Ophion screeched as the loudest sounds and sparks occurred. The temple’s hum increased, and then it turned into a high-pitched whine. At that moment, it stopped, and the blue light vanished. Ophion’s red color flickered and faded as the dragon soared away from the temple and back to the wagon.
Himilco cried out as the dragon swooped low. The wings clapped like thunder and Ophion landed on the wagon. Boards groaned in complaint as the wagon swayed back and forth. The mules brayed in terror and might have bolted.
The Gray Wolf pulled the reins, keeping the beasts in check.
The dragon’s eyes were a dull pink color, and froth blew from his maw. Slowly, ponderously, Ophion crawled for the back of the wagon, entering it. Like a closing castle gate, the door banged shut.
Himilco sat stunned at the spectacle. This was incredible.
Then Dabar reined his horse beside them. Several of his Nasamons galloped for the temple.
That awoke Himilco from his stupor. His greed ignited. There was magic in the temple. The sorcerous battle just now proved it. He began to climb down. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dabar cock his head. It seemed as if the Nasamon was listening to an inner voice.
“Where are you going?” Dabar asked.
“I would like to take a look inside,” Himilco said.
Dabar waited and then nodded. “Take nothing until Ophion arrives.”
“He’s coming in, do you think?” Himilco asked.
“Keep your acquisitive fingers to yourself,” Dabar said. “Our lord shall appear after he rests for a moment.”
Himilco kept the astonishment off his face. Dabar would never say something that way. Did Ophion possess Dabar as Bel Ruk possessed the Oracle?
“I hear and obey,” Himilco said.
“Be sure that you do,” Dabar said. Then, he kicked his heels against his horse’s flanks and galloped for the temple with the rest of his warriors.
Himilco shook his head, trying to clear it. Then, with the gopher-wood staff in one hand and the Emerald of Vision in the other, Himilco moved toward the temple in what he hoped appeared to be a half-stupefied manner. He must play this closely if he hoped to steal some ancient and valued artifact of power.
-8-
Elissa slipped over the mud wall that encircled the Temple of Ankey.
The beast—a dragon! Who would have believed such a monster existed? And the dragon used spells. Perhaps equally amazing, the priests of Ankey had fought back with sorcery. She would never have imagined such a thing, never have dreamed she’d be witness to it.
The incredible Temple of Ankey must be the reason why Himilco and his dragon had come to Mogador. Bel Ruk must have conjured the dragon, for the god was the Lord of Dragons.
Elissa had seen Himilco stagger through the temple’s front entrance. He seemed drunk. There were rumors about his using black lotus, but she didn’t think him such a fool as to addict himself to it. It must be a ploy.
Having come onto the grounds the back way, Elissa knelt beside a tombstone. Several of Ankey’s priests ran out of the back of the temple and to the lagoon. They deposited something in a rowboat. One climbed aboard, while the other shoved the boat into the lagoon.
At that moment, Nasamons with lanterns stepped out of the same back door. One of them lifted the lantern high. “You!” he shouted.
The priest in the boat ducked behind the gunwales. The other priest hiked up his robes and dashed for the gardens.
“Halt!” a Nasamon shouted.
The priest kept running.
Elissa expected the Nasamons to javelin him. Instead, two of them sprinted after the priest.
Elissa crawled on her belly as the Nasamons captured and bound the old priest. She reached the temple, slunk around a corner and ran a hand over the marble wall. It was time to gain height and see if she could drop on Himilco like a spider.
-9-
This dashing about the temple struck Himilco as sacrilegious. The priests of Ankey were like giant rats, squirming into odd places, seeking bolt holes. A Nasamon would shout. A priest might squeal in panic. There would be hurried steps, perhaps the scrape of something heavy. Then pounding footsteps and rattling lanterns told of Dabar and his warriors searching for an elusive man-rat.
Already, screams outside told of intense interrogations. They were pitiful cries. Priests protecting godly secrets should stoically endure pain. To howl like a common ruffian struck Himilco as shameless. Did the priests believe in Ankey or not?
