The Ruin, page 19
"I-" For an instant, anger blazed in her amethyst eyes, and a blue tinge washed across her skin, but then she mastered herself. "You're right. I didn't mean to criticize. I'm simply frustrated."
Raryn, who'd set his broad, ruddy hand on his axe when the two dragons began to quarrel, casually moved it away again. "As are we all. But even if we managed to contact Thentia, who's to say it would do any good? We couldn't tell the mages where we are, because we don't know ourselves."
Taegan grinned. "If that's your idea of providing solace, your technique needs work."
Kara stood up and adjusted the folds of her mantle. "it’s time to go."
"I don't know about that," Raryn said. "My hunch is that the Tarterians are still stirred up from their brush with Brimstone. We could give them another day to settle down. The less active and alert they are, the safer we'll be wandering around in the open."
The bard smiled a twisted smile. "Trust me, my friend, you don't want to spend two more days just sitting cooped up in a hole with me. Not… not in my present humor."
Raryn shrugged his massive shoulders. "I trust you, singer, now and tomorrow, in a cave or anyplace else. But for that same reason, I'll follow your lead."
"Whereas I," said Taegan, "have always followed where beauty led, and never regretted it yet. Well, give or take a few disgruntled husbands."
"It's time to be quiet," Brimstone said. He led his companions to the mouth of the cave.
Outside, it was night. As Taegan had discovered, the far north, at the time of year, the nights were absurdly long and the days, ridiculously short. It was one of the many unpleasant peculiarities of the place, albeit one for which eldritch sorcery bore no responsibility.
At least it made it marginally safer to sneak around. Dragons could see well in the dark, but not as far as they could by day. Or at least that was the way it worked with earthly drakes. It hadn't bolstered Taegan's morale to learn that Brimstone and Kara weren't entirely certain the same was true of wyrms hailing from the netherworld.
Raryn took the lead, prowling several yards ahead of his companions. In theory, he'd spot any danger first. But after a while, Kara, in a low but urgent voice, called to him to stop and back up. The hunter retreated a few steps, and a reddish shimmer danced through the air as another vestige of ancient magic manifested. It nauseated Taegan to look at it, and though it didn't throw off any perceptible heat, stones on the ground beneath it cracked apart, or melted and bubbled into liquid.
The display ended after a few heartbeats, but the seekers still swung wide around that particular spot. Then they crept onward, while disembodied voices whispered, and the landscape periodically seemed to alter, though afterward, Taegan could never say exactly how it had changed. Ile picked his way through bones-avariel bones, as often as not-and the cold wind moaned and plucked at his garments. Those things, at least, didn't change.
Something vast-vague as mist, but projecting a terrifying sense of power and malice nonetheless-floated upward from the ground on the procession's right flank. As it spread its bat-like wings and opened its reptilian jaws, Taegan realized it had actually oozed through and risen out of the earth. It was a ghost dragon they'd seen before, taking advantage of its insubstantial nature to sneak up on them.
Until then, the seekers had only observed the wraith stalking around one particular area in the northern part of the valley, a spot well removed from their present course. They hadn't expected to encounter it here, and it looked as if that miscalculation might cost them dearly.
Taegan raised Rilitar's blade, unfurled his pinions, and rattled off the first line of a defensive charm. Swelling from woman into drake, Kara started singing a spell of her own. Raryn lifted his axe.
"No!" Brimstone snarled. "Don't attack it!" With a bound and a snap of his charcoal-colored wings, he interposed himself between his companions and the ghost.
For what seemed a long while, he and the specter simply stared into one another's eyes. Then the ghost turned and crawled away.
"Nicely done," Raryn said. "l take it that one undead recognizes another."
"Tonight it did," Brimstone whispered. "Its mind is faded and broken, and I can't vouch for what it might do in the future. Let's hope we can avoid it from now on."
Kara dwindled back into human form.
They wanted to get inside the castle as quickly as possible, to make sure the Tarterians wouldn't spot them. Still, as they drew near, Taegan had to pause for a heartbeat or two to marvel at the place. Towering and massive as it was, the stronghold simultaneously, paradoxically, gave an impression of exquisite grace surpassing the loveliest temple in Lyrabar. He supposed the builders' mastery of proportion was responsible.
