“What do you suggest?” The feathers Buncan clutched seemed to be vibrating under his fingers. At any moment, he knew, Viz might contract to his normal size, leaving them all suspended in midair. But only momentarily. In his natural incarnation it would be a struggle for the tickbird to raise a good-sized worm.
“Leave it to me. And hang on!” With that, Viz drew in his great wings and dove straight for the main gate. Ominously, a silvery mist was beginning to collect along the leading edge of his wings.
Hearing the wind that was not wind, one of the guards atop the wall saw the stupendous apparition approaching and let out an involuntary, startled cry. It was enough to alert the evening patrol below, which reacted with impressive lack of decision.
Their yelling was loud enough to reach into the great central hall, where the Baron Krasvin was planning his final assault on the upstart occupier of his precious library. He peered past his courtiers, his expression irritable.
“What’s all that noise.”
“I’ll go and see, Master.” Holding his floppy hat onto his head, a woodchuck sprinted for the doorway.
Krasvin grunted at the interruption and returned his attention to his immediate circle. “Now remember: We’re going in quietly. Once inside I want all of you to hug the wall. Neiswik and I will go up the ladder first. As soon as we can get the lamp out of her reach we’ll toss her down to you. Get on her immediately: She’s quick. And don’t hurt her.” He grinned nastily. “Such pleasures I reserve for myself.”
“I can’t hold it!”shouted Viz as he plunged lower. “I can feel myself starting to change back.”
“Then get the ’ell down!”Squill squealed at him.
“We have to land inside.” Buncan tried to estimate the distance remaining to the estate. “We have to!”
At that moment an unearthly shriek split the air rushing past him. It came not from any of his companions but from immediately below. It wasn’t surprising that he didn’t recognize it. He’d never heard a rhinoceros scream before.
Snaugenhutt had chosen that moment to awaken.
“It’s all right.” Buncan leaned out and over as far as he could. “We’re almost there!”
“Almost wh-wh-where?” Snaugenhutt’s words were not slurred, his tone unimpaired. As a representative of a decidedly earthbound tribe, the experience of finding himself suddenly and unexpectedly soaring through the air had done nothing less than shock him sober.
“The gate,” their mount shouted. “We’re almost upon the gate!”
Though deeply distorted, the tickbird’s voice was not unrecognizable. Snaugenhutt’s head twisted around and up.
“Viz?”
“Yeah, it’s me, you useless old soak. I’m wondering why I bothered to haul you along.”
“Sorry. Don’t know what happened to me.”
“I do. I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute without you crapping all over what little reputation we’ve got left. But that’s Krasvin’s estate up ahead. You’re about to get a chance to redeem yourself. Whether you want to or not.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the spell that’s done me like this is wearing off fast, we have to get inside that wall unnoticed if possible, and in order to do that we need a diversion. A big diversion.”
Snaugenhutt’s eyelids shuttered suspiciously. “What kind of ‘diversion’?”
At which point there resounded in the night sky above the silent forest west of Camrioca an immortal cry not likely to be repeated in the lifetime of anyone in the immediate vicinity. Or anywhere else, for that matter.
“Rhino awayyyy!”
“Nooooo!”Snaugenhutt howled as those great claws unclenched and Viz released his burden.
As the transformed tickbird soared upward, buoyed by the release, the panicked rhino described an elegant trajectory out and down, plunging horn-first in a great arc straight toward the high, double-doored gateway. On the walkway atop the gate two of Krasvin’s household troops witnessed the black-armored, flame-painted monstrosity hurtling toward them out of the half-moon. One fainted dead away on the spot, while the other dove into the courtyard with becoming alacrity.
Pennants and ribbons flying, the cast-iron-clad Snaugenhutt smashed into the center of the gate with stupendous (if decidedly unwilling) force. Planks and cross-braces shattered explosively. His armor banging and clanking like a military band on speed, Snaugenhutt landed in the courtyard, rolled over three times, and ended up on his feet, albeit staggering groggily. Fortunately he did not have to confront any immediate adversaries, the appalled patrol having fled precipitously in all directions.
