Then, at the last instant, the Elf-Eater tucked its shell all the way to the ground. The heavy weapons slammed into the bony surface, and the long shafts splintered. The galloping horses crashed into the monster with stunning force. All of the horses and riders went down as assuredly as if they had ridden full tilt into a brick wall.
Myra flew from her saddle as her lance broke in her hands. She crashed into the monster’s shell, hearing bones snap in her shoulder and arm. Involuntarily she cried out in pain as she dropped to the paved street, groaning and helpless in the very shadow of the beast.
One of the sister knights died instantly from a broken neck, but the fate of the others was just as certain—and infinitely more horrible. Haze filled Myra’s mind with fiery agony. She remembered the gate, when the monster had left her on the ground in search of other prey. This time, she knew, she would not be so lucky.
Stunned and immobile, the surviving knights watched helplessly or struggled feebly as the beast picked them up, one by one, and gulped them into the drooling pit of its mouth. Myra cried out in rage as she watched her comrades perish—but then a sturdy tentacle grasped her waist. She punched at it, trying in vain to draw her sword—but in the next moment, she followed the other brave sisters into the mindlessly devouring mouth.
That task completed, the Elf-Eater raised itself above the scene of its gory repast, ignoring the injured horses that kicked and whinnied at its feet. Before the monster, glittering in the sunlight like a magnet of beauty, stood the Argen-Tellirynd, the Palace of the Ages.
* * * * *
Deirdre read for what seemed like a long time. Gradually, however, she found that her mind couldn’t concentrate on the words. Instead, she found herself looking at the table, at the silvered glass propped there.
At first, she had purposely turned the mirror to the side, so that she couldn’t see her face when she looked up from her reading. But after two hours, she grew restless. Rising to pace, she looked into the glass as she passed. Finally she turned it to face the chair and returned to her tome. She found it strangely comforting to look up and see the image of herself, the great leather-bound volume covering her lap.
She wanted to see the monster again, but the mere thought of projecting the image in the mirror caused her temples to throb and her eyes to burn. The princess knew that she needed rest before she again used the device for scrying, but she felt no desire to sleep.
In fact, her memory had served her well: She found the passage, in Khelben Arunsun’s Walking the Dark Places, that she had recalled earlier. It bore a striking resemblance, in some respects, to the situation in Synnoria.
Deirdre read about a creature from the Lower Planes, a six-legged menace called Gorathil. That horror had menaced an entire nation of halflings. The monster was the size of an ox, and it scuttled about with a speedy, crablike gait. Arunsun spent much time describing in detail the horrid claws of the monster, which were used to rend the halfling prey alive so that Gorathil’s tooth-studded maw could devour the pieces.
Skipping over these details quickly, Deirdre pressed ahead to the end of the section, the equally involved account of the means by which the creature was vanquished. She wondered if perhaps the description in the book was relevant to the conflict now raging in Synnoria.
To Princess Deirdre, the problem was an interesting tactical study on the use of power. The fact that her sister and mother personally fought the monster in Synnoria meant little to her, save that she would earn their respect, perhaps even their fear, if she were able to best this thing.
Carefully, deliberately, she turned away from the mirror and continued to read.
* * * * *
Alicia scrambled through splintered wreckage, all that remained of a once-magnificent row of proud aspens that had lined the avenue beside the Palace of Ages. The Elf-Eater was somewhere ahead of her, invisible in the smoke that drifted across the parklike expanse that had once been the great plaza of Chrysalis. Now it looked like the ground where an epic battle had been lost.
The tree creature of her staff strided along beside her. The great being had used its strength to hold and delay the Elf-Eater but, like the earth elemental, had been unable to inflict serious injury to the beast. Now the changestaff stepped stiffly forward, pausing occasionally to bend forward until its upper half extended nearly parallel to the ground. Alicia wondered what it was doing, but finally she realized that it peered thus to inspect the blind spots around buildings and hedges. She found the uncanny alertness of the beast somewhat reassuring.
