Spellbinder, page 50
part #2 of The Jester King Series
“What did you find?”
“Some steps at the far end of this tunnel and a stone door.”
***
Billy drew Lura Zahn and opened the stone door quietly. The weapon felt comforting in his hand as he peered from behind the tapestry that covered the secret entrance. The lighting in the king’s great hall was adequate, except for the area under the grand gallery where he stood. The air was thick with the smell of incense. To his left, a garden of waning candles illuminated two bodies laid upon catafalques, and to his right, the dais with its two thrones. Just beyond the front corner of the dais, between the two rows of majestic wood columns at the center of the hall, he could see a large ring of thick, stubby candles on the floor, connected by an intricate circle drawn in soot and ash. A figure wearing a black, hooded cape knelt in the heart of the circle, facing the grand entrance.
The rich black cape spilled across the floor around the dark figure like roots on an ancient, twisted oak stump. The only movement Billy could discern was a slight heaving as the figure took breath. He listened and discovered that the breathing was tight and pained.
Deordrif slipped out of the secret passage and, together with Billy, crept as silent as dandelion snow towards the kneeling figure. As they approached the central columns, the figure stirred and lifted its head with a loud sniff. They froze, not daring to breath.
The figure then turned its head to the side and sniffed twice more. “I smell the stench of faeries!” it said in a hoarse voice.
Billy shuddered as he recognized Ergyfel’s voice. He’d thought he knew how he would react when he faced the murderer of his mother and father. He had given it a great deal of thought and even practiced what he would tell the miscreant. But now, his blood ran cold. All his preparation sank beneath a lake of ice.
“Ergyfel.”
The usurper chuckled. “So, the wayward son returns.”
Billy braved a step forward, and then another until he was standing in the light. Each step, he reminded himself that he must appear confident and bold, or Ergyfel would squash him like a frightened mouse. He glanced at the skeletons adorning the grand columns and tapped one of the bony ornaments with his blade. “Can’t say I like what you’ve done to the place. It’s so you.”
“Never a guard around when you need one. I must remember to hang someone when I’ve finished with you.”
Without another word, Ergyfel leapt to his feet and spun to face Billy. In his right hand, he held a sword, in his left, a bigger surprise. Ergyfel’s thin, well-manicured hand was now fleshy, warty, and sickly-grey. The fingers had grown long, and black, dragon-like claws had replaced the nails.
“So glad you could join me!” Ergyfel hissed from the shadow of his hood. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”
Ergyfel waved his hand to his left and whispered. The curtain on the front of the dais flipped up, and the largest troghoul Billy had ever seen loped out and leapt to the top of the dais. It took a stance to pounce into the shadows under the gallery where Deordrif still hid.
“Remember Werian? He’s fully mature now.”
“I see that.”
“Werian, entertain the prince’s friend while we complete our transaction.”
Billy kept glancing at Ergyfel’s grotesque and extraordinary hand. It was familiar and, at the same time, alien.
The king noticed Billy’s attention and turned his hand over in the light. “Admiring your handiwork, faerie? It’s really quite the trick. How was it that you accomplished it? Oh, yes. You had your mummy’s ring. You had better have brought the ring, boy! Or I will slowly peel off every inch of your skin and feed you to—”
Billy held up his hand to show the ring.
“Good.” Ergyfel relaxed his stance and stepped back.
Billy’s eyes strayed to the troghoul, who fidgeted and kneaded the edge of the dais with its claws. At that moment, he realized Ergyfel’s left hand looked like that of a troghoul, and that his mother’s ring was the source of the curse.
“You’ve always wanted this ring, haven’t you? You killed my mother for this ring!” Billy took another step forward.
“Actually, your father killed your mother.”
“Yes. But it was your sorcery pulling his strings.”
Ergyfel tipped his head. “It’s amusing how easily some minds are overthrown by magic.”
Billy kicked over a candle as he advanced into Ergyfel’s magic circle. Ergyfel eyed Billy’s gleaming blade and retreated, step for step, to the opposite side.
As Billy reached the center of the hall, Ergyfel spun and struck the shield of the skeleton mounted to the column closest to him. “Now!”
