The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) (61 page)

Merdel shook his head. “I can’t. It might burn the cloth. But don’t worry, I have a shield over my fingers to prevent serious damage, one slight enough Elak shouldn’t be able to detect it. I can heal them completely when this is all over.” He smiled as if that solved the problem. “Shall we go now?”

So saying, Merdel gestured for Rush and Dart to take the lead, and he followed immediately after them. Drath took a position a little behind the wizard, with Thorne close behind him and Vaun bringing up the rear. The youth’s eyes regularly scanned the hallways to the side and behind him, but his mind registered only the unadorned stone. He was too preoccupied trying to figure out what had made him perceive Merdel as a threat to his Purpose and why he’d almost killed him for it.

It scared him that he would be so willing to do violence on someone he considered a friend. Sure, he and Merdel had argued in the past, but not even his enspellment of him warranted death. Vaun decided that he would have to be more careful to better control his Swordsman impulses. The Song had played menacingly, too. While it reassured him that it was still there, it scared him that it could turn on a friend just as easily as an enemy.

The passageways they followed looked pretty much the same as the stairwell. The walls and floors were stone, and they passed side hallways and doors at odd intervals. Alcoves made an indention on both sides of the hall every fifteen or so steps, most of them looking newly carved, and torches and lamps burned at evenly spaced intervals high up on the walls. Several times they climbed up or down stairs, and hurriedly crossed one open courtyard when the wand gave them no other choice.

Whenever they passed an open archway or door that led to other parts of the keep, they stopped to allow Merdel time to detect which way led to the stones. A sudden flinch or suppressed cry signaled the correct turning most of the time, and other times he merely hastily changed hands. The frequent pauses made the going slow but kept them from taking a wrong turn, something that would be very time-consuming and also potentially deadly. None of them could help but be pleased every time the wand burned Merdel’s fingers, since that told them they hadn’t lost their way. Even Merdel began to grin ironically the more it happened.

After going outside the keep twice more, they still walked down unadorned hallways. The sameness and monotony began to tell on everyone’s nerves and had them thinking they were trapped in a maze. They had as yet met no one, making them all suspicious of their good luck. Whenever it seemed in the most abundance was usually when it abandoned them. Sure enough, a few minutes later Dart signaled that someone approached.

The companions swiftly scattered into various hiding places. Dart and Thorne slowly opened one of the nearby doors after making sure no one stood beyond it. Drath and Merdel took up opposite positions behind one archway, and Vaun and Rush availed themselves of the convenient alcoves. Shortly after they were all concealed and still, their ears straining to hear every sound, they detected the steady tread of what must be a guard.

The hallways turned right just ahead of their position, and around the corner came not a guard but rather a man who looked to be a cook. He had on rough, well-worn breeches and a shirt covered over by a stained white apron. He bore no weapons, only a tray of what looked to be someone’s meal.

He marched briskly past where the six were secreted and continued straight down the corridor, disappearing around the corner some distance behind them. After a few minutes of waiting to be sure no one followed the man, the group crept from their hiding places and resumed their trek through Elak’s fortress.

Not long after, Dart announced he could smell food. It came from the direction they headed, and smelled like the food the servant who’d passed them had carried. Reaching an intersection, the brown-haired elf told the others that the kitchen was to the right. Even though he didn’t have Dart’s acute senses, the mere thought of food made Vaun’s stomach rumble, both with hunger and the urge to vomit. The smell of the sewer hung on him still, though not enough to keep him from remembering he hadn’t eaten for almost a day, and not even very well at that.

Merdel pointed Gwyndar’s Wand down each hallway, then chokingly said they needed to turn left. From the look of pain on the wizard’s face, they must be close now. Glad to avoid what seemed the only occupied part of the whole place, the group started down the passageway Merdel had indicated. Turning a sharp corner, the elves nearly bowled over the guards who were emerging out of a door on the right.

Rush crouched, two daggers coming into his hands almost on their own and his chameleon ability already making his body fade from sight.