Mostly Alicia’s mind tried to remain numb, inured by battle to a multitude of disasters. But too often she found herself looking through the smoke and wreckage for Pawldo, and then remembering, with a burning stab of pain, that she would never see him again. Then her thoughts would turn to her father, growing into a tornado of despair and fright.
Another crackling inferno flamed before her, driving her thoughts back to the present. The monster had smashed many houses, and often a cookfire or lantern inside ignited the wreckage. The fine timber blazed like a great bonfire, and the princess crossed to the far side of the street as she passed the ruined dwelling.
For hours, she and her companions and a handful of Llewyrr who had rallied to their city’s defense had harassed the Elf-Eater in a great circle. The only thing they had been able to accomplish, at the cost of several elven lives, had been the distraction of the monster, for it had not yet moved in to ravage the palace.
Yet how long could they maintain this ultimately defeatist strategy? Alicia wondered. They had to find some way to damage the beast, to somehow slay it, or at the very least force it away from the otherwise defenseless city.
Keane had expended every spell in his repertoire, and though several had seemed to anger the monster, none had inflicted any noticeable damage. Her mother’s wall of fire spell had sent the Elf-Eater plunging away in apparent panic, the first, and only, real setback that any of them had delivered to the dreaded slayer.
But none of it held even the faint hope of eventual victory—and so immense was the monster’s apparent power that Alicia had begun to despair of ever finding the hope, let alone the reality, of the Elf-Eater’s defeat.
Brigit’s voice came to Alicia from somewhere ahead along the dust-shrouded boulevard. “The Elf-Eater moves on the Argen-Tellirynd!”
Desperately weary, Alicia raised her sword and stumbled forward. A shape emerged from the murk to her left, and she smiled weakly at Hanrald as the knight fell in at her side.
“This thing is tougher than I thought,” admitted the armored warrior grimly. Nevertheless the Earl of Fairheight tightened his grip on the pommel of his great two-handed sword and marched steadily up the street.
Brigit joined them next. Her smooth face was bruised, her lips puffed and swollen. Her silver breastplate remained smooth, but concealed beneath soot, mud—and blood. She brushed a hand across her eyes, and Alicia noticed that she had lost a gauntlet somewhere.
Colleen, the scout who had fought beside Brigit all day, approached out of the smoke, her expression stricken.
“I found Myra’s horse,” she said numbly. “Others, too—but the riders were …”
“That’s enough,” replied the captain, closing her eyes in momentary pain. She shook her head. How many lives would end on this day?
“Wait—we go together!” Brandon lurched from another smoky ruin, the northman’s axe clutched firmly in his two hands. Others joined them from the places where they had scattered when the Elf-Eater had rumbled through. Robyn emerged from a clump of trees. The High Queen’s face was smudged with smoke, but her eyes smoldered with the flame of anger. There was Keane, limping slightly. He pushed himself erect as the others came into view, joining their advance with scarcely a falter in his step.
“Argen-Tellirynd … the palace,” Brigit said, her tone dull. “It has stood inviolate for more than three thousand years.” She shook her head, as if trying to dispel an enchantment of disbelief. Ahead of them, they saw t
he Elf-Eater, crouching motionless between a pair of blazing houses, greedily devouring the numerous limp shapes scattered on the ground around it.
Abruptly the thing rose. If it noticed the approach of the companions, it gave no sign. Instead, it rolled forward in its deceptively awkward gait until it once again stood in the middle of the street, less than a hundred paces from Alicia.
Then it started to move, rumbling away from them toward the gleaming facets of Argen-Tellirynd.
“Can you distract it somehow?” Brigit cried to Keane, her tone desperate. “Get it to come this way—anywhere but the palace!”
“When will it have enough?” groaned Keane, weariness making his voice strident. He raised a hand and barked a magical command.
Sparks hissed and crackled in the air, along with the pungent scent of a nearby lightning strike. Three balls of force, hissing and sputtering, trailing flashes and sparks in the air, hurtled into the Elf-Eater’s carapace. Each exploded with a violent convulsion, searing into the creature’s unnatural flesh, burning and sizzling with released force. The monster picked up speed but continued to lumber away from them.
