Raid let his fingers curl back away from the studs and raised his hand so that the back of it brushed the top of the slot. He found what he was looking for almost immediately. Smiling to himself, he pulled his arm out of the hole.
Uldane screwed up his face. “Nothing happened.”
“That’s because I didn’t try to turn the key.” Setting the bundle from his pack on the ground, Raid unwrapped it to reveal a pair of gloves. The leather was soft and fine, the best he’d been able to find. The glove maker had questioned the strange modifications Raid had requested, including the curved vane of brass that lay alongside the thumb across the back, but he’d stitched them up quickly enough. Raid stripped off his other gauntlet and hesitated briefly. Should he test the other hole? No, he decided. The old adventurer had been adamant that the arrangement of studs was the same in both. Raid pulled on the gloves and tightened the cords that ran from the little finger through little eyelets on the back of his hand to the base of the brass vane. He looked up at Tragent.
“If this doesn’t work and the blades come down, I want you to put your sword through me.”
Tragent nodded. Raid faced the square holes, took a slow breath, and put his arms inside. The leather, as fine as it was, dulled his sense of touch. Finding the slots and bending his arms into them was no trouble, but he had to locate the studs on the left almost by memory, then blindly match the position of his fingers and thumb on the right. He paused, fighting to slow his racing heart. He could feel a cold sweat on his forehead.
“What the old man and his party didn’t think of,” he said, “was that this door wasn’t meant to be opened by humans, elves, dwarves, half-orcs, or any other common race. It was meant to be opened by a rakshasa. And a rakshasa’s hands are back to front.”
Right hand and left hand moving together, he pushed his fingers against the studs, but kept his thumbs still while stretching his little fingers wide. Tugged by the taut cords, the brass vanes rose—and pressed the studs hidden in the top of the slots the way a rakshasa’s thumbs would have.
For a moment, nothing happened. Raid’s heart felt like it had stopped.
Then with a grinding louder than a dozen millstones, the statue on his right slid aside to reveal another passage. Pale greenish light filtered out of it.
Raid let out his breath, allowed the brass vanes to fall, and withdrew his arms from the holes. “The heart,” he said, “of the Temple of Yellow Skulls.”
“Really?” said Uldane. “This is it? What do you think makes that light?” He skipped toward the newly opened doorway.
Fury rose through Raid. “Uldane! Stay where you are!”
The halfling froze. So did Tragent and Dohr. Raid felt heat in his face. His blood roared in his ears. His fingers curled into claws that he could imagine around Uldane’s neck—
No.
He forced the anger out. “I’ve worked too long for this,” he said tightly, making sure that he locked eyes, however briefly, with each of the others. “I’ll be the first one through.”
Dohr and Tragent nodded. Uldane looked like a kicked dog. Raid still kept one eye on him as he stowed the gloves in his pack and retrieved his gauntlets. He wiped his axes again, then tossed the bloody rag on top of one of the dead gricks and turned to face the green light. “Let’s go.” The corridor beyond the doorway was short and led to more stairs. Floor and stairs rippled with cold green flames similar to the witchfire that sometimes played around the masts of ships at sea. Raid glanced at Dohr. The sorcerer studied the flames, then nodded. Raid stepped into the corridor and felt no more than a light tingle across his lower legs. In fact, the fire seemed to flow away from his feet; every step left a brief shadow behind.
At the top of the stairs, down another short corridor stood a pair of tall doors carved out of some fine-grained black stone made even darker by the green flames that flitted across their surface. Once again, the figures of rakshasas dominated the carvings, but this time they stood apart and a leering skull filled the space between them, split down the middle of the doors. Raid stopped and considered it for a long moment, then jerked his head at Uldane. “Look to see if there are any traps.”
Uldane perked up at that. He slipped past Raid and crept down the corridor, examining the walls and testing the floor with every step. He nodded in satisfaction. “No traps here. Come forward.” He turned to the door itself and moved a little closer.
With a groan of ancient hinges, the doors split and swung open. Witchfire stretched and broke from them like cobwebs.
