Careful not to let the horse drink too much, Hoole led them to a stand of ash trees. He dropped a handful of oats and let the horse feed while he took care of his own needs. The caw of a crow shook him. He hadn’t realized until now how quiet it was. Almost deathly quiet. Hoole immediately recognized the danger and began saddling his horse again. There was no time. Any illusions were gone. His life was in jeopardy.
The southern tip of the Gren mountains were almost in sight now, gradually petering out into sloping foothills more manageable for both the weary horse and rider. Open plains gave way to lightly forested areas. All he had to do was make it to the forest another day’s ride away and Hoole was confident he could disappear successfully.
The arrow biting into the tree next to his head changed all that. He didn’t see where it came from, but there was no mistaking the origin. Hoole sneered at the short Goblin arrow. A pair of feathers, dislodged from the fleeing crow, drifted down among the loose snow knocked off the branches. Another arrow sped by, this one inches from his face. Hoole swore he caught the sounds of a foul laugh.
Easing into the trees a little deeper, he carefully plotted his next move. Running too soon risked certain ambush and death. Goblins and Trolls weren’t noted for their tactical prowess, but there was no end to their tenacity and thirst for revenge. In addition, he had no idea how many Men of Grelnor were hunting him. Two more arrows whistled past before he decided to flee. Kicking his horse hard in the sides, Hoole launched from the stand of trees and rode for his life. Arrows struck all around, and he wondered if an entire legion of archers was after him. Then a spray of blood, hot and steaming, erupted from his horse’s throat. The beast screamed and fell dead.
Hoole managed to roll clear before the massive animal crushed him. He rose to a knee and tried to spy his enemy. Not that it mattered, he mused. He was caught and knew it. Mud and snow dirtied his face and hands. He was tired and worn down by weeks of war. At last Jervis Hoole understood. It was time. He slowly rose to his full height and drew his long sword. A pool of crimson spread violently from the horse’s body.
“Come out and face me, cowards!” he bellowed in challenge.
A lonely wind howled across the fields.
Hoole struggled with the emotions threatening to consume him. Anger, hatred, and humiliation ate at the edges of his soul. He knew he was surrounded. A single man emerged from the nothing before him and halted a goodly distance away. They stood still and eyed one another for a time. Neither seemed in a great hurry. A light snow began to fall.
Hoole broke the silence. “I should have killed you when I had the chance, Nintel. You are a disgrace to our people.”
Nintel laughed, his voice ragged and piercing. The former adjutant eyed Hoole with open malice. “I disgrace our people? Take a cold, hard look at yourself before making those accusations, Hoole. How many good men lay dead because of your ambitions? These are your last few moments, I suggest you make better of them than to throw empty threats. You betrayed us, and for that you shall pay.”
Hoole spit. “Everything I did was for Grelnor! I have no shame in that. But you, worm, you have sold it all to be a puppet for the mage. Gladly will I trade my life for that.”
An Ogre inched into view to his left, as did a pair of Goblin archers behind Nintel.
“You shall die content then. I aim to tear your heart out and send it back to Sidian. Don’t run, it will spoil the thrill of this,” Nintel said dryly.
He drew his sword and stalked forward to meet his foe. The knowledge of immediate death made the battle easier for Hoole and he fought with ruthless abandon. His thrusts pushed Nintel back so far the archers had a clear shot. They took it. Two arrows thumped into Hoole’s chest. He dropped his sword as pain shot through his body. The once proud leader of the Grelnor dropped to his knees and gasped for breath. Blood poured from the wounds to mingle with the already drying pools from his horse.
Nintel walked up and kicked away the now useless sword. He was fully aware of the level of treachery in Hoole’s heart and wasn’t willing to take chances. Jervis Hoole leaned forward, placing one hand on the ground. Blood trickled down the shafts in his chest. His chest was tight. He couldn’t feel his limbs anymore. He tried to speak but the words wouldn’t form. Nintel laughed again.
“Oh how the foolish have fallen, eh old friend?” he asked, leaning as close as he dared. Hoole now lay prone on his back. Empty eyes stared back at Nintel.
