The masked witches botg-4

by Richard Lee Byers

  That should do it, the priestess said.

  Aoth took a breath. Let s go, he said and ran out into the open space.

  He made it in three strides, and then a jolt of pain staggered him.

  From his vantage point in the antechamber at the foot of the stairs, Aoth hadn t been able to see the big, stylized, staring eyes carved high on the walls of the vault beyond. No doubt that was as those who d fashioned the magical mantrap intended it to be. The pupil of each hieroglyph glowed red like the pupil of a cyclops s eye, and their gazes pressed down on him like a prodigious weight.

  As he and his comrades lurched and stumbled, trying to keep their feet, he spotted the battlements directly above the arch they d just passed through. A pair of cyclopes stood there with crossbows in hand, ideally positioned to pick off intruders immobilized by the magic of the eye glyphs.

  Which was to say, ideally positioned to pick off Aoth and his companions. Waves of heat were rippling over his skin, which likely meant that countermagic was burning his enchantment of invisibility away.

  He had to move. He slapped at two of the tattoos under his mail. The first released a tingling surge of strength that washed away some of the pain. The second was a protective charm that, he hoped, would deflect some of the power of the eyes. Still feeling like he was carrying an enormous weight, he staggered one step, and then another.

  So did Cera. Keeper, she gasped, Keeper, Keeper, Keeper.

  Jhesrhi spoke in one of the tongues of Sky Home. A cold, howling wind sprang up at the intruders backs to shove them along.

  The wind helped, but Vandar still collapsed to his knees and couldn t rise unaided. Aoth lurched around, grabbed him by the forearm, and heaved him to his feet.

  It seemed to take forever to cross the courtyardlike space and duck into one of the smallest doorways. As soon as they did, the pain and feeling of relentless pressure disappeared. Aoth would have liked nothing better than to lean against the wall and catch his breath, but he forced himself to lead the others far enough down the passage that he was sure the cyclopes sentries couldn t see them. At that point, intricately carved stonework gave way to something that, except for the level floor, might almost have been a natural tunnel, although the darkly gleaming rock remained profoundly lovely.

  Well, Cera panted, her round face shiny with sweat. That was interesting. But let s hope there are no other little details that Choschax neglected to mention.

  That was well done back there, Jhesrhi said stiffly. My enchantments burned away fast. It was yours that kept us hidden.

  The eyes were designed to tear away veils of illusion, Cera replied. We were lucky the Keeper s gift wasn t precisely that.

  Vandar turned to Aoth. Thank you for helping me up, the berserker said, albeit grudgingly.

  I had to, said Aoth. If the guards had caught you, they would have started looking for the rest of us.

  Vandar scowled.

  Aoth sighed. By the Black Flame, lodge master, that was a joke, he said. Well, mostly. Obviously, we re all in this together, and we all look after one another as needed. He looked around. Is everyone ready to move?

  The others indicated they were.

  We re in a small tunnel with no decoration, said Aoth. My guess is that this is the area where the slaves or servants live and labor on their masters behalf. If Tymora smiles, we won t run into any cyclopes, and the thralls won t care about us. Just try to look like you belong.

  They prowled onward through what soon proved to be a maze of passages. In many respects, including the seductive beauty that kept snagging Aoth s attention, it was strange; but in others, it reminded him of the service areas of any palace. Goblins snored on pallets in a dormitory-like space. Tools some shaped so peculiarly that their intended use was a mystery leaned in corners or hung from pegs and hooks on the walls. And in a cluttered, filthy kitchen intended to feed the slaves, not their owners, the gutted carcasses of enormous rats dangled by their feet from the ceiling, and an iron cauldron steamed and bubbled on a bed of coals in a hearth.

  The orange glow of the coals was captivating. Despite Aoth s resolve to remain alert, they held his gaze for a moment, until someone said, Psst!

  Startled, he cast about. A hanging eviscerated rat with a bristling black pelt looked back at him with beady scarlet eyes. The combination of colors reminded him momentarily of Jet, although the griffon would surely have taken offense at the comparison.

  You re not dead, Vandar said.

  Do I look dead? asked the rat. Aoth heard the edge of pain in his high, cheeping voice.

