He was quickly losing strength. He would not last much longer. She could hear him breathing, bubbling.
"The scrolls are something you'll never have, so help me God!" Using both hands, she lifted the machete over her head. Xavier's single eye widened. Reading murderous intent in her twisted face, he reached out, fingers curling around the lost scroll.
"I will be eternal," he gasped. To the last, he wanted power! His gaze locked with hers. His eye had a foggy white glaze.
"Eye to eye, mind to mind, thy will be mine." Like a psychic vampire, he began to draw her in, attempting to suck her strength into his body.
Mesmerized, Julienne felt herself being pulled into the depths of his mind. Briefly, they connected on the psychic plane between life and death. She experienced his fear, saw the Dragon reaching out from the depths of Hades to claim his own, clamping fiery claws around the sorcerer's damned soul. The beast was feeding, sucking away the energies that were life's very spark, even as Xavier was attempting to suck hers away.
Her confusion was growing, her exhaustion, her dizziness. The machete dropped from her slackening fingers. Xavier was winning the mental battle. She fought it, fought for control. Sensing she would be drawn into death with him if she did not free her mind, she gave a fierce shriek.
"Like hell you will!"
The mutant's survival instincts took over as the foreign synapses in her brain lit up. Driven by the smell of fresh blood, the creature acted with a will of its own. A passion, an animal need, swept over her. Seized by its desires, Julienne temporarily lost touch with her own identity.
Head spinning, she broke eye contact. Responding to the mutant's instinctive commands, her right hand shot out, fingers digging into Xavier's forehead. With a growl, she pushed his head over. Her free hand came up. Fingers spread, she slammed the twin spikes of her slave bracelet deeply into his the soft tissue of his neck and made two jagged tears across his jugular. Panting heavily, she bent to drink. A deep growl broke from her throat as she swallowed his warm blood, a wildcat savoring the pride of her kill, sating her hunger. At the edge of consciousness, she sensed an onlooker, a shadow-presence lurking beyond her peripheral view. It was the presence of a pure and perfect evil.
It watched with steel eyes. And learned.
Raising her head, Julienne swiped the crimson stains from her lips. "Rot in hell," she growled.
Foul breath forever stilled, the sorcerer's death cry was little more than a strangled gurgle.
Abruptly, the light issuing from the cavities in the cold limestone plunged into darkness. A hideous wail cut through the silence, deafening in its pitch. Shadows flickered wildly. Something was screaming, long and loud.
Startled, she whirled. A small rattle came from her throat. The first indication she had that something out of the ordinary had emerged was the intense sensation of heat, as though she were standing too near an open fire. As the sensation grew into acute discomfort, she saw directly before her eyes the clear outline of an ungodly beast.
"Oh, shit!" She backed away from the body, moving behind the damaged stalagmite fountain. Instinct told her to keep fire between herself and the creature Xavier had unintentionally set free.
Malevolence glared from the depths of the silver eyes protruding from the great horned head. A reptilian tail swished. Gaping jaws opened. Sharp teeth gnashed. The creature howled. Strangely liquid mucus hung like strings from its sharp teeth.
The clicking of long talons on limestone sounded through the tomb as the creature abandoned its shadowy corner and slithered between the bodies of the slain. A claw came off the floor. Greenish-gray, the creature's skin was the color of a corpse rotted a month in a Cajun swamp.
It brought the deadly appendage down and clamped its nails into Xavier's face. Its grip tightened. Flesh, bone and brain were squashed together in a mess the creature lifted to its slit of a mouth.
It fed.
Julienne gagged. She felt woozy, sure she was about to faint. She swallowed hard, fighting unconsciousness. If she panicked, she might goad the creature into coming after her. She made herself remain absolutely still, drawing long breaths through her mouth to stave off hyperventilation.
Seconds crawled by like hours. Attention glued to the creature, she was acutely aware of the feel of the cool limestone under her fingers as she clutched the edge of the fountain, grimly watching the movements of the thing Xavier had called up.
