Oathen (47 page)

Ruel and Salvor slew their opponents, then
ganged up on the remaining three that were threatening Geret.
Narjin, lurking behind a stone table, sent a trail of fire around
its edge, and it caught her opponent’s loose pant leg afire three
tables down. As he frantically slapped at the blue flames, Rhona
sneaked up behind him and stabbed him in the back.

The last Dzur i’Oth fell to the ground. The
room went quiet, filled only with panting and the occasional
groan.

“Let’s see that wound, Geret,” Salvor said,
tucking his sword into its sheath and approaching his
prince.

Geret pulled his shirt up, revealing a thin
slice that cut at an angle across his ribs. It was barely
bleeding.

Narjin gasped. “But…that charry bastard laid
into you with all he had!”

“You want him to be spilling his intestines on
the floor?” Ruel asked, eyebrows raised.

Ahm met Geret’s eyes. “The power of the Oath,
lad,” the silver-haired Scion said with a smile. “It’s saved my
hide many a time, though my Oathen is far away.”

Geret smiled, closing his eyes, and sent
Sanych a warm rush of affection and appreciation, which was
returned instantly, along with her relief that he was safe for the
moment.

“Sanych is still hunting Oolat,” he said. “So
far, they’re fine.”

“Good,” Ahm said. “We’ve done well; let’s hope
the other mini-cells are sharing our luck. Now, let’s crack some
more skulls.”

~~~

Deep below, the
Tome
spread Oolat’s
lips in a manic grin. The thief was coming back for more, and she
had brought the Scions with her. Before they destroyed too many of
its loyal minions, it needed to distract and delay them. Only then
could it take what it wanted.

On its intricate obsidian lectern, the
Great
Tome
’s pages began to turn. The ancient
parchment leaves rustled as they moved. The spidering texts writhed
in the green light.

The pages came to rest. Oolat’s hands shaped
arcane forms in the air, while his hoarse voice coaxed magic from
the text.

Inside his skull, Oolat knew he was doomed. He
had had nothing to eat nor drink, had not been allowed to sleep.
His hours since the
Great Tome
had taken over his physical
form had all been spent in the ritual chamber, searching out and
collapsing magic pockets in the caldera in the hopes of crushing
the Scions, or at least giving them nowhere to hide. Each time the
will of the ancient book stretched out its magical reach and
crushed a pocket into nothingness, it thrilled his soul, yet he
knew the
Great Tome
would work him to the point of death
before pausing to heal him of dehydration and
starvation.

Eternal dying, without the release of
oblivion. What a hellish fate is this?
Oolat contemplated,
staring into the black eternity that awaited him. He could feel an
exhausted acceptance creeping in. He managed to hate it, but could
not force it from his consciousness.

~~~

In various hallways and rooms above the ritual
chamber, rock ripped itself free from the walls. Minerals and
gemstones formed and grew in select areas on stone bodies. Stumping
slowly but inexorably forward, the golems wielded clubs and swords
of steel and diamond, iron and obsidian. Their bodies were formed
of basalt or rhyolite, slashes of red or greenish brown cutting
across them in linear bands. Their bodies filled the large
hallways, scraping rock from the walls whenever they brushed
against them.

And they had only one thing on their tiny,
magically created minds.

Meena whirled, her blade clashing loudly
against her opponent’s weapon. Though she was skilled and in
excellent physical condition, she was no match for the hulking
earthen monstrosity that wielded a blade of pure diamond. It
crushed her to the floor with its other arm, its stone eyes
sparking pink. She screamed as its fist shredded her
midsection.

Sanych darted in from behind, slashing with an
axe made of light. The creature’s arm separated from its body,
falling to the floor and narrowly missing Meena’s legs.

The axe Sanych wielded wasn’t long enough to
reach the stone golem’s head, so she quickly lengthened its handle
and took another swipe, but it knelt beneath her swing and toppled
onto Meena’s body, crushing her against the floor.