  Cera said, Actually, yes.

  The creature sniggered. Fair enough, sunlady, fair enough, he said. But you could make me better, you and your healing hands.

  Maybe she could, Vandar said. But you have the look of either a corrupt fey or an awakened beast allied with them. So I don t know why she would.

  To keep me from tattling that there are intruders in the palace, the creature replied. Guards do wander by from time to time.

  The berserker drew his dagger. I know another way to keep you quiet, he said.

  Despite his mangled condition, the rat managed to raise his front paws in a placatory gesture. Easy, human! I was only joking, he said. The reason you should set me free is because you re either spies, thieves, or assassins, and I ve been spying here for a while myself. Whatever you re after, I can help you.

  Aoth glanced around, checking to see if anyone was approaching. No one was, as far as he could tell. Who are you, and who were you spying for? he asked.

  My name is Zyl, replied the rat. The name of the prince I serve wouldn t mean anything to you.

  But he s dark fey, isn t he? Vandar asked. Which means a creature in his service is the last person we should trust.

  If you know anything about fey, said Zyl, dark or otherwise, you know we keep a bargain or a promise. And I swear by Lurue s horn that if you free me and heal me, I ll help you perform whatever foolhardy task you came to accomplish.

  Cera looked to Aoth. We shouldn t leave any creature in such a plight, she said.

  Vandar hefted his knife. With respect, lady, I don t intend to, the beserker replied.

  Zyl kept his eyes fixed on Aoth. I truly can help, he said. And you ve fought alongside fouler things than me in your time.

  Aoth smiled a crooked smile. I don t know how you know that, but it s true, he said. Vandar, you ve already got a knife out, so you can cut that wire around his feet. Cut him, too, if he tries to bite or run.

  Scowling, the Rashemi got Zyl down and laid him on a table amid a scatter of bread crumbs and scraps of yellow fungus. Cera murmured a prayer that set her hand aglow and gently pressed her fingers to the rodent s ghastly wound.

  Afterward, the raw, vacant space didn t look any different. But Zyl did. He rose to his feet with renewed energy and said, Thanks. Now it s your turn, fire spirit. If you cool down the coals and the pot, I ll thank you, too.

  Jhesrhi aimed her staff and threw a flare of frost at the cauldron and the hearth. Steam puffed into being as cold met hot.

  Zyl jumped off the table, ran across the floor, sprang on the rim of the cauldron, and dropped inside. Over the course of the next few moments, pieces of rat viscera flew out of the vessel to land with a splat on the gleaming black floor. Aoth watched with slightly squeamish fascination as Zyl jumped back out after the organs, and, rearing onto his hind legs and using his forepaws like hands, stuffed them back inside his body cavity. When he had finished, he pulled his flaps of skin and muscle closed and sealed them with the stroke of a claw. His abdomen bulged and heaved as the organs inside presumably rearranged and reattached themselves.

  Zyl looked up and caught everyone staring. I mostly heal pretty well all by myself, he chattered. I just needed a push to get me started. Now, what s this errand you re on?

  Aoth told him.

  Still peering up from the floor, Zyl cocked his head. He seemed nonplussed, as if he hadn t just been hanging helpless with his guts stewin
g on the other side of the kitchen. That might not be so easy, he said.

  Well, said Aoth, you ve been spying. If you already know the information we re after, you can simply share and save us all some trouble.

  Unfortunately, I don t, replied the rat.

  So Let me think

  We ve stayed in this one spot too long already, Vandar said.

  Patience, berserker, Zyl said, I don t tell you how to slice your own flesh and foam at the mouth. Zyl looked back at Aoth. Follow me, he said as he dropped to all fours and headed for an exit.

  As they left the kitchen, Jhesrhi waved her hand in the direction of the hearth. Fire leaped up from the coals to set the cauldron boiling again and turn any leftover frost or water to vapor.

  If you re such an able spy, Vandar asked, how did they catch you?

  They didn t, said Zyl. They caught a common rat. If they d caught me, knowing it was me, I would have been hanging in a torture chamber, not the slaves larder.

