Crypt of the Moaning Diamond (32 page)

With a howl almost as loud as Fottergrim’s, Archlis dived after his Moaning Diamond, snatched it up, and safely stowed it in his shift. “You stupid ore!” he cried. “I almost lost it! Fire, fire, fire… Do you think that is all that I am capable of! Well, enjoy my talent!” He raised the Ankh and shouted a word of command. The bouncing sphere of fire that he had used so effectively against the hobgoblins suddenly appeared, spinning toward Fottergrim. The ore obviously knew the trick, because he picked up one of his lieutenants and used the frightened ore to knock the sphere over the edge of the wall. Tossing away his cringing minion, Fottergrim charged at Archlis with a great shout of rage. He grappled with the magelord, trying to tear the Ankh from his grasp.

Seeing Archlis and Fottergrim locked in each other’s grasp, Ivy spun on her heel and ordered the Siegebreakers to run. As she passed Sanval, standing alone and free of the bugbear’s clutches, she shouted, “Pick up your feet, man!”

She led them at full speed toward a round tower that anchored one end of the wall. Such towers usually had stairs leading to the guards’ rooms and, with a little luck, a door to the outside.

“Come on,” Ivy called. “We’ll take this way out!”

She skittered to a halt. Out of the tower’s doorway boiled fresh troops—big mean ores with enormous double-bladed swords and huge warhammers. The ores drove a troop of orange goblins before them. They were small, quick creatures, half the height of a human. Their bodies were twisted and gnarled, their limbs thin and powerful, and their fingers taloned. Their small faces were all features: wide mouths, huge

slanted eyes, and wide flat noses. Large pointed ears grew up through their stiff tufts of hair. The goblins’ armor was little more than torn bits of leather strapped together.

Ivy knew better than to underestimate these fighters who stood only waist high. They were small, yes, but cunning, and as pesky as wasps. Most were carrying modified goblin sticks, nicely sharpened to poke into any soft spot presented to them. A few were whirling rawhide whips to pull down their opponents and make it easier for the small fighters to overrun them. Or perhaps they just meant to use those long lariats on anyone storming over the walls. Such tactics often proved most effective in toppling siege ladders. However, once the orange goblins spotted Ivy and the Siegebreakers, they burst into squeals of their own language. Behind them the ores screamed, urging the little fiends to fight.

“Oh blast,” said Ivy, frantically waving behind her back at the others to retreat.

“Hey, lads, look what we found.” Mumchance shifted in front of Ivy and called out to the ores who led the charge. From both his hands dripped diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and othet jewels that he had picked up in the crypt below. A few gems slipped between his blunt fingers and rattled on the stones. The ores stared at the treasure in the same way that they would eye fresh meat. Beneath the overhang of their helmets, their little pig eyes blinked against the sparkling light of the jewels in the sun, and their mouths widened into ugly grins.

The orange goblins hung back, darting glances at Mumchance, at the gems, and at the ores. Obviously, they would love to grab the riches, but they knew that the bigger ores would quickly overrun them and snatch any treasure away. Fear of their masters warred with greed, and they set up a series of grunting cries, obviously arguing within their own group.

“A reward for Fottergrim’s loyal troops,” roared the dwarf, throwing the jewels at the feet of the largest ores. Some even dropped their weapons to free their hands and extended their claws.

As the ores grabbed for the jewels, Mumchance shouted the word that ignited the gem bomb that he had concealed among the hoard. It exploded, shooting out sparks and force. The ores squealed and screamed, blown off their feet. They stumbled into each other, knocking a few off the wall. Their weapons and armor clattered as they crashed onto the walkway and tried to grab at any ledge and at each other. Those who managed to stay on the wall scrambled to their feet, howling their fury and snatching up their weapons.

Sparks flamed overhead. The ores stopped, looked up, and bellowed. The explosion had set the wooden roof above the walkway on fire. The ores turned and raced away, knocking each other over. Behind them, a group of hobgoblins coming out of the tower automatically raised their shields, and the ores rushed into them, catching their outflung arms on the spikes. Blood and curses flew.

The small goblins leaped to the edge of the walkway, then pulled themselves up easily onto the roof. With one last phhtt of outstretched tongues at their former masters, the goblins dashed through the sparks, cutting back and forth, until they reached the stone corner tower. Silently they dropped down to the far walkway beyond the flames and fighting.

