Now there was no life, and not even a breeze stirred the air of the ancient metropolis frozen forever like an insect in amber.
The tomb of Erabris was eerily beautiful.
Set in a cavern much larger than any other in Ula'dh, the vision the firelight brought to the eyes was startling. Flowstone draperies cloaked the walls in a silky sheen of shimmering rust; and stalactites, long and slender, hung from the ceiling. Adorned with jagged dripstone, they looked like fine bone china. Crystal aragonite grew in odd formations, branching into finely spun spider webs of stone so delicate they would shatter into a thousand pieces if touched.
The only mark of a sentient hand lay in the floor, cleared and polished to an ice-like sheen, and in the single stalagmite expertly carved into a fountain filled with light-giving oil.
Azoroath approached the fountain and lit it. The remainder of the cavern came to light, revealing the tomb's interior to foreign eyes for the first time in eight thousand years.
Fashioned from slabs of pure limestone, the sarcophagus bearing the body of Erabris stood near the rear of the chamber. Inlaid with rich blue faience polished to a lustrous glaze, the stone coffin stood four feet high, six feet in length and five feet in width. A sheet of obsidian spanned its face, sealing the Keeper of the Cachaen scrolls inside a womb of stone.
"It's here!" Azoroath set his lamp on the floor and approached the huge construct. Excited, he pressed the palms of both hands to the surface of the volcanic glass. Vibrations began to emanate from its clear depths, and inside the sarcophagus a glow came to light, revealing the blurry outlines of a body shrouded in white.
"The sarcophagus is alive!" he exclaimed, pulling his hands away. The light did not fade.
Xavier came forward. "Quiet, fool! I must concentrate!"
With the reverence of a worshiper in the cathedral of his god, the sorcerer approached. Putting aside his staff, he ran his own hands over the smooth obsidian cover, felt the lettering with the fingers of his good hand as he traced the seal of the Cachaens.
"Feel the power of old. Such is now within my reach. Help me move the cover. I must see the scrolls."
"Place your hands at its edge," Azoroath said. Without regard for preserving the obsidian, he helped push the fragile sheet aside. It shattered on the floor, and a whoosh of putrid air emanated from within the sarcophagus, causing the flame of the fountain to dim briefly before brightening again. A platform inside began to silently rise, lifting the entombed body into view.
Xavier reached to unfold the white shroud covering the corpse. His hands trembled with excitement as he pulled aside the stiff material. The body of the Cachaen had been preserved by soaking it first in a solution of salt and natron, an embalming powder, after all the internal organs had been removed and cremated. Stuffed with cotton and sewn back together, the body had then been treated with resin and wrapped in bandages soaked in preserving oils, lastly to be dressed in the simple vestments of a monk.
The face of Erabris was peaceful. Across his chest, resting under his folded hands were the writings he had sacrificed his life to guard throughout eternity. Each of the twelve scrolls had been rolled and inserted into a leather pouch. Azoroath reached for one. Xavier slapped his hand.
"Careful, idiot!" Mouth open, teeth flashing, he growled, "They must be handled gently!"
Azoroath grew red in the face, but he held his tongue. He watched Xavier take the corpse by the wrist and lift aside first one and then the other hand. The limbs were supple and easily moved.
The sorcerer took up the first scroll and parted the drawstring to withdraw a roll of cream-colored parchment. Frayed at the edges, the animal skin the parchment had been pressed from was limber, not at all touched by age or decay.
He unrolled the thin page. Its face was painstakingly covered with thick letters written with a quill dipped into an inky mixture of powdered charcoal, plant resins and animal blood. The dialect was of Mahdnar, the old language of the occult. Holding the parchment close to his face, he squinted. His vision blurred. He could barely read the script. Nevertheless, the words he recognized sent a thrill through his veins.
Yes, here, in his hands, were the secrets the brotherhood had kept hidden from all eyes for eight thousand years, the secrets of controlling the astral energies.
Smiling, he whispered the words printed on the page, feeling a thrill rush through his soul.
Come, he thought. Show yourself to me.
