Depths of Madness (13 page)

“Heh,” Liet said. “I’m better at disarming than finishing, eh?”

“Retreat!” shouted Twilight. “Away from the—”

At that moment, instinct told Twilight to duck, and she never failed to trust instinct. A thrown spear glanced off her shoulder. It should have torn through her silk shirt, but the gold ring she had slipped onto her finger draped her body in magic as thick and protective as a suit of mail.

Someone caught het arm, and Twilight almost killed Liet. “Are you all right?” the youth shouted in her face.

Twilight cringed. “Easy, lad,” she snapped, rubbing her ear. “I’m right here.”

Back to back in a circle of bodies, the two batted away weapons and riposted. The creatures came from all directions but Twilight and Liet were only two, so they kept turning. Spears jabbed at them, and they deflected the points as best they could. One caught Liet’s shoulder and the man gasped, but Twilight pushed him back off the flint tip.

A stout grimlock charged, spear low. Twilight swept her rapier down to turn it aside, and Liet stepped in her path before she could riposte. He smashed his fist into the creature’s face. From the way he flinched and flexed his hand, Twilight was glad she hadn’t tried that.

“That’s what swords are for,” said Twilight. She demonstrated by putting her dusky blade through the startled grimlocks throat, sending him to the floor.

“Point taken,” Liet scowled. He sidestepped a chop, slapped the wielder’s hands away from the grimlock the haft, and showed his newly acquired strategy by stabbing the grimlock in the side.

“Well done,” Twilight said. He didn’t fight very well, but he knew how to disarm.

“You never answered—” started Liet. He parried an axe high, his muscles straining against those of the grimlock and the flint sparking against his steel. Twilight stepped under his raised arms, twisted her wrist to shorten her grip, and thrust once, twice, thrice, skewering the creature each time.

“Hmm?” she asked idly as the grimlock fell.

“My question,” Liet finished, panting. Blood flowed down his shield arm. “You never answered it.”

“Because it was a foolish question,” Twilight said simply. She turned back to the business of escaping. They’d broken the grimlocks’ circle and she hauled Liet back. They fought a retreating battle toward the others, near what Twilight hoped was an exit tunnel.

Asson spun out of the way just in time to keep his head, and threw a lightning bolt into the worm’s body. The worm jerked and whipped, caught in a fury of electricity, but only for a moment. The beast was as tough as a serpent of stone and

as fast as a dragon. Twilight knew Asson could not flee to save himself, for he was the only thing distracting the beast.

The shadowdancer couldn’t think about strategy; she fell fully into instinct and bladework. Over and over, she parried and retreated, parried and retreated. She deflected a blow meant for the staggering Liet and leaped back, wrenching the youth by his good shoulder. His shield went up to block spears, but weakly, slowly—barely.

The grimlocks pressed the two groups of foes—Twilight and Liet one, Gargan and Slip the other—into a circle around Taslin, who cast spells from the middle. Together, they backed toward the exit. Davoren stood aloof, off to the right. He blasted at the worm, and every so often, any grimlocks that dared to approach him.

“Asson!” A chopping axe stole away any other words Taslin might have screamed, and she fell into a chant, calling on Corellon’s power as she parried and cut.

The old mage threw a ball of webbing directly into the purple worm’s hiss. The sticky threads exploded into a wagon load of webs, coating its face and fangs, just as another ray of Davoren’s power struck the creature ten feet below the maw. The creature spat and sputtered, trying to clear its mouth. Its acid was making progress slowly. Asson took the opportunity to fly backward, keeping as much distance as he could between himself and roaring, serpentine death. In its thrashings, the worm narrowly missed clubbing him down.

The tide seemed to be turning—the seven could escape. The worm’s cries multiplied as the spellslingers inflicted blow after stinging blow upon it. The shrieks wreaked havoc upon the grimlocks’ ears. Those that temained winced and moaned with every roar. Distracted as they were, the companions could defeat their numbers.

Facing the last grimlock she saw on his feet, Twilight ducked under a slashing sword blade and came up inside the creature’s guard, wrist swinging. A grimlock with a sword—a steel one?

This grimlock must have seen her trick and caught on. It released one hand from the sword to keep his balance and put his

right knee into Twilight’s stomach, sending her reeling.

