Elvendude (31 page)

"Power is siphoning off somewhere else," Marbann whispered, his eyes still closed. "It's dissolving. . . ."

Focusing on the crystal with a vengeance now, Adam pushed the beam one last time. The matrix gave, and their prison shattered.

They sat on the floor of the stone chamber, surrounded by a ring of lambent, but dying, light on the ground around them. Two guards, minions of some low order, stood and stared stupidly at them, their swords at their sides, touching the ground before them. They were younger gargoyles, mere larvae. With what looked like green urine running down their legs.

"Hi, guys," Adam said as they got to their feet. "You look surprised."

As a pair, the two "guards" turned and fled, leaving the swords on the ground.

"That was generous of them," Niamh said as he retrieved the weapon. "I think we should leave now."

"I agree," Adam said. "Do we have enough time to do what we came here to do?"

Marbann brushed the dust off his black breeches and replied, "Can you still contact the nodes through our Gate?"

Adam sent his thoughts back to the Gate, which was now unobstructed. The power sources glowed brightly again in his mental vision, and he exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Good," Marbann said, as if reading his thoughts. "We have some time, but not much. We must hurry."

Adam turned to Niamh. "So tell us, where can we find that weapon we came to collect?"

The King retrieved the crystal, which continued to emit its own light; this proved to be useful as Niamh led them down dimly lit and unlit corridors. In time Adam began to recognize his surroundings, encountering a painting of a long-dead relative here, a piece of familiar furniture or a fixture there. Occasionally they found the skeleton of what had to be an Avalon elf.

Again anger stirred in his soul, but he kept it tamed, so as not to cloud his decisions.
Later is the time for revenge. Now I must reman clearheaded enough to acquire this weapon.

And then hope it can do what Niamh says it can.

"We are near," Niamh said, several paces ahead of them. He stopped in front of an open chamber and peered into the darkness.

"Here," Adam said, bringing the crystal. He hesitated, knowing his parents' bodies might well be here as well as the weapon.

He aimed the crystal into the chamber. This was indeed the place he remembered. The table was upright in one corner. Various weapons lay around, both Seleighe and Unseleighe. Pieces of armor lay cast aside. As he entered the chamber, the light fell on a shrouded form, covered in a cloth with the Avalon emblem.
Mother.
He did not want to look, knowing he would likely find a skeleton here.
Father's skeleton must be here somewhere, but where?

Then he saw where. Hanging by his feet from the ceiling was what had to be his father's remains. Marbann said nothing, his silhouette framed in the doorway.

The young King fell to his knees, the crystal's light flickering to the floor. In the darkness, he heard a scream.

"
NOOOOoooooooo!
"

The wail echoed in the tiny chamber, down the passageways, throughout the very bowels of the palace. When Adam opened his eyes, he realized the scream had been his own.

He sat there for several long moments, wishing the dark cloak of pain would just go away. Marbann said nothing, his silhouette framed in the doorway.

The young King moved to get up, and his hand fell on the hilt of a sword. Examination by crystal light revealed it to be bronze, with a tip of cold iron.
An Unseleighe weapon. Designed to kill elves.
He stood, keeping clear of the iron tip, and willed the crystal to brighten. The yellowed light flooded the room like a lantern.
If the maker of this sword wanted it to kill elves, kill elves it will.

Unseleighe elves.

"They will pay," Adam said with a biting, acrid anger he had never felt before.

Niamh stood up. "I've found it," he said, holding up a rifle of some sort. Wires and odd bits of electronics dangled off it. It did not look workable, but then Adam was no technician.

Adam saw Niamh pulling the cloth back over his mother's remains; evidently, they had hidden the weapon with her.

"Then let's get back to the Gate," Adam said.

"Aie," Marbann said weakly. Then Adam realized he was grieving for his father. "We have what we came for. We must go now."

"Yes. It's time for the Gate," Adam said, feeling for its power. In the short time they'd taken to find the weapon, the Gate's power had decreased noticeably. "We don't have much time," he added.