Werian sprung into the shadows. Drif grunted and charged forward to engage him. At that same time, the spear point of the struck skeleton sliced through its veil and came to a stop pointing directly at Billy. He eyed the weapon, wondering if it were some kind of trap. He stepped to the side, but the point followed him.
A crash and a commotion came from the shadows as Drif collided with Werian. Billy spun to face them, and the skeleton wielding a spear jumped down from its column with a crunch. Billy jumped back and faced his new adversary.
Upon straightening, the skeleton warrior glared at Billy with its dark, hollow eyes and circled him. He backed away and countered his ghastly foe’s movement. It struck at him with its spear, and he turned it away with Lura Zahn. It struck again, and he used Sylvys’ shield. Billy sensed that Ergyfel was now behind him and leapt aside. Again, the skeleton warrior struck and continued to press its attack, its strikes becoming quicker and more accurate with each attempt. Even with Lura Zahn’s help, Billy could only just keep up. He glanced at the shadows, looking for Drif, and the skeleton’s spear grazed his cheek.
“Ouch!”
At that moment, Billy’s opponent banged his shield with his spear. All the remaining skeletons hopped down from their perches amidst a loud clanking and clattering. With drilled precision, reminiscent of Hereweald’s best troops, they struck their shields in unison and dropped into a fighting stance, aiming their weapons at Billy.
He spun around to see a ring of sharpened steel and remorseless bone surrounding him. Laughter sounded and he turned to find Ergyfel leaning against a column with his arms crossed.
“Welcome home, Billy.”
The skeletons stepped forward, one half-step at a time, closing the noose around their prey. He leapt forward, swinging wildly at their spears, slapping them aside only to find more waiting. He struck again and again, five, six, seven times, sometimes blocking with the little bronze buckler, sometimes with Lura Zahn. Eight, nine, ten! There were just too many of them.
“Drif, I need you!”
His only answer from the shadows was a grunt and the continued clash of steel and claw.
The skeleton warriors continued to close in.
“Drif!”
The dark elf screamed and her helmet came skittering out of the shadows into the circle. The troghoul let out an unsettling howl, and Billy’s heart sank. A loud chomping sound, like a shield rent by a heavy blow, resonated from the darkness, and Werian rolled into the light. The cursed creature came to rest on its feet and stared at Billy through the circle of skeletons. It snarled at him, showing its terrible, jagged teeth, and readied to pounce.
The skeletons advanced another step. They drew back their weapons to impale him.
“Halt,” a voice whispered from the shadows. The voice seemed to hang on the air.
The skeletons froze in mid thrust, then shouldered their weapons and turned to face the back of the great hall. Werian nervously scanned the shadows before whining and crawling back to his master’s feet.
Billy and Ergyfel turned and watched as the shadow of a large, cloaked man materialized near the bodies of Sir Feolaghe and Lady Barane. The skeletons all bent a knee and bowed their heads. The stranger stepped into the edge of the light, his apparel still the color of shadow. He then raised an arm, stretching out his cloak like a black wing.
“Come.”
The skeletons rose at once and shuffled to the back of the hall. One by one they ducked their heads, stepped under the man’s raised arm, and vanished into the dark folds of his cloak.
“Who—who are you?” Ergyfel asked.
“Patience, mortal. You will know me, in time.”
When the last skeleton had disappeared, the cloaked man reached up and pushed back his hood to reveal his bearded face. He wore a thin gold crown on his head and a trickster’s glint in his eye.
“Finvarra,” Billy said under his breath. Then an irrepressible smile shattered his grim visage.
King Finvarra, ruler of the grave, returned Billy’s smile. “Now, it’s a fair fight.”
Deordrif appeared from the shadows across from Billy, still breathing hard from her skirmish with Werian. Blood ran from a deep cut on her cheek and ear, and her armor and shield were battered, but otherwise, she seemed well. Billy’s smile widened as she leaned against a column and gave Finvarra a nod.
Finvarra scolded Drif with his eyes until she looked away. He then looked at Billy. “It’s two against two. We’re even.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Billy gave a curt bow. “My regards to your wife.”