“You always thought you were so much smarter than the rest of us. Too bad you couldn’t see past your own ignorance.”
Nintel collected his band of assassins and left the body for the vultures. The reign of Jervis Hoole was ended.
FIFTY-EIGHT
The smell was worse than anything Delin ever experienced. It reminded him of the day he and his father stumbled upon a family of rabbits drowned in a well. He’d vomited three times and never forgot how awful it was when his father pulled the water logged carcasses from the water. The skin peeled away, making the task twice as difficult as it normally would have been. The memory remained unpleasant, especially since they’d been cast into Aingaard’s foulest dungeons.
He looked around, but the lighting was minimal and offered only vague glimpses of those around him. He was chained by leg and wrist to the slime covered walls. Delin found it distressing that Sidian’s henchmen stole the last shard of the crystal. And despite all of Dakeb’s reassurances, it was beginning to look like the end after all. If they didn’t find a way out of this miserable dungeon soon Malweir had no hope. Right now he was wondering how long the dark mage intended on torturing them.
He saw a large rat scurry through the muck along the wall. Even rats had to eat, he supposed. Empty manacles caked in dried blood hung between him and who he guessed to be Tolis Scarn. They offered a worrying glimpse of things to come. Sadness claimed him, though none of it was for himself. He regretted what he’d done to Tarren and his poor mother back home. She’d spend the rest of her life never knowing what happened to her little boy.
“A fine mess you’ve landed us in, mage,” Scarn spat from the shadows.
As much as it grated his nerves to listen to Scarn speak, Delin was grateful to be taken from his private lament.
To his surprise, Dakeb actually laughed. “I do apologize, but I can’t recall hearing a better way to gain access to Aingaard along the way.”
“We’re a bit past that,” Hallis said. “I’d like to know why the mage didn’t recognize you. He should have been able to pick you out from the beginning.”
“I’m a minor concern to him now. He won’t come to see me for himself until he feels he has all the pieces in place. Then he’ll want to come and gloat. That means bringing us to his chambers to watch the end of the world. Sidian never could resist showing off, even when he was a young man. This should prove interesting.”
Norgen rattled against his chains from the far side of the room. “Interesting? I say we break out now and take his head. Finish this task the right way. The boy still has his sword. No one is going to even try and take it. That’s our advantage.”
Delin tried to find his best friend in the gloom. He could barely make out Phaelor’s soft glow from his hip. That sinking feeling of despair crept back in with the knowledge that Fennic was just as helpless as he.
“Why are we arguing?” Tarren asked finally. “We should be focusing on finding a way out of here before he gets to the end of the world.”
“Such a smart girl,” Dakeb smiled warmly. “I admit I tend to drift off the subject from time to time. It’s quite easy to forget things once you’ve lived a few hundred years. Why one time I…”
“The stone,” Celegon reminded.
“Ah yes, the stone. The fourth and final shard of the cracked crystal of Tol Shere. Sounds a might ominous doesn’t it? Imagine the thousands of people who haven’t the slightest their world may soon be over. Sidian has yet to complete the crystal. I imagine he’s sitting in his tower toying with it now. He knows
nothing can stop him. All of his enemies are either dead or captured. So much power has got to be disillusioning him, intoxicating his senses beyond reality. This is all to our advantage.”
“How so?” Hallis asked. He didn’t understand how being a prisoner was in his favor.
A shimmer passed through the mage. “Consider this stone like a drug. He’s drunk with power and thinks he has all the loose ends sown up. The Tho Shere crystal may well be the ultimate power source in all Malweir. Would you fear a bedraggled band of prisoners safely tucked away in a secure dungeon with only hours left before the culmination of five hundred years worth of hardship? I wouldn’t. There is no way he thinks he can lose. We have him right where we need him,” Dakeb explained.
Scarn laughed again, mocking them all with his disdain. “You’ve led us into ruin, old man. I’ve heard stories of these dungeons and now we’re living this nightmare. Lucky for you we’re chained.”
“Or what? You’d stab him in the back and run?” Fennic shot back. “You’re nothing but a lying coward.”
