The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) (62 page)

The sword at his throat loosened enough to allow him to swallow, which he did several times. “In…in his s…scrying room. At the lowest level of the keep. It’s a r…round room with a black p…pool in the middle. He works his magic there. I know nothing of any st…stones.”

Merdel thoughtfully scratched his chin. “What else is in this scrying room?”

“Nothing but
the Master’s
alcoves.” Oddly enough, the servant seemed offended at something Drath had said.

Just then, Rush appeared beside Drath, who jumped in surprise and only barely kept a yelp from escaping his lips. “We have to hurry. There’re guards coming this way.”

The servant looked ready to shout at the news, but Vaun’s sword stopped the cry in his throat. With air hissing nervously out of his mouth, the man reassured the Swordsman he would not scream.

Merdel leyed Drath. “The stones would most likely be displayed. I’ve heard it helps them feel the barriers better.” He turned hastily back to their prisoner. “Does Elak go anywhere else regularly?”

The cook thought for a moment. “Aye, I believe so. I’ve never seen
the Master
enter or leave it, but I know strange things happen in the abandoned tower from time to time. I’ve seen strange lights that disappear when I look at them and heard strange words that have no meaning coming from there. But I don’t see how he could be up there. That tower’s been sealed.”

Merdel ignored the man’s repeated emphasis on Elak’s ridiculous title. “Where is this tower?” He nearly grabbed the man’s collar in his impatience but figured if he did he’d end up killing him on the woven edge of Vaun’s sword. Rush bouncing in nervousness beside him told him they didn’t have much time.

“That way.” The servant pointed in the direction they were going. “You’ll pass a heavily barred and chained door in the next courtyard. That’s it. But there’s no way up. The staircase is falling apart.” As he finished those words, five mercenaries rounded the corner from the direction the man had indicated.

On seeing the guards, the cook let out a high-pitched wail that was cut short by a hard blow to the back of his head from Thorne. The small man crumpled in a heap onto the floor, and swords were drawn on all sides as the party members and Elak’s hired guards came together.

As Drath and Thorne charged forward to meet the soldiers, three arrows sped past them. Before either of them could get within sword range, three mercenaries fell dead with feathered shafts in their throats.

One of the two remaining guards turned on his heel and ran to alert the keep, most of whom were still out in the canyons, that the men they’d been looking for were inside. The other soldier died trying to fight Drath and Thorne at the same time.

Vaun didn’t even try to engage the men, despite the call of the Song, but instead took off down the hallway the cook had indicated as leading to Elak. His Purpose demanded nothing else.

Seeing his young friend sprint down the side passage, Merdel called, “Swordsman, no! You can’t fight him alone!” But it was useless. There was no turning a Swordsman aside from surrendering to what many tales suggested was his madness.

The bearded mage threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fire incinerate him! He has no idea what he’s up against.” Merdel pivoted toward Thorne, who wiped blood off his hammer. “Follow him, my friend. Help him if you can. If not, at least bring back what little remains of him after Elak finishes with him.”

Thorne nodded and took off at a trot after Vaun, calling out a warning to be cautious over his shoulder.

Merdel didn’t bother to respond as he gathered his remaining companions and headed toward the abandoned tower. The unmistakable sounds of an alarm rang throughout the fortress, telling all who heard it that trouble visited the Master’s house.

22

Thorne quickened his pace
when he saw a flash of grey disappear behind a closing door. He followed doggedly behind Vaun, knowing he could never catch up to him. The youth ran too fast. The dwarf did hope he could get to his companion in time to save him from Elak, though, because Vaun had no idea what he faced. But he’d have to be close enough to tell him, and that was the hard part, although the seven guards lying dead in the hallways so far had slowed Vaun up enough to allow Thorne to at least come within sight of him.

Thorne decided he could become accustomed to following behind the youth, since it didn’t seem he’d meet any live opponents. That first group of four had looked fairly tough, consisting of burly men bearing lots of weapons. Unfortunately for them, the youth charging down the hall was a Swordsman, so they’d been dispatched with relative ease. At least that’s what the surprise and consternation on their dead faces told Thorne; that and the fact only one of them had managed to draw a weapon. This made Thorne glad he was on Vaun’s side. It seemed the Swordsman’s shoulder didn’t bother him much anymore, either.