Watching them abandon their weapons as they vanished into doorways and around corners reassured him as his senses returned. Dust from the devastated gate was still settling as he started forward, trailing broken beams and smashed planks from his broad back.
Confronted by the unimaginably terrifying sight of an armored, flame-scoured, flying (well, falling) rhinoceros, those retainers who arrived to see what had happened beat an immediate and fearful retreat.
“Come back and fight!”Snaugenhutt bellowed defiantly. “Cowards, spineless reptiles! Stand and do battle!” There was so much adrenaline coursing through him that he was hopping up and down on all four feet, making a sound like one of the ore crushers at the fabled Caqueriad Mines.
Not surprisingly, none of Krasvin’s minions elected to take him up on his offer.
At that point the Baron himself, trailing retainers like remoras, appeared in the main entrance to the mansion. The sight of the armored, snorting, quadrupedal intruder, eyes bloodshot and nostrils flaring in the moonlight, gave even the belligerent Krasvin pause.
Snaugenhutt took note of the figures crowding awkwardly in the doorway and let out a gratified rumble. “Ahhhh. Fresh meat!”
A silken-clad squirrel squealed frantically and vanished back inside. To his credit Krasvin drew his own sword and tried to rally his people.
“Weapons! We’ll make a stand here.” His saber wasn’t as long as the rhino’s front horn.
Snaugenhutt wasn’t exactly quick out of the blocks, but once he got his great bulk up to speed he could manage a very respectable pace. The Baron held his ground as long as was sensible, men uttered a violent curse and retreated inside, helping to slam the door shut behind him.
Pennants streaming, Snaugenhutt plowed through the portal without breaking stride, sending wood, metal strapping, and fragments of stained glass flying in all directions. Braking with his front feet, he skidded to a stop in the middle of the great hall and immediately began hunting for something else to trample, knock down, or gore. The subjects of his attention ran into, around, and over one another in their haste to avoid his homicidal gaze.
It was a very effective diversion.
Chapter 16
RAPIDLY SHRINKING TO HIS natural proportions, Viz just did manage to clear the high wall and land his passengers atop the main building. It was an awkward touchdown, but everyone made it in one piece.
As they climbed to their feet they could hear the yells and screams rising from below, a chorus of confusion and fear.
“It sounds as if our friend Snaugenhutt is doing his job.” Gragelouth brushed at his pants. “I was not sure he had it in him.”
“Oh, he always had it in him.” Viz was skimming back and forth across the roof, searching for a way down for his companions. “It’s just that it was always saturated. But that little flight dried him out, rejuvenated him. Downdrafts be damned if it didn’t rejuvenate me.” He paused to hover in front of Buncan. “I enjoyed that little transformation. Think you two could do it again?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t what we were trying to do in the first place.” Buncan made certain the duar was strapped securely against his back. “Have you found a way down?”
“Afraid not.” Viz gestured with a wingtip. “There don’t seem to be any stairs leading to this roof. The only openings I was able to find are vents, chimney
s, and skylights.”
“Fair enough.” Squill stood by the edge of one skylight, leaning over to peer through the translucency.
“It’ll have to do.” Buncan moved to join his friend. “We’ll break the glass and climb down the ladder.”
Squill frowned at him. “Ladder? Wot ladder?” He put one hand over his eyes and pulled his sword with the other. “We otters are the direct type, mate. You ought to know that by now.”
So saying, and before Buncan could make a move to restrain him, he jumped forward as far as his short legs would propel him and plunged through the skylight, sending glass flying in all directions.
“Squill!”Buncan rushed to the opening and peered through. “You idiot!”
Below, the otter was climbing to his feet, brushing glass from his clothing and fur as he examined his surroundings.
“’Tis a short drop, Buncan. Even old droopy-eyes ought to be able to ’andle it. Looks like servants’ quarters. Wot the bloody ’ell are you waitin’ for?” He moved out of view.
“Squill! Wait up.” Buncan positioned himself as best he could and dropped through. He was followed by Viz, and lastly by Gragelouth, though it took some coaxing to persuade the merchant to make the jump.