Finvarra grunted. He threw the right side of his cloak across his left shoulder with a snap as he turned to walk away. With the ample folds of his cloak still swirling about him, he vanished into the smoky air.
Billy and Deordrif turned to square off against Ergyfel and Werian.
“Time to finish this,” Billy said.
“Aye.” Drif raised her sword and shield and took a crouched stance. “I’ll take the wizard; you get the monster.”
Billy stepped forward, but froze and gave her a stunned expression.
“Just kidding.” Drif stared straight ahead at Werian. “The troghoul is mine.”
Billy smirked and took up a stance similar to his companion. When they left Tirn Aill, he never imagined Drif would be the one beside him at the end. They took a tentative step forward as their opponents swaggered out in front of the dais.
Billy stared over the tiny, bronze buckler on his arm at Ergyfel’s long sword. He stole a look at Drif’s much larger shield, and then another. “Wanna trade shields?”
Drif chuckled.
“Didn’t think so.”
A small flicker caught Billy’s eye, and he chanced one last glance at Drif’s shield. It was then that he noticed her shield hand was free; and in that hand, she clutched a small-but-growing ball of bluish lightning.
Werian, his coarse hair standing on end, shook with pent up energy. He snarled, showing his spiteful teeth, and then sprang. Within two swift gallops, he had crossed the floor of the great hall and leapt through the air at Billy.
The troghoul’s sudden turn caught Billy off guard, and he had to hug the floor to avoid its claws. Werian landed in a deep crouch, then spun and pounced at Deordrif.
The elf warrior hunkered down and held up her shield. A pale blue spider web of light danced across it just before Werian hit. There was a crack like a whip and a flash of light. Deordrif rolled her shoulders, and her opponent went sailing over her and back into the shadows under the gallery. The troghoul let out a yowl, and Drif charged after him.
Billy scrambled to his feet. As his eyes found Ergyfel, the sorcerer’s hand came out from behind his back. Like Deordrif, he had been gathering energy to cast at his enemy, and the ball of crackling light he now held was as big as a prize pumpkin.
Ergyfel stretched out his hand and flung a bolt of feral lightning. Instinctively, Billy held up his arm in front of his face and ducked. The lightning struck his buckler and bounded for the ceiling. It struck one of the impressive chandeliers, sending huge sparks in every direction and burning through the rope that held it up.
Billy, knocked to the floor by the attack, scooted away as the chandelier came down in front of the dais where Ergyfel stood. Bits of candle, iron, and wood exploded and skittered across the floor. He felt the splash of hot wax on his leg and tried to wipe it off. Then he felt heat on his arm and looked at the buckler, which glowed with a faint red color before returning to its greenish patina. Once again, he righted himself and looked for Ergyfel.
The usurper was getting to his feet on the lower steps of the dais. He gripped his left side and stooped over as if wounded, but already he was conjuring more lightning in his cursed troghoul’s hand.
Billy raised Lura Zahn and charged up the great hall. Before he could gain fifteen feet, Ergyfel released his next bolt. The lightning came in low, but bounced off the floor and turned as if seeking Billy.
Once again, he held up his arm, and the bolt struck the buckler. The impact kicked him back, but then the lightning jumped and skipped across the floor in the direction from whence it came.
Ergyfel scurried up the steps of the dais, then dove for the top and rolled away as the lightning smashed into the steps with a boom.
Billy pushed up to his knees and examined the glowing red buckler. It was quick to cool and appeared unharmed, but he wondered how many more lightning bolts it could take.
Drif and Werian broke out of the shadows and landed on the floor in front of the dais, with the troghoul on top. Drif’s sword jumped from her hand and slid to a stop out of her reach. The beast grabbed hold of her shoulders with its huge hands and slammed her back and head against the stones. It repeated this battering until she looked like a rag doll.
Ergyfel spun a silver pitcher in the air between his hands at incredible speed. The Magister’s sword was stuck in the floor of the dais by his feet. Billy charged the dais, hoping to get past the distracted troghoul and introduce Lura Zahn to his foe. As he reached the halfway mark, a blinding light flashed, and Billy beheld Ergyfel levitating a bright, fiery, roiling glob of molten metal.
