The Chaos Curse (17 page)

Cadderly invoked Deneir’s name a dozen futile times. They had to get out over the threshold, he realized, out of the place that Rufo had come to call home.

“Get to the door,” he whispered to his companions, and he boldly stepped out in front of them. He was Cadderly, he reminded himself, chosen priest of Deneir, who had faced a dragon alone, who had sent his mind into the realm of chaos and had returned, who had destroyed the evil artifact, the Ghearufu, and who had overcome the terrible legacy of his heritage.

Somehow none of that measured up now, not against Rufo and the fall this vampire represented, not against the ultimate perversion of life itself.

Somehow, somewhere, Cadderly found the strength to move out from the dwarves, to face Rufo squarely and protect his friends.

So did Ivan. The brave dwarf realized that Cadderly alone might be able to face off against Rufo and win. But not in here, Ivan knew. Cadderly could beat Rufo only if the young priest could get out of this desecrated place. The yellow-bearded dwarf gave a whoop, charged past Cadderly, and skidded up before the vampire (who never took his flaming eyes off the young priest, his mortal enemy). Without fear, without hesitation, Ivan whooped again and slammed Rufo with a wicked overhead chop.

Rufo brushed the axe away and seemed to notice Ivan for the first time.

“I’m getting real tired o’ this,” Ivan grumbled at his ineffective axe.

The only luck poor Ivan had was that Rufo’s mighty punch launched him in the general direction of the open door.

Cadderly came in hard and fast.

“You cannot hurt me!” Rufo growled, but the young priest had figured something out. He presented his symbol as best he could, holding both it and his light tube in one hand, but the real weapon was in his other hand. His finger was still fast in the loop of the spindle-disks, but they bounced along low to the floor at his side, for Cadderly now understood that they would have no real effect on a vampire. As he rushed, he had taken his second weapon off his belt, his ram’s-head walking stick, which had been enchanted by a wizard friend in Carradoon.

Rufo unwittingly accepted the blow, and the enchanted weapon tore the skin from half of his face.

Cadderly’s arm pumped again for a second strike, but Rufo caught his wrist and bent it over backward, forcing the young priest to his knees. Cadderly straightened his arm holding the holy symbol, used it to intercept Rufo’s closing, leering face.

They held the pose for what seemed like eternity, and Cadderly knew he could not win, knew that in here even his supreme faith could not defeat Rufo.

He felt a splash against his cheek. Cadderly thought it blood, but realized in an instant that it was clean, cool water. Rufo backed off unexpectedly, and Cadderly looked up to see that a line of burned skin had creased the vampire’s other cheek.

A second stream drove Rufo back, forced him to relinquish his grip on Cadderly’s arm. The surprised young priest grew even more confused as Pikel stalked by, his waterskin tucked under one arm, every press sending a line of water at the vampire.

Rufo slapped at the water with smoking fingers and kept backing until his shoulders were against the foyer wall.

Pikel stalked in, his face as determined as Cadderly had ever seen it, but Rufo, too, straightened and stiffened his resolve, the moment of surprise past.

Pikel hit him again with the spray, but the snarling vampire accepted it. “I will tear out your heart!” he threatened, and came a step from the wall.

Pikel exploded into motion, turning a complete spin that dropped him to one knee and sent his club knifing across low to catch Rufo on the side of the leg. Surprisingly, there came the resounding crack of snapping bone, and the vampire’s leg buckled. Down went Rufo heavily, and squealing Pikel was up and over him, club raised for a second strike.

“We got him!” unsteady Ivan bellowed from the door. Even as his brother cried out in victory, Pikel’s club banged hard off the stone floor, rushed right through the mist that Rufo had become.

“Hey!” roared Ivan.

“Oooo!” agreed an angry and deceived Pikel.

“That’s not fightin’ fair!” Ivan spouted, and the yell seemed to take the last of his energy. He took a step toward his brother, stopped and regarded both Pikel and Cadderly curiously for an instant, then fell down flat on his face.

Cadderly glanced all around, trying to discern their next move-back in or out into the night?-while Pikel went for his brother. The young priest understood that Rufo was not defeated, knew that the other vampire and the host of zombies were not far away. Cadderly’s eyes narrowed as he carefully scanned the foyer, remembering that Druzil, wretched and dangerous Druzil, was probably watching them even now. Cadderly had not forgotten the painful bite of the imp’s magic, and even more so, of the imp’s poisonous sting. That venom had dropped Pikel once, long ago, and while Cadderly had spells of healing to counter the poison, he suspected he would not be able to access them in here.