Surprised, all four of the guards’ mouths dropped open when the blond-haired elf melted from sight. Two fell clutching slashed calves before they could overcome their shock. The last two drew their swords and squared off against the cousins but halted their attacks when the rest of the party members stepped around the corner.

Both guards swore, and one turned and fled down the corridor to sound an alarm. The other raised his sabre defensively before him with one hand and helped his two injured companions to their feet with the other.

“Who are you?” The guard’s voice was thick with a western accent.

Rush appeared long enough to sneer at the dark-haired guard. “No one you should mess with.” He then sprang forward, his body flickering out of focus again. One dagger flew into the throat of the right-most of the injured guards, and his shortsword left its sheath in time to deflect the uninjured guard’s attack.

The other injured guard, on seeing one companion slain and the other engaged against an invisible opponent, turned to flee. He limped no more than three steps before Thorne charged up behind him and smashed the back of his unhurt leg. He fell hard on his face, his cry of pain cut short by the hard stone floor and a sickening crack.

“Thorne, duck!”

Knowing when it was best to obey an archer, Thorne flattened himself to the floor. He heard the distinct snap of a bowstring as he went down and felt the wind of Dart’s arrow as it sped past his descending ear.

Looking up, Thorne saw the arrow strike the fleeing guard in the back of the neck. It was an impressive strike, as the man was nearly a hundred paces away and just turning a corner. That, and the arrow wasn’t a very good one. Thankfully, the only sound he made was the thump of his dead body as it hit the ground.

At the same time, Rush dispensed with the remaining guardsman, who fell dead with an expression of utter confusion. He’d never gotten a clean look at the person who killed him.

After the man fell, all six party members hunched tensely over, eyes darting about as they listened for sounds of more guards. When only silence greeted them for several minutes, they relaxed enough to straighten and gather up the bodies. Rising, Thorne went with Vaun to collect the one guard who’d tried to flee.

After storing the bodies amongst the cards and dice of the room the guards had stepped out of, the companions resumed their search for the stones. They became much more cautious after the attack, since obviously there were some guards not outside looking for them. Dart listened around each corner before they took it, and Rush took a position several yards ahead of the others. Concealed from all but Dart by his natural ability, the blond elf became their early warning system and their first line of defense.

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The Song and the Rhythm both pulsed just behind his thoughts and that they amplified his senses. He could taste every creak the doors made when opened. He could smell the hollow clump of their boots on the stone floor. He could hear the crisp air he breathed. He could see the crackle and pop of the torches they passed and feel the hiss of the lamps. Every sensation caressed his body, and the Song waited for the harmonic release of combat.

His Purpose drove him, pumping life and energy into his veins. The long, cold trek through the forest and the difficult climb up the mountain still wearied his bones, but the Purpose gave him strength. The ascent of the canyon to reach the fortress had wracked his nerves, but the Purpose had calmed him, giving him the self-control to wait for the right time to act. The disgusting slosh through the sewage tunnels had nearly broken his will, but the Purpose had reinforced him and encouraged him to continue.

They hadn’t eaten a full meal for weeks, but the Purpose fed him. The dry, cold air sucked the moisture from his skin, but the Purpose poured him full of drenching vitality. The seemingly endless, unchanging corridors of Elak’s fortress threatened to drive him into a mad ecstasy of killing, but the Purpose restrained him just enough to keep the fires in his blood at bay. Soon, though, those fires would rage, and that was what Vaun Tarsus anticipated.

It was also what he feared the most.

He craved an opportunity to vent himself, to purge the inferno that raged inside him. But he also dreaded that release. He dreaded the possibility that he might lose control, that he might unwittingly harm or even kill one of his friends. There was still so much he didn’t understand about his abilities, about the Song and the Rhythm, that he couldn’t trust himself to keep control of it. Especially in the face of the way it had abandoned him and the sudden impulses he felt most recently, much like the one that overcame him now as they rounded a corner. It was all he could do to keep from lopping the head off the servant who ran into Drath.

The man simply appeared in the hallway, emerging out of an archway that was unoccupied when Rush, Dart and Merdel passed it. Drath was just creeping by it when the man, who seemed to be in a hurry, bumped into him.