Adam led them back the way they came, toward the chamber where the gargoyles had held them captive. Marbann questioned this, pointed out that was where the backup guards would go first to look for them. Then Adam countered with, "Do you know of any other way out of here?"

"Hmmmph," Marbann had replied, but that might have meant anything. Behind them, deep in the passageways, Adam heard others.
Unseleighe?
He sent a mental probe that way, found only the odd, reptilian minds there. But they were on the alert and coming their direction.

They found the opening to the outside, and Unseleighe surrounded them immediately. At first glance Adam counted eight of them, looking very much like his group did in their disguises. The Unseleighe elves in their black tunics stared at them with surprise on their pallid faces, evidently confused as to who they were.

Marbann stepped forward and regarded the eight with visible disgust. "Zeldan Dhu has sent us to inspect his property," he said, and to the startled gasp of some of the onlookers, added, "It would appear that it has not been well kept."

Niamh clutched the weapon closer to him. They stood at the mouth of the tunnel that led to the palace remains, with room on either side to escape.
But the Gate is that way,
Adam thought, looking past the Unseleighe.
We may have to bluff our way through this. We are out-armed.

The sight of his father's murderers set his blood on fire again. He wanted to leap into the middle of them and start swinging, but he knew that would not be a wise move. For one thing, he would likely die. For another, well, there wouldn't be anything else.
I'd be dead. And my people would be less one ruler.

One of the Unseleighe came forward, his sword still sheathed. He didn't seem particularly concerned that Adam and his two warrior elves brandished theirs. This elf, once he drew closer, seemed no older than Adam and wore thick leather armor. Though no insignia distinguished him, Adam felt this was their leader, come to parley. Before he had come too close, Adam smelled a horrible stench, one he remembered from the battle of his youth. Father had explained this was what the Unseleighe smelled like, rank and ripe, and with the hordes that lined the horizon that horrible day, the air was full of their stench.

The smell was horrible, and Adam tried not to let it show on his face. "I don't know you," the Unseleighe said. "You look like none of the warriors our leader took with him, Above." He glanced at the weapon Niamh held. "What have you there?"

"Zeldan Dhu sent us for it," Niamh squeaked, sounding anything but warriorlike. "He awaits its return as we speak."

A shadow passed over the Unseleighe's face, a mask of doubt, emphasized by a twitching of his right, pointed ear. He raised his nose and took a deep breath of the air. Then a wicked smile crossed his elven features.

One thing we left out of the disguises,
Adam realized, too late.
We don't stink!

He pulled his sword, as did his elves. "You are not Unseleighe."

"
Shields,
" Adam said, pulling at the Gate for the power to create the protection. Marbann carefully and quickly erected thin barriers around them, as much as the weakening power flows would allow.

The Unseleighe attacked, and Adam's group moved forward; the enemy didn't sense the shield in time and ran headlong into it. Temporarily stunned, the Unseleighe stepped backward.

Adam's vision turned red. The Unseleighe were targets now, and his hunter's instinct, long dormant, now surfaced. He felt a change come over him, fueled by rage, but originating from something primal within. Something his ancestors possessed, perhaps, or something connected to his mage abilities. At any rate, he was no longer Adam McDaris, the civilized, mild-mannered human youth.

He was King Aedham Tuiereann, standing on the ruins of his clan's palace, where his father and mother had been murdered, his clan banished from what was rightfully theirs.

And he was
pissed off.

"You will all die for this," Aedham said to the Unseleighe. Then all Hades broke loose.

It began as a distant thunder, like an approaching storm, but as it deepened and strengthened, the very ground they stood on shook; the Unseleighe looked at each other uncertainly.

Never seen a mage on the other side of a conflict, have you?
Adam thought briefly, then reached for more of the node powers, seeking in his mental vision the mouth of the Gate and the power beyond. First he strengthened the Gate itself, to insure their return, then, like grabbing a rope, he pulled. The node power increased and surged toward him, reaching through the ground, then surfacing where they stood. Then he went to work on the Unseleighe.