In response to his summoning, tiny cracks began to snake up through the cold limestone floor as the tenuous boundary separating one dimension from another began to open. The sound of tearing stone filled the abysmal silence.
"Feel it?" He laughed. "It answers my call. The Cachaens knew how to bend such energy to their will, bring it into our physical world intact!"
Azoroath smiled. Here was his chance to have the scrolls for himself. He drew his machete, bringing its blade down across Xavier's good hand to slice off two fingers. Blood splattered onto the pale face of Erabris, the droplets giving the bizarre impression the monk was crying tears of crimson.
Xavier roared in pain. The scroll he held fluttered to the cavern floor as he clutched his injured hand. Beneath his feet the cracks in the limestone grew longer.
"The power of the scrolls shall be mine!" his acolyte said. "I will succeed where you have too long failed."
The faint sound of a trigger engaging went unheard.
The steel bolt fired from the crossbow found its mark. It penetrated the back of the wizard's head, completely cutting through skin and bone to protrude out of Azoroath's mouth as he spoke his last words. Azoroath gurgled sickly, strangling on his own blood as he collapsed.
Xavier slowly turned toward the entrance of the tomb. An ironic smile graced his distorted features at the familiar sight.
Chapter Forty-One
Julienne entered the tomb directly on Morgan's heels; her gaze raked the strange chamber. She passed over the acolyte's dead body, settling directly on the sorcerer. The sight of him sent a surge of righteous hatred and rage coursing through her skull.
Confusion over his appearance colored her features. The glass eye bewildered her until she recognized it for what it was. Hate bubbled up in her heart as Xavier threw back his head and laughed. His disturbing snicker echoed.
"I should have expected this would happen," he said. "So now you have taken to shooting men from behind?"
As Morgan reloaded his crossbow with a second bolt, a chilling smile of satisfaction played on his lips. "I took advantage of the opportunity. How could I pass such a chance? Payback is hell, is it not?"
"I knew he would betray me." Ripping a length of material from his sleeve, Xavier wrapped it around his injured hand to stay his bleeding. "Just as I knew you would come."
"I went also to your sanctuary," Morgan said. "I found the pages of the funeral rites."
"Quite a revelation, are they not?"
"They are. If you have, indeed, found the scrolls."
"I have." The sorcerer's single-eyed stare landed on Julienne.
"I see your woman survived. Her escape did not go unnoticed. The women were punished for helping her." He cocked his head. "But I am curious, Morgan. How did she survive my mutant?"
"I know your methods of spell-work," Morgan said evenly. "And I merged them. She has its strengths--and its hunger for blood."
Xavier gave an impressed nod. "Brilliant. You were one of the few who understood their casting. When you crossed over, I saw that in you. In so many ways, we are alike. We both have the hunger for more. It burns inside you even now, the desire to walk as a god among men. You went back to your legacy, as I knew you would."
"There you are mistaken," Morgan said. "I have no desire to be a god. My reason for being here is simple: I came only to see you die."
"Well, then, before you have your wish, you must see the thing we have so long called legend." The sorcerer picked up a second scroll from the chest of the monk and beckoned them to come closer.<
br />
"Don't!" Julienne cautioned him from behind. "I don't trust him!"
"Hold your tongue, woman!" Morgan indicated with a gesture that she should be silent. He tossed her the crossbow. "If he moves, shoot him."
She centered the crossbow on Xavier's heart. "Gladly." She felt a surge of pure delight in knowing she'd be the one to pull the trigger. She was more than anxious to kill him, literally savoring the idea. One bolt was in the chamber, four more attached to the stock. The was no way Xavier was leaving Ula'dh alive. She'd use every last arrow. She had no doubt she couldn't do it, too. She squeezed. Just a bit, just enough to get the feel of the weapon in her hands. It was more than just a matter of survival. It was a matter of revenge. Of honor. She did not intend to falter.
Hold steady, she warned herself. You'll get your chance.