The king thrust out his hand, pointing at Billy, and the blazing silver bubble shot across the room. There was no cover, so an instant before the missile hit, Billy raised the buckler and hid his face in his shoulder.
The impact spun him around and sent him sprawling across the floor. Instantly, he felt burning on his left arm and rolled to a sitting position. Most of the molten projectile had stuck to the buckler and turned it into a spurting, fuming bowl of silver and bronze. The liquid metal that splashed on Billy’s arm skipped off him, but the heat coming from the buckler was intensifying. The silver was melting its way through.
The entire buckler now felt too hot to touch. Billy reached for the band that held it to his arm and it burned his fingers. If not for his tunic, the heat would blister his flesh. The back of the little shield glowed brighter. Any moment, the molten metal would tunnel its way through the bronze and onto his arm. The band burned through to his skin, and the pain multiplied.
This is the moment of truth. Either I’m a wizard, or I’m not! He focused as best he could against the pain, throwing up every trick his mind could fathom. It’s cold. That’s all. It’s very cold! Nothing worked.
Billy closed his eyes and stopped fighting the pain. He allowed himself to feel all the pain had to offer, and then he let it roll over and out of him. He imagined the pain to be smoke carried on a breeze and himself an open window. The pain passed through him but did not affect him. At that moment, he escaped its tyranny.
He flicked the band on his arm with a finger. “Brehegan!”
The band holding the buckler to his arm cracked, and it fell to the floor. Billy took a deep breath and placed his hand over the wounded arm. His mother’s ring sparkled, and he felt its healing touch.
Werian’s claws were now on Deordrif’s wrists. He straddled her and threw his weight forward to pin her in place. He lowered his snout to her chest and sniffed and licked and slobbered his way to her face. She opened her eyes, and he bared his teeth in a bizarre and contemptuous smile. He tilted his head and wriggled his crude tongue across her cheek, and she turned away.
Billy turned when he heard the misshapen creature laugh. The sound gripped his heart. He wondered what wickedness could twist such a lovely sound as laughter into such haunting and offensive scrapes.
“Stop playing with your food and come help me!” Ergyfel shouted.
Werian growled at his master, then turned his angry countenance to Deordrif. Bit by bit, he stretched open his jaws to bite her face.
Drif brought her knee up into the troghoul’s tender parts. His eyes popped open, and his lips drew together like a drawstring bag. She kneed him again, and a thin whine escaped his shrunken mouth. A moment later, Drif used both legs and launched him over her head.
Before the monster came to grips with where he was, Deordrif spun off the floor, grabbed her sword, and kicked him in the face. Werian’s head smacked against the dais and snapped back around. He roared and lunged to bite her leg, but the elf deftly leapt aside and took his head with her sword.
Drif turned to scan around her. The sorcerer-king glared at Billy. He had conjured another handful of lightning and looked ready to unleash it.
She drew her knife and spun it in her palm to hold the thin blade in her fingers, then drew back her arm and targeted Ergyfel’s throat. She breathed in to steady her throw and glanced back at Billy. Though he was moving, he was at the mercy of his enemy.
Drif returned her focus to Ergyfel and held her throw. Tiny tendrils of lightning escaped from the dazzling sphere between Ergyfel’s hands, striking the dais and his sword. He was losing control, but still he nurtured it. A tendril suddenly arced to his face and shoulder. He cried out and turned his face away, stretching out his hands to release the lightning.
Drif closed her eyes, said, “Curse you, Malkry!” and hurled her knife. The blade sliced through the air and sank into the heart of the king’s throne.
Ergyfel released the formidable bolt, and Billy darted for the columns to his left, but the lightning twisted on its course as if drawn to Billy. At that moment, Billy’s feet slipped on a patch of candle wax, and he slammed into the floor.
The lightning collided with the column behind him in a deafening crack and split the colossal timber like an axe to firewood. From six feet high to the soaring ceiling, half of the giant oak pillar sheered away and launched a shower of splinters into the air. This massive chunk of lumber then plunged to the floor. Billy covered his head and held his breath. The enormous sliver broke through the stone floor and splintered, pinning Billy to the base of the column.