No one challenged them as they hurried down the narrow hallway, nor was there anyone coming up the spiral stone staircase to intercept them. The level of noise rising from below suggested total confusion within the Baron’s household, if not complete chaos.
Tracking the cacophony led them out onto a narrow mezzanine overlooking a central atrium or hall where a bellowing, defiant Snaugenhutt was holding court, dividing his attention between two groups of Krasvin’s retainers. When one would try to flee from behind protective pillars and furniture, he would drive them back. This prompted the members of the other group to try to escape, whereupon the rhino would turn and charge them. Occasionally one fell victim to that thrusting horn, or tripped and went down. If Snaugenhutt happened to step on the prone unfortunate, he did not get up again.
From time to time an arrow shaft or spear would speed the rhino’s way, only to bounce harmlessly off his thick, jouncing armor.
Buncan scanned the battleground. “No sign of Neena.”
“No doubt she has by now been sequestered in some subterranean dungeon.” Gragelouth fingered the knife he carried as his sole form of protection. “We need to find a route that continues to lead downward.”
“How do we get past this?” Buncan indicated the chaotic courtyard.
“This way, mates.” Squill shouted from the far end of the mezzanine, already two steps down the staircase he’d found.
They were about to descend lower when a shrill, familiar bark halted the otter in his tracks. “She’s ’ere!”He looked around furiously. “That way!” Spinning, he charged back up the stairs, bursting past Buncan and Gragelouth. Only Viz was able to keep up with him.
Sword waving, Squill led the charge into the library … and slowed. It was empty, though there was plenty to indicate that it had recently been fully occupied. Food and drink had been abandoned on tables, and lamps still burned dimly.
“They’re all busy with Snaugenhutt,” Viz opined.
“There’s no one here now.” Buncan turned a slow circle as he advanced farther into the room.
“Bloody ’eck there ain’t, Bunkooch,” declared a weak voice from above.
Their attention was drawn to a mezzanine-level walkway, where Neena was trying to rise from amidst an uncomfortable bed of opened books. A single flickering oil lamp disclosed her location.
“Neena!” Buncan searched for a ladder. “Are you all right?”
“Wot the bloody, rotten ’ell took you so long?” She was so tired she had to use the railing just to stand.
“Don’t worry, mate. She’s right enough.” Squill gave Buncan a hand with the ladder he’d found.
“What’s this, more guests?”
Standing in the doorway, a lithe figure clad in elegant silks and soft leather gestured with the saber he carried. His attitude as much as his attire marked him as the master of the estate.
Squill leveled his own sword as he advanced on the Baron. “The game’s done, guv. Me sister an’ I will be takin’ our leave now. We ain’t your guests.”
“As you wish. I grant you swift departure.” The mink’s eyes glittered. “Your sibling, however, stays. She and I have unfinished business to conclude.”
On the shaky edge of collapse from lack of sleep, Neena still had enough presence of mind to make her way down the ladder Buncan held steady for her.
“Oi, Squill. Lend me your sword an’ I’ll finish ’is business for ’im, I will.”
“Regrett!” It struck Buncan that the Baron was not apologizing, but calling to someone.
Entering behind him and blocking the entire doorway was the ugliest member of the pig tribe Buncan had ever seen. The massive female warthog’s huge scythelike tusks had been filed to razor points. Clad entirely in black learner festooned with metal studs and brads, she carried a hooked battle-ax in one hand and a spiked shield, in the other.
“I will be damned if I will give her up now,” swore Krasvin.
“I certainly hope you will.” Buncan slowly drew his own weapon while keeping a wary eye on the hell hog.
“Tell me,” Krasvin was saying, “where did you find the horned freak? He’s wrecking my home and killing my people.”
Viz moved slightly to the fore. “Snaugenhutt’s his name and gallantry’s our game, twitch-whiskers. We came to rescue the lady in distress.”
“I am not hearing this,” Krasvin murmured softly. “What sort of irrationality is this? You risk your lives for a female’s virtue?”