  Still, Cera said, shifting her grip on her gilded mace, how did they get you?

  To you, healer, I ll confess they found me passed out drunk, Zyl said. When their masters aren t looking, the goblins distill a liquor from table scraps, toadstools, and such. It s foul, but I ve been in Lady Grontaix s home a long time. I d go mad if I didn t take a little pleasure when I had the chance. Now, hush, everyone. We re making too much noise.

  Aoth thought the rat was right, and so, though he was full of questions, he allowed Zyl to lead them stalking onward in silence. At one point, a cyclops warrior appeared up ahead, but he evidently couldn t see far enough in the gloom to spot the intruders. Aoth whispered, Freeze, his companions obeyed, and the hulking creature disappeared down a branching passage without ever realizing anything was amiss.

  By degrees, the tunnels and the chambers they connected became more and more rough and irregular, and showed fewer and fewer signs of use, until the intruders were essentially traversing natural cavern. Zyl stopped in front of an opening as broad as Aoth s hand that ran up from the floor to as high as the human s knee.

  This, said the rat, is the tunnel I use to spy on the mistress of the house. Don t worry, it s big enough for humans on the other side of the hole.

  Maybe, said Vandar. But can we break through the wall without making enough noise to bring every cyclops in the place down on top of us?

  The fire spirit can, Zyl replied.

  Frowning, Jhesrhi said, That s true. Just give me room to work.

  Everyone else stood back while she positioned herself in front of the appropriate section of wall. She recited words of power in one of the tongues of the earth elementals, her high clear voice managing the hard consonants and rasping inhuman sounds without a fumble. For a moment, the folds of her patched, stained cloak and the strands of her golden hair stirred as though a jealous wind was tugging at them in a plea for her attention.

  The wall split from the small hole upward, grinding and crunching. Beyond it, an entirely natural tunnel twisted away. The floor humped up and down. In some places, the walls pinched inward, and in others, the ceiling dipped low enough so that a human would have to stoop to pass beneath it.

  Does it get anymore cramped than this? Aoth asked.

  Some, Zyl replied. But I promise, you can all squirm through if you try.

  It turned out he was right, although at one point, the way narrowed into such a tight bottleneck that Aoth wondered if anyone but Jhesrhi would be able to wriggle through without leaving armor behind. Then it occurred to him to conjure a coating of grease into being on the surface of the stone, to make it easier to worm one s way through the tight spot, and when Aoth, with his wide shoulders and barrel chest, succeeded, he knew that his companions could, too.

  To his relief, the way widened out after that. Not long after, they reached a spot where a small fissure in the wall about four feet up made a natural peephole. A trace of light leaked through from the other side.

  Zyl leaped up onto a bulge in the stone just beneath the crack. He rose onto his hind legs, peered through, and then motioned for his companions to do the same. Crouching, Aoth obliged him.

  The vault on the other side was a sort of garden of stone, where sculpted trees and flowers, in many cases adorned with leaves, fruit, and blossoms of gold, silver, and some green metal or alloy, rose from the floor. Water splashed in fountains and ran through channels spanned by arching bridges. To human eyes, the bridges seemed anomalously broad and massive. But of course they needed to be to accommodate creatures as big as cyclopes, let alone the mistress to whom they owed their fealty.

  Lady Grontaix was lounging in a sort of gazebo, oversized like the bridges, in the center of the vault. Twice as large as any of the five male cyclopes attending her, she had a hairless hide the ugly mottled purple of a bruise, a hunchback, and one eye bigger than the other. The larger one was all amber except for a slit pupil, while the smaller one had a brown iris, a white sclera, and a round pupil.

  Aoth had never encountered such a creature before. Choschax had told him she was a fomorian, and as he looked at her, he experienced a sort of division of perception. He considered her one of the most grotesque creatures he d ever seen. But the Feywild invested even her deformity with its own kind of glamour.

  Still, if Grontaix herself didn t seem entirely grotesque, Aoth couldn t say the same for her current pastime. Though the cyclops males looked like children in comparison to their enormous lady, their attitude was that of the eager suitors Aoth had watched paying court to some celebrated beauty in places where extravagant gallantry was in vogue. One sat sketching the fomorian in charcoal, another was feeding her mushroom caps, and a third was declaiming what Aoth, though he didn t know the language, assumed to be cyclops love poetry. The poet punctuated the particularly passionate phrases by striking notes from the dulcimer in his lap.