Sanych cried out in shock. Rivulets of Meena’s
blood ran out from beneath the rough-hewn warrior. She shuddered at
the sight, feeling sick.

I need to get her out quickly,
before Oolat finds us!

She sliced off the golem’s head and kicked it
away, and the pink glow in its kimberlitic eyes faded. Trying to
watch the door and avoid cutting Meena with her axe at the same
time, she began slicing the rest of him into rocky chunks and
blinking
them aside, hoping against hope that nothing else
would enter the chamber with them.

“Please,” she muttered under her breath, “just
a little more time!”

~~~

“Oh, Folly,” Geret breathed, his mind filling
with Sanych’s frantic fear.

“What is it?” Salvor whispered, pressed
against the wall beside him.

“There’s more of them,” Geret returned.
“Probably a lot more.”

They had taken refuge inside one of many
storerooms along a short corridor, hiding from the golem that
plodded in pursuit. They could hear it crushing the doors in on
other rooms down the hall.

“Folly, indeed,” Salvor agreed. They had been
separated from the others, who had run into the room across the
hall; they’d contemplated the wisdom of trying to dash across, with
the inherent risk of drawing the golem’s attention. So far, they’d
decided against it.

Geret squeezed his eyes shut and breathed
through his teeth, trying to focus on his own situation instead of
being distracted by Sanych’s gory puzzle.

The door burst open, and Salvor whipped his
sword forward, habit forcing him between Geret and the
doorway.

But it was just Ahm, silver hair whipping as
he skidded to a stop. “Here,” he panted, offering them the handles
on a pair of silvery swords with fiery blue edges. “Narjin and I’ve
been crafting them across the hall; these are for you
two.”

Salvor reached out and took the new sword,
sheathing his old one absently with his left hand. “Fascinating,”
he murmured, giving it an experimental swing. Blue fire trailed a
few inches after the blade as it sliced through the air with a
swish.

“Superb!” Geret said, watching the blade with
a massive grin. “Now that’s a heroic weapon!”

Salvor rolled his eyes, but before he could
speak, the wall between their room and the next crumbled under the
massive fist of the golem that hunted them. Geret and Salvor spun
to face it, and Ahm shouted for the others.

Rhona, Ruel and Narjin burst through the door
as the golem raised his iron club, its ridges of obsidian glinting
in the green light. Rhona flung her magic-laden short sword end
over end; its point jabbed into the side of the golem’s head, and
the monstrosity rocked onto one foot, pausing there for an
infinitely long moment before righting itself onto both
feet.

Salvor lunged for one of the creature’s legs,
and Geret attacked the other. The golem’s eyes gleamed blood-red
with malice. It swooped its club ponderously, turning to track the
two men.

Ruel darted forward, and Rhona leaped and put
her foot into his waiting hands. He heaved her up, and she grasped
the golem around the neck from behind, scraping her arms across his
rough stone skin as she struggled to regain her sword.

Salvor glanced up at her, then cut his eyes
over to Geret. “On the off chance I don’t survive this,” he said,
between dodging kicks and taking quick jabs at the monster’s legs,
“you should probably know that I bedded Rhona for you two nights
back.” His eyes met Geret’s for a brief moment, and the prince’s
went wide in surprise.

“What?” Geret blurted.

~~~

“What?” Sanych blurted, bloody hands pausing
over Meena’s still form, now freed from the fallen golem’s body.
Geret’s shock thundered through her mind, completely distracting
her.

“I hadn’t actually said anything yet,” came a
voice from the doorway behind her.

She whirled on one knee, an axe blinking into
existence in her reddened hand, and she cursed herself for
forgetting to turn on her invisible shield.

“My dear, you don’t need that with me,” the
man said, sloping into the room like a three-dimensional
shadow.

Sanych’s eyes had trouble tracking him; he
seemed to be before and behind himself at all times. But surely one
with such a kind face wouldn’t mean her harm; she let her axe fade
away.