"The ancient wizards raised this place for a fell purpose," he said, "in desperate times, in the most remote, inhospitable place they could reach. Yet it's beautiful."
Kara smiled. "Your people," she said, "rarely build anything that isn't."
Brimstone spoke a word of power. The immense gates at the end of the barbican groaned open, and behind them, a rattling portcullis rose. The tunnel-like passageway into the castle lay open before them. The vampire stalked to the threshold, took a look around, then stepped inside.
He vanished.
Taegan rounded on Kara. "What just happened?" he asked. "Did he blunder into another maze trap?"
"I don't think so," she said. "Not exactly."
"Then what did happen?"
"I'll try to find out." She crooned spells, and power tingled over Taegan's skin. He and Raryn looked around, watching for Tarterians and other menaces.
A dark, winged shape wheeled and set down in front of them. Taegan felt a jolt of alarm, then perceived that the wyrm's eyes shined crimson, not green, and that it smelled of burning.
He lowered his sword. "I trust. that wasn't your idea of a jest," he said. "Otherwise, your timing is exceptionally poor."
Brimstone showed his misshapen fangs. "I ran afoul of another ward. Fortunately, not. a lethal one. A single stride carried me beyond the far wall of the citadel, as if it, and the ground it sits on, don't truly exist."
"Someone twisted space," Kara said.
"Who," Taegan asked, "the builders, or Sammaster? I ask because it occurs to me that a barrier erected by elves might not keep out an avariel."
"A reasonable conjecture," Brimstone whispered. "But I suspect it was Sammaster. I recognize the taste of his power."
"Whoever did it," Raryn said, still watching their surroundings instead of his companions, "maybe he only put the enchantment on the doors. The three of you can fly over walls."
Taegan grinned. "Astutely reasoned. I'll find out." He lashed his wings and took to the air.
As he rose toward the pale, crumbling battlements, he felt horribly exposed, but exhilarated, too. It felt good to fly after days spent. creeping on the ground. It would have felt even better with Jivex for company, and he wondered if the faerie dragon was still alive.
He climbed high enough to look over the ramparts, at towers and keeps, some collapsing, others not, and the bones of those who'd perished inside the fortress. He raced forward-
Nothing lay before him but desolate snowy ground and the mountains beyond. He had to turn around to see the castle. It didn't have any major entrances on that side, just a sally-port or two.
He recited his spell of translocation. The magic discharged itself over his body in a stinging, sparking crackle, but failed to shift him inside the fortress as he'd commanded.
He cursed and flew over the merlons on that side. An instant later, the long, protruding structure that was the barbican lay beneath him.
As he descended, Brimstone, then dissolved into billowing smoke, flowed into the mouth of the gateway. From his vantage point, Taegan couldn't see what happened, but from Kara and Raryn's subsequent failure to exhibit any excitement, he was able to surmise. The vampire hadn't been able to enter the citadel in cloud form, either.
At least, like Taegan, he'd realized he could use the ward to return to his starting point quickly. Solid flesh and bone once more, he reappeared just moments later.
"It looks to me," Raryn said, "as if there's only one way we're getting in. You sorcerers will have to use your own magic to knock down the ward."
Brimstone spat sulfurous smoke. "Pit our power against Sammaster's."
The dwarf shrugged. "It's two of you against one of him."
"The notion," Taegan said, "also appears to be the only arrow left in the bag."
"They're right," Kara said. "We have to try."
"Of course," Brimstone growled. "But no ordinary counterspell will do the job. We'll need to prepare the ground..
The two drakes embarked on a technical discussion that Taegan simply couldn't follow. He put himself back on watch, but it was Raryn who abruptly whispered, "Everyone, be quiet.! Get under cover!"
Taegan, the dwarf, and Kara scurried into the shadow of a mound of rocks. Brimstone was too large to conceal himself there or anyplace else close at hand, but he scrambled back inside the barbican and disappeared.
A Tarterian screeched its mournful screech as it glided overhead, and along with the usual dread, Taegan felt a surge of frustration and futility. Because he and his companions were fools. Kara and Brimstone were discussing a ritual that sounded as if it would take a long while, and the Tarterians were bound to come and check on the fortress before the ceremony could reach a successful conclusion.