The night had fallen, and they were ill-prepared.

But Danica was in here! Cadderly could not forget that, not for an instant. He wanted to go after her-now! To search every room in this massive structure until he found her and could hold her once more. What had awful Rufo done to her? his fears screamed at him. Spurred by that inner alarm, the young priest almost ran back toward the kitchen, back toward the zombie host and the lesser vampire.

Cadderly heard a calming voice, Pertelope’s voice, in his head, reminding him of who he was, of what responsibilities his position entailed.

Reminding him to trust in Deneir, and in Danica.

It was a harder thing for the young priest than even entering this unholy place had been, but Cadderly moved to Pikel and helped support unconscious Ivan, and the three made their way back out into the open air, back out into the night.

Cadderly and Pikel had to carry Ivan, the dwarf’s head lolling back and forth, his bushy yellow hair scratching the exposed areas of Cadderly’s skin. The young priest could hardly believe how much weight was packed into Ivan’s muscular frame. Stooped low as he was to keep Ivan fairly level between himself and Pikel, Cadderly quickly began to tire. “We need to find a hollow,” he reasoned.

The green-bearded dwarf bobbed his head in agreement.

“Yes, do,” came a reply from above. Cadderly and Pikel skidded to a stop and looked up in unison, the distraction costing them their hold on poor Ivan. The unconscious dwarf pitched forward to hit the ground face first.

Rufo squatted on a branch a dozen feet above the companions. With an animal-like snarl-and it seemed so very fitting coming from him!-he leaped out, stepping lightly on the path behind the two. They spun about, crouching low, to face the vampire.

“I am already fast on the mend,” Rufo chided, and Cadderly could see that the monster spoke truthfully. The wound Cadderly’s walking stick had opened on Rufo’s cheek was already closed, and the scar from Pikel’s water had turned from an angry red to white.

The howl of a wolf cut the night air.

“Do you hear them?” Rufo said casually, and Cadderly found the vampire’s confidence more than a bit unnerving. They had hit Rufo with every weapon they could muster, and yet, here he was, facing them again and apparently unafraid.

Another howl echoed through the night air.

“They are my minions, the creatures of the night,” the vampire gloated. “They howl because they know I am about.”

“How?” Cadderly asked bluntly. “How are you about? What have you done, Kierkan Rufo?”

“I have found the truth!” Rufo retorted angrily.

“You have fallen into a lie,” the young priest was quick to correct.

The vampire began to tremble; Rufo’s eyes flared an angry red, and it seemed as if he would rush forth and throttle his nemesis.

“Uh-oh,” muttered Pikel, expecting the charge and knowing that neither he nor Cadderly could stop it.

Rufo calmed suddenly, even smiled. “What of this might you understand?” he asked Cadderly. “You who have spent your days in worthless prayers to a god that keeps you small and insignificant. What of this might you understand? You who cannot dare to look beyond the limitations Deneir offers you.”

“Do not speak his name,” Cadderly warned.

Rufo laughed at him. He laughed at Deneir, and Cadderly knew it, knew that everything Kierkan Rufo had become mocked Deneir and all the goodly gods, mocked the value of, the very concept of, morality. And in Cadderly’s thinking, that, in turn, mocked the very purpose of life.

The young priest, gray eyes steeled against this instrument of perversion, began a slow chant, demanding that the song of Deneir come into his head. Fire, Cadderly knew. He needed a spell of fire to hurt this one, to burn wounds that would not regenerate. How he wished Dorigen’s onyx ring still held its dweomer!

Cadderly dismissed that wasted, unproductive thought and focused on his call to Deneir. He needed fire to cleanse the perversion, fire given to him, channeled through him, by his god. Cadderly’s head began that familiar ache, but Cadderly did not relent, sent his thoughts sailing into the main flow of the melody’s stream.

“I have her,” he heard cocky Rufo say, and Cadderly’s heart fluttered at that moment, and his concentration, for all his sense of purpose, wavered.

