The Dragons of Argonath (52 page)

Lagdalen and Eilsa led them to the laboratories. Lessis heard the soft cries and coughs of the dying children, and gave a sorrowful sigh. Such callous evil appalled her, but the enemy displayed this malice to all living things. The only thing she could do was to destroy him utterly, as quickly as possible. Lessis's jaw set hard while into her eyes came a pale fire.

They moved through the nightmarish rooms with their tables and cabinets of death. Even Mirk found tears in his eyes by the time they were halfway through these chambers of horror.

They emerged in the passage that led to the sarcophagus chamber. At the far end stood the two bewks that guarded the doors.

"Come," said Lessis, moving out into the passage. "These brutes will not see us."

Mirk glanced down the passage. He hoped she was correct. The brutes in question were formidable indeed.

"These are the things that Thorn spoke of?"

"Yes."

"Bewks?" It sounded like the noise given by a poisoned ox or something. Mirk hoped fervently that Lessis's magic would restrain them, since the creatures were almost the size of trolls, and apparently a lot smarter.

They moved down the wide passage, past the doors to the hellish chambers of torture, each one filled with a different class of victim. The bewks continued to ignore them until they came within twenty feet, then the brutes lifted their weapons and took up a defensive stance. Intelligent malevolence shone from their hoggish eyes.

Lessis calmly approached and stood right in front of them, producing a swift spell that would freeze them in place. Slightly astonished, Mirk opened the immense doors to the chamber and pushed them open.

The two bewks inside responded at once, looming out of the dark at the rear of the chamber. Lessis planted herself in front of them, a slender reed set against these behemoths of muscle. She repeated her spell and threw it in their faces. As with the first pair, they stopped in mid-stride and remained frozen in place.

Lessis almost skipped on the spot. These things had one weakness: they were considerably easier to control than trolls. Trolls were resistant to witch magic.

Now they approached the massive stone sarcophagus. Lessis marveled at the size of this coffin for a giant, sculpted from white marble. Where had this thing come from? How had they smuggled it into the Argonath? Its , simple, harsh design had the look of the work of Padmasa.

Perhaps it had come off the same ship that had brought these monstrous bewks and the army of imps that had almost assassinated the emperor. Lessis had to admit that the coasts were not as secure as they should be.

"The lid must weigh a ton or more," said Mirk.

"The four monsters lifted it off together," said Lagdalen.

"Ah, yes, let us see if we can get them to repeat that trick." Lessis turned back to the bewks, frozen in place by the door.

This would take a great effort of control, but it was the only way.

Lessis composed herself, dug deep for reserves of strength, and quickly recited the opening phrases of her spell. She ran off spellsay, formed volumes, and took the declension to its fullest. The work was swift and demanding. Sweat ran off her temples at the height of the spellsay. When she stopped, the bewks came out of the freeze and turned to regard her with those bright eyes. Captivated.

She had their full attention. She spoke the phrases of hypnosis and gentled them down smoothly, straight into a hypnotic coma. When she stopped and clapped her hands, they straightened up and then strode over to the sarcophagus and took hold of the lid. With a grunt of effort they lifted it off, carried it away, and set it down on the floor.

They stood up to the edge of the sarcophagus and looked within.

Lessis turned to Mirk.

"Now, Mirk, please slay our enemy."

Mirk sucked in a breath. Immediately one could see that this was not a mortal man. The form was manlike, but the body was seven feet tall. The frame was massive, but the flesh was that of a withered mummy, dried like wood. Silken garments lay loose around the seemingly dead thing.

Cradled in skeletal arms was a great sword, sheathed in a heavy scabbard, decorated in runes of death.

Even Mirk's skin was set to crawl by this fell sight. Lessis, however, felt her spirits soar. She could sense that there was no mind within the hulk. But it was not dead, not yet. The great enemy was absent, away on some fantastic mission of astral projection. His hulk was vulnerable.

"It lives, but it should not. Put your sword through its heart." Lessis pointed to the mummy's chest.

Mirk swung his leg over the edge of the sarcophagus.

At once Wespern yelped in pain and then shouted a warning.

"A trigger! He comes!"

Lessis whirled, her voice in a shriek.

"Slay him, Mirk!"

Mirk jumped into the sarcophagus. His sword was raised.

And the eyes in the withered head snapped open. Mirk felt, more than heard, the scream of rage and fear that exploded from the mummified head.

The assassin staggered, knocked back by the sheer power of the hate that welled up from those open eyes. In that moment Waakzaam the Great came back to life with an audible snap. His flesh took on vigor, and he rose up out of the sarcophagus.

By then Mirk had shaken off that disabling blast of hate. He swung his blade, but the massive scabbarded sword was flicked up in time to smack him sideways into the side of the sarcophagus. He dodged a punch that rocked the massive stone coffin. Waakzaam howled, and glass shattered in some of the rooms beyond.

Lessis's grip on the bewks was gone. The situation was lost. Mirk sprang headfirst out of the sarcophagus. The bewks came to life with sudden snarls, and their hands went to their sword hilts.

Lessis shouted, "Run!" as she threw a disabling spell into the face of the Dominator.

It was enough to buy them a moment.

Mirk barely evaded a bewk sword as he scrambled to his feet. A second swung at him, and he came even closer to losing his head.

He ducked, threw himself into a forward roll, and came up behind the bewks.

Wespern gave a choking cry as a bewk cut him in half with its big sword.

Mirk leapt on the back of the nearest bewk, seized the thick hair on its head, and sawed his sword across its throat, leaving it to collapse in a fountain of its own gore. Lessis and the young women were out the door and running' swiftly down the passage, with Mirk close behind.

The remaining bewks were after them, shambling with surprising speed.

Lessis ran with her mind in a whirl. Disaster! But she had had to make the attempt. Not to try and kill the monster would have been reprehensible. It was just that he had rigged his sarcophagus to warn him in the event of someone entering it. That was something she should have anticipated. Perhaps Mirk should have thrust down with a spear.

They ran down the line of laboratory rooms and turned into a larger passage.

More bewks blocked their way, and from the other direction came a squad of six of the bewkmen with their strange piglike faces.

Lessis faced the unthinkable.

Relkin marveled at the scale of these underground tunnels in this strange subterranean realm. Huge rooms filled with tables and cabinets lined a long, straight passage that was at least fifty feet wide and high. His nose wrinkled at the acrid odor of human wastes. He looked around with a lot of questions forming in his mind, but there wasn't time to investigate these rooms, or the odd little noises he kept hearing.

They had drifted through two of the long rooms when they heard the distant clash of steel, then shouts and a deep roaring that Bazil and Relkin had only heard once before, at the Battle of Quosh. It was the sound of bewks.

More shouts, a woman's voice, high and frightened, followed by the sounds of heavy feet thundering toward them.

Double doors burst open up ahead, and Lagdalen, Eilsa, Lessis, and a man in dark costume came through with bewkmen and then actual bewks in pursuit.

More bewkmen emerged from another door. Lagdalen fell down as she stopped herself. Eilsa tripped over her and almost went down too. The bewkmen lurched forward.

Relkin knelt, aimed, and released in neat, fluid motion. A bewkman stumbled, hands clutching at his throat.

Bazil stormed past and slammed into the enemy, which uttered astonished snarls and shrieks. Bazil didn't give them much time to recover. Full tilt he crashed into them, Ecator's mass cleaving the space in front of him. Bewks ducked back, swords flailing. Bewkmen threw themselves flat. One who was too slow was cut in half.

Lessis, meanwhile, had bounced off the wall and darted past the bewks. She was, if anything, as astonished as the bewkmen.

Lagdalen and Eilsa were still backed against the wall by a ring of enemies. Mirk sprang in to distract them. Swords were raised against him as he tried to break the ring and free the girls.

Lessis, struggling to control her breathing, cast a crude spell of distraction. It came with a "pop" directly into the minds of everyone standing in the passage as if the air pressure had suddenly dropped in half. Chills and shivers ran up and down their spines. The spell was shoddy work: it took hold, but only for a moment.

In that moment Mirk had reached in, grabbed the young women, and started them running. They were out of the ring of enemies in a second, and Mirk danced backward in their wake, putting his blade between them and the foe.

The bewkmen came back to life with grunts of dismay. They shook their heads, raised their weapons, and sprang after them.

"Back, Baz!" yelled Relkin, dropping one more bewkman before taking to his heels. He was running low on arrows; there were just too many foes. Bazil was running to avoid getting speared.

Mirk killed an imp that got too close and drove back the bewkmen for a moment with the fury of his assault, but then he ran too.

A spear caromed off the wall near the dragon, then another.

Doors were thrown open ahead by Eilsa. Inside, Lessis was trying to ready another spell.

An arrow sank into Bazil's back, near the shoulder blade. He grunted and kept moving. Arrows were pinpricks. Spears were the deadly weapon for a wyvern without armor and shield.

But the thrice-damned imps were gaining, and the bewkmen weren't far behind. If he was speared, then the bewks would catch up and attack from all sides.

Desperation was taking hold in the dragon's heart, when there came a brilliant flash of bright green light. Suddenly the passage resounded to the thunder of hooves, and a great white horse clattered up. It bore a tall knight in shining armor. Imps scattered out of the way. The bewks and bewkmen stood back. The knight brought the horse to a halt and threw up his helm. Revealed was the steely perfection of features that marked the elven lords of antiquity.

Relkin noted that the huge horse had unpleasantly red eyes that seemed to glow like hot coals.

Bazil had turned to face the knight, but now the steel-clad figure raised a hand and uttered words of power that froze his minions in their places. From the greatest to the smallest, they stood there just like statues.

He spoke in a great voice, in the magical tongue Intharion, which was understood by all who heard it, no matter what they spoke themselves.

"Never can revenge have been so timely and so sweet." He drew his great sword, and it emitted a chill green glow.

"To arms, great worm! I, humble Waakzaam, I will take up the challenge. Will you fight me, one more time?"

Bazil motioned with the sword, Ecator was glowing hot, fairly singing with hatred.

"This dragon ready."

Relkin had only two shafts left. He took careful aim.

"No!" said the witch in a clear, sharp voice that cut through the space like a knife. She stepped forward to stand close to the dragon and raised her arms high and began to conjure, weaving slow movements of power, tracing the great signs.

"No?" boomed the armored elf knight. "No? Who is this that would stand between Waakzaam the humble and his prey?"

Lessis motioned to the air again, called out in the language of cats, and threw volumes in declension.

Instantly the sorcerer spat out a word of power and summoned blue fire that smote Lessis to the ground. A harsh chemical stench filled the air. Lessis's spell was shattered. She was pinned to the ground by an invisible hand.

Bazil moved quickly, a lunging stroke for the knight on his tall mount. The sorcerer pulled back, his mount screaming in rage. Ecator whistled forward and back, but the sorcerer retreated, the huge horse leaping under him. Now he raised his own sword.

"That witch won't bother us now. Prepare to taste my steel."

Bazil paid no attention.

But Waakzaam had noticed a movement in the corner of his eye. Relkin shifting silently into position off to one side, taking aim with that deadly little bow.

Relkin had learned from experience that sorcerers could be put off their stride by a well-placed arrow.

So had this sorcerer.

"You!" boomed the voice. "You again! Don't think I haven't noticed you, you little devil. I'll have you now." , Relkin felt an immense pressure tighten around his mind. It closed like a fist seeking to wring his will out of him. He dug in his heels and resisted successfully. The pressure was pushed away.

There was a momentary shock, followed by disbelief, and then a furious renewal of the assault.

Relkin stood his ground, eyes staring, fighting for control of his mind. Forming a barrier to the clenching mental fingers of the enemy.

Bazil's roar-scream ended the test of strength as he went in with Ecator two-handed and broke the sorcerer's concentration, and then some. Ecator was giving off that fiery false glow again.

Waakzaam laughed madly at the sight of it.

"And you too, ancient one, you are here as well. Oh, how you hate me!"

Great blades clashed. Bazil, swinging two-handed, overpowered the sorcerer's arm and drove him to fall back, turning his huge mount so nimbly, you'd have thought it was a pony and not a warhorse of twenty hands. Bazil pivoted onto the back stroke and came back quickly enough to force further retreat. Waakzaam looked down on them with raging, almost insane eyes.