Keane groaned and staggered. For a moment, Alicia feared that he might collapse, but then he shook his head and stumbled forward with the others. His hand closed around the steel dagger he always carried at his waist.
“For Synnoria—for the Llewyrr, and the Palace of the Ages!” cried Brigit, raising her sword and charging forward on foot. Other sisters joined her, and then Alicia, Hanrald, and Brandon shouted through hoarse throats and added their weight to the ragged charge. The tree of Alicia’s changestaff lumbered beside them. Robyn trotted beside Keane, but then the druid queen cried another command. Once more the earth elemental rose from the land. This time, it emerged from among the paving stones in the street, bearing several marble slabs like plate armor, and lumbered toward the Elf-Eater.
But the marauding monster only flicked its tentacles at the pesky mortals attacking its rear. Most of the Ityak-Ortheel’s attention focused on the magnificent structure before it.
The high wall, as clear as glass, surrounded the three-sided courtyard of Argen-Tellirynd. In the center of this plaza rose the pyramidical shape of the palace itself, three triangular walls that came together in a sharp peak at the top.
Rumbling faster now, too fast for the companions to keep up, the monster charged straight toward the clear wall—almost as if the thing didn’t know the barrier existed. Closer it lumbered, and then it lowered its shell as it had done at the city gates.
The ground shook from the force of the impact, and a sound like thunder crashed through the air. The beast bounced back from the wall and pounded to the earth, but again, with deceptive quickness, it bounced back to its three feet.
“The wall! It didn’t break!” shouted the princess, fiercely delighted.
“Look,” said Keane grimly, pointing to the glasslike barrier.
Alicia’s heart sank as she saw a thin spiderweb of cracks spread along the crystalline wall. The monster backed up several steps and charged forward again, crashing into the wall and stopping in its tracks. This time the sound of splintering rang through Chrysalis.
The wall still held, but obviously not for long. Pieces of the crystalline substance fell away in a glittering shower, and several gaping holes yawned in the barrier. Cracks spread farther to the left and right, casting dazzling prisms on the ground when the sun washed over them.
When the Elf-Eater bashed the wall a third time, the barrier came apart in a shower of sharp crystals. Passing through the gap, the monster entered the huge, triangular courtyard of the Argen-Tellirynd.
* * * * *
Deirdre returned to her mirror, fiercely determined to prove her strength in such a way that none could ever again deny it. Quickly the image found Synnoria and the city of the Llewyrr. The path of the Elf-Eater gaped like a bleeding wound across the scene, and Deirdre easily followed the trail to the edge of the crystal palace.
Her heart pounded as she saw, again, the broad triangle of the palace courtyard—and the similarly shaped structure within. Perfect!
For once, Deirdre’s iron-hard confidence rested on her shoulders with less than total conviction. The task was an awesome one, the enemy a being of unthinkable power.
Yet, if she was right, that enemy had a fatal weakness, and the princess of Callidyrr was the only person who knew where that vulnerability lay.
Finally the image faded from the mirror, and she was ready to put her plans into action. Deirdre wrapped her cloak around her lithe body and closed her eyes, picturing clearly the scene that had last appeared before her eyes.
She spoke three words sharply, and then she was gone.
* * * * *
Sinioth ordered his two lieutenants, each a monarch in his own right, to attend him in the Great Grotto of the Coral Kingdom. This was a huge, domed cavern erected at the height of the coral ridge occupied by Krell-Bane’s scrags. The giant squid coiled around a dais in the center of the grotto and waited for the others to speak.
Sythissal floated before his master, while Krell-Bane rested on the coral floor of the grotto. The latter’s eyes still flashed hatred. He greatly resented the orders of Talos requiring him to accept a new master in his own realm, but he kept his wrath hidden, observing the conference with rapt attention.
“How do we catch these humans if they take to the sea?” he wondered aloud.
“There I have been making preparations,” explained Sythissal, eagerly settling to the floor. His clawed hands flexed as he gestured. “My warriors have built two great ships—ships that will carry us on the surface as fast as the humans can sail! No longer will our enemies outrun us with a favorable wind!”