Drath stumbled back a step, but the servant fell to the ground in surprise. When he looked up and saw the six adventurers gathered around him, he opened his mouth to cry an alarm, but Thorne hurriedly clamped a meaty palm over his lips. His eyes wide with terror, the servant glanced nervously at each of the party members around him as Thorne half helped, half yanked him to his feet. He struggled against the dwarf behind him but could barely move with one hand wrapped around his head and the other around his chest. His breath hissed out of his nose when he finally gave up trying to escape.

“What should I do with ’im, Drath?” The dwarf had little trouble holding the skinny servant, as he wasn’t much taller than Thorne himself. He appeared to be the same cook who’d passed them earlier. He even wore the same stained apron.

“I’m not sure.” Drath turned to Merdel. “He might know where the stones are.”

Merdel nodded. “Perhaps. But he probably knows better where Elak is. Don’t you, little man?” The bearded wizard leaned threateningly forward and grinned wolfishly at the small man, making him shudder in fear. It was a look he’d perfected during his time as Court Wizard in Mahal, and he’d always met with fine success when using it against courtly gentlemen. Tales told that a wizard could see into a man’s soul and squeeze the life out of it with just a thought. Though it was a ridiculous lie, Merdel found it useful at times.

Rush and Dart moved down the hallway in opposite directions to keep an eye out for guards. Vaun tried to move closer to their prisoner, but Merdel blocked his path. The Swordsman knew he could carve all the information they wanted from the man if the wizard would just give him the chance.

Merdel glanced over his shoulder at Vaun pressed against him and saw the ferocity in the Swordsman’s pale blue eyes. His magic-sensitive eyes also noticed the increased strength of the pulsing aura surrounding Vaun. Grinning mischievously, he stepped aside. “Vaun, would you please ask the gentleman how to get to our destination?”

As soon as Merdel stepped aside, Vaun leapt forward, his sword coming into his hand with nearly magical swiftness. It sang the most wonderful metallic tune as it slid smoothly out of its sheath, and the youth couldn’t tell where his hand ended and the weapon began.

The servant’s muffled scream came from behind Thorne’s hand when Vaun drew his sword, and he thrashed about again in an effort to flee when he read the deadly intent in the Swordsman’s eyes. His movements ceased immediately, however, when Vaun laid the razor edge of his Vaulka against his throat.

“Don’t even think about screaming.” The Swordsman’s tone was quiet, menacing. Receiving a hasty and fearful nod, Vaun ignored the feel of the man’s terror-induced rapid pulse that came to him through the steel of his sword blade. His teeth clenched with the effort to hold back from killing the man. “Thorne, free his mouth. I need to talk to him.”

Grimacing, Thorne complied, but he stayed ready to reclaim his hold if the man attempted to cry out. He still retained his iron grip across the man’s chest.

Vaun never once blinked. “Where is Elak?”

The servant swallowed several times. “In…in his bedchamber, I believe. He…retired there shortly after f…finishing his meal.”

“Where is his bedchamber?” The Swordsman ignored Merdel’s prompt to ask about the stones. He also ignored the smell that told him the servant had lost control of himself.

“Th…that way.” The servant pointed back down the way he’d come. “Take that hallway and turn left at the first two intersections. Cross the five-sided courtyard and take the third door on the right. Then turn right three times and left once. You should go down three flights of steps. You can’t miss it. His chambers are beyond the big double doors.”

“Good. Now, where are his ice-cursed stones?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gasped weakly as Vaun pressed his sword into his throat, causing a thin trickle of blood to run over the blade. He didn’t dare struggle, apparently guessing it could mean his life.

The exquisite feel of the servant’s blood sliding down his woven blade nearly drove the Swordsman to kill him outright and answer the call of the Song. But from somewhere deep within he found the resolve to hold back the drive of his Purpose.

“Vaun, ease up. We don’t want to kill him.” Drath turned to the prisoner, who didn’t look at all calmed by the tall man’s words. “Where does Elak keep his most prized possessions?”