  Aoth motioned for his companions to take a look. When it was her turn, Cera whispered, You must be joking.

  Ridiculous as it looks, Aoth replied just as softly, don t let it distract you from the fact that those creatures are dangerous. Now, Lady Luck has favored us. Grontaix is right there. We don t have to roam through her apartments hunting her. We re going to make the most of our good fortune by hitting hard and fast. He told his comrades what he wanted them to do.

  What about me? asked Zyl.

  Aoth had no idea what, if anything, the rat could do to help, and he didn t feel like investing the time to find out. Just make yourself useful however you can, he said.

  They all took deep breaths and shifted their grips on their weapons. Cera murmured a prayer that made Aoth and everyone else, presumably feel refreshed and clearheaded. With a thought, Jhesrhi cloaked herself in fire, then she spoke to the wall. She wanted the stone to open fast, not quietly, and it split with a deafening crack.

  Startled, Grontaix and her consorts jerked around. Aoth scrambled through the breach, leveled his spear, snapped a word of command, and so cast one of the spells stored inside the weapon. A cloud of greenish vapor burst into existence to envelop the gazebo. Aoth could smell its putrid stench even at a distance, and inside the billowing mist, someone started retching.

  The poet cyclops reeled out of the cloud with his dulcimer still in hand. His gaze stabbed at Aoth, who felt a twinge of headache, but with Cera s blessing fortifying him, he felt nothing worse. He hurled darts of azure light from the head of his spear, and they plunged into the cyclops s torso.

  The brute staggered but didn t go down. He hurled the oversized zither, and it flew at Aoth like a stone from a catapult.

  Caught by surprise, Aoth just barely managed to jump aside. The dulcimer slammed into the wall behind him with a crash of wood and a jangle of strings.

  The cyclops drew his blade and advanced. Aoth poised his spear to defend, but Vandar screeched like a griffon and raced past him to engage the giant. Aoth wondered if the berserker was actually following the plan or just charging headlong at the first foe to present himself. Either way, it
freed Aoth up to look for Lady Grontaix.

  As he cast about, he glimpsed Cera chanting and swinging her mace over her head. A shaft of searing light blazed from the head of the weapon and struck the cyclops who d fed his lady the mushroom caps squarely in the face. He cried out and clapped his hand over his eye.

  Meanwhile, Jhesrhi chanted at Aoth s back. Other than the breach she d just created, there were two ways into the vault, and her next task was to seal them before other cyclopes came rushing in. Masses of stone banged, crunched, and shifted as her power pulled them shut like curtains. Shaken loose, chunks of rock fell from the ceiling.

  Grontaix blundered out of Aoth s conjured fog. She had mushroom-and-red-wine vomit spattered down the front of her silken gown.

  You want me! Aoth shouted, advancing a couple paces. I made the mist!

  She responded by closing her small eye and glaring with the large one. Though he d never encountered a fomorian before, Aoth had heard that, like their cyclops vassals, they possessed the power of the evil eye. He twisted his head so as to not meet her gaze directly.

  It didn t matter. Chathi died again, burning in an instant when the rod in her hand exploded. Mirror plunged his insubstantial sword into Szass Tam s ravaged skeletal form, and they both blazed bright, but when the light faded, the ghost was gone, and the lich lord remained. Szass Tam turned, tore Bareris s head from his shoulders and then advanced on Aoth.

  Nor was he the only one. His staff glimmering with magic, Malark glided in on the sellsword s flank. Alasklerbanbastos and Tchazzar loomed above Aoth s other foes, each dragon whipping his head forward and opening his jaws wide as he spewed his breath weapon.

  Aoth cried out and staggered, dropping his guard. Grontaix raced forward, her huge hands extended to seize him.

  Aoth waited until she was nearly on top of him. Then, pleased that his trick had worked, he dodged, charged his spear with power, and thrust at her knee as she pounded by.