The Black Road d-2

by Mel Odom

  Cholik turned to the left and walked toward the balcony that overlooked the parapet courtyard at the river's edge below.

  "Wayfinder," Rhellik said uncomfortably.

  "What?" Cholik snapped.

  "Perhaps it would be better if you allowed us to protect you."

  "Protect me?"

  "By taking you to one of the lower rooms where we can better defend you."

  "You want to hide me away?" Cholik asked in exasperation. "At a time when my church is attacked, you expect me to hide away like some coward?"

  "I'm sorry, Wayfinder, but it would be the safest course of action."

  The mercenary's words weighed heavily on Cholik's thoughts. He had sought out Kabraxis with his mind, but the demon was nowhere to be found. The situation irritated andfrightened him. As big as the church was, there was nowhere for him to go if he'd been targeted by assassins.

  "No," Cholik said. "I am guarded by Dien-Ap-Sten's love for me. That will be my buckler and my shield."

  "Yes, Wayfinder. I apologize for doubting."

  "Doubters do not stay in the grace of the Prophet of the Light for long, captain. I would have you remember that."

  "Of course, Wayfinder."

  Cholik strode up the final flight of steps to the balcony. The night wind whipped over him. There was no sign of the mystical winds of which Rhellik had spoken. But Cholik's eyes settled on the burning ship loose on the river current.

  Flames roiled across the entire length of the ship, twisting and shifting and racing toward the heavens. Swirls of orange and red embers leapt up from the topmost parts of the masts and rigging, dying in their suicidal race to reach the night sky. In the next moment, the ship rammed into one of the vessels anchored in the river harbor, catching the other ship broadside.

  A shower of embers and flying debris from the sails blew over the line of ships beyond the two that remained locked together. Torches and lanterns marked the sailors running to deal with the fire and save the ships. As tightly packed as they were, the fire would spread rapidly if it remained unchecked.

  Cholik glanced upriver, spotting the guards at the base of the river where the hanging courtyard had been torn away. He watched in confused speculation as the guards leapt from their craft and waded through the water. Only when their lanterns and torches neared the opening in the sewer did he spot it.

  "They're inside the sewers," Cholik said.

  Rhellik nodded. "I have already sent a runner to take some of my men there to intercept them. We have maps of the sewer systems." His mouth tightened into a grim line. "We shall protect you, Wayfinder. You need have no fear."

  "I have no fear," Cholik said, turning to address themercenary captain. "I am chosen of Dien-Ap-Sten. I am the Wayfinder of the Way of Dreams where all miracles take place. The men who have broken into my church are dead men, whether they know it or not. If they don't die at the hands of the guards or at my own hands, then they will die at the hands of Dien-Ap-Sten. Although generous to his believers, Dien-Ap-Sten is merciless against those who would strike against him."

  The guards funneled into the breached sewer tunnel. Their lantern light and torchlight made the opening glow cherry red like a wound gone bad with poisonous infection.

  "Pass the word along to your men, captain," Cholik said. "I want them to watch for the burned man who attacked me last month."

  "Yes, Wayfinder. I only pray that no worshipper comes here this night with such an affliction in hopes of being healed. Such a person would find only death waiting."

  Cholik stared across the black river. Clusters of lights stood on either bank. More lights raced along the two bridges that connected the north and south sections of the city.

  When the attackers were caught, and Cholik had every reason to believe that they would be, they would be put to death. He'd have their heads mounted on pikes at the main entrance through the church walls, and he would say that Dien-Ap-Sten had commanded that it be so, to show the enemies of the Church of the Prophet of the Light that the prophet could be fierce and unforgiving as well. It would temper the faith of those who believed, and it would be a grand story that would bring more people in to see the church and the religion.

  Buyard Cholik.

  Surprised by the demon's voice in his head, Cholik started. "Yes, Dien-Ap-Sten."

  The mercenary captain signaled his men, waving them back away from Cholik, taking two steps himself. He touched the back of his sword hand to the tattoo that hadbeen placed over his heart when he had sworn loyalty to the church. A rote prayer to the prophet tumbled from his lips, praying for a safe and enlightening journey that the wisdom and power of Dien-Ap-Sten be spread even farther.