She was not so happy to watch Morgan advance deeper into the chamber. Was he aware of the tiny cracks in the limestone beneath him? Surely, he was. She felt something was going to go wrong, deadly wrong, but she couldn't clearly identify what might happen. She had a weapon, Morgan was armed, Xavier was worn, wounded. Still, she didn't trust the old bastard as far as she could throw him. A cold sweat broke out on her skin, drenching her. The bow in her hands was heavy. Her palms were dripping wet. Fear was a specter, looming large in her mind. She watched closely as the sorcerer clumsily removed the second scroll from its pouch.
Why does Morgan want to see them? she wondered, trying hard to quell her agitation. We just need to kill Xavier and get the hell out of here.
The peach wood charm nestled between her breasts was growing warmer, a sure sign of danger. Damn you. Come back here.
Xavier unrolled the scroll and held it at arm's length. "I hold the keys to the powers the Cachaens called forth years ago. The energies of the astral are at my beck as I hold this page."
Seeing the two men together, Julienne realized that these two had, in a strange way, a grudging respect and admiration for each other. Xavier had once been Morgan's mentor, true, but the pupil had soon overtaken the master and then surpassed him.
A shiver coursed through her. What would have happened if Morgan had chosen Ouroborous? Apart, the two were formidable. Together they would have been hell to be reckoned with. The idea was a curious one. What if the power had been reversed between the twins? Would someone now be preparing to put a bolt through Morgan's heart?
Her thoughts were forgotten when Xavier began to read more lines of the flaking script aloud. As he spoke the flame of the fountain threw capering shadows onto the walls of the cavern. The smoky firelight waltzed teasingly with the crystal webs hanging from the low ceiling. The ruptures in the limestone began to come apart, a ripping of sheer stone that grated in the ears. A pulsing illumination issued up through the jagged cracks to light the cavern with its otherworldly incandescence.
Morgan advanced, closing the distance between them to savagely strike down Xavier's arm, moving the page out of his limited vision.
"Stop it! You are playing a dangerous game!" Shading his face from the radiant gleam, he swept his eyes along the rips in the limestone. Long and deep, they threatened to shatter the entire chamber if they opened any wider. "This place is coming apart. You will kill us all if you persist."
"I will have this!" The sorcerer returned savagely. "Leave me if you fear the power I can summon!"
A smile of triumph graced his thick lips. He dug his fingers deep into the page he held. His single eye narrowed in a threatening scowl.
"What you have found is dangerous, you old fool! You are too hungry to possess again the power taken from you. Is measa cara fealltach ná namhaid follasach. He who broods evil shall be overtaken by it."
This is crazy! I'm not waiting any longer.
Julienne swore softly, fighting the weight of the unfamiliar weapon in her hands. The light was so bright she could hardly see the figures of the two men, so she aimed for the larger, breathing a prayerful obscenity. She briefly squinted her eyes shut, shaking her head to clear her vision. They stung from the scorching intensity of the illumination. Her mouth was dry as cotton, her lips rasped raw by her breath. Saying a quick silent prayer, she depressed the trigger.
Her aim was true. The bolt struck Xavier squarely in the chest. He howled like a wounded animal, an earsplitting wail ripped from his throat. "Like Azoroath, you seek to take the power the Dragon has granted should be mine!" he gasped, drawing in a deep, wracking breath.
"I do not want them," Morgan said coldly. "And you shall not have them, either."
"You'll not keep the scrolls from me!" Fighting his pain, his scarred face twisted with anger, fingers scrabbling across his torso, Xavier reached up and pulled the bolt from his chest. The serrated barbs tore through flesh, blood and bone. He cast it aside.
"You think this puny weapon will kill me?" he demanded with a laugh. "I am beyond death, beyond anything you have ever witnessed. The Dragon has granted me the keys to eternity. I will not be denied! Now that I have the power, you shall be the first to die!""
"My damnedest says otherwise." Morgan drew his dagger from its hidden sheath in his sleeve. His dark eyes narrowed menacingly. "The woman asked for the pleasure of killing you. What she leaves undone, I shall finish."
Levering in the third bolt, Julienne quickly pulled it back into place. Bringing the stock against her shoulder, instinct told her that a deep heart wound and a deep cerebral wound would take down any immortal. The next was meant for the sorcerer's skull.