The next three bodies were scattered farther apart, one of them lying half out of a door that opened into a square courtyard. From the signs, this group had put up a slightly better fight, or Vaun had led them on a chase before turning to slay them. Not one of the guards had blood on his sword, so Vaun hadn’t been injured yet. After finally reaching the five-sided courtyard, Thorne saw one mercenary lying face-down in his own blood in the middle of it while the other headlessly kicked out his last death throes in front of the door Vaun had taken.

Upon rounding the first right turn, Thorne saw Vaun’s entire body as he sprinted down the hall. The dwarf called out to him as he doubled his pace after leaping over the latest victims of the Swordsman’s passion. Thorne didn’t know what drove the young man, but it was obviously very strong, as Vaun continued down the hallway without acknowledging the dwarf’s calls.

As Vaun disappeared around the last right turn, an explosion rocked the keep. The floor lurched under the dwarf’s feet, and roof stones began crashing down. Thorne dodged and ran, trying to keep up with Vaun without being squashed under a big rock.

Just then four mercenaries stepped out of a side passage. Bellowing a harsh dwarven battle cry, Thorne hefted his hammer and leapt into his foes’ midst.

*
*
*

It was a long, hard fight to the abandoned tower. Patrols of no less than five mercenaries kept appearing, summoned from their search in the canyons by the alarms that still rang throughout the fortress. It was all the four companions could do to keep themselves alive. Dart was down to his last two arrows, and his shoulder ached from drawing his bow so many times in so short a span. His head throbbed painfully, and his vision kept blurring.

Blood covered Rush, though most of it was his opponents’. The blond elf firmly believed in close fighting, which allowed him to use his smaller size and weaponry to better advantage but also left him wearing the blood that spurted out of the wounds he made.

Drath had been cut three times, all of them thankfully shallow. He’d dealt death to almost half a dozen mercenaries, and he groaned when he saw five others exit a door across the courtyard and charge eagerly toward them. He could see the barricaded door and the tower.

At sight of the guards, Merdel, like his friends, wondered if they’d ever reach their goal alive. It angered him that they’d come so far through so many different hazards only to be held back by sword-wielding idiots who, for a few pieces of gold, could as easily be fighting with them as against them. Fury giving him added strength, Merdel cast a vicious spell, sending a wall of razor-sharp spikes toward the approaching guards.

Men screamed and died as eight-inch-long steel spikes hurtled into their faces. One guard fell dead without a sound, transfixed by over half a dozen of the magical spikes. Two others cried out as the steel edges flying by them gashed their arms and legs. A fourth guard stumbled to the ground, one of the spell-thrown shards embedded deep in his knee.

Immediately behind Merdel’s deadly missiles came Dart’s last two arrows. The guard who’d stumbled died with one of the feathered shafts stuck in his left eye. The other arrow severely wounded the one mercenary who’d miraculously escaped the wall of spikes. Clutching at the blood fountaining from the slice in his neck, the guard dropped his sword and collapsed, his screams gurgling in his throat. The remaining guardsmen were so disoriented from the bearded wizard’s spell that they fell easily to Rush’s daggers and Drath’s longsword.

For now, the courtyard was empty save for the bodies of the dead.

Merdel hurried to the tower, his magically attuned eyes ignoring the decrepit state of the structure and instead concentrating on the wards placed on the door. Stones from the tower were scattered nearby, having fallen as it slowly degenerated beyond repair. The top of the tower showed boarded-up windows and ruined crenellations, while cracked masonry and unhealthy-looking moss grew all along its unstable expanse. It even listed slightly to one side. Just from its outward appearance the tower was uninviting, and the wards on the door only discouraged him further.

Merdel scanned for weaknesses in the protection spells but couldn’t find any immediately. Probing deeper with spells also told him nothing, and the wards counteracted one of his spells violently, causing him to wince in pain. The Mahalian wizard let out a frustrated breath and cursed Elak for his thoroughness.

Drath and the two elves moved protectively to either side of Merdel, ready to aid him if he asked or defend him if more soldiers appeared. Drath’s head whipped continuously from side to side, his eyes scanning the doors leading into the courtyard in search of any potential threat.