Dabar and his warriors had lit candles and torches, and hooked lanterns everywhere. Himilco paused to examine a mural of a strangely armored soldier. From head to foot, the soldier had encased himself in plate-armor. Himilco touched the picture of the odd, circular sword in the armored man’s hand. The artist had failed to show the man’s gauntleted fingers. Himilco’s mouth sagged. This wasn’t a mural of a man. In every other detail, the artist had proven himself brilliant. This was a depiction of one of the fabulous automatons, the fabled machine-man Talos. Zarius’s papers had hinted about such a thing.
Himilco turned from the mural. He peered up at the great dome. Candlelight, torches and lanterns only illuminated so high. Darkness reigned up there. Himilco took out his emerald, studying it. The Rhune scaled the outer side of the dome. She must be after him.
A rusty squeal froze Himilco. He listened, and his eyes darted back and forth. The squeal came again, to his left.
Without moving, Himilco tried to pierce the murk. Failing, he peered into his emerald again. In moments, he spotted the source of the noise. An elderly priest in red robes crouched on a set of sunken stairs. The priest peered out of a trapdoor in the floor. Slowly, the old priest lifted the trapdoor higher, this time soundlessly.
Himilco’s head snapped up. Without the emerald, he now spied the barest outline of the trapdoor. It was at the edge of the candlelight about forty feet away.
Himilco listened carefully. The screams of the priests outside had become animal-like. The sounds of Dabar’s searchers inside the temple were only distant footfalls. Normally, Himilco would keep guards nearby, especially with the prowling Rhune. Tonight, he risked being alone in order to pocket a thing of great value. Hopefully, Ophion was weak after the battle. Therefore, now was the moment to discover and tuck away powerful sorcery from the temple.
The old bearded priest in his red robes dared set the trapdoor against the floor. With slow deliberation, the priest eased up the final stairs. Soon, the old fool shut the trapdoor.
Where does he think he’s going?
Himilco might have let the priest go in order to watch him through the emerald and find out. Likely, however, despite any fatigue, Ophion would soon enter the temple. Himilco wanted to know what lay down those stairs. It was dark down there, so he couldn’t use the emerald to find out. He would have to go himself with a torch.
Therefore, he tiptoed toward the old priest. As the man straightened, letting out a sigh, Himilco jabbed his staff against the man’s back. The old priest shrieked, turned and slid a knife from his belt. Surprised, Himilco swung hard. His staff made a hollow-sounding thud against the priest’s forehead. The old man’s eyes fluttered and he crumpled at Himilco’s feet. The knife thudded as it hit the floor—it made a heavier sound than a dagger should.
Himilco reached for the dagger and hesitated. Who knew what powers resided here? He knelt. The knife seemed normal enough, although there was something odd about the blade.
Gingerly, he picked it up and noticed a button embedded in the hilt. With his thumb, he depressed the button. The knife vibrated softly and made a faint hum. The temple had hummed earlier. With a startled shout, Himilco dropped the knife. The blade plunged toward the floor, hit and the hum intensified. To Himilco’s horror, the blade sank into the hardwood floor up to its hilt. Now the hum became even louder.
Greed came to Himilco’s rescue. Despite his surprise and fear of the unknown, he believed the knife might cut through the floor and vanish forever. He grabbed the pom
mel before that could happen. He drew the knife out of the floor as if drawing it out of an oiled sheath. It still vibrated, but the hum had lessened. On impulse, he depressed the button.
The hum and vibration stopped. He pressed the button again. It started up again. He turned it off and it became a normal-looking knife. Himilco set the knife on the floor. On his hands and knees, he inspected the cut in the hardwood. This was incredible.
Himilco climbed to his feet. The knife was a marvel. He had to own it. Yet…Ophion had warned him.
The dragon will take my knife.
With a thudding heart, Himilco studied the unconscious priest. With shaking hands, he unbuckled the priest’s belt. He shoved the prized knife into the strange scabbard. Then he wound the straps around the scabbard and tucked it in his robe, in a hidden pocket kept for just such eventualities.
Himilco rose and stared thoughtfully at the priest. Ophion would torture the fool. The priest would break sooner rather than later. From the soft groans the old priest had made earlier, he was already in pain. Likely, life was hard for him.