The scalp on the human side of Dorn's head itched, and he scowled, pushed back his hood for a moment, and scratched. Maybe he should have washed, trimmed his hair, and shaved when it would have been convenient. But he hadn't felt like bothering, nor did he truly regret it even then. It suited him to be filthy and uncomfortable.
At his back, Will cursed. Dorn glanced around. The halfling was all right, simply floundering through a particularly deep snow drift that lay across the steep, narrow mountain trail.
" 'Hidden paths,' my freckled arse," said Will. "This is supposed to be a path? Well, maybe if I could turn into a wolf or a hare like half these Sossrim can."
"I'd be thrilled," Pavel drawled, "if you could turn into one of those beasts_ Or any creature more intelligent than is your natural state. It would be a blessing." He had a new mace dangling from his belt, and carried a new arbalest in his hands. The Sossrim had given him and his fellow travelers some of their surplus gear.
"Since when do you know anything about blessings?" Will replied. "Such matters are the province of genuine priests."
They bickered on, trading gibes, while anger clenched in Dorn's guts and swelled inside his chest. Finally, he had to let it out. "Enough!" he snapped, and only realized he'd yelled when the sound rebounded from another mountainside. Startled, his comrades gawked at hint
"We need to be quiet," he said awkwardly.
Will waved a gloved hand at their snowy surroundings. At the moment, they could see for a considerable distance in every direction. "Nobody's around. Anyway, the charlatan and I were talking quietly. The fool making the most noise was you."
Pavel set his hand on the halfling's shoulder. "No, Dorn's right," he said. "it’s better to be safe."
Dorn could tell the priest was simply humoring him and trying to avert a full-blown quarrel. That, and the pity in Pavel's brown eyes, triggered another spasm of ire. But he didn't want to fight either, so he clamped down on the emotion, pivoted, and trudged on up the trail. His friends tramped-and Jivex flew-after him in silence.
They reached the top of one peak, descended a bit, crossed a saddle to another mountain, and climbed once more. Scales rippling with rainbows, Jivex streaked ahead of Dorn, reached the next summit, then hissed. Dorn scrambled the last few paces to find out what had surprised the little drake.
An army marched in the vale below them. Like the Sossrim host with their fair skin, moon-blond hair, and snow-colored cloaks, on first inspection, Zethrindor's force seemed ghostly white. The towering frost giants were pale as marble, the dwarves had silvery hair and wore the fur of polar bears and arctic wolves, and the dragons, ice drakes, and tundra landwyrms were like gleaming ivory gargoyles brought to life.
Hide mottled with patches of rot, sunken eyes gleaming, Zethrindor strode along in the midst of his warriors. Here was the abomination whose magic had killed Kara, and rigid with hate, Dorn stared at him.
Pavel hurried up behind him, took in the vista below, and said, "Get down!"
Dorn knew his friend was talking sense, but it didn't matter. At the moment, he couldn't do as he'd been bidden, and wasn't even sure he wanted to.
At some point during the last couple heartbeats, Jivex had become invisible. Dorn felt a gust of displaced air and caught the rustle of beating wings as the faerie dragon flew close to his head. Then pain, abrupt and unexpected, stung his ear lobe. The reptile had either nipped him or pinched him with his talons.
"Now," Jivex snarled, "is not the time to go all strange and stupid. Get down!"
Dorn crouched down in the snow, as did his friends. Perhaps not a moment too soon, for he spotted a couple of wyrms-lookouts, plainly-gliding high above the host on the ground.
"Well," said Will after a time, "there are a lot of them, but I imagine we can sneak by if we're careful. Or, we could stay put and hide until they pass us."
"Unfortunately," said Pavel, "it's not that simple. it’s obvious from the direction they're headed that Zethrindor somehow knows the location of Madislak's company. He means to come up on their flank, attack by surprise, and slaughter them before they can link up with the rest of the Sossrim."
Will sighed. "You're saying somebody needs to warn them."
"They're on the right side of this war, and if that's not enough for you, they helped us."