The eight remained in place, but looked uncertain as to what was happening. Holding his father's crystal in his right hand, Adam found it easier to manipulate the node power, first by decreasing the resistance, then by channeling it into the nearest focal point—the sword he held. Bronze proved to be an excellent medium. The power flowed into it, a short broadsword that looked plain in the light of day, but as node power raced into it, it glowed white.

Adam stepped from the protection of the shield and lunged for the first Unseleighe, the leader who first approached him. Though visibly frightened, the elf held his ground, assuming a defensive stance with his sword.

As the swords clashed, it soon became clear they were unevenly matched. A node-powered sword against a similar model that was not so equipped had an interesting effect. It melted the opponent's weapon.

Adam parried and thrust, then advanced toward the elf, who withdrew immediately. He seemed to sense something wrong with his weapon, which had begun to glow not with node power but with heat. The tip drooped, and Adam watched, amid the swordplay, the area of red hotness creep toward the handle. Pain registered on the opponent's face. A fitting distraction before Adam struck the final blow.

Adam's sword swung in a diagonal arc; it caught the other's sword and severed the blade in two. It continued its descent downward, through the elf's shoulder, severing the arm. The Unseleighe's expression was of disbelief and confusion, and Adam felt a brief twinge of sympathy against an Unseleighe who didn't know what he was up against.

"
You are a Tuiereann,
" the Unseleighe wailed before he fell backward, across his own severed limb. Life drained quickly from the Unseleighe's face, the pallid color turning to an ashen gray.

The others stepped backward slowly. Adam's sword had cut through his opponent's like a dinner knife through a stick of butter. This must have been a very discouraging image for the ones who remained; one turned and ran. The others backed up a little more quickly this time. His sympathy for the Unseleighe was short-lived. The fever of hate, fueled by the images of his father's skeleton, urged him forward.

He had no idea what he looked like right then, but had never seen such terror in anyone, friend or foe, before. The ground around him was illuminated, and at first he assumed it was from his sword. But it was
all
around him.

From his soul Adam generated a levin bolt, pulling on the full force of the largest Marketplace node. The power suddenly turned red, like the setting sun, as it reached through the ground, through his feet, and simmered within his body. Using the sword as a sight, he aimed the power at the retreating Unseleighe.

You designed this sword to kill elves,
he thought.
And kill elves it will.

Adam let loose the power, which blasted from the sword with a brief flash of red. The concussion knocked him backward, and he nearly stumbled; arms caught him from behind, friendly arms. When he looked up, it was Marbann.

"
King,
" he said, breathlessly. "You have defeated them. Turn loose the node power now, before it
kills
you."

He barely heard the words. His head and body were drunk with the power flowing through him. When he looked up to see the attackers, he saw six vague outlines of black, in the shape of a shadow, extending away from them. Then, six long, molten puddles of metal, bubbling and hissing—probably their swords. Beyond that, a blackened path, like a giant scorch-mark left by a fifties vintage spaceship, reaching to the arid horizon.

Adam blinked, and turned around. "Where . . ." he said, then tumbled to his knees. "The Gate. We must . . ."

Then, his world went black.

"She's already online," Rathand said, glancing furtively toward the door as Zeldan barged into the New You's basement. The Unseleighe was not happy about the interruption; each call to him through the Terminal put a strain on the entire system, including the stored energy he had in the crystal capacitors. Not to mention the time he spent scurrying down here to heed her calls. In general, her presence was annoying. It reminded him of the deal he'd entered into, perhaps in haste, the advantage from which he had yet to see.

Zeldan tried not to wince at the hideous image. "Yes, what is it?" he barked into the Terminal. He made no pretenses; he was mad, and he was going to let her know it.

"Did you send a party of Unseleighe to Underhill for any reason?" she asked accusingly.

The question took Zeldan by surprise. "Well, no. Why?"

"As I suspected," she said, and whispered to someone off screen. "A group of what looked like elves of the Unseleighe court showed up at the Avalon palace today—"

"It no longer belongs to the Tuiereann family," Zeldan pointed out icily.