Unexpectedly, the creature began to grow hazy. Its body shifted to take on new shape. In a few minutes, it became the image of the sorcerer lying at its feet.
Only the new Xavier was young, face unmarked by any damage, body strong and agile.
He turned his head, looking at her through silver eyes with pupils like bullet holes, black and endlessly empty. His mouth opened, emitting a decidedly inhuman titter. Limbs were pressed into jerky motion. Hop-scotching the jagged splits in the chamber floor, he loped up the stairway and departed into darkness.
Julienne felt her legs grow rubbery, no longer willing to support her weight as tension left her body. Faint from inhaling the oily smoke given off by the fire, she collapsed on the floor beside the fountain. She began to weep, uncontrollably, near hysteria. Tremulous sobs shook her body. Her mind struggled to digest what she had just witnessed before the realization finally hit her.
Morgan was dead and she was alone, the last survivor of a journey ending in disaster.
Chapter Forty-Two
The sound of death is silence.
Not a rumble of the earth tearing asunder. Nor a cry of pain from slackening lips. Not even the last breath exhaled from collapsing lungs. The sound of death is silence…a terrible nothingness…
Julienne raised her head from the cradle of her hands. Brushing away the tears staining her face, she uncurled her body from its protective huddle. Nostrils flaring, she wiped her nose on the sleeve of her cloak and drew in a ragged breath. The smothering atmosphere around her reeked with the stench of stale oil, torn flesh and blood.
She gagged, panting through her mouth to keep from passing out. A thick layer of sweat drenched her, trickling down between her breasts, chilling her to the bone. Pulse racing, the scent she exuded was that of unadulterated fear. Disoriented by the utter isolation surrounding her, she began to tremble uncontrollably, barely capable of understanding the severe trauma overwhelming her senses.
I'm the last…
The stark thought echoed through her mind. Of the four who had entered into the tomb, she was the only person remaining amid the ruins.
Fighting to keep panic from overwhelming her, Julienne drew herself up, pressing her back against the stalagmite fountain. The chills were subsiding and strength was returning to her numb limbs. Its single flame still wavered, throwing deceptive shadows on the walls. So much had occurred in the space of a few minutes that her bewildered mind could barely take in the many separate events. Her head was spinning too fast to think. She wanted desperately to seek comfort and reassurance, but there was none to be found.
Her gaze drifted to the remains of Xavier D'Shagre.
Revulsion and, oddly, pity were the emotions that rushed through her when she looked at him. His mutilated body lay in the part of the chamber that remained intact. In his dying throes, he'd struggled to drag his body to the foot of the sarcophagus. The platform the monk lay on was still lit by a lustrous glow, testament to the forces the Cachaen brotherhood had managed to harness.
A rumble deep under the ground was a stark reminder of danger. The vibrations caused the fountain's flame to flicker wildly. The earthquake was over, yet aftershocks continued to disrupt the underlying substratum.
Her eyes blurred with fresh tears. Pain grabbed at her heart, tearing it apart with cruel fingers.
She had survived. Morgan had not.
If only he would have stayed near the sarcophagus, she thought bitterly, he might have been able to save himself. Chance, the matter of a few backward steps in the wrong direction had brought his life to an
abrupt end. Witnessing his dizzying plunge into the center of the glowing abyss, she'd felt her own soul fall with him. He'd had no chance to escape Xavier's vengeful use of his newly found power.
"Damn him!" Julienne clenched her eyes shut in an effort to quell the vision too wrenching to think about. Her guts twisted in agony, making her feel as though she'd consumed ground glass. An unintended sob broke from her throat. It was unimaginable to believe that Morgan was dead. More than her lover, he was her shepherd, leading her through the obstacles the occult had levered against her soul. Now, she would have to go on by herself. Not a comforting idea, but she had no other choice. She doubted that she had the ability to get out of the dead city and back to the Danarran settlement. Lynar could help her get out of Sclyd, but first she had to find the elf. The prospect of leaving Ula'dh without Morgan was a daunting one. She couldn't remain immobile forever, but neither did she relish leaving alone. There was still the matter of Xavier's demon…
Thought of the shape-shifting entity brought a new sense of urgency to her weary bones. While she was the only survivor, she was by no means alone. The creature had withdrawn, but the possibility existed that it would come back.
