the place and ...”
“Dragons?” broke in Sam, staring at the creature. It formed a trio of large, multifaceted eyes and peered at him. “You’ve seen a dragon?”
“Well of course, I see just about anything,” it purred, growing another eye. Its texture changed to that of soft I cloth, so that it looked like an old velvet robe crumpled on the floor, with rainbow-faceted eyes watching from its folds. “I see you, certainly, you scruffy human.”
“Where be the dragon?” asked Arcie. One of the eyes turned to look at him.
“Well now, well now, so you want to know, eh, morsel? I’ll tell you if you feed me.”
“I’ll not!” Arcie backed off. The blob burbled and formed itself into a perfect cube.
“We’ve got a centaur here ...” began Sam, and the cube shuddered and turned its texture to that of sand.
“Ugh, no thanks. Horsemeat gives me a bellyache.”
“Well you can’t eat any of the rest of us,” argued Sam.
“I’ll take the kind of dull dead food you people eat, if that’s all you have,” and a slot appeared in its “lid.” It shifted into a globe shape. “Then I’ll tell you where the dragon is. Fair enough?”
Sam looked at Valerie. The sorceress sighed. “Go ahead, fool sunlander, if you must. My magic will work as well a second time if it double-crosses us.”
Sam dug a day’s worth of beef jerky out of his pouch, and gingerly dropped it into the proffered slot. There were the sounds of munching, then a belch.
“Straight on, third left, fourth right, up the staircase and through the second door by the wall-fountain. Can’t miss it,” it hiccuped, and turned into a small pile of gold coins. Arcie looked at it wistfully, but the eyes were still watching from the faces of the coins.
“All right,” said Valerie. “Come on.”
“We’re going to find the dragon?” asked Robin uncertainly.
“But I thought you said ...”
“Shu
t up, centaur,” growled Valerie.
It was not long (all too soon for some) before they found themselves huddled in a narrow hallway that was nothing more than a gash in the rock. It narrowed down to a space that Robin, by dropping onto his knees and wriggling, could possibly just make it through. And on the other side, through the small opening, gleamed a redgold light-dragonfire.
Arcie and Sam, self-appointed scouts, scrambled up the tunnel to peer into the room beyond. Robin, decidedly ill at ease in the change in attitude of the group, tried to back down the passage, hoping to make a report to Mizzamir. “I’ll just go guard the rear, shall I?” he began, and backed into the shield of the silent knight. He looked over his shoulder, saw Blackmail standing there with his hand on the pommel of his sword, and heard Valerie speak.
“No, why don’t you just stay here with us, dearie?” she hissed softly. Robin froze, trembling.
Meanwhile, two faces peered out from a dark crack into a huge open cavern. The air was thick and musty with the smell of dragon, both the fresh scent of the huge rose-gold that rested among the rocks, and the ancient slow reek that harkened back to the days when black Kazikuckia had tortured her kills to death in the cavern.
Lumathix lay curled up with his tail to the exit, a semicircular entrance that showed only blue sky beyond. His wings were folded demurely, and his head rested atop a pile of broken stone. Kaylana’s staff lay across two tall stalagmites, and one huge white claw curved over the top of it. The far wall of the room displayed many sets of manacles, from which the reptile-men used to hang their human sacrifices to Kazikuckia. In the most complete and comfortable of these was Kaylana, awake now, to Sam’s relief, and stirring slightly in her chains. The halfeaten carcass of a doe lay on the floor near the tunnel.
The wind was in their favor, luckily, blowing from the mouth of the cave down into the tunnel.
Sam looked at Arcie. “How sneaky can you be?” he whispered.
Arcie tipped his hat. “Fair plentiful sneaky. What are your plan?” he asked.
