Aldwyn's Academy (13 page)

The thing was in such disgustingly intimate contact with her now that Helene was almost positive it was no cockroach or dung beetle.

Slake opened the door to the closet and chuckled. “Looks like we hit ourselves a treasure trove down here.”

He started throwing old wine bottles onto the bed the elf lay hiding under. The mattress bounced in protest as first one bottle and then three more struck it.

“Is it pie? I like pie.”

“We’ve established this, Grimek,” Slake answered. “And we’d be eating orc pie if you were a little quicker with that pig-sticker, so come get some of this wine old Slake has found.”

The bed undulated above Helene, threatening to press down against her head. The insect on her arm froze in midstride.

With her arm tucked up close to her head, she heard the thing hiss and knew without doubt it was a scorpion.

“What’s the tasty orc boy doing with a nasty wand any ways?” Grimek complained.

Both pairs of feet crowded up close to the bed.

Orc boy? Wand? she thought. Caleb?

Then the thought was driven from her mind.

Agitated, the scorpion ran down her bicep to the dusty plank wood floor. She felt the segmented serpentine of the arachnid’s stinger as it slid off her arm.

She gritted her teeth. The insect was so close to her face now, especially her eyes.

Above her, the bed bounced as the two bugbears began picking up and inspecting the bottles. The
activity shook the dust loose, and it trailed down into Helene’s face.

She shifted her eyes to the left, trying to see the scorpion, but her hair hung in her way.

Afraid, she risked turning her head.

She felt the searching grasp of its brittle-haired legs reach her left wrist and then the wiry fold of the front pincers bump across her skin as the scorpion climbed up onto her hand.

She could see the thing clearly now.

The arachnid boasted a brown-banded back and abdomen, set in the dull yellow amber color of the body. The stinger was raised like a fist over the segmented and armored torso.

It was ugly and frightening and, with a sinking sense of certainty, Helene realized it was as deadly a scorpion as there was: the deathstalker. Though only medium-sized as the species went, this type of scorpion lived up to its sinister name.

Ounce for ounce it was one of the most poisonous creatures in the world.

Above her the bugbears began to jabber in earnest. She heard their clumsy hands ripping open some old bag. Cast-off rags and scraps of burlap weave began littering the floor at their feet.

A gravelly voice called out from the hallway, and one of the beasts beside Helene’s hiding place answered.

“Do you have her?” The voice was so grotesque it sent a fresh shiver through Helene.

“We’ve got nothing to show you,” Slake answered, a little too quickly.

“What have you two found?”

She knew intuitively that the bugbears were afraid of whatever called to them from outside the room. Something that made these monsters afraid had to be very terrible indeed.

The bed suddenly sagged as one of the bugbears sat down on the mattress, muttering darkly under his breath. The tired old mattress springs squealed and the bottom sank down so low it smacked Helene hard on the top of her head.

Her chin bounced off the floor and she hissed in surprise as she bit down on her tongue.

The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Her body tensed tight against the sudden pain.

That pain was nothing compared to what came next.

It felt as if her hand had been struck by a club. She spasmed at the brutal, all-encompassing shock of the scorpion strike.

Immediately it felt as if she’d dunked her fist into a pot of boiling water. She swallowed a scream, tears in her eyes.

The scorpion struck again.

C
orellon, help me!” Helene prayed to the god of elves.

This time she couldn’t help it.

She screamed out in agony.

The scorpion scurried off her arm and disappeared into the gloomy shadows at the head of the bed. Helene’s vision swam through a prism of tears.

She was in trouble.

The two creatures above her were suddenly quiet. For one long moment they were simply still and silent as the voice from the hallway bellowed its animal roar to them.

Then there was an explosion of motion.

The bugbear on the bed sprang up and off the mattress, knocking the old bottles to the floor. The dusty glass containers cracked open with a sound like fireworks and raw red wine spilled like blood across the floor.

The bugbear already standing ripped up the bed mattress.

Pill bugs exploded and scurried away. Some fell into the wine.

Helene found herself suddenly confronted with a yellow-tinged, red-veined, grimacing male face, the eyes stretched wide with emotion.

The bugbear snarled, revealing brown-stained fangs.

“Lookie lookie, Grimek. We’ll stuff that pie yet!”

A hand the size of a dinner plate reached out and grabbed her by the arm.

Helene fought back a powerful urge to vomit as venom attacked her body. She lifted a hand to ward off the monster but her strength was gone. Her build was slight and it wasn’t hard for the bugbears to yank her out from under the bed.

She looked up as the bugbears dragged her clear of the bed. The scorpion’s poison had already made her vision blur. Her left arm felt as if a hundred hot needles were gouging her.

The bugbears’ bloodshot gazes roamed the lines of her body.

“She gots tender meat,” Grimek grinned.

“Like week-old buried steak,” Slake agreed.

Helene whispered something angry in Elvish and snapped her wand up.

Both monsters’ eyes expanded in shock and fear.

“Nots another wand!” Grimek fairly shrieked.

Helene was merciless.