“I’ll give you mercy,” Himilco whispered.
He raised his gopher-wood staff. He clutched it with both hands. Then he beat the old man’s head until he heard bones crack and saw fluids pool onto the floor. If the old priest were able, he would have surely thanked him for this relatively quick death. It was better than what Ophion would have done to him.
Now, it was time to find a torch.
-10-
From high on the temple, Elissa heard screams. Himilco’s men tortured priests below. They obviously searched for knowledge concerning the temple and its sorcery.
Elissa secured a silken line to a spike driven into a marble beam. There were small windows high up here in the dome. Pigeons used them. Elissa eased past a nesting hen. It cooed softly, blind in the dark.
Elissa could see after a fashion with her better Rhune night-vision. She judged the distance to an open trapdoor and a dead priest lying beside it. She’d climbed up here just in time to see Himilco disappear down the hidden stairs. A terrible thrill of expectation boiled in her. The intensity of it surprised her. She so wanted to hear Himilco’s heels drum on the cold hard stones as she garroted him to death.
The silken line uncoiled into the darkness. Almost as quickly, she slid down the line. The end hovered seven feet off the floor. Elissa landed in a three-point crouch and swiftly covered the distance to the dead priest.
With a dagger in her grasp, she listened by the trapdoor. She heard footfalls that told her Himilco wore wooden heels. Elissa started down the narrow stairs after him, making no sound at all in her cat-soft boots. The steps wound around like a corkscrew into the earth as musty odors rose, and she felt the subterranean chamber’s damp chill. Soon, she spied the flicker of Himilco’s torch.
There were wooden wine caskets here. There were hanging sides of mutton and thick wheels of cheese. Deeper in the vault, where the arches began, were strange idols of armored soldiers. They held circular saws, and swords lacking blades. Rust coated the armor. Farther below, Himilco climbed into what looked like an exhibition display. He moved toward a stand that held a glass cube.
Elissa’s teeth flashed in a feral grin. She remembered two years ago. She remembered the kitchen maid, how grotesque the woman had looked sprawled in her own gore. Elissa vividly recalled Gepids swinging the severed heads of her half-brothers. Himilco the traitor had given the orders that had set everything in motion.
Elissa sheathed her dagger and took out the garrote. This was the Rhune essence of life. Retribution long sought and finally achieved in the best possible manner. She slipped into the display with Himilco. All around her stood rusty plate-armored suits. She could smell the traitor. Himilco hadn’t bathed in weeks. She parted her lips to whisper his name. She would loop the garrote around his neck just as she did. Before that occurred, however, the priest spun around. His dark eyes shined eerily. He pointed a staff at her. She lunged at him.
“Freeze, my darling,” he said.
Elissa froze, with every muscle, every motion perfectly caught in the act of trying to reach him. She toppled toward Himilco. Incredibly, he dropped his staff and caught her. He grunted at her weight. Then, he dragged her frozen feet across the display and propped her against a wall.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered.
Elissa heard him. Her body breathed, yet no matter how hard she strained, no matter how hard she tried to pry open her lips to speak, she was frozen in the same immobility as the idols around her. She should have thrown the dagger. Better yet, she should have used her blowpipe. Now the traitor had her and could begin his wicked little games. She had been a fool. Even worse, she had failed. She deserved to die.
-11-
Himilco inspected the frozen girl. No, she’s a woman now. She might even be pretty if she fleshed out a little. He patted a frozen arm, the one gripping a short wire rope. He believed Rhunes called it a garrote.
“Was that for me?” he whispered. He chuckled. “Really, Elissa—oh, yes, I remember your name. Does that surprise you?”
While in her frozen line of vision, he grinned. “It does surprise you. You’re speechless. My, my, I’m touched.”
He glanced at the glass cube on the stand. He pointed at it. “Do you see that? No. I suppose you can’t. Don’t worry about not being able to answer. I’m remarkably understanding. Some call it intuitive. I knew you were coming, and I had a spell all ready. I just needed to phrase the last words. Hmm. I wonder if I froze you too much.”