Dart had his eyes closed, his ears straining to hear the sounds that would warn him of approaching danger long before his eyes would. He heard the tramp of many booted feet, but none of them were nearby or came their way.

Rush toyed idly with two of his daggers, nervousness causing him to distractedly utilize his chameleon talent. His body continuously flickered in and out of focus, making Drath queasy every time he looked at the elf.

After several tense moments, Merdel cried out and snapped his fingers. Stepping close to the stout oak door, the bearded mage placed his palms flat against its rough surface. As steam hissed from around his hands, two words popped out of Merdel’s mouth with a shout. Drath said he could smell burned flesh but resisted the urge to pull Merdel away from the door. As the last syllable left the mage’s mouth, Merdel pushed gently against the door.

With a strong inrush of air the door guarding Elak’s most prized possession exploded off its hinges. It flew inward and crashed into the opposite wall, splintering into a thousand shards. From somewhere deep within the fortress, someone screamed. It sounded torn from the man’s soul and brought chill bumps to all who heard it.

Merdel staggered back from the now-open portal, dazed by the power it had taken to overcome Elak’s wards. “What an idiot.” He breathed deeply of the cold air. “He connected the wards to his own life-force.” The mage chuckled. “He probably passed out when they were broken. Elak always was arrogant enough to think he could withstand anything.” After a few more minutes of deep breathing while Drath held him up, Merdel straightened and led the way into the forbidden tower.

All light vanished once the companions stepped inside the tiny room at the base of the tower. Merdel commented that Elak had created the pitch blackness himself in order to disorient anyone foolish enough to intrude but said he could overcome it easily.

Merdel snapped his fingers and created a light that hung just above his hands. The light wasn’t quite as bright as he’d hoped, but it did penetrate the magical darkness enough for them to see what lay before them. What they saw made them grimace with uncertainty.

The inside of the tower was in worse condition than the outside. The dark green moss had somehow found a way into the protected tower and covered almost every exposed surface. This close, they could tell the moss grew from thick vines crisscrossing the room. The staircase at the opposite end of the room looked as if it should’ve collapsed years ago. The banister had long since disintegrated, only the iron strappings left to rust showed one had even existed. Stones from the walls and ceiling lay everywhere, with moss and the remains of the door covering them.

The stone steps leading up into the blackness of the tower showed deep gashes and pits, as if they had once been attacked by axes and clubs. The air felt bitterly cold, even more so than outside. Strangely, however, their breath didn’t steam in the air as it should have. Powerful magic resided here, and they all felt as foolish as Merdel had said an invader would have to be. Not a bit of the early afternoon daylight showed through any of the spaces in the walls, further emphasizing the Dark Wizard’s presence in this place.

The stairway groaned and shook when Merdel placed a foot on it, and as he took two hesitant steps up it swayed. Swallowing nausea and fear, Merdel announced that this was the only way, so they had no choice but to risk it. Commenting that the mage should say that more to himself than to them, Drath and the two elf cousins stepped over cords of the green, mossy vines and followed Merdel up toward their goal.

Rocks and a small section of moss plummeted to the floor nearly a hundred feet below as the step under Dart’s foot collapsed. Had it not been for Drath’s quick reflexes, the elf would have fallen to his death. Fortunately, Rush didn’t try to dash past the tall man to help save his cousin, an action which had nearly sent all three of them tumbling to a grisly doom the last time the elven archer had almost fallen. That was the sixth time one of them had nearly died because of the unstable staircase, and none of them doubted it would be the last. Quick reflexes, agility, and plenty of luck had kept all of them alive so far, and they wondered how much longer they could go on depending on such things for their safety. Rush and Dart continuously mumbled prayers for their safekeeping.

The stairway wound lazily around the wall of the cylindrical tower and seemed to have been carved out of the wall itself. That may be why it hadn’t collapsed completely, for the wooden struts exposed by gaps in the stone were rotted beyond any hope of giving the support they once had. Either that, or the mossy vines spider-webbing the walls and the floor held the stairway up. The narrow windows and arrow slits spaced evenly along the tower wall were boarded up and sealed, admitting no light. Merdel commented on more than one occasion that, with the magical protections surrounding the structure, he doubted any light came through even at noontime.