Where is it now? She certainly had no desire to face the damn thing down. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose. Was it waiting for her to move, watching her the way a cat watched a mouse?
She squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, God," she murmured. "I don't want to be here. I don't want it to be here, either." The instinct of self-preservation began to assert itself. She must get moving if only to save herself.
On hands and knees, she could see that the stairs remained thankfully intact despite the huge cracks threading through the limestone. She could return to them without risk, having only to circle the fountain and step over the carcass sprawled in her path.
Azoroath. The treacherous acolyte who had led Xavier's pilgrimage had been the first casualty.
Julienne gave both bodies a final glance. Inching forward, she peered around the fountain's carved base. Beneath her hands she could feel the upward rippling of the limestone, a stark testimony of how close the entire cavern had been to collapsing inward on itself.
Hearing a scrabbling against the rock, she winced, preparing for the fall of more stone into the formidable depth. A heavy slab of stone broke suddenly broke away from the far wall, tumbling into the yawning split running through the rear of the cavern. She heard a snarl, then a groan followed by a violent stream of Gaelic cursing.
Hardly daring to breathe, her eyes skimmed the breach that had consumed Morgan. Were her ears deceiving her? She gave a little gasp.
"Morgan?" His name caught in her throat. She took a step, then stopped, listening for any sound that would indicate that he was alive.
There was a long pause, almost too long.
"Julienne?" he finally called out. "Are you safe?"
Relief flooded through her. "Yes," she called. "I'm up here. Alone. Xavier's dead."
A pause, as though he were taking in her words. "Good." Another pause, longer this time. "What the hell happened up there?" His voice was a bit unsteady, but strong.
"The cavern," she said quickly. "It collapsed in the earthquake. It's almost all--" A rumble beneath the ground cut off her words. She retreated a few steps when the cracks in the floor widened, snaking through the stone toward the fountain. Her own haven wasn't going to last much longer.
"You need to get out as fast as you can," his far away words warned when silence was restored. "It is not safe for you to stay."
She shook her head even though he couldn't see it. "I'm not leaving you." She began to inch her way to the edge of the chasm. Was Morgan hurt? If so, how badly? The fountain had tilted a bit in the upheaval, casting its light into odd and deep corners it otherwise would not have reached. Holding her breath, she peered down, squinting. When her sharp eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she could see him.
It took a few minutes for her sharp vision to find Morgan's figure in the murky depth. The rift separating them was about twenty feet wide, narrowing somewhat as its depth increased. He was on the opposite side. Back pressed against the stone, he'd somehow managed to land on a very thin ledge and hold on during the initial collapse. There were massive tears on either side of him, precluding further movement to the right or left. He was effectively trapped.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that there was no way for him to climb out without bringing the rest of the stone down. His side was the one more damaged--and unstable. The flowstone walls around and above him were heavily patterned with jagged tears, the heavy stone slowly beginning to peel away in layers and fall. He glanced up when she accidentally sent a few small rocks tumbling.
"Be careful, calie." More of the stone crumbled out from under his boots and he pressed himself closer to the wall.
A weak smile crossed her lips. Weak because she had not heard anything hit bottom. "How deep is it down there?" The unsettled feeling in her gut returned, mixed with a touch of fear.
He peeked over the edge, moving as little as possible. "I would rather not find out," he said, pulling in an unsteady breath. "It is not the falling and dying I am worried about. It is the landing and living that worries me. I do not relish spending eternity trying to climb my way out of here."
Another rumble followed his words, sending more rocks tumbling. Morgan turned his head as sharp pieces of rubble rained down on him. The small quakes were slowly chipping away at his foothold. He rode out the tremor.