Liet darted in to strike, but the grimlock brought his blackened sword around and dealt his head a glancing blow with the flat of the blade. Liet fell helpless beside Twilight, who struggled madly to catch her breath. The grimlock rose over them and spun the sword over his head, the blade dripping with a green liquid that hissed like acid.

Then the creature stopped.

Twilight looked up, blinking, and saw Gargan holding the grimlocks arm in his powerful hands. The two strained against one another, exerting all the force of their tightly corded muscles, and barely budged. The eyeless creature looked to be some kind of royal guard, wearing strings of gems around his neck. The grimlock wielded a masterfully crafted sword of steel, surely taken from another sacrifice. A black lacquer crossbow—drow construction, perhaps—hung from his belt.

Hissing, the grimlock shot out a hand to catch Gargan by the throat. The goliath released one hand from the monster’s sword arm to lock his stonelike fingers around the creature’s wrist in an attempt to break his grip. Without both arms holding the sword back, Gargan could do little but watch as the grimlock slowly forced the keen edge toward his face. Acid dribbled on his chest.

Twilight cried out and lunged, blade stabbing. The grimlock stiffened and released a little hiss. The sword slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground. Twilight’s rapier speared his side, leaving a small hole that spurted gray-red blood.

Panting, a trickle of blood coming from the corner of her lip, Twilight stepped aside to let the grimlock fall. She relieved him of the crossbow almost unconsciously.

Gargan spoke words Twilight did not understand. “Gol maula kae.”

The appreciation was clear enough, and the elf gave him a smile that was suitably winsome, considering the circumstances. Her belly ached in all sorts of ways. The goliath helped Liet to his feet, and without flinching, wiped the acid off his stony skin.

Unsettling strength, that.

Then Twilight remembered their surroundings. The grimlocks were dead, but the worm yet lived. “Away!” Twilight shouted up to Asson. Taslin, Gargan, Liet, and Slip dashed toward the exit. The old man threw another lightning bolt at the worm and swooped toward the tunnel.

Taslin hung back, gazing up at the old wizard with fear on her face. Twilight caught her arm and pulled her around. “We have to go. Now.”

The priestess” struggled, but Twilight insisted. “He can fly—we can only run,” she said. “Let him wait until the last—he has the best chance to escape of any of us.”

From the furious, confused look Taslin burned into her face, Twlight gathered the priestess objected to Twilight’s reasoning. Taslin shrugged her off and rushed at the worm, sword in hand.

“Taslin!” Twilight snapped, but it was too late.

Gargan was faster, however. He bounded in front of Twilight and caught up Taslin, slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. The priestess screamed and beat at his back, but the goliath did not reply to her cries.

Together, they fled toward the others.

The shadowdancer let out a sigh of relief, just as Davoren’s words rang out. “Fall, damn you!” the warlock shouted. Then, half a beat later, “Fall!”

Twilight heard something in his words that made her blood run cold—or perhaps it was something she felt—some bit of magic, a touch of compulsion.

Asson picked just that moment to plummet from the air. The wizard didn’t even flail as his spell failed and his body slammed into the ground with shattering force.

Within a heartbeat, the hissing purple worm snaked forward and crushed the old wizard beneath its coils.

Taslin’s heart shattered. It all happened so fast. One moment, Asson had been flitting about, unscathed, borne on the wings of magic. Alive. In the next instant, he became little more than reddish paste spread along the ground under the worm. He couldn’t have dodged—couldn’t have escaped.

Silence reigned in the cavern for a split second. Then the priestess let out a shriek. Having been dropped by the goliath, she threw Twilight sprawling and dashed toward the worm.

“Taslin!” Twilight shouted, but Taslin didn’t listen. What would that child know of this?

Golden hair blazing around her, the priestess bore down on the purple worm like a wrathful goddess, her sword low at her side in a two-handed grip. It hissed along the stone. As if it sensed her coming, the monster hissed and snaked down, opening its acid-slavering jaws wide. Taslin ran, full out, directly for them.

Then the priestess did what no sane warrior would do: she leaped into its mouth.

And as she went, she slashed up and thrust through its upper palate. The keen elven steel bit a hand-length deep into the burning pink flesh. The worm jerked back, stung. Taslin almost

lost her balance and fell, but she held to the sword and rose as the worm did, inside its mouth. Though acid ate at her boots and she could scarcely breathe amid the fumes, Taslin bent at the knees, centering her weight.