Uldane jumped back, a dagger appearing in his hand. He looked to Raid. “I didn’t do that.”
“I know.” Raid walked down the corridor. Every step filled him with excitement. He was close now. So close. He walked up to the open door and stepped through.
The doors opened to a landing about halfway up a vast, rounded chamber. The same greenish flame that lit the hall danced on broad stone stairs and walkways connecting platforms at different heights throughout the chamber. Stairs, walkways, and platforms vaulted through space without any visible means of support. It was like standing on the edge of a vast web spun by spiders of stone. Something tugged at Raid’s mind as he stared, a feeling that the pattern of stairs and walkways was only a part of something larger that defied comprehension.
Suspended throughout the pattern of the web were the skulls, gold gleaming in the green radiance. Raid tried to count them, but something in the maze of pathways confounded his efforts. The skulls slipped out of his mind, almost as if they were moving around whenever he took his eyes off them. However many skulls there were, though, all of them faced in the same direction: Their empty eye sockets stared toward one large platform in the middle of the chamber. The platform was empty save for the flash of the green flame on a series of metal circles inlaid into its surface, but Raid could imagine the ancient rakshasa prince who had built this place standing there under the gaze of the skulls.
“This is incredible,” said Uldane, and for once Raid felt no urge to thrust him back. “I really wish Shara and Albanon could have been here. They’d like to see it.”
“Incredible is one word for it,” Dohr said tightly. Barely restrained lightning crackled around the half-orc’s fingers. “This place seethes with power. Let’s collect the skulls and get out of here.”
Tragent, however, hung back, hovering on the threshold of the door with his sword at the ready. “Wait.” His eyes moved slowly around the stonework web before coming back to Raid. “You said to keep our most powerful attacks in reserve. What’s the danger?”
“I don’t know,” said Raid. That much was the truth. The Eye had guided him along the path that led to his destiny. Of what else lay at the end of that path, it had revealed nothing except a strong foreboding. “But there must be something. Would you leave a treasure like the skulls without protection?”
Tragent’s face tightened. “We should stay on guard.” He took a step into the chamber.
Just as they had opened when Uldane approached them, the stone doors groaned and started to close as soon as the swordsman moved away from them. Tragent and Uldane both cursed. Tragent tried to step back across the threshold, but the swinging doors didn’t stop moving—he had to jump back or risk being caught between them. Uldane moved faster, drawing a thick-bladed dagger and jamming it into the one of the pivoting hinges. The door hesitated for a moment, long enough for Tragent and Dohr together to try pushing back against it, but to no avail. With a screech, the dagger bent and snapped. The pieces went clattering and sliding down to the curved floor of the chamber. The doors slammed shut.
“No! Bloody no!” cursed Dohr, throwing himself against the stone. “Now what are we supposed to do?”
“Look for a trigger,” Uldane said. “No one makes a room that they can get into but can’t get out of.”
He took one side of the door. Tragent took the other. Dohr kept pounding at the near-invisible seam between the doors as if that would make them open. And Raid …
<
br /> Raid could almost imagine that he heard the whispers of the Chained God again. Your destiny is at hand. Claim the skulls. He turned to look back out into the chamber.
The green flames that danced along the stairs and walkways had grown steady, like candles placed inside a lantern. They grew brighter as he watched, losing their green tinge and fading toward white brilliance. The others noticed the growing brightness as well. Raid heard them stop their struggling and turn around.
He drew his axes. “Forget the door,” he said.
A dry whispering raced around the room. White sparks flashed in the empty sockets of the golden skulls—and were met with two flaring columns of light among the circles on the central platform. Then the columns shattered and two burning forms thrust themselves, roaring like furnaces, into the world.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
One of the forms swung an arm and Raid saw a big chunk of something dark and smoking fly up at them. The excitement of battle surged through him, this time mixed with the heady thrill of fear. “Scatter!” he spat, and dove away.
The hurled missile cracked into the spot where he’d been standing and shattered into sharp fragments. Hot shards of rock pierced his armor, stinging the skin beneath. The stink of burning sulfur washed over him. Raid rolled to his feet close to the edge of the platform, checked on the others—all standing up, Dohr’s face bleeding from a flying chip he hadn’t managed to avoid—then looked to their opponents.