“I am going to miss that eye,” Mumchance declared, rubbing his empty eyesocket with his fist.

“Best time to use it. Could not have done it better,” Ivy congratulated him, slapping him on the back. “Buy you another one out of the Thultyrl’s payment!” Looking at the pile up of ores and hobgoblins fighting in the doorway of the watchtower, Ivy swung around.

“Back, back,” she yelled at the group.

Once again, going full speed, she passed Sanval, who looked slightly confused but was doggedly guarding the rear of their group. He spun around to follow her, now becoming the frontguard instead of the rearguard.

“Ivy, the roof is on fire!” Gunderal screamed a warning. Ivy looked up. The fire was keeping pace with them. The crude wooden roof was built to shelter archers from stones flung by siege engines. The wood had dried out under the hot summer sun and now burned beautifully. Big roof timbers were starting to sag, and the smaller boards were burning right through and dropping down on the walkway, with an occasional thud as the wood hit the helmet of some hobgoblin of ore below.

“That’s the problem with crude holdings like this,” Mumchance observed as he trotted at Ivy’s side. He sidestepped to the left to avoid a couple of embers dropping from above. “Too easy to set on fire. A couple of well-placed flame arrows, or a nice little gem bomb, and, whoosh, your defenses go up in smoke.”

“Let’s discuss defensive strategy later,” suggested Ivy. “Gunderal, can you put it out?”

The little wizafd scanned the skies above them. A lone white cloud floated harmlessly overhead. “It won’t be much,” Gunderal said, “but I think I can wring a short burst of rain out of it.”

“Well, do it, Sister, do it!” said Zuzzara, dodging a falling beam and leaping over the body of a stunned ore trapped beneath it.

Gunderal concentrated, giving out a series of complicated commands that almost sounded like bird calls. The cloud turned from white to black. There was a rumble of thunder somewhere far overhead.

“Nothing fancy, no lighting,” yelled Mumchance. “This roof won’t protect us.”

Gunderal nodded, and the cadence of her call changed. It began to rain. Heavy drops sizzled on the burning roof and formed enormous puddles on the walkway. Ivy watched with satisfaction as one of the ores charging them with raised sword and spiked shield stepped in the water, slipped, skidded on the wet stones, and bounced over the edge of the wall. The creature tumbled into space, its weapons flying. Its mouth opened with a furious howl, then it disappeared into silence far below them.

The rain slowed to a dull pattering and then stopped. The roof smoldered above them, letting off damp puffs of black smoke.

“We won’t be barbecued today,” Ivy said.

“That’s it,” said Gunderal as the last drop fell gently on her blue-black curls. “And that is my last spell of the day. I need to rest before I can do any more.” She paled and swayed.

“It’s enough, little sister. It’s more than enough,” said Zuzzara as she hugged Gunderal, almost lifting her off her feet. Ivy eyed the smoke-smudged Siegebreakers. Sanval was fighting in shirt sleeves, but at least he had a sword, and it had already been bloodied on the wall. Zuzzara still had her shovel—it was a bit dented, but that iron was hard. Kid had grabbed a discarded goblin stick, and he had a wicked gleam in his eye. Mumchance was best protected—his sturdy summer armor had survived their day underground basically intact. For once he had remembered to draw his short sword instead of his hammer.

“You and you, flank me,” said Ivy, pointing at Kid and Sanval. “Mumchance, stay with the sisters and keep anything you can off their backs.”

“What are we going to do?” asked the dwarf, dropping back to the rear as she had commanded.

“Hit them hard,” shouted Ivy as she picked up speed again.

Sanval and Kid kept a nice half stride behind her; they formed a perfect flying wedge heading toward the battling Archlis and Fottergrim.

“Hit them low,” screamed Ivy, not bothering to look back over her shoulder. The Siegebreakers were tight on her heels, and she could hear thuds and screams as they overran any leftover ores still littering the walkway. She raced along the top of the wall—head down, braid swinging, fists tight, forehead lined, and eyes narrowed—as she tried to turn herself into an one-woman battering ram. Nothing like flying into a fight with an empty scabbard, she thought.

Ivy barreled into the magelord and the ore, breaking the two apart. A joyously barking Wiggles dashed through her feet. Ivy teetered. Sanval grabbed her waist and steadied her upright as he twisted her out of danger and skewered one of Fottergrim’s startled hobgoblin bodyguards. Ivy leaned around him and caught an answering slash of a sword on her forearm armor.