Pikel gave a squeal and rushed out in front of Cadderly, waterskin tucked under his arm. He howled and pressed, and the skin responded with a flatulent burst. Pikel looked down at the empty thing, the last drops of water dripping from its end. Then the dwarf looked to Rufo, looked into the monster’s angry scowl.

“Uh-oh,” Pikel whimpered, and he was diving aside before Rufo’s backhand even connected. He rolled through several tight somersaults, until he collided with a tree, then hopped up, dropped his club to the ground again, and began that same curious dance he had taken up in the corridor of the library.

Cadderly did not turn aside, did not, would not, retreat from Rufo this time. The reference to Danica had disrupted his concentration, had pushed him from the flow of Deneir’s song, and he had no time to fall back into it. He had his faith, though. Above everything else, young Cadderly had his convictions and would not show fear in the face of the vampire. He planted his feet firmly and presented his holy symbol, crying with all the strength he could muster, “Get you back!”

Rufo staggered to a stop and nearly retreated a step before he found, within the evil swirls of the chaos curse, the strength to resist. There was no smile on the vampire’s face, though, and where his expression had once shown confidence, now there was only determination.

Cadderly advanced a step, so did Rufo, and they stood facing each other, barely three feet apart.

“Deneir,” Cadderly said clearly. How the young priest wanted to fall back into the song of his god, to find a spell of fire, or a most holy word that would send waves of agonizing discord through the vampire’s skinny frame! He could not, though, not with Rufo so close and so very strong. This had become a contest of will, a test of faith, and Cadderly had to hold on to the ground he had found, had to present his symbol with all his heart, and all his focus, squarely behind it.

The very air seemed to spark between them, positive and negative energy doing battle. Both men trembled with the strain.

In the distance, a wolf howled.

Every second seemed an eternity; Cadderly thought he would burst from the pressure. He could feel Rufo’s evil, a tangible thing, washing over him, denying his faith. He could feel the strength of Tuanta Quiro Miancay, a diabolical brew he had battled before, a curse that had almost defeated him and all the library. Now it was personified, stronger still, but Cadderly was older and wiser.

Rufo tried to advance, but his feet would not come to the call of his desires. Cadderly concentrated on merely holding his ground. He didn’t hope that Pikel would come rushing in, as before. He didn’t hope for anything. His focus was pure. He would hold Rufo here until the dawn if necessary!

Bolts of green energy slammed into the young priest’s ribs. He gasped and recoiled, and by the time he straightened and regained the edge of concentration, Kierkan Rufo was upon him, clutching his wrist, holding Cad-derly’s arm high to keep the symbol of Deneir out of his face.

“Allies have their places,” Rufo chided.

Cadderly managed to glance to the side, to see Pikel hopping about and swinging his club desperately, chasing a teasing Druzil around the lowest branches of the nearest trees.

Rufo pressed forward, and Cadderly struggled helplessly. Ivan groaned on the ground behind him-Cadderly was surprised that the dwarf was even close to consciousness. Ivan would be of no help, though, not this time.

“I have her,” Rufo said again, confident of his victory, and despite the rage that welled within Cadderly, he was caught in such a disadvantageous position that he could do nothing against the vampire’s terrifying strength. Rufo was bending him backward; he thought his backbone would snap.

The vampire jerked suddenly, then again, and Rufo straightened, easing the pressure on Cadderly’s spine. Rufo jerked again and groaned, his features twisted in pain.

As the fourth sting hit him, Rufo hurled Cadderly backward to the ground and wheeled about, and Cadderly saw four long arrows sticking from his shoulder blades. A fifth bolt whistled in, slamming Rufo’s chest, staggering him, his red-glowing eyes wide with surprise.

Shayleigh continued a steady walking advance, calmly putting another arrow to her bowstring and sending it unerringly into the vampire. From the side, Pikel, tired of the fruitless chase, came bobbing out of the trees, club held high as he bore down on Rufo. The dwarf skidded between Cadderly and the vampire, and readied the club.

Rufo spun about suddenly, his hand thrusting in the air, sending forth a wave of energy that froze Pikel momentarily.

“Come find your lover, Cadderly,” the vampire spat, taking no heed of yet another arrow that dove into his side. “I will be waiting.”

Rufo’s form blurred, a green mist coming up about him, engulfing him. Pikel came from his trance, shaking his head vigorously, his generous lips flapping noisily, and wound up to swing, but stopped abruptly as Shayleigh’s next arrow passed right through the insubstantial vampire and thudded hard into the club.