“Corellon!” she cried, and drove up with all her strength even as it bit down.

The elven blade gave a screeching wail as it drove through the creature’s flesh.

The monster screamed and slammed its head blindly against the ceiling of the cavern and managed to dislodge Taslin, who tumbled free. She did not know how high she was, but she didn’t care. One of the monster’s fangs tore a gouge down her arm, but the priestess hadn’t the breath to scream. Likely, it was for the best—her lungs would have filled with noxious fumes, enough to kill her.

The creature gave one last screech of pain and toppled, with ground splitting thunder, to earth. Taslin followed, wheeling like a leaf in the wind.

“For you, Asson,” she whispered as she tumbled toward death.

Twilight’s mouth opened as the purple monster screamed and rasped, whipping back and forth like a headless snake in its death throes.

“Burn me,” was all she said.

Gargan tossed Liet his axe and sprang forward to catch the priestess’s acid-spattered body. Taslin, miraculously alive, coughed and sputtered in the goliath s arms. She had somehow kept hold of her sword—the half that still remained. The other half—a full two hands of steel—was lodged in the dying purple worm’s head.

Again, silence settled over the cavern, and the exhausted adventurers stood rapt. Then a chorus of vengeful shrieks came from the exit tunnel. A score of grimlocks, all wielding stone axes, flooded in to avenge their fallen god.

Davoren cursed in single infernal syllables as the creatures

swarmed toward him. He waved his hands, spreading dark power like slime. It struck the ground in the grimlocks’ path and spread into a pool of impenetrable blackness, its gleaming surface teflecting the charging monsters. Then he fled.

As the first grimlocks stepped into the pool, a thousand tentacles of dark energy sprang from the black matter, wrapping the limbs and bodies of the eyeless creatures. Many were caught, and they screamed against the sucking blackness. Half the grimlocks charged through the tentacles, however, and they ran toward the intruders with slavering mouths and single-minded purpose.

Twilight saw Davoren running ahead of them, but only just.

“Run!” Twilight shouted to the others. “We can’t fight them all!”

“We aren’t to save Davoren?” asked Liet, drawing a startled look from the elf. “We need him—you said it yourself!”

“Sand,” hissed Twilight. She had never hated being right this much. “Gargan! Slip! Take Taslin! Run!” She looked to the exit but shadows of grimlocks moved within. She cursed. “Another exit! Go!”

The goliath and halfling nodded. “Another tunnel,” said Slip. “That way!” She pointed to a small opening halfway around the cavern from the exit. They ran for the tunnel, Gargan cradling the limp priestess like a child swathed in a wet blanket. Taslin moaned in the goliath’s arms.

With a brutal nod, Twilight turned to Liet. “Lad, you’re with me.”

“Uh,” said Liet, looking at the oncoming horde, “I didn’t mean—”

“Now!”shouted Twilight, darting toward the grimlocks like an arrow.

Liet cursed and sprinted after her, huffing and puffing as he went.

Ahead of them, the warlock panted and fought to keep running. The grimlocks were still gaining. They would soon overtake him, or drop him with a spear throw. Unless Twilight had a chance to argue the point.

“Here!” she said, wrenching Liet to a halt.

“What is it?” Liet stopped and leaned over, hands on his knees, his bloody sword dangling. His shield was split and would hardly withstand more punishment.

Twilight closed her eyes. With a hiss of her will, she brought the shadows flickering about her body, ready to to cover their retreat. Then she paused, cursing. She had no energy left for a shadowdance, and little enough for manipulating the darkness. And the creatures had no eyes anyway—shadows could not save them.

Liet misunderstood. “It only now occurs to you that we’re going to die?”

Twilight ignored that. “I guess we’ll have to do this the energetic way,” she said. She fell back into a fighting stance, awaiting the rushing grimlocks. Davoren came roaring past, running full out, and didn’t even slow to help them.

“Typical,” murmured Twilight.

At that moment, an ear-splitting roar came from the entrance tunnel, drawing all eyes and ears. There stood a distorted troll with limbs of various sizes and patchwork, greenish and reddish skin.