  Return to the services, Kabraxis said. I will not have those disrupted. I will not be shown as weak or wanting. The demon sounded far away.

  "Who has attacked the church?" Cholik asked.

  Taramis Volken and his band of demon hunters, Kabraxis said.

  A worm of fear crawled through Cholik's heart. Although he had not talked to Kabraxis of the demon hunter, Cholik had read about the man. Taramis Volken had been a powerful force against demons for years. Once he had read and heard some of the stories about the man, Cholik remembered reading about him from the archives in the Zakarum Church. Taramis Volken was viewed as an inflexible man, one who would not quit. The demon hunter had proven that over the last few weeks. Ever since recovering Stormfury, Hauklin's sword, the group had vanished.

  They've only been hidden, Kabraxis said. Now they are once more in my grasp.

  But before he could stop himself, Cholik wondered if they were somehow in Taramis Volken's grasp instead. All his training in the Zakarum Church had taught him that demons didn't enter the human world without affecting the balance between Light and Darkness. Taramis Volken had proven himself to be the champion of Light on several occasions.

  Taramis Volken will die in those sewers, Kabraxis growled inside Cholik's mind. Doubt me, and you will pay, Buyard Cholik, even if you are my chosen one.

  "I don't doubt you, Dien-Ap-Sten," Cholik said.

  Then go. I will deal with Taramis Volken.

  "As you wish, my prophet." Cholik touched his head in benediction, then turned with a swirl of his robe.

  "Wayfinder," Rhellik said, looking up, "returning to the cathedral might not be the safest thing you can do."

  "It is the safest place to be," Cholik said, "when you go there with Dien-Ap-Sten's blessing." And not going there could be the most dangerous. But he amended that even as he thought it.

  The most dangerous place to be was in the sewers beneath the Church of the Prophet of the Light.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Hairless tails flicking, sharp teeth snapping, the rat packs poured toward Darrick, Taramis Volken, and the demon hunters. The pale yellow light of the warriors' lanterns and torches played over the wriggling rat bodies as they raced along the ledges and the uneven walls and swam through the murky water of the sewer mixing with the river encroaching through the break in the tunnel behind them.

  For a moment, ice-cold terror thudded through Darrick's veins as he thought about being covered over in a mass of furry bodies and dragged under the water. The other warriors cursed and called out to the Light as they spread out and took up defensive positions.

  Rhambal stood tall and massive at the head of the group. With a backward swipe of his shield, the warrior knocked a dozen of the leaping rats from the air. The thuds of their bodies slamming against the shield echoed in the sewer tunnel.

  "Stand," Taramis ordered his warriors. "Hold them from me for only a moment more."

  Rats leapt from the walls, landing on the armored helms and shoulders of the warriors. Their claws scratched against the plate and chainmail, demanding blood.

  Darrick swiped at one of the foul creatures and halved it from nose to tail with Hauklin's sharp blade. The rat's blood sprayed across him, blinding him in one eye for a moment. By the time he'd wiped the blood from his face and cleared his visi
on, three more rats landed on him, staggering him with their sudden weight. The rats started up toward his face at once, the flickering torchlight dancingacross their fangs. Cursing, Darrick knocked the rats from him. They plopped into the water and disappeared for a moment before they bobbed back to the surface.

  Despite their best efforts, the warriors gave ground before the onslaught of rats. Blades and hammers flashed through the air, coming dangerously close to hitting their comrades. Blood mixed in with the dark sewer water and the white froth of the river rushing into the tunnel.

  The undertow created by the pull of the river and the push of the sewer almost dislodged Darrick's tenuous stance atop the muck-lined stone floor. Darrick whipped the sword around, amazed at how easily and fluidly the weapon moved. Dead rats and pieces of dead rats flew around him, but still many managed to reach him. Their fangs cut his arms and legs where they were left uncovered by the chainmail shirt he wore.