“If you’d acted like a gentleperson in this matter, Snaugenhutt wouldn’t be tearing up your front hall right now,” Buncan assured him.
“Ah, well.” Krasvin flicked at the air with his saber. “Perhaps it’s just as well that you are here. Maybe after she’s seen you disposed of she will be more accommodating. Though if you had waited a few hours more it would no longer have mattered.”
“Wot’s that?” Squill turned to stare at his sister. “You mean you ’aven’t been … ’e ’asn’t … ?”
“No, I ’aven’t an’ ’e ’asn’t,” she assured him brusquely. “An’ now, if you’ll do me the favor o’ guttin’ this bastard like a trout for the grill, ’e never will anyone else, either.”
Krasvin sighed. “As the rest of my loyal staff seems unable to deal with a single intruder, it will be up to you and me, Regrett, to deal with these three.”
“Four!” Viz darted toward the Baron and just did dodge the lightning-fast swipe of his blade. “Before this night’s out, I’ll peck the parasites from your body.”
“I will have you know that I live as cleanly as I kill.” Krasvin settled his attention on Buncan. “I am told that your horned associate flew through the air to smash my front gate. His tribe possesses no wings. How did you manage that?”
Buncan immediately swapped the sword for his duar. “With this. I’m a powerful wizard. A spellsinger, son of a spellsinger.”
“Really? You look green as a new-sprung twig to me. The kind my servants chop for kindling.” The saber flashed. “I will have your bones burned and the ashes scattered.”
“You really are one first-class disgustin’ example of sentience,” Squill observed thoughtfully.
“Thank you.” Krasvin executed a sardonic bow. “You I will keep alive long enough to watch what I do to your sibling. Regrett!”
With (not surprisingly) a deep grunt the huge warthog lumbered toward them, raising her battle-ax.
“I’ve ’ad about enough o’ this, I ’ave.” With that, Squill dashed forward.
“Squill!” Even Neena was startled by her brother’s unaccustomed bravery … or fool hardiness.
The ax described a vicious arc which, had it connected, would easily have cleft the otter through at the waist. Infinitely more agile man the mammoth hog, S
quill ducked under the blow, rolled, and stabbed with his own weapon, putting all his weight behind the thrust. The point penetrated between boot and legging to slice the Achilles tendon. Somewhat surprised at his own success, he sprang to his feet and backed off.
The warthog shrieked and went down on one knee. Then, to universal astonishment, she slowly straightened. Though the wound was clearly visible there was no sign of any blood, or any indication of damage. As Squill and his companions gaped she resumed her advance, moving easily on a leg that ought to have been permanently crippled.
Avoiding blows from the great ax, Squill continued to harry the monster. Though his thrusts repeatedly struck home, they had no apparent effect. He continued to avoid retaliation, but could not do so forever. No one could. And while he tired, his gargantuan opponent showed no signs of slowing.
“There is sorcery at work here,” Gragelouth muttered. “Dark sorcery.”
“Indeed.” Krasvin relaxed by the doorway, patiently awaiting the inevitable. “Regrett is my personal bodyguard, and the recipient of a very elaborate and expensive restoration spell. Did you think you were the only ones who could make use of combat thaumaturgy? Her body renews itself each time it is injured. I doubt any of you can make a similar claim.”
“Eventually she will wear all of you down. Why not simply surrender now to the inevitable?”
“May you contract a foul disease of the genitals that can only be treated with lye and sandpaper,” said Gragelouth.
Neena gazed at the sloth in astonishment. “Why, you old slug-a-mug. I didn’t think you ’ad it in you!”
The merchant looked embarrassed. “Even I have my limits, young female.”
“Stand still,” the warthog growled, “and I will disable you quickly!”The ax hissed down, striking sparks and stone chips from the library floor where Squill had been standing an instant earlier.
The otter continued to brandish his sword. He was as defiant as ever, but breathing hard now. “Be disabled? By somethin’ as revolting as you? I’d rather throw meself from the top o’ the tallest tree in the Bellwoods.”
Son of Spellsinger: A Spellsinger Adventure (Book Seven) Page 24