He pressed a thumb against her arm. It was hard like ice, although it was still as warm as flesh.
“How remarkable,” Himilco said. “Fear seems to have added potency to my spell. I wonder if that’s a new discovery.” He leaned nearer. “I hope you’ll excuse my giddiness. It’s not every night I outwit a dragon and beard a Rhune at her own stalking game. I’m impressed with your talents. Although,” he said, wagging a finger in her face, “I’m still unhappy with you over the Gauntlet of Ice. I could have used that.”
A noise above caused Himilco to whirl in fright and aim his staff at the stairs. He waited and then checked his emerald. He glanced at Elissa propped against the wall. He cleared his throat.
“Did you examine the mural on the wall upstairs? It’s most instructive. It shows Talos, or one like him.” He laughed. “Can you imagine? These desert priests have an entire cellar full of rusted automatons.”
Himilco rubbed his chin as he stared at the cube. With a start, he grinned at Elissa. “Sorry, I fade out at times. It’s the black lotus. You have no idea how much pressure it is to live in Bel Ruk’s court. It breaks everyone. It might have broken me, but I found serenity in lotus. Soon, I’ll have to rid myself of it. It won’t be easy, but I’m the greatest sorcerer alive. I bested Zarius Magonid, who used to be the greatest. I’m about to destroy Bel Ruk’s servant Ophion.”
Himilco nodded. “They think I’m besotted with black lotus. They think I’m tame. They underestimate me—just as you underestimated me. Did you really think you could tiptoe behind me and choke me to death?”
“Tut, tut,” Himilco said, patting her frozen cheek. “I could almost be angry with you. I’m tired of people thinking they’re cleverer than I am. It helps being able to unburden myself. I could almost thank you, and I sense your sympathetic mood.” Himilco cocked his head. “Do you know that you’re a marvelous listener? I wonder if that’s because you’re Rhune, well, half-Rhune anyway. Or is it because you’re awed to be standing in the presence of the greatest sorcerer alive?”
Himilco peered at the cube. He shook his head and frowned at Elissa. “I’m afraid we’ll have to end our chat. Despite your murderous intent, I really have little desire to kill you. Don’t get your hopes up, though. I will kill you, just as I killed that fool of a priest upstairs. It’s a matter of priorities. My skin comes before everything else. Still, because you’ve served me so well just now, I’ll make your passing swift a
nd painless.”
There was a new noise. Himilco whirled around. It sounded like…he grew pale. It sounded like a giant beast walking across a hardwood floor. He glanced around wildly. Then, he ran to an old rolled tarp and dragged it to the frozen assassin. Quickly, he levered Elissa onto her side. He rolled the tarp over her, only leaving her head exposed. He squatted beside her.
“The dragon comes and I’m sure Dabar is with him. You lie still and don’t say a word. I just realized that you know where the Gauntlet of Ice lies. Sometimes the black lotus makes me hazy. I still want the gauntlet. While we wait for them to leave, consider how much or how little you want to feel pain. I’ll thaw you out, so to speak, just enough so you can whisper in my ear. I can make it so you feel pain more than you would ever believe possible. If you’re wise, you’ll tell me right away. I wish I could tell you that torturing you will bother me. But I’ve ripped out so many hearts that a little flayed flesh means nothing.”
Himilco flipped the corner of the tarp loosely over her head and rearranged the display to disguise the assassin’s presence. Then he stood before the cube, contemplating it. He believed that’s what Ophion would be expecting him to do.
-12-
Elissa wanted to scream with rage. How could she have let this drug-besotted murderer web her so easily? She was supposed to have been the spider.
Elissa couldn’t breathe, blink an eyelid or even swallow her own saliva. Yet she had seen Himilco when he’d stepped in front of her and she’d heard every rambling word. He had known she was coming. He had readied a spell. Now everything was dark. Worse, the stairs creaked ominously.
How could the dragon squeeze through the opening?
A grim, overpowering presence filled the cellar. The dragon was here.
“Himilco Nara,” the dragon said in its deep voice.
“The cube,” Himilco said. He sounded different. He sounded stupider, drugged.
Rhune Shadow Page 22