She drew a small counterclockwise circle with the tip of her wand, snapped it toward the roof then centered it on the first bugbear’s chest.

A vivid green missile sprang out and slammed into the creature. Eldritch energy exploded on the creature’s figure even as he was driven back.

The range was so tight the flash lit his grimy undershirt on fire and it flared like a flask of oil. The stink of burnt flesh was vile.

Like a hawk diving for prey, Helene’s homunculus zoomed in on the attack and took out the second bugbear, who stood frozen, mouth gaping. The enchanted creature sprang forward and clamped down hard on the stunned monster.

The bugbear crumpled like a sack of loose meat, instantly asleep.

Helene pushed herself up to her knees then sprang to her feet. Her left arm hung useless from her side as helpless as the two creatures lying on the floor behind her.

She was at the door while the voice in the hallway still bellowed out in confusion, her homunculus fluttering over her shoulder.

A gigantic shape, one massive enough to dwarf even the subdued bugbears, filled the doorway.

Helene screamed.

An undead Minotaur shambled forward.

Red eyes glowed out of a horned skull. Dead skin hung from its face and the stench of the grave filled the room, easily overpowering the stink of the bugbears.

Helene fell backward.

She felt flushed all over and nauseated. Stung twice, she knew that was enough to kill her.

She lurched to her feet and stumbled back against the bed. Go, she commanded the homunculus silently. The little thing could get at least as far as her haversack.

The enchanted creature dipped and swooped and then was gone.

Helene struck the floor.

The Minotaur shambled forward.

A woman’s voice came out of the darkness. “Leave her to the others. Go now and find me the meddling boy.”

B
ursting around a corner, Dorian skidded to a stop.

Oily torches burned low from brackets in walls of fitted stone. Timbers formed joists and frameworks down a passageway obviously carved by the tools of skilled craftsmen.

Shadows grew thick on the edge of the flickering torch flames, and the acrid smoke stung his eyes and heaving lungs.

His experience since arriving at Aldwyns had been such a succession of one wonder tripping hard on the heels of another that he almost didn’t feel surprised to discover these artificial passages created under the natural caverns.

His fear and his exhaustion numbed him.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him, and a second after that came a terrific roar.

Fearful of what was behind him he pushed forward down the stone-hewn hallway even though he knew he might be running into even greater danger.

Briefly he wondered how deep beneath Aldwyns’ plateau he was, but he instantly got a sense of the mass of rocks formed above him, pressing down on ancient timbers and hinges. He immediately banished all such questions from his mind.

He was good and lost now.

In his headlong flight from whatever was chasing him he hadn’t considered direction. He merely ran into the dark, trailing a hand along the wall to guide him.

He no longer knew if he remained on Helene’s trail or which passages might lead him up to open air again.

Just ahead of him the passage widened into an entrance hall, revealing a massive door atop a dais of wooden steps.

How such a massive structure could have become so deeply buried he couldn’t comprehend, but it was here in front of him. The realization that Lowadar hadn’t been able to confirm its existence as more than rumor also did nothing to calm Dorian’s fears.

Who would ever think to look for either Helene or himself in a place no one knew existed to begin with?

The first step creaked under the weight of his foot. He winced at the sudden, sharp sound and froze. Again he heard the strangled roar behind him and his indecision fled.

In three jumps he was standing flat-footed on the porch before the giant door, chest heaving as if he were being strangled.

Set directly in the door was a horrible sigil he recognized at once—a black iron snake coiled upon itself with tail clutched between jaws.

Still panting from the exertion he passed through the door.

Inside he stood nearly helpless before his eyes began to adjust to the gloom.

He considered using one of his other Glitter Stones but discarded the idea when he realized that light was coming softly from hooded candelabra above his head, making the surroundings a murky, yellow-tinged gray instead of pitch black.

Slowly the shape and contours of the antechamber made themselves known.

The light from the open door at his back seemed incapable of reaching past the threshold with its feeble illumination.

Someone must have been here to light them, he thought. Where are they now?

Cobwebs lay thick in the corners of the rooms, and shiny black spiders with bodies the size of coins scurried about.

Snakes and spiders, Dorian thought wildly. I’m in a kingdom of snakes and spiders.

Dorian heard the ticking of deathwatch beetles and sensed the movement of unseen things behind the dilapidated walls. He heard a metallic, rhythmic ticking like
that of a metronome and assumed there was a grandfather clock somewhere in one of the rooms near at hand.

The incredulity of being in a fully formed and furnished building buried so deep underground gave the whole structure a surreal feeling that only served to heighten his fear.

In front of him on the right, a flight of stairs ran up to a dark landing that then turned back on itself, leaving the upper floor hidden.

To the left of the staircase ran a narrow hall, leading deeper into the keep.

Ahead he could barely discern the shape of a second door in the darkness at the very opposite end of the passage from him, but the shadows there were strange, wrong somehow.

Halfway down the narrow wooden-paneled passage, he made out sliding doors recessed into the hallway, and it was from there that the incessant mechanical ticking emanated.

Growing more and more unsure of himself, Dorian swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat and took the first of a few hesitant steps deeper into the keep.