  Working quickly, Taramis inscribed magical symbols in the air. Green fire followed his fingertips, and the finished symbols glowed brightly. With another gesture, the sage sent the symbols spinning forward.

  The symbols exploded in the air only a few feet away, and white light stabbed out. The light shafts speared through the rats and dropped them in their tracks, shredding the flesh from their bones till only skeletons remained.

  For a moment, Darrick believed the danger had passed. The bites stung, but none of them was bad enough to slow him. Infection, however, was a concern, but only if they lived through the attack on the church.

  "Taramis," Palat said, supporting one of the warriors and keeping a hand pressed over his neck. "One of the rats tore Clavyn's throat and cut the jugular vein. If we don't get the bleeding stopped, he's going to die."

  Wading through the rising water to examine the warrior, Taramis shook his head. "There's nothing I can do," he whispered hoarsely. They'd not been able to find healing potions along the way and lacked gold to buy it, besides.

  Palat's face turned wintry hard as the blood continued seeping between his fingers. "I'm not going to let him die,damn it," the grizzled old warrior said. "I didn't come all this way just to watch my friends die."

  Shaking his head, Taramis said, "There's nothing you can do."

  Horror touched Darrick, sliding past the defenses he tried to erect. If Clavyn died a quick death, they'd have to leave his body there-for the rats. And if the warrior died slowly, he'd have to die alone, because they couldn't afford to stay with him.

  Since arriving in the tunnel, Darrick had stepped back into that safe place he'd first created to endure his father's beatings and harsh words. He refused to let Clavyn's death touch him.

  No, Mat whispered. He doesn't have to die, Darrick. Use the sword. Use Hauklin's sword.

  "How?" Darrick asked. Inside the tunnel, his voice cut through the splashing echoes of the water swirling into the walls on either side of him.

  The hilt, Mat replied. The hilt must be pressed to Clavyn's flesh.

  Desperate, not wanting to see the man die in such an ignoble fashion, Darrick moved forward. As he did, the sword's blade glowed fierce blue again.

  Palat stepped forward, standing between Darrick and the wounded warrior. "No," Palat said. "I'll not have you ending his life."

  "I'm not going to kill him," Darrick said. "I'm going to try to save him."

  Still, the big warrior refused to move.

  In that moment, Darrick knew that he'd never been one of them and would never be one of them. They had traveled together and eaten together and fought together, but he was apart from them. Only his ability to take Hauklin's sword had bound them to him. Anger stirred in him.

  Darrick, Mat said. Don't give in to this. You're not alone.

  But Darrick knew that wasn't true. He'd been alone all his life. At the end, even Mat had left him.

  No, Mat argued. The way ye're feelin' isn't real, Darrick. It'sthe demon. It's Kabraxis. He's down here with us. He's aware of us. Even now, there are warriors coming to intercept yer group. But Kabraxis's thoughts are within ye's. I'm tryin' to keep him from ye, but he's sortin' out yer weaknesses. Don't let the demon turn ye from these men. They need ye.

  A fierce headache dawned between Darrick's temples, then throbbed with an insane beat that almost dropped him to his knees in the cold water. Black spots swam in his vision.

  Use the sword, Darrick, Mat insisted. It can save all of ye.

  "What can I do?" Darrick asked.

  Believe, Mat answered.

  Struggling, Darrick tried to find the key to make the magic work. It would be better if there were a magic word or something else. All he could remember was how the sword had acted and felt at Ellig Barrows's house, and how the sword had behaved when it lit the riverbank to reveal the tunnel they'd clambered through only moments before. It wasn't belief, Darrick knew, but it was something he knew to be true.

  The sword shivered and glowed blue again. Calm warmth filled the tunnel and soaked into Darrick's flesh and bones as a humming sound filled the air. In stunned amazement, he watched as the blood stopped slipping between Palat's fingers.

  Hesitantly, Palat removed his hand from Clavyn's neck, revealing the jagged wound that had severed the warrior's jugular. As they watched, the flesh knitted, turning back into seamless flesh with only a small scar left behind.

