“No, it’s-ah! It’s him in the armor! Ho-ho! He is hiding something!”
“I see,” Willum said in sudden understanding. That’s why he couldn’t see it. Stout Harley’s armor was obscuring it. “Stout Harley, sir. Would you mind removing your breastplate? The magic is so thick it’s distorting my spirit sight.”
“What?” The large man turned on him, anger twisting his face. “Remove my armor? For you? Are you insane? I’m the head of the Defense Guild. I have been for fifteen years. I don’t remove my armor to sleep at night!”
I hope your axe is right, said Coal. Stout Harley is a legend.
They’re all legends, father. It can’t be helped, he said, then touched the axe handle. You better be right about this, imp!
“It’s no one else, Willy. It’s him, old naughty Stout Stouty.”
“You can’t make him do it,” said Kathy, brandishing her axe. “Who are you going to accuse next, Willum? You just going to go around the room hoping it sticks?”
“I’m sorry, Kathy,” Willum said. “I wish it wasn’t true, but I am sure of it. He has a moonrat eye hidden under his breastplate.”
“Liar!” shouted Harley. “You lying pig!”
“Harley,” said Sabre Vlad, shaken. “I have never heard you talk like that ever.”
The council members gathered around the guildmaster and his assistant, their faces grim. Darlan was the only one whose look was sympathetic.
“How long have you had the eye, Harley?” she asked.
“He doesn’t have nothing like that!” said Kathy the Plate.
“What did the witch promise you at first?” Darlan asked. “Companionship? Love?”
“She . . . You got it wrong. She’s not like you think,” said Harley, sweat pouring down his face.
“You didn’t know what she would ask you for, did you?” she said.
“She just wanted to be close to me. I . . . didn’t know she was listening to the meetings, I-!” He grimaced with sudden pain.
She’s hurting him for disobeying, said Coal.
“I . . . I-I’m sorry, I . . .” he dropped his hammer and clutched at his chest, “Kathy!”
His assistant stared at him in concern, her axe hanging loosely from her hand. “Yes, sir?”
“Unbuckle . . . my armor,” he wheezed slapping at the buckle on his shoulder.
She swallowed, but sheathed her axe and loosened the upper and lower straps between the breastplate and backplate on his right side. Finally she worked them free and the armor swung open.
Harley reached his left hand up under his padding and sweat-stained shirt and grunted. When he pulled his hand back out, his fingers were clenched around a shriveled sickly-green orb. He extended his arm out over the table and tried to let go. His arm shook and he grit his teeth. He grabbed his wrist with his other hand and strained. Kathy the Plate reached for his arm.
“No!” he said “Don’t touch it!” He slammed his fist against the table, then pryed his fingers loose with his right hand. Finally the eye fell to the table and rolled, coming to rest right next to where Willum stood.
The moment the eye left his hand, Stout Harley collapsed to his knees and took deep shuddering breaths, sobbing. “Sorry . . . so sorry. Poor Tad. I didn’t know . . . didn’t know.”
Kathy knelt by her guildmaster’s side, her face pale as she rebuckled his armor.
“How did you get the eye?” Hugh asked.
The large man hacked and spat. “A year ago . . . it was a gift from . . . a villager when we were out on patrol.”
“All this time . . .” said Sabre Vlad.
“What do we do with the eye?” asked Mad Jon, glaring at the orb.
“Destroy it,” said Darlan. “Nothing good can come from keeping it. It’s just another way for the witch to spy.”
“Can I?” asked Willum, an idea coming to his mind. He unsheathed the axe.
“With Tad’s axe?” Hugh said. “It seems fitting.”
The others nodded and Willum lifted the axe over the eye. See if you can learn anything from this, imp. He chopped down, slicing the eye neatly in two and the spirit magic faded away. Somewhere in the corner of his mind Willum heard a faint cry of outrage. He smiled in satisfaction.
“Ho-ho, she was mad!” said the imp.
Do you think you can sniff out her powers better now?
“I’m no dog!” it said indignantly. “But yes.”
“Perhaps we should be focusing on our friend, Representative Doudy,” said Hugh the Shadow. “His face is not looking normal. Are you doing that to him, Darlan?”
Darlan’s eyes widened. “This has nothing to do with my spell.”
While they had been distracted, the man’s face had grown a deep red and his nose had swelled and bulged until it hung from his face like a large overripe fruit almost as big as his head. It throbbed a deep purple and rippled as if something inside of it was moving around.
“Ugh. What is wrong with him?” Josef asked.
“I think we should throw him off the wall,” said Sabre Vlad with disgust. “Send Vrill and his witch a message.”
Doudy shook his head, swinging his enormous nose back and forth.
“Is your spell going to hold?” Willum asked Darlan.
“I don’t know. So far it’s keeping his transformation in check, but-!” Darlan gasped as Doudy’s nose tore free from his face and hit the table with a plopping sound.