“Thank you,” said Sanval, following her earlier advice and dropping low to slash at the knees of another bodyguard who was trying to scramble out of their way.

“It was nothing,” panted Ivy, hoping that the blow had only bruised her arm and not broken anything. “Where did the doggo?”

Ahead of them, Wiggles zigzagged around a raging Fottergrim, heading straight for Archlis. The little white dog bit the magelord, hard, and her sharp white teeth cut through his suede boots. Like the dread before him, the magelord had obviously not placed a protection against small white dogs among his many clanking, clinking charms. Archlis screamed and tried to hop away, clinging to the Moaning Diamond, then doubled over to slap at the dog with his other hand. The edge of the Ankh hit the rock wall, and he lost his hold

on it and dropped it. Wiggles dashed off, scampering toward Mumchance. Fottergrim picked up the magelord’s Ankh and retreated up the walkway. The big ore shook it as if he expected it to launch a fireball directly at Archlis. Nothing happened, much to his surprise.

“You fool,” screamed Archlis. “I could have made you a king!”

“Traitor! Human!” the ore screamed insults back at him.

With another cry of rage, Archlis glared at Fottergrim, raised his hand, and twisted a rusted iron ring on his finger. The bony magelord transformed into an enormous hairy demon, so unlike his narrow-shouldered, skeletal self that for the blink of a moment, no one understood what had happened. Then they all stopped whatever they were doing and stared. The transformed Archlis was so huge that his furry shoulders and giant boar-tusked head broke through the charred, soggy wooden roof above him. Bits of timber rained down on both sides of the wall. Ores unfortunate enough to be standing near Archlis were pushed over the edge of the wall by his sheer bulk.

“What is it?” Ivy asked, staring up at monster.

“Huge and ugly,” Zuzzara called. It was certainly that—a beast three times the height of the magelord, covered in fat, muscle and scruffy fur, with taloned fingers that hung on apelike arms, and hands that almost touched the ground. Its ears were wide and notched, its face a scrunched up horror, its body an expanded grotesque imitation of an ape. On its shoulders were black feathery wings, completely out of proportion, appearing much too small to lift that enormous weight.

Kid called softly, “It is a nalfeshnee, my dear, a demon from the Abyss.”

“Thanks for the lesson,” said Ivy. “How do we kill it?” “We may not have to, my dear,” said Kid, pulling her back

from the crumbling edge of the wall. “Wait and watch.”

“Hey, sister, why don’t you have a ring like that?” shouted Zuzzara over the screams of crushed ores, caught between the nalfeshnee’s bulk and the stone walkway.

“And turn myself into something that hideous? Never!” yelled Gunderal.

Ivy stuck out her foot and tripped up a fleeing hobgoblin who tried to dash past her. It threw out its arms to maintain its balance, and its halberd—with its axelike head and long handle—-cartwheeled into the air. Stretching out a long arm, Ivy caught the halberd, then spun away and let the hobgoblin rush past. The hobgoblin paused for half a step, glanced back at the giant demon, shook his shield at Ivy, but continued running.

“Look at the magelord,” crowed Kid. “He went too large. The nalfeshnee cannot fight on top of this wobbling wall.”

“Kid is right,” Mumchance shouted. “Look at that wall. It is cracking.”

Bits of the stone crenellations snapped off as Archlis tried to steady himself. The sheer size of his backside, in the beast’s form, forced the stones off the wall, following the roof timbers and squashed bodies to the ground below.

“We need to get out of here now,” commanded Ivy.

Sanval thrust with his sword at an attacking ore. With one swift move, he skewered the creature. It doubled up, its weapons flying out of its hands. Sanval pivoted, the ore still caught on his blade’s point. When he twisted his wrists to free the blade, he managed to fling the ore off the wall. While he wiped the blade clean on a fallen ore, he said, “I knew following you would get us out of the ruins. I know you will find a way out now.”

“Thanks,” shouted Ivy, touched by his confidence in her abilities. She ducked under the blow of another pig-snouted

fighter, using her stolen halberd to ram the surprised ore between the legs and send it sprawling. Stepping hard on the ore’s stomach once it was prone, she retrieved the halberd and jumped to Sanval’s side. “All part of the job, rescuing our friends!”

“I thought you did not believe in heroics.” Sanval slicked his tumbled curls out of his eyes as he skewered another ore one-handed.