I pray to God I don't miss!
Outnumbered and unarmed, Xavier called out his final card. He threw his arms wide, intoning, "Gods of revenge, hear my call, all most powerful, one and all. From the mighty depths of hell, spread thy darkness on his shell. Consume their bones, smash and crush, make mine enemy turn to dust!"
Instantaneously, a shattering blast wracked the stifling atmosphere. The cavern rocked without warning. The floor under their feet buckled so violently that for a moment it appeared that the limestone had turned to molten liquid.
Julienne winced from the savage uprising; she could feel the scorching pulse of light-energy cut right through to the core of her being. Dropping the crossbow, she instinctively raised her hands to protect her eyes as she scrambled toward the refuge of the stairs. Reaching a safe plateau, she turned to call out to Morgan. Standing on the edge of the largest crevice, he attempted to jump to a stable plateau at the rear of the chamber as the soft stone crumbled beneath his feet. But he was not fast enough to escape the giant chasm rapidly spreading around him. Missing the edge by inches, he plunged into the heart of the glowing abyss as more than half of the sepulcher was instantly consumed by the earthquake. The limestone floor around the sarcophagus was torn into shreds by a powerful tremor, splitting the Cachaen tomb asunder.
At the same time he vanished into its depth, an opaque, amorphous form burst into the world, settling unseen into a shadowy corner. Gathering substance, it slowly began to solidify. A breath was taken, air into lungs. Silver-plated eyes opened to the world that gave it life.
"My God!" she gasped through numb lips. "No!"
Tears streamed down her face. She suddenly couldn't breath, feeling as though someone had torn out her heart and cast it into the chasm after her lover. Thoughts skittered through her frenzied mind, making no sense.
Jesus, he was too tired, pushing himself too hard. He could have made it if he had been paying attention. What was he thinking? He let his guard down, let Xavier lull him with those damned scrolls.
She set a narrow gaze on the one-eyed sorcerer. Hate filled her heart, straight to the depths of her soul.
I may not get out of here alive, but neither will he!
Not caring about the danger, she rushed out onto the unstable floor, only to be blocked by Xavier's great bulk stumbling back into her in an effort to keep from falling in, too. Dazed by what he'd done, he let the scroll he held flutter from his fingers. A giggle broke from his lips, growing into a full laugh when he realized he
had managed to dispose of his old enemy and survive!
"He's dead!"
Heart lit by revenge, Julienne drew the stolen ceremonial dagger from her pouch. In a single cat-like bound she plowed forward and buried the sorcerer's own blade deep into his heart, twisting it hard. Hot, spurting blood soaked her hands.
"Remember my face when you're in hell," she snarled in pure malice. "Whatever it takes, I'm coming after you!"
Behind them, silvery eyes grew narrow.
Xavier gasped. Spit mixed with blood bubbled from his lips. His mouth gaped open, but no sound came forth. He fell to his knees, his hands scrambling frantically to pull out the wicked blade. His single eye was an orb of fear.
"This can't be!" He pulled his knife from his chest. Coated in crimson, the blade fell from his numb fingers. Blood gushed out of the wound with every beat of his heart. He began to crawl toward the sarcophagus.
Driven by hate and her need to kill, Julienne's attention settled on the wizard Morgan had slain. Perfect. Pushing her body into motion, she snatched Azoroath's machete out of his dead hand. Armed anew, she advanced. With the icy glint of a killer in her eyes and a heart burning with revenge, she raised the blade and swung it like a bat, sending Xavier sprawling. She gave him no chance to recover.
"You'll pay dearly for all the lives you gave to your false god!"
Again, she swung. The flat of the blade contacted with the back of his head, cracking against his skull. His brown glass eye popped from its socket. The single eyeball looked bizarrely up from the limestone floor, winking crazily in the firelight. She crushed the eye under the heel of her boot.
Panting through his mouth, the sorcerer groaned and rolled over onto his back. Like a beached whale, his great body heaved and shuddered. He hissed and moaned, gnashing his teeth, fighting for every breath. Blood gushed from the wounds in his chest.
Descent of Demons Page 39