His dark eyes held her attention as he
approached Meena and knelt across from her. He looked at her with
sympathy as his black robes puddled softly around his knees. “Your
friend didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

Sanych looked down at the bloody remains of
the Shanallar and her own red-soaked hands.
What was I thinking?
She’s clearly dead. Just look at all that blood
.

“I…I need to find…”

“I’ll help you,” the man offered, holding out
a smooth hand. Sanych smiled, placing her gory hand in his; how
kind he was, that he didn’t seem to mind—

The room winked out, and another replaced it.
Cold air blew through the steel bars that trapped her in a circular
cage, and Sanych rattled them with frantic shakes. “Let me out of
here!” Her hands bloomed with light, but it was faint. It couldn’t
even warm the cage’s bars, let alone cut them. She backed away from
the edge, staring in horror at the failure of her magic.

Around the cage was nothing but darkness. Then
a shadowy section separated itself and stepped forward. The
dark-eyed man grinned from within his hood. “There is no one here
who can save you.” He cocked his head. “Sanych, is it? A pretty
name. I hope you have someone to remember you back home. After all,
you’ll be dead soon, and I can’t possibly remember you among all my
other victims.”

The darkness began to swirl, creating vortices
whose thin, twisting points drew closer to her, reaching in through
the bars. Sanych tried to back away from them, but they surrounded
her. One of them thrust its point into her side, sucking her at her
very essence. She screamed and stumbled away.

“I’m here, Sanych,” Geret said. His strong
arms slipped around her from behind, supporting her against his
warmth. “Stand strong. This cage isn’t real. I can feel that you’re
still in the same place; he hasn’t taken you anywhere. He’s casting
some illusion over you, making you think your magic’s failed. Just
remember, he can’t kill you, because half of you is here with
me.”

“But you’re here too!” Sanych protested,
clinging to his arm as it wrapped her shoulders.

“Not really. I’m just borrowing his mental
imagery as a way to reach out to you. Hold on; fight back! You can
beat him. You have to, see, because he can’t beat you. And I’d
really hate to leave off fighting this golem to come down and
avenge you.” He bent down and kissed her temple. “I believe in you,
Sanych,” he murmured into her ear.

Crying out with the force of her magic, she
threw her arms out and flung a shock wave in all directions. She
fell to her knees, spent and disoriented, and felt the illusory
cage fade away.

When she could see straight, she found Meena
on the floor before her, just coming back to consciousness.
Panting, Sanych looked across at the kneeling, black-clad cultist.
He still held her hand, but his eyes, ears and nose had bled, and
the slackness of his jaw made Sanych realize he was dead. She
jerked her hand from his and gave him a shove; he toppled over in a
heap of soft black robes.

“Folly’s bastards,” Sanych muttered, becoming
aware that another dozen Enforcers lay dead around her. They were
sprawled on their backs, eyes bleeding as they stared blindly at
the dark stone ceiling. One of them had a smear of blood on the
blade in her hand, and Sanych touched the spot where the black
vortex had jabbed her. A small bloodstain gleamed on her fingers in
the dim light.

“Are there a lot of them?” Meena asked,
squinting up at her.

“What?”

“Bastards. Does Folly have a lot of
them?”

Sanych wiped her hands on her pants and helped
Meena to her feet. She looked around the room and gave Meena a
sardonic grin. “A few less, now.”

Meena grinned as well as she began removing a
dead cultist’s shirt to replace her shredded one. “Onward, then.
There’s one bastard in particular we still need to end.”

“
Oh, Wisdom,” Geret groaned, coming back into
himself. Somehow he’d ended up across the room, crashed into a
stack of barrels that smelled like they held pickled
cod.

“I didn’t think it was that shocking an
admission,” Salvor said, putting a hand on Geret’s shoulder. “You
know my history with Sanych. Rhona’d had a hard day; I took
advantage of her vulnerability.” His face showed concern for Geret
despite his wry tone.