  The humming and the warmth continued, and Darrick watched as even the wounds he'd endured healed, including the rip along his ribcage made by the arrow earlier. In less than a minute, the warriors were all healed.

  "Blessed by the Light," Rhambal said, a childlike grin on his broad face. "We've been blessed by the Light."

  "Or saved to be killed later," Palat growled, "if you're going to stand there flapping your lips."

  Darrick reached for Mat, wanting to hear his voice.

  Stay strong, Mat said. The worst is yet to come. This is only the calm before the storm.

  "Damn," Palat swore, pointing back the way they'd come. "The guards are nearly upon us."

  Head buzzing, still filled with the headache, Darrick gazed back along the tunnel.

  Flickering light filled the darkness behind them, proof that the guard ship had arrived. Splashing echoed around Darrick and signaled the guards' approach.

  "Forward," Taramis ordered, lifting his lantern and moving farther up the sewer.

  The group started forward, fighting the water and the sewer's slick stone bottom. The darkness ahead of them retreated before the torches and the lanterns. Darting through the shadows and the water, a few rats shrilled and squeaked at their approach but made no move to attack.

  Something thudded into Darrick's side, drawing his attention. He looked down, barely able to spot the short piece of ivory bone that slid through the water. At first, he thought the bone was some sore of creature with a hard carapace, then he saw that it was a leg bone from one of the rats Taramis had slain with his spell.

  "Hey," Rhambal called out, reaching down and snatching a small rat's skull from the water. "These are the bones of the rats."

  Before the big warrior could say any more, the skull leapt from his hand and snapped at his face, causing him to draw back. He swept his armored fist at it, but the skull was gone, dropping back into the water.

  "Hold," Taramis said, taking a lantern from one of the nearby warriors and raising it. The light chased the darkness, splintering the shadows and reflecting from the tossed and uneven planes of the water.

  Revealed by the lantern light, hundreds of bones slid through the water, flashing greenish white under the light.

  "It's the demon's doing," Palat snarled. "The demon knows we're down here."

  In the next instant, a frightening figure surged frombeneath the water. The line of warriors closest to it stepped back.

  Formed of the rats' bones, the creature stood eight feet tall, built square and broad-chested as an ape. It stood on bowed legs that were whitely visible through the murky water. Instead of two arms, the bone creature
possessed four, all longer than the legs. When it closed its hands, horns formed of ribs and rats' teeth stuck out of the creature's fists, rendering them into morningstars for all intents and purposes. The horns looked sharp-edged, constructed for slashing as well as stabbing. Small bones, some of them jagged pieces of bone, formed the demon's face the creature wore.

  "That's a bone golem," Taramis said. "Your weapons won't do it much harm."

  The bone golem's mouth, created by splintered bones so tightly interwoven they gave the semblance of mobility, grinned, then opened as the creature spoke in a harsh howl that sounded like a midnight wind tearing through a graveyard. "Come to your deaths, fools."

  Taramis gestured with his free hand, inscribing a mystic symbol. Immediately, the symbol became a pumpkin-sized fireball that streaked for the incredible bone creature.

  Striking the bone golem in the chest, the impact of the fireball knocked the creature back on its heels for a moment. Flames wreathed the demon-made thing, crawling through the gaps in the bones till it seemed to be burning on the inside as well. Steam welled out of the bone golem but didn't appear to do any further damage.

  Opening its mouth again, the bone golem howled once more, and this time flames spat into the air as well. The ululating wail echoed the length of the sewer, so loud it was deafening. Several of the warriors put their hands to their ears, their mouths open as they screamed in pain.

  Darrick never heard the warriors' screams over the spine-chilling roar. But he heard Mat's voice.

  It's up to ye, Darrick, Mat said calmly. The bone golem will kill them if it gets the chance. Only Hauklin's enchanted blade can damage the creature.

  "I'm no hero," Darrick whispered as he looked at the creature.

  Perhaps not, Mat said, but there's no place to run.

  Glancing back over his shoulder, Darrick saw the line of church guards filling the sewer behind them. Retreat only offered the inevitable battle with the guards and the promise of even more waiting for them out in the harbor.