“Mind your tongue, boy, I hold you accountable as well,” Scarn snarled.
Norgen’s deep, booming laugh echoed throughout the fetid cell. “Feisty isn’t he?”
Any response was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps. Half a dozen heavily armed Goblins entered the chamber, followed closely by a nasty looking man. It was the same man who’d captured them in Greeth. The Goblins split into two ranks, each aiming their crossbows at the helpless prisoners along the walls. With a nod from Spendak, one of the guards produced a set of keys and advanced on Scarn.
“It appears our master has taken an interest in you, thief,” Spendak told him. “He wishes to thank you for your services personally.”
Tolis Scarn smiled. This was almost too good to be true. He didn’t care about hiding his identity anymore. He just wanted out. Collect his payment and leave the rotten land of Gren forever. Scarn rubbed at his chaffed wrists and headed for the stairwell. He was finally free. He stopped when his foot was about to touch the first step and turned around. Hatred blazed in his eyes as he walked up to Hallis.
“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do this,” he whispered. His fist was balled so tight the color drained away.
Scarn punched as hard as he could. The blow to the stomach was sweet, but he wished he had one of his long knives with him. Then he could show the soldier what true power was. He drew back to strike again but was stopped by Spendak. The man of Grelnor had little patience and even less liking for the thief. Scarn was hurried up the stairs. That done, Spendak turned on the others and smiled at Tarren. His teeth were dark and wicked. A pair of Goblins moved forward and unchained her.
“What are you doing to her?” Delin shouted. His voice was almost lost amidst her cries and struggles.
Spendak turned on the boy. “Oh don’t worry about her. The Master has plans for your young girlfriend.”
Tarren twisted and jerked and very nearly broke free. Spendak was amused, but had seen enough. He grabbed her by the shoulder and slapped her hard across the face with the back of his gloved hand. She fell unconscious in a heap at his feet. Laughing, Spendak had his Goblins pick Tarren up and take her from the dungeon. Delin screamed out her name.
* * *
Tarren woke with a groan. He head was pounding. She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious, or where she was. There was a knot on her forehead and her jaw was sore. Panic seized her momentarily. Then she noticed she was in a plush bed with down pillows and soft sheets. Her tattered dress was gone and a strange jeweled necklace hung around her throat. Looking around she noticed a luxurious black dress that offered little to the imagination hanging at the foot of the bed. There was a tray of fruits and cheese next to the bed. Otherwise the room was empty.
It took her a while, but hunger finally won. She reached out and took one of the dark red apples and ravenously devoured it. She quickly lost herself to the virtual feast before her, knowing deep in her mind that her friends were starving and in torment. A gentle creak announced she had a visitor. Tarren ducked back into the bed and pulled the blanket high so nothing was exposed. Fear radiated from her. Shadows flowed into the room, followed closely by a frail looking man in dark gray robes.
He had a sort of calmness about him, a serenity she’d never seen. His manner was seductive, though he didn’t utter a word. His eyes seemed to mesmerize her. Soft humming escorted him to the foot of the bed. It caressed her in a soothing way. Tarren’s eyes drifted close. Her hands released the blanket, dropping both shamelessly to her sides. The Silver Mage held up his hand, palm facing her. The necklace began to glow with a strange warmth spreading through her body. Tarren gasped softly and swung her legs out of bed. Without knowing what she was doing, she headed for the gown and began to get dressed.
* * *
Tolis Scarn paced back and forth in the tiny room he’d been confined in. Spendak had assure him that it was only temporary until the mage finished with his other guest. That had been some hours ago and Scarn had yet to see another living soul. He felt he was being suckered again. The Hooded Man had played him for the fool for almost a year and Scarn now believed he was a dead man. No one in their right mind would invite a killer and thief into the heart of their empire and let him leave in one piece.
Hooded Man. Scarn laughed at the thought. How could he have been so blind as not to see the mage’s true identity? He’d been outright fooled from the beginning, plain and simple. Swords and stones; Elves and Dwarves. All of that was behind him now. He had to think of way out of this death trap before it was too late. Hands clasped behind his back, Scarn continued to pace. A knock on the door brought him back to reality.