It sat there on the table for a moment, sagging slightly while something moved around within. Then from the jagged hole where it had torn free from his face, the sack of flesh that used to be Doudy’s nose turned inside out, revealing a writhing mass of purple tentacles, each one with a hissing snake-like mouth on the end.
Two throwing daggers sunk into the center of the squirming mass as Hugh and Josef aimed their throws perfectly. Several of the tentacles wilted as if dead, but the thing didn’t seem to notice. It lashed out at Dann Doudy and Willum saw through his mage sight that the tentacles were pulling on the bands of air binding the man.
“Darlan!” he shouted. But the thing had already ripped the gag of air from Doudy’s mouth. The man hacked and coughed, his throat swelling.
Darlan gathered her magic for another spell and the council members ran around the table towards the man, weapons drawn. Swift Kendyl was there first, dagger in hand. Then a golden sphere appeared in Doudy’s mouth and a buzzing sound filled the room.
Everyone froze.
Doudy spat the sphere onto the table and laughed at the dagger inches from his throat. “This was not the way it was supposed to go!” He grabbed Swift Kendyl’s wrist with a swollen red hand covered in purple veins and twisted. Wllum heard the bones snap. “I was content to walk around in this place and stir things up until Ewzad’s creations arrived, but you guys had to mess things up!
“Look at my face!” he shouted, his voice deepening as he pointed at the bony stub that was all that remained in the jagged tear that used to be his nose. “I hate that!”
He turned and threw Swift Kendyl across the room. His paralyzed form struck Oz the Dagger and both of them were slammed against the wall.
Now, imp! Now! Break the spell before he hurts anyone else! Willum called, watching in terror as Doudy continued to transform, his figure tearing free of his fancy clothing as he grew and distorting further, becoming bulbous and red and purple and warty.
“I am, I am!” the imp said. “It’s not the same magic he used against Tad!”
I’m trying to help too, said Coal and Willum could sense his father prying at the magic running through his body. But that is a tough spell and it is hard to overcome at this distance.
“I bet Ewzad finds this funny. He hated my nose. Used to mock me about it all the time!” said the thing Doudy had become, now seven feet tall and almost as wide. He swung one bulging arm, knocking Sabre Vlad and Mad Jon tumbling across the floor like rag dolls, unable to break their fall. “Why? It’s a Doudy family trait!”
Doudy gr
abbed the frozen form of Silent Josef with one hand and lifted him over his head. A throwing knife darted through the air, sinking into one of the empty nasal cavities where his nose had been. Flame erupted from the wound and Doudy howled, dropping Josef to the ground.
Lyramoor leapt up on the table, twin falchions in hand, heading for the golden orb that contained the paralyzing spell. The tentacled thing, now three times its original size, rolled into his path. It lashed out at him with fang-tipped mouths. Lyramoor danced with his blades, slicing every hissing tentacle that came his way, but the beast rolled and lashed out with wicked attacks from every angle, keeping the elf on his heels.
He got free, Willum said, suspecting it was one of the elf’s magic items that had done it. What’s taking you so long!
“I’m almost there, you . . . Ah!” said the imp in triumph. “Ho-ho, there you go!”
There was a sound like the ring of a heavy bell and Willum felt the spell shatter around him. Everyone else remained frozen. What about the others?
“I can’t free everyone!”
Break the sphere! Coal said.
Willum saw the golden sphere rolling and spinning along the edge of the solid table as it was jostled by Lyramoor’s battle. Willum ran towards it, hoping to reach the sphere before Doudy saw him.
Doudy’s swollen fingers had grown too large to grasp the small knife handle protruding from his face, but the fire had gone out and he gave up trying just in time to see Willum break free. He lunged forward and swung his heavy arm down in Willum’s path.
Willum swung the axe to meet the giant fist, his mind flashing through his options. The axe had three different types of attack powers to grant; force, slice, and flame. Doudy was huge, so he didn’t know how much good force would do, but Doudy’s reaction to Lyramoor’s flame knife made his decision.
Flame! Willum commanded. The blade struck between Doudy’s first and second knuckle and the heavy bell rang out again.
A concussive wave of fire streaked up Doudy’s arm, splitting and searing his flesh. But Willum had miscalculated the forces involved. The weight of the monster’s punch knocked the axe back, driving its spiked end deep into Willum’s shoulder. Both of them stumbled backwards, crying out.
Lyramoor had cut half of the thing’s tentacles away, but it still rotated, bringing more tentacles to bear, keeping him from getting to the orb. He growled and went on the attack. With a flurry of strikes, he sliced away at the thing, cutting the tentacles as close to the center mass as he could.
It tried to turn and roll and rotate, but he didn’t let up, slicing until quivering severed tentacles littered the table around him and the thing had no way to strike back. He lashed out with his foot, kicking it off of the table, and turned, swinging his sword. The falchion’s edge caught the sphere dead center, shattering it to pieces.
The buzzing sound stopped and everyone was free.