Jivex sniffed. "At first they were going to shoot me full of arrows in my sleep. But then, they are just warmbloods. I suppose I have to make allowances."
"I sympathize with them," said Will, "I swear by the silent dirk I do, but if we turn back now, it won't be easy to reach these paths a second time. Zethrindor's army will be in the way, and we have our own business to attend to. You and I, charlatan, diverted from it once already to help drive the Vaasans out of Damara, but I figured that was because Damara's your homeland. Do you really want to push our luck again?"
"No," Pavel said. "But we can't simply turn our backs on folk in need, no matter what other matters weigh on us. It would be a sin."
"You three press on to Thentia," said Dorn, his torn ear smarting and dripping blood. "I'll go back and warn the Sossrim."
Will and Pavel regarded him in silence. Then the priest said, "No. It's as Jivex said, back in the Novularonds. We four should stick together."
"Right," Will said. "If Lady Luck smiles on us, maybe we'll still make Thentia in time for the conclave. If not, well, what did we truly have to contribute anyway? News of a magical doorway that doesn't open anymore. How's that going to help?"
As he looked at their faces, Dorn realized why they wouldn't let him go alone. They believed he meant to use the Sossrim's war as a means of engineering his own death.
He wasn't even sure whether their fears were justified, but he did know he resented their solicitude. For a moment, he felt as if he was going to curse them for it. But in the end, he simply growled, "We should get moving, then. We can travel faster than an army, but we still need to hurry if we're going to arrive far enough ahead of them for it to matter."
Taegan gave Kara a rake's grin, full of bravado. "I'm flattered beyond words," he said, "by your concern. I daresay Raryn feels the same. But we'll be fine. There are only six Tarterians in the valley, and I imagine one is still feeble from Brimstone's bite. We should have little difficulty flummoxing such a paltry force."
"It comes down to this," said the dwarf, sitting crosslegged on the floor of the cave and scraping away at the flint head of his axe with another stone. "Brimstone discovered that if something creates a disturbance, all the dark wyrms come rushing to investigate. Scouting, I’ve learned more about their habits. Now we need to put the knowledge to use. It's the only edge we've got."
"I know," said Kara. "But perhaps if we studied the situation a while longer, we'd hit on a better idea."
"Or else we wouldn't," said the dwarf. "We'd just grow hungrier, weaker, and-forgive me-less clear-headed, less able to work magic, with the passing time."
"Raryn Snowstealer is right," whispered Brimstone. He crouched deeper in the cave-Taegan suspected he was keeping his distance from his companions to help rein in his blood-thirst-and the gloom reduced him to an enormous shadow with burning scarlet eyes.
"Perhaps," Kara said, peering at Raryn and Taegan, "but at least promise me you'll be careful. Look in your hearts, and make sure you aren't doing this for the wrong reasons."
Raryn smiled. "You mean, because I blundered on the glacier, led us all into disaster, and now feel a need to atone? Or because I'm suddenly ashamed of my people and their treachery? Don't worry, singer. I'm not happy about any of that, but I'm not giving it a lot of thought, either. I'm concentrating of the job that needs doing here and now."
"Nor am I," Taegan drawled, "ashamed of holding my own race in less esteem than is its due." Actually, he was, but it wasn't his habit to admit his blunders. "I have, however, discovered I possess a noble heritage, and arguably ought to make some effort to live up to it. My ancestors gave their lives to liberate Faerыn from the tyranny of evil dragons, and it would be poor form for me to let Sammaster undo their achievement."
Brimstone spat, suffusing the cold air with the stink of acrid smoke and rotten eggs. "It doesn't matter why they'll do it, Karasendrieth, only that they're willing. You must know that, even with frenzy gnawing at your mind."
Kara sighed. "Yes, of course. Let's lay our plans."
Pavel had learned that druids dominated the religious life of Sossal. Priests of his sort were a rarity. Still, like most decent folk, the Sossrim honored the Morninglord, and the warriors welcomed whatever aid and solace one of his servants could give them. Accordingly, when the company made one of its brief stops, he had less opportunity to rest than his companions, even though, after the frantic trek to warn them of Zethrindor's approach, he probably needed it more.