He knew who it was before he even made for the door. Sidian gracefully walked in, his heavy robes flowing around him. Behind came a gorgeous young woman in a low cut black gown. Scarn forced himself to look twice. It couldn’t be. He recognized Tarren and wondered what had happened while he’d been locked away. She was the last one he expected to be converted. A familiar lust began to boil in him. The mage smiled, wicked and inviting.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, thief. My associates aren’t exactly pleased about it, but I’ll think they’ll soon get over it. You might even say I’ve had a vision,” Sidian chuckled. He slowly removed his hood, perhaps as much for the dramatic effect as for letting Scarn finally see the face behind the shadows.
The face staring back at Scarn was pretty much like any other old man. Old beyond years, with hollow cheeks and frail, blue lips. Sidian’s gray hair drifted down past his shoulders, making him appear older than he was. Liver spots peppered his skin and his eyes seemed empty despite the heavy crow’s feet eating the edges.
“You seem disappointed,” Sidian said. “Perhaps I’m not the imposing figure they’ve made me out to be, eh?” he leaned menacingly close. “I assure you, I am everything horrible they ever said.”
“Why should I think that you’re actually going to pay me and let me go then?” Scarn asked. “I think there’s a dagger up your sleeve waiting for my back.”
He hoped the fear in his voice wasn’t overly displayed. This was the critical moment for him and he needed to play it just right.
Sidian laughed. “You have my word, master thief. Tarren, be a dear and bring our friend his payment.”
Hips swaying in a provocative manner she never had before, Tarren smiled and walked up to Scarn with a large bag of coins in her hands. He watched as her breasts swayed back and forth in tune with her body. The fabric of the gown was almost transparent and he could see everything. Scarn made out the hardness of her nipples and forced himself to take the purse. Her eyes burned holes into him, as if begging him to give in to those rising urges. Sidian looked on with limited interest.
“I trust you’ll find enough coin to keep you occupied for a good while. You may leave once the ceremony is completed. That is my word,” Sidian went on to explain. “Until then, I shall have
food and drink brought to you. If you desire anything else, my staff is at your disposal. Good day Master Scarn.”
Tarren at his heels, Sidian left. Scarn remained where he was until long after the door clicked shut. He felt like a school boy being given his first kiss. Better. He dumped the purse on his bed, laughed at the sound of so many coins clinking against each other. Gold reflected in his eyes. He was rich! There was enough here to buy his own small kingdom. On his knees, scooping his future up and letting it slip slowly between his fingers, Tolis Scarn was in heaven. That’s when a soft knock came. His heart raced. The trap was sprung. Sidian had lied to him again. He’d seen too much and knew too much that could damage the mage if it fell into the wrong hands. Scarn scrambled for his weapons and moved next to the door.
“Come in,” he said.
The door opened but a crack, as if the person on the other side knew what he planned. There was little hope of escape, as the room had no window. Scarn was determined not to die alone. He drew back to strike. The slender, feminine hand on the door knob stopped him. Tarren Brickton slid into the room like a ghost. Seeing the opportunity, Scarn quickly checked the hallway to see if she was alone before closing the door. The dagger wavered cautiously before him.
Her eyes rested on the well used steel. Her full lips curled into a seductive smile. “I know that isn’t for me,” she coyly said.
He didn’t know how, or when, but Tarren had become a woman. Her long hair lay draped over her shoulders, concealing most of her breasts in a pleasing way. He slowly took in every inch of her. She wore flat sandals with crisscrossing straps halfway up her calves. Her gown was slit to the waist on each side, offering him glimpses of her smooth legs and just a hint of buttocks. Designed to show off her lithe body, it also displayed her womanly curves. She turned to prove she was weaponless.
“Why are you here?” he demanded. “Did he send you?”
She extended her arms and slowly turned to face him. “Do you remember that night in the woods beyond Ipn Shal? The night you touched me? Did you enjoy it?”
Armies of the Silver Mage Page 36