"You should go…"
She swallowed a wave of sickness, unsure if she were being foolish or brave. She felt neither. "I'm not leaving."
He interrupted her. "This is no time to play the fool, Julienne." Voice serious with authority, he clearly expected her to do as he said. "No sense for both of us to die here."
She was about to reply when a strange crackling sound caught her attention. Her eyes widened in alarm when she realized the source. The wall across from her was beginning to disintegrate, smaller cracks rapidly widening into larger ones. The flowstone layers were beginning to give way to gravity. Her heart leapt into her throat, threatening to cut off her air.
"Morgan," she warned, fighting to keep her voice steady. "You have to get off that ledge. Now!"
His reply was terse. "I am working on it," he grated stiffly.
"Better work faster then," she warned. "It's going to come down right on top of you." She couldn't say the rest. This time he wouldn't be able to escape. This time he would be crushed.
This time his interruption was more effective. A motion of his head brought her attention to a small plateau across the gorge. "Do you see there?"
"What?" Searching through the gloom, Julienne could barely make out a jutting lip of rock. It looked wider and more solid than the one he was on. Trouble was, it was about thirty feet lower, and at least ten feet across from where he presently perched. If he misjudged the distance, he would fall. If the ledge wasn't solid, he would fall. She didn't like the odds that were stacking up against him.
She looked worriedly back. "Can you make it?"
"It is this or nothing." His words were steely with finality. He'd made up his mind and intended to follow through.
"Be careful." Her insides were turning to knots. "I want us to get out of here, together."
He gave a slight reassuring nod. "We will, calie, we will." He didn't sound too convinced or convincing.
Normally, such a small distance would pose no obstacle. At a good run, Morgan could easily bridge the distance. Leaping from a narrow outcropping less than a foot wide was another story; he could miss it entirely or the new shelf might not hold his weight.
A final furious tremor made the final decision. Morgan launched his body away from the unstable wall just as it collapsed. Plummeting into darkness, he struck the ledge hard and disappeared from sight. A deafening roar of colossal proportions consumed the cavern. Heavy chunks of limestone crashed down around him, an avalan
che of rocks consumed by the ever widening void.
Dropping to all fours, Julienne scrabbled away from the edge, praying desperately it would not crumble. Minutes seemed to drag on for hours before silence again settled. Then, the thunder deep beneath the earth abruptly ceased.
Her gaze immediately raked across the gorge. Gaping like a rotten tooth, there was a new hole where the rear wall had stood--now a bottomless cave-like formation. At least the stalagmite ceiling above their heads had held.
Frantic with worry, she crawled back to the edge. Peering through the murky darkness, she could barely see Morgan. He lay pressed against the wall, pummeled by the stone. The ledge had held and he'd made it to safety. But he was not moving. She held her breath, waiting. Oh, god, oh God, don't let him be dead, she prayed.
Morgan stirred and moaned. Finally, he sat up, leaning forward and pressing his head in his hands. Stunned by the heavy blows he'd taken, he needed a few minutes to recover.
"Are you all right?" Worry made her voice sound high pitched, unnatural to her ears. Stupid question. Of course he wasn't all right, but he was alive and in a safer place. If he didn't get up soon, she was determined to climb down there herself.
"All right?" he echoed vaguely and groaned again. "Feels like the whole damned place just came down on me."
"It did," she called. "But you made it."
He lifted his head, brushing debris out of his hair and the chalky dust out of his face. "So I did."
"How bad are you hurt?"
To answer her words, he climbed to his feet, a bit unsteady but standing. "Not too badly," he said. "I will survive."
Mouth dry as cotton, she licked parched lips. "Can you get out of there?"
Morgan dipped his head back, surveying the sixty foot climb separating him from the top. Small protrusions of rock and jagged cracks patterned the wall. Reaching up, he slid his fingers along the wall, feeling for a place to hold on. Finding one secure, he hefted his body up, his free hand searching for another hold. He began to climb, taking his time to make sure that each step would hold before he tried another.
Descent of Demons Page 40