“Oo,” muttered the dwarf, considering the bolt.

“Is he going to keep doing that?” roared Ivan, and both Cadderly and Pikel swung about, surprised by the outburst.

Cadderly, back to his knees, stared hard at the tough dwarf-tough indeed, for Ivan’s wounds, injuries the young priest had thought nearly fatal, did not seem so bad now!

Ivan noticed the stare and returned it with a wink, holding up his left hand to display a ring, a ring that Vander had given him at their parting. Cadderly knew the item, an instrument of healing that could even bring its wearer back from the grave, and everything then made sense to him.

Everything concerning Ivan, at least. The young priest rose to his feet and looked back the other way, to Shayleigh. What was she doing here, and how much might she know of Danica’s fate?

“I have just returned,” Shayleigh greeted as she neared the three, as though Cadderly’s impending stream of questions were obvious to her. “I left Danica and Dorigen yesterday, in a pass high from this place, and would be halfway to Shilmista.”

“Except?” Cadderly prompted.

“I saw the smoke,” Shayleigh explained. “And your friend, Percival, came to me. I knew then that there was trouble at the library, but…”

Cadderly’s face gave her pause, the young priest leaning forward, eyes wide, mouth open in anticipation.

“But I know not of Danica’s fate,” Shayleigh finished, and Cadderly slumped back on his heels. Rufo had told him Danica’s fate, and he found that now, with Shay-leigh’s confirmation that Danica and Dorigen had reached the library, he could not deny the vampire’s claim. Also, knowing the fate of the library, and the apparent probability that Danica and Dorigen had walked into its midst, Cadderly believed he now understood the source of the fire in the small chapel. Starting a conventional fire that would so consume a room in the stone library would not be easy, for there was little fuel to feed the flames. A wizard’s fireball, though (and Dorigen was quite adept at those), would have sufficed.

“More than fire has attacked the library,” Cadderly replied grimly to the elf. “Rufo has become something sinister.”

“A vampire,” Shayleigh said.

Cadderly nodded. “And there are others.”

“One less,” Shayleigh replied, to which the three friends looked at her curiously. “I found Dean Thobicus behind the library,” the elf explained, “in the burial vault. He, too, was undead, but he was wounded by sunlight, I believe, and not so strong.”

“And ye beat him?” Ivan asked, the dwarf neither sounding nor looking very hurt at all anymore.

Shayleigh nodded. She stepped near Pikel and pulled hard on the arrow embedded in the dwarfs tree-trunk club. It came out with a pop, and Shayleigh held its tip up for the others to see. Its sharp point glistened a bright gray in the moonlight.

“Silver-tipped,” Shayleigh explained. “The purest of metals, and one that the undead cannot ignore. I have few left, I fear,” she explained, indicating her nearly empty quiver. “We encountered some trolls…”

“So we saw,” said Ivan.

“I recovered some of those, and all the ones I used against Dean Thobicus,” Shayleigh said. “But Kierkan Rufo just took a few with him, and I fear that my supply of arrowheads grows small.” To emphasize her point, she reached down to a belt pouch and jiggled it.

“Me axe wouldn’t hurt the things,” Ivan huffed.

“Adamantine?” Shayleigh asked, nodding her head expectantly.

“That and iron,” Ivan explained.

“Neither would my spindle-disks hurt Rufo,” Cadderly added. “But my walking stick”-he held the fabulous ram’s-headed baton up before him-“is enchanted, in addition to being silver. It struck Rufo a terrible blow.”

Ivan’s head bobbed in agreement, then both he and Cadderly looked curiously at each other. Together they slowly turned their heads to regard Pikel, who sheepishly slipped his club behind his back.

“Just a club,” Ivan remarked, sliding over to his brother and pulling the huge weapon out from behind Pikel. “I seen him take it from the trunk of a dead tree meself!”

“Just a club,” Cadderly agreed. “Yet it hurt Rufo.”

Pikel leaned over and whispered something into Ivan’s ear, and the yellow-bearded Bouldershoulder brightened with understanding.

“He says it’s not a club,” Ivan explained to Cadderly. “Me brother calls it a…” Ivan turned a questioning glance back at Pikel, who hopped back to his toes and whispered again into Ivan’s ear.