The thrill of fear turned sour in his mouth.
Even against the brilliance of the now white flames, looking at one of the two forms below was like staring into the heart of an inferno. Orange fire raced and whirled, crackled and roared, in the form of a burning whirlwind half again as tall as Raid. Dark shadows among the twisting flames made a mocking face. Two long tendrils that stretched out from the thing’s body hissed and popped as they whipped through the air.
If the first creature was all bright flame and burning air, the second was as dark as a smith’s discarded slag—save that where the rocky shell of its form split and cracked, the stuff within glowed red hot. Its eyes were smoking embers and its powerful arms ended in clublike fists that oozed molten rock.
Both creatures were already moving, the stony one rumbling on to the nearest walkway, the burning one simply rising into the air with deadly grace. Tragent cursed. “Elementals,” he said. “A firelasher and a rockfire dreadnought.”
“How do we fight them?” asked Uldane.
“The same way we fight anything else,” Raid said. He raised his axes. “Hit them with everything we’ve got. Defeating them may be the key to getting the door open again.”
Tragent grabbed his shoulder. “Then you need to listen to me,” he said sharply. “You can’t charge into battle on your own again.”
His touch brought Raid’s anger to the fore again, but Tragent was already glancing away from him toward the advancing elementals. “Dohr and Uldane, throw spells and knives against the firelasher. Raid and I will take the dreadnought. It looks like it hits hard.” He slapped his armor and looked back to Raid. “Ready?”
In his gut, Raid knew the swordsman was right. The tangle of stairs, walkways, and platforms was their friend. The flying elemental was slowed in its advance while the crawling stone beast no longer had an easy opportunity to target them with hurled missiles. They might stand a chance against the creatures if they fought intelligently.
That didn’t mean he liked it. He bared his teeth at Tragent, turned, and sprinted down the nearest stairs. Behind him, he heard Dohr’s voice rise in a spell like a howling wind.
Battle was joined.
The platforms and stairs that hampered the elementals, though, hampered Raid and his companions as well. There was no clear path through the maze—Raid found his charge broken by the need to cross walkways and twist around corners. A blast of lightning hurled by Dohr burst against a pillar, leaving the firelasher unharmed in its shadow.
“Uldane, up!” ordered Tragent. “Take the high ground.”
“It flies,” Uldane screamed back. “It always has the high ground!” Raid saw the halfling climb anyway, leaving the stairs to leap among the walkways like a monkey.
That was an idea he liked. He darted over to the edge of the platform he stood on and peered over. Almost directly below him, the dreadnought made a sound like grating stone and flicked a fist at him. A lump of rock that glowed red hot flew from the stubby fist. Raid leaned back. The missile soared past the platform to shatter against the underside of a walkway overhead. Hot shards rained down. Tragent, caught among them, shouted in pain. The swordsman’s agony brought a smile to Raid’s face. He leaned out, let another burning rock pass a handbreadth from his head, then leaped over the edge with a bellow, axes swinging as he dropped on to the elemental.
He knew it was a mistake almost instantly. A terrible heat surrounded the thing—it was like leaping into a furnace. There was no backing out of his leap, though. His roar changed to a scream as he brought his axes down on the dreadnought with all of his weight and all of the momentum of his fall behind them.
He might as well have tried to chop through the stone platform. His axes skipped across the rocky surface of the dreadnought’s shoulder before catching a burning crack and ripping it wide. Liquid fire blazed out and splashed across Raid’s arm and face. He screamed as it burned his cheek and ran down his neck under his armor to sear his torso.
The elemental, however, showed no pain. Mighty arms grabbed Raid before he could fall away and hugged him close. The hide of his armor smoldered. Raid arched his back, trying to keep his already burned face away from the hot rock. Caught in the monster’s grasp, he was too close to do anything but beat at it with the handles of his axes.
Then Tragent dropped down behind the elemental. It swung around at the sudden movement, rock grating like a snarl. Tragent swayed back and forth, his sword drifting like a snake. The elemental hissed—and Tragent struck, darting around and driving his sword through a break in the stone and deep into its fiery guts. His attack hurt it far more than Raid’s wild swing had. The dreadnought flung back its head and roared.
Raid felt its grip on him weaken. Drawing both arms back, he slammed the butts of his axes into either side of its head. It roared again, dropped him, and staggered away. Tragent moved swiftly to stand over him. “Get up before it recovers!” he snapped.
The command burned hotter than the elemental’s touch. Raid choked back his pain and shoved Tragent away, then forced himself to his feet. “You don’t give me orders.”
“I will if it keeps us alive. If we work together, we can take it.” Keeping his eyes on the elemental, Tragent jerked his head upward. “See what Dohr and Uldane are doing?”
Raid risked a glance. The halfling and the half-orc were doing a good job of keeping the firelasher off balance. Dohr’s lightning flashed and cracked, blasting gaps into the swirling flame. When it turned its attention on him, however, Uldane hurled a well-aimed knife accompanied by a mocking taunt. Raid had no idea if the elemental understood his words, but it seemed to understand his tone. Fiery arms whipped at him. Uldane just ducked out of the way—and Dohr hit the firelasher with another spell. Raid looked back to the dreadnought as it shook itself and turned its burning eyes on them once more.
He was so close to taking the skulls. His hands tightened on his axes. “What do we do?”
“Flank it, one to either side,” said Tragent. “Try to fight past the heat—”
The dreadnought lunged at them with a grinding roar before he could finish, but Raid didn’t need to hear any more. He met the elemental, matching its roar. The heat of its body seared him again as soon as he moved close, but this time he didn’t try to fight it. He embraced the pain as it scoured his flesh. It became a part of his fury. He bellowed again and unleashed a flurry of blows that drove the elemental back.
Tragent stayed to its other side, taking advantage of momentary openings as the dreadnought tried to fend off Raid’s furi
ous attacks. His sword licked into the deep cuts that Raid’s axes chopped into the monster’s rocky hide; his shouts urged Raid to even heavier, faster blows. Raid ground his teeth together and just fought until his armor smoked. Until the elemental’s torso and arms were scored with deep, glowing gashes.
The injuries barely slowed it down. Raid twisted under a swing of its fists and swept down with a blow that should have sheared off a good chunk of the thing’s side. Rock splintered and fell away, but the elemental’s molten interior flowed to the surface and took its place like a scab forming from drawn blood. The elemental responded by bringing its fist down in a hammer blow that numbed Raid’s entire left arm.
“Don’t stop!” Tragent yelled. He drew the elemental’s attention with a series of feints. The distraction gave Raid the chance to shake feeling back into his arm, but he knew in his gut that it wasn’t enough. It was as if something was sustaining the dreadnought—and the firelasher, too. The flaming monster’s swirling form seemed a little sluggish, but nothing more. Dohr’s powerful blasts of lightning had faded to sporadic jolts. Uldane had run out of knives and was reduced to mockery alone.
So close, yet not close enough. Strain showed in Dohr’s face and, in spite of his words, Tragent’s. They weren’t going to be able to keep up the fight much longer. Only Uldane still seemed full of energy and optimism. “Is that all you’ve got?” he shouted at the firelasher. “I’ve seen better out of a scullery maid trying to light tinder with an old flint and rusty steel!”
Maybe something in the tone of the insult finally penetrated to whatever served the elemental for a mind. It whirled and surged toward Uldane faster than Raid would have thought possible, its whip-like arms leaving streaks of brightness in the air. Uldane’s eyes went wide and he leaped from one platform to the next to take cover—
—behind one of the floating golden skulls.
The firelasher froze. The tendrils of its arms drifted like seaweed in water only an arms length from Uldane’s otherwise insignificant hiding place. The halfling was hardly concealed at all. In the elemental’s place, Raid wouldn’t have hesitated: He would have cleaved the skull in two right between its glowing eyes and taken Uldane with the same blow. So why had the firelasher paused?
The Temple of Yellow Skulls Page 14