Willum pulled the axe free from his shoulder and shifted it over to his left hand. He walked toward the monster, ignoring the blood pouring from the wound. Doudy clutched his ruined arm as his body continued to grow. Now at twelve feet tall, he had to hunch over, his shoulders touching the ceiling.
Just sit back and let them take care of it from here, Willy, said the imp.
He’s right, Coal said and Willum felt his father’s healing energies stopping the bleeding. Just look at him, he has no chance.
Tiny blades blossomed all over Doudy’s body, causing various elemental effects, burning, freezing, and shocking as Hugh the Shadow emptied his arsenal of throwing weapons.
Stout Harley roared as he swung his hammer into the beast’s knee, taking out the joint.
Doudy fell forward and smashed one massive fist into the man, slamming him into the council table with a loud crack. “Traitor!” he shouted and drew back his burned arm to strike again.
But the blow didn’t connect. Sabre Vlad swung his sword in a vicious blow that severed Dowdy’s arm above the elbow.
“Get back!” Darlan yelled in warning and a jet of fire spewed from her fingers. It struck Doudy in his distorted chest and engulfed his body in flames. The council members dragged their wounded companions as far back as they could and Darlan clenched her fist, intensifying the heat as much as she dared within the confined space. Doudy screamed and fell forward, trying to drag his burning body towards them. He continued to grow even as he burned “You can’t kill me!”
Protect me from the heat, imp, Willum said and walked towards the monster.
“Ho-ho, getting one more lick in, Willy?” it said. “Done.”
What are you doing, Willum? Coal asked.
“Willum, get back!” Darlan yelled. She let go of the magic, but it was too late.
“I’m invincible!” said Doudy, dragging himself closer. “I killed Tad the Cunning!”
Willum stood in front of him, seeing the intensity of the flames, but not feeling the heat. “You cheated.”
He swung the axe with both hands. Force. The blade struck the tiny handle of Lyramoor’s knife that was still stuck in Doudy’s nasal cavity and the bell rang once more.
Doudy’s head blew to pieces.
The council watched as his body began to deflate. Darlan extinguished the flames that raged around Doudy’s body, and they tended to their wounded.
Silent Josef and Mad Jon both had broken bones that Darlan was able to set with her magic. Stout Harley was battered and bruised. Doudy’s blow had cracked the council table down the middle, but the strength of his armor had kept him alive.
Oz the Dagger and Swift Kendyl hadn’t moved from their positions splayed in the corner. Luckily Oz only had a slight concussion and Darlan was able to revive him. But Swift Kendyl was dead. His neck had broken upon impact with the wall.
While they mourned their friend, Darlan told them of the prophet’s vision and the Mage School’s plan to rescue them.
They protested, but their arguments were half-hearted. After fighting one of Ewzad’s beasts, they now understood what it would take to face an army of them.
A loud knock on the council room door disrupted their debate. Bill the Fletch had sent a messenger from the wall. The goblinoid army had begun their attack.
Chapter Twenty Nine
There are no patrols or scouts, said Deathclaw. They are too confident.
Justan nodded. I had hoped so. As far as the mother of the moonrats knows, there is no one in the area to oppose her. And why shouldn’t she be confident? If he had their numbers, he might be just as lax. By the academy’s latest count, the besieging army numbered just over 36,000. How far away are you from the others?
Perhaps an hour, Deathclaw said. The giant keeps up a good pace and the wizard and mage cast spells to keep the people from feeling fatigue.
Since Hilt and Beth were needed on the assault, they had given their lodestones to Locksher and Vannya. The two magic users were accompanying Charz and Antyni as they led all of the noncombatants to the portal’s location. The plan was to get everyone that couldn’t fight to the Mage School and out of harms way before the fighting came anywhere near them. Sampo’s fighters went along to escort them safely through. Then they would secure the area and be available to help the rest of the army escape when the time came.
Justan turned to his father. “Deathclaw has arrived at the hills near the portal. He says there are no enemy forces nearby.”
“Good,” Faldon said. “Let me know when the portal is activated. As soon as the people of Sampo start going through, we’ll begin our attack.”
Justan nodded, eager to get started. Their army waited in the hills just south of the City of Reneul and his sensitive ears could hear the shouts of the enemy forces already. “How are things going inside the academy, Master?”
Coal shrugged. “Nothing has changed since yesterday. The goblinoids throw themselves against the walls and the academy warriors slay them. The council has the people ready to flee as soon as we arrive at their gates.”
The only real concerns
had been the giants to the north of the academy and the orcs to the southwest. The orcs had constructed siege engines and battering rams and though the academy had been able to keep them from being used so far, the orcs would eventually figure out how get past their hail of arrows. The giants on the other hand had constructed crude trebuchets. So far they weren’t very efficient and rarely threw anything over the wall, but they were starting to learn.
“That should be to our advantage,” Justan said. “Hopefully it means they are watching the walls and not keeping an eye out for attack.”
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 43