“These are ships of the surface?” asked the scrag king in genuine surprise.
“They wait for us under the water, but only atop the sea will they gain their highest speed. They are secreted in the Moonshaes now, ready for our master’s command!”
Krell-Bane grimaced at his ally’s fawning, but he couldn’t contain his curiosity. “What are these vessels? Where have they come from?”
“My warriors have created them from the shells of wrecked human ships—hulls and decks we have joined, capable of carrying many hundreds of us. As to what they are,” replied Sythissal, his barbed teeth flashing in a self-satisfied grin, “I have decided to call them ‘Mantas.’ ”
7
Twin Triangles
Brigit stumbled through the wreckage of the crystal wall, desperate to distract the Elf-Eater from its attack against the Palace of the Ages. Alicia watched, awestruck, admiring the elfwoman’s courage even as she recognized her futility. Two other sisters, their armor battered and their faces dirty, accompanied their captain in this headlong advance.
The tall triangle of the palace proper soared skyward before them, blocked only by the pastoral hedges, the curved marble walls and sweeping reflective pools that had once created such harmony in the courtyard. Centered in the midst of this grace, the crystalline walls of the three-sided pyramid once reflected beauty and balance.
The elephantine monster shattered any such pristine memories, lumbering closer to the palace, paying no attention to the insignificant elven warriors to its rear. Instead, Ityak-Ortheel bore straight toward the looming structure, crushing to gravel a marble arch that stood in its path, smashing lush and ancient cedars underfoot so that the sweet scent of green needles permeated the air. Stomping through the wreckage, the monster continued without pause.
Alicia waited with her companions outside the breach in the wall. A sense of wonder bedazzled her, for the shining silver and diamond structure before her, towering to its lofty point in the sky, evoked a strong sense of awe. The Argen-Tellirynd was the grandest building she had ever seen, more elegant and beautiful even than Caer Callidyrr, yet now its grandeur could evoke only a profound sadness, for saving the palace didn’t seem like an attainable goal.
Keane groaned wearily, slumping against
a crumbling wall. Robyn, too, leaned weakly against the supporting surface.
With a grimace, she pushed herself upward.
“Attack—go!” the queen commanded, and the hulking earthen form of her stone-plated elemental lumbered after the Elf-Eater. The gangly, leaf-covered form of Alicia’s changestaff followed in a gait that seemed as awkward as a man on stilts, yet carried the tree being forward with sweeping strides.
Finally Hanrald and Brandon stepped through the broken wall of crystal, followed by Alicia, Robyn, and Keane.
“A diversion!” Brigit cried, turning to cast about for some kind of idea. She looked at them in despair. “We’ve got to draw that thing away!”
“I don’t think we can,” the High Queen said quietly, in a voice that still carried clearly to Brigit’s ears.
The elfwoman whirled back toward the monster, as if she would run forward and try to drag it back by herself. Then her shoulders slumped, and she staggered in complete dejection. “We can’t,” she agreed, choking with grief. “Three thousand years …”
She didn’t finish, but there was nothing anyone could do to change the beast’s inexorable advance toward the Palace of the Ages. The Ityak-Ortheel was clearly drawn to the triangular pyramid by some compulsion not understood by the human and elven onlookers.
The monster rumbled through the wide courtyard, trudging through several pristine fishponds. The crystal waters shimmered in a fine spray as they were splashed by the grotesque feet, and then flowed into the muddy depressions left by the Elf-Eater’s passage.
Two blue-coated elven warriors, each carrying a silver-bladed halberd, rushed forward from a palace guardpost. They raised their weapons and shouted a fierce cry as they attacked, but before the blades dropped, the Ityak-Ortheel reached out with leathery tentacles and swiped the weapons away.
The hapless fighters struggled vainly in the grip of those same limbs, their screams silenced with shocking speed.
Again Alicia remembered how swiftly Pawldo had disappeared. Anger boiled within her, coupled with furious frustration. There seemed to be nothing they could do to slow the monster’s onslaught.
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