Lady of Poison (31 page)

Dymondheart seemed to grab Damanda’s attention more than the dizheri. She didn’t merely absorb Elowen’s swift swings—she deflected, ducked, and spun to avoid taking a cut.

Gunggari was upon Bonehammer, smashing with an unrestrained fury that momentarily startled the vampire. Marrec saw his chance, ducked under his foe’s guard, and came up on the other side.

“Now!” yelled Marrec, hoping to coordinate his activity with Gunggari’s.

He and the Oslander dashed themselves directly into Bonehammer. Marrec threw his arms about his foe, who promptly turned his head and sank his fangs directly into Marrec’s neck.

A fire blossomed there, and a weakness. The weakness felt something like his loss of contact with Lurue, but more immediate and far, far more lethal.

Though his strength seemed to be flowing from him, with Gunggari’s help he forced the vampire back, step by step, into the larger, ruined chamber.

The angle of the sunlight was becoming extreme. A few minutes more, maybe less, and the sun would be down, but such questions no longer mattered for Bonehammer.

Marrec and Gunggari forced the struggling, biting vampire directly into a reddening shaft of pure sunlight.

“Damanda!” screamed Bonehammer, as he released his bite on Marrec’s neck. -

He began to thrash, so violently and fast that neither man could maintain his hold, but it was no longer necessary to hold him. Bonehammer was speared in place by the shaft of sunlight.

Their foe’s whipping limbs moved so quickly that Marrec could barely discern them. Smoke coiled off the vampire’s skin, and a reddish radiance peeked from Bonehammer’s open mouth, his nostrils, from behind his eyes, and even from his fingernails. The next instant all burned through. The fire that had been ignited inside reached the surface. A flash of all-consuming heat and red light left nothing behind but ash and disintegrating fragments of skull and spine. Even that smoked away a second later.

Marrec sagged. He worried that the vampire’s bite would reveal itself as a debilitating, life-draining wound, but he didn’t fall. There was still Damanda.

“Let’s bring the other one out,” he whispered to Gunggari, though the Oslander was already half way back to the fight where Elowen kept the blightlord at bay.

Marrec spared a glance for Ash. The girl remained standing where they had appeared, looking completely out of place in the darkening ruin. The last shafts of light penetrating the building dimmed still further and were finally extinguished. The sun had set.

Marrec stumbled back to the door, bypassing Ususi along the way. She stood shaking her head back and forth, as if trying to throw off a hallucination. Trouble. He could tell. Damanda…

Back in the sealed antechamber, Elowen had the blightlord backed into a corner. The vampire feared that blade; its sap was suffused with pure sunlight, and Marrec perceived it was also made of wood. He couldn’t imagine a better weapon to use against a vampire.

“Cleave her, Elowen—she can’t heal Dymondheart’s blows. You can slay her outright.”

Between gritted teeth, parrying Damanda’s blows, Elowen said, “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

Gunggari was already in the mix, applying his dizheri with abandon. Marrec heaved himself forward, still feeling weakness flooding every limb. He brought up

Justlance. Perhaps he could pin the elusive blightlord in place…

Damanda screamed as she received a cut from Dymondheart across the stomach. The flesh crackled and smoked as if the light of the sun itself had touched her.

“We’ve got her,” said Gunggari.

Damanda shrieked and spun, put her head down, and ran directly into the wall behind her. The ancient masonry, already unstable, gave way before the vampire’s supernatural strength. Hardly checking her speed, Damanda burst through a hole of her own making, bricks, mortar, and larger stone blocks falling around her. Damanda had made her own exit.

Through the breach in the wall, all could see the ruined street of Dun Tharos. Elowen and Gunggari raced each other to see who would be first after the vampire; Elowen won. Marrec brought up the rear, noticeably slower than his two friends.

The forest-infested ruin of Dun Tharos was silent in the gathering night. There was no sign of the blightlord.

Marrec screamed in frustration. Then, thinking Damanda might be playing them for idiots, he rushed back into the smaller antechamber, then on into the warehouse. Ash remained, as did Ususi, who had apparently recovered from her shock.

She asked Marrec, “What happened?”

The cleric continued forward until he stood again at Ash’s side. Then he said, “The blightlord escaped, again, but we destroyed her last servant.” He pointed with his spear where the final fragments of Bonehammer lay.

“Are you ok? I saw her try to lock gazes with you.”

“I’m fine,” answered the wizard. “Just took me a few moments to clear my head.”

Elowen and Gunggari returned.

Elowen said, “We are near to the center of Dun Tharos. I can nearly see the great trees that surround the Nentyarch’s old seat. Great trees, filled with life and energy, each one so tall and grand that you wondered how such a thing could exist…” The elf seemed overcome for a moment with memory.

Gunggari said, “If we are so hear, we should press forward, before the escaping blightlord can warn her master, and he can mount an answering defense.”

“The time has come, eh?” Marrec questioned his friend, strangely reluctant now that it had come to it.

His weakness persisted. His thoughts were muddied, and even Justlance seemed heavy in his hand. He didn’t want to come up against what would likely be his greatest test in such a condition, but there was no choice. He would endeavor to ignore his state. It was the final push.

The cleric took Ash’s hand again, intending to ask her if she was ready, though he knew she wouldn’t respond.

Ash surprised him by squeezing back, as if truