The Maelstroms Eye (10 page)

This could be tricky, thought Vorr. Even two dozen ogres would be hard pressed against four umber hulks, and he knew damn well that the hulks’ first action in combat would be to tear away those flimsy eye coverings. Vorr reached for the nearest ogre and waved him over. Pulling a small card from a pocket on his thick belt, the general handed it to the ogre and motioned at the door. “Take that to your company commander,” he said softly. The sweat-streaked ogre grunted, sheathed its weapons, and left, pulling the door shut behind him. “We can talk now,” Vorr finished.

“Enjoy tricks I do not,” said the lich sharply, its voice rising in pitch. “What trick have you done?” The umber hulks shifted in agitation, their long mandibles clacking softly together like vast ivory claws.

“I sent him to tell his commander that if we were not back in two hours, he was to bring his entire force here to find out why,” said the general in a matter-of-fact tone. “Trust in all things we lack, too, having learned that lesson in unfortunate ways like yourself. You and your big pets have as much safety as your behavior allows us to grant you.”

The lich made a curious wheezing noise. “As you want,” it said finally, “but unpleasant my gratitude will be if treachery for dinner you serve.” General Vorr noted that the stench of carrion in the room was now stronger. Odd, he thought, looking at the lich. It’s completely bone, with no trace of flesh. Could it have rotting meat under its robes? There was also the reaction of the ogres – or, rather, the curious lack of any reaction among them to confronting the lich. It didn’t make sense. Things had gone quite differently, years ago in the Glowrings Sphere, when Vorr had been the only warrior who dared come within striking range of the undead sorcerer.

Admiral Halker stepped forward, waving a hand to the back of the room. “Let’s get on with our talk. Skarkesh, if you would have your bodyguards remain here, we shall do the same with ours. They look like they should keep each other in good company.” The admiral rubbed his flat nose briefly, undoubtedly not enjoying the stench the lich was giving off but still putting up a pleasant front.

“Agreed I am,” whispered the lich, and uttered a series of harsh syllables at its bodyguards. The umber hulks shifted their huge clawed feet, forming a defensive square to watch all sides of the room, and appeared to await further instructions.

Admiral Halker took the initiative and led the way to the back of the room. The little room at the rear had been for the elven priests, in all likelihood, as the scro had slain several minor clerics and their followers there in a massacre after the landings. The old scro stepped aside to allow Vorr to enter the little room first.

The room was about ten feet square, with a ceiling low enough to force the general to stoop. Its imported sandstone walls were once covered with bas-relief work and paintings, all now destroyed. Vorr examined the room briefly, seeing only the two heavy tables normally stored here and a few wine bottles and pots lying broken in one filthy corner; low-bred orcs or goblins held their parties here, no doubt. The floor was still stained brown from the massacre after the invasion, and the stale air bore the stink of old blood. It would get a lot worse with the lich here as well, Vorr thought.

Motioning the other two inside, Von stepped back. The admiral came in first and stood along the wall nearest Vorr. The lich came in only after peering inside carefully, then motioning the general away from the door. Once all were inside,
Von
reached over to shut the door.

“Wait!” hissed the lich, hands out suddenly, pointing with pale white finger bones at both admiral and general. “Cursed you will both be if any tricks you try! In any circumstance, escape I shall, and wild my unhappiness will be! This clearly you understand?”

General Vorr briefly considered ways to call the lich’s bluff and dismember it. He hated undead things and he hated this whole meeting, and the lich’s paranoia was making it worse. He did not worry so much for his own safety, but having the scro promote another admiral would be time-wasting and bothersome, especially after he had spent the last few years getting used to this admiral’s quirks.

“I understand,” said Vorr, gently closing the door, “but wild our unhappiness will be if more threats you utter. I am not known for my patience. You would do best to start discussing your reasons for wanting to see us.”

“Which involved gaining some great treasure, as I believe you mentioned,” said the admiral smoothly, his arms folded across his robed chest. The admiral’s steel chest protector did not show beneath the thick black fabric, the general noted. Nor did the admiral’s weapons show at all in their leg sheaths. Good; it was better for the general’s weapons to draw the lich’s attention. If worse came to worst, the admiral might even be able to lend a sword in the fight, though his skills at diplomacy were a dozen times better than his meager sword-fighting techniques.

The lich’s finger bones curled, and its arms fell toward its sides. “Greater than your brains can dream the treasure is,” the lich said hoarsely. “Beyond my grasp it is, and dislike that I do. Dreamed of this treasure I have, long dreamed I have, and within my grasp it will one day fall. An army I need, and found it is. If in this treasure you are pleased, me will you serve to gain it?”

“We are not for hire, Skarkesh,” said the admiral, raising a hand to scratch at his broad snout. “We have our own mission to perform, and we are deeply involved in it. You may have missed the signs, but we are at war.”

“Yes, yes,” hissed the lich, waving its arms in dismissal. “A war nice is, with toys of ships and a thousand toys of soldiers. Yes, it nice is. But nicer it is with bigger toys, and nicest with biggest toy of all ships. To find this biggest toy I wish, and the key now in this very sphere is. Knowledge of this big toy, the
Spelljammer,
you have?”

Neither general nor admiral spoke in reply. “Well?” hissed the lich more loudly. The carrion smell was noticeably stronger. “Of the
Spelljammer
you know? Or beyond your reasoning powers does it lie?”

“The
Spelljammer”
said Admiral Halker carefully, “is a mythical spelljamming ship the size of a small world. It’s supposed to be shaped like a manta ray. Its coming is said to be an evil portent, as it brings destruction and chaos in its wake. No one can destroy it or command it, not even a god. It drives its captains insane. That’s what the myths say.”

“Mythical it is not!” the lich said heatedly. “Across centuries have I chased it, and for its secrets a thousand foes dead now are. Its secret buried in a sunless asteroid two years ago I found. The key to its power in a block of ice was frozen, and my lordservants, my umber hulks, to free it without harm could not.” The lich’s eyes glowed more brightly now. “Then! Then my captain-servant the block from me stole, he into black wildspace flew, coward thieving spew of lowest slave meat!” The lich was nearly screaming, its body shaking with rage. “Coward the block of ice from me stole, and chase him and kill him I did, but gone the block was. It lost had been, its worth unknown, to a reigar cow!”

For perhaps half a minute the lich rocked, then the shaking slowed quickly and stopped. “A reigar cow the cloak had stolen,” it rasped tonelessly, pulling its hands back from the table to fall at its sides again. “Away in her ship, the
Penumbra,
she flew, by I and my servants pursued. She through the void we chased, and then …”

The lich broke off. Vorr heard a scratching sound and noticed that the lich was rubbing its finger bones together, over and over. He glanced at Admiral Halker, who appeared calm but watched the lich with narrow eyes.

“Then …” prompted the admiral.

The lich looked up and stared at them with cold light before it spoke, so quietly that Vorr had trouble hearing it dearly. “Then my servants … to kill me tried. Poison they tried. Hard I fought before escaping them. My little masters a
yrthni ma’adi
wanted, but gone then I was, and they a new one chose, no doubt. Gone I was
 
… but back now I am. Different now I am, too. Better, you see.” The lich raised its hands and spread its fingers, peering at them as if it had not seen them before. It looked up at the two who faced it, raising its hands to the ceiling. “Better, yes, better the cloak to find again, and it to wear and the
Spelljammer
to control!”

General Vorr understood almost nothing of the lich’s last remarks. Every muscle in him was tensed to attack. It would be a snap. He would have to break out through the door to slay the umber hulks next to avoid losing his ogres to them, but the door wouldn’t withstand more than one blow. If that ogre he’d sent away returned in the next few minutes with the company of ogre and scro reinforcements that the general had requested on the preprinted card, the fight would go a lot better. Admiral Halker wasn’t the best judge of fighting strength, and Vorr was used to doubling the admiral’s estimates of the size of the marine force required to accomplish any particular mission.

“I’m having some trouble following what you are saying,” said the admiral quietly. “You say that you found some sort of cape or cloak that will allow you to control the
Spelljammer
 – this nonmythical, mightiest of all ships – but one of your servants stole it. You chased down the servant and killed him, but a reigar had stolen it by then, and your other servants tried to murder you after that. You’ve since … well, changed into your current form, and now you want us to help you find and seize this cloak from the reigar.”

The lich had watched the admiral intently as he spoke. “Little trouble with my words you have had,” it said at last, “but reigar the cloak has not. My not-servants to slay her did succeed, but the cloak missing has been, by a human stolen away. This human I know where is. Clever he is, as all not-servants now not-alive are. With other ships and companions this human travels, ahead of me always. Now in this sphere he rests, on the Rock of Bral on this sphere’s far side. Of this body you know?”

“It’s an asteroid city of mixed population,” said the admiral easily. “We have it charted. It’s of no interest to us. Our quarrel is with but this one small world.”

“Good news that is. With me you will serve then, this cloak to find?”

The admiral frowned with annoyance. “I think we’ve said that we are not for hire, Skarkesh. Besides that, you’re implying that you, not we, will gain this treasure, tie cloak. Just what could we gain from following you?”

The lich said nothing for a while. General Vorr fidgeted, the strain of waiting to attack beginning to eat at him.

“The universe,” said the lich.

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry?” said the admiral, leaning more closely.

“The universe,” repeated the lich. “The benefit you as my servants would gain. Need you I will, when the cloak is to be found, and need you I will, when the
Spelljammer
later is found. Need you I will, when the universe beneath the wings of the
Spelljammer
is held, and all the worlds in existence mine will be. Need you I will, my riches to count and share.”

The admiral looked at the lich without comment. His arms slowly unfolded, and the old scro rubbed his hands together before him, as if to warm them in a cold wind.

“What proof do you have that anything you have said is true?” asked Halker.

The lich tilted its head halfway to one side. “Proof?” Slowly, the lich reached for its side, dipping a skeletal hand into the lone pouch on its belt. “Proof?” it asked, and pulled out a heavy, round disk on a short chain. It set the disk and chain on the table before it. The disk appeared to be cast from bronze and was greatly worn. A few deeply carved geometric patterns remained on its weathered surface, forming a three-pointed star design.

“Proof,” said the lich. “To examine it you arc allowed.” The lich stood back with careless grace.

The general and admiral stared at the item without moving for it. “What is it?” asked Vorr, more out of curiosity than anything. He still craved an excuse to destroy the lich.

The lich gestured toward the disk. “Pick up you may.”

The admiral weighed the risks, looked at General Vorr, then sighed heavily and reached for the disk. He touched it – and froze in midmovement. His eyes took on a glazed, unseeing look as he stared off into space.

“Admiral?” asked Vorr, glancing away from the lich. Seeing that the black-robed scro could apparently make no reply, Vorr tugged his sword from its sheath and took a heavy step toward the lich, who retreated. “If he’s been cursed,” Vorr said, his voice thick with promise, “you’re garbage.”

“Your admiral unharmed is,” hissed the lich, eyes bright with angry green flames. Its hands rose, fingers spread. “But if closer you come, on your flesh the worms will feast tomorrow. Prepared for your treachery I was, gray orc meat, long before my ship here landed.”

“What is happening to the
admiral?”
The words came out as Vorr moved in on the lich, his voice starting soft and growing in strength until he was almost shouting. His sword arm swung up, the tendons standing out on the back of his huge, hamlike fist as it gripped the pommel.

“Stop,” said Admiral Halker flatly. Vorr froze, sword poised and ready to cut off the lich’s hands. He held his position, waiting for more.

“Stop,” said the admiral again. “Cease. This …” Vorr heard the admiral swallow. “This thing is speaking in my head, and I … I don’t want to miss what it is showing me.” The lich slowly stepped back, almost out of General Vorr’s range but now backed up to the wall. The three of them held their positions for what seemed like an age, with the general’s sword arm lowering slightly.

There was the sound of something being laid on the table. “General Vorr, put away your weapon. Now.”

Licking his lips and feeling that he would regret this, the general did as he was told. The lich waited at the wall a little longer, its gaze focused on Vorr alone.

“Tomb of Dukagsh,” said the admiral. Vorr looked at him sharply and saw that the admiral was a pale yellow now. “The things I saw. What is that?”

The lich moved from the wall, but not by far. “It by the hands of the ancients was built,” it said. “Through the eyes of the
Spelljammer
it lets you see, world after world. Buried in the dark asteroid with the cloak this was, under the ice. This alone I kept when my servants then traitors became. Weak now this relic of old is, and not long to last. It my last clue to the
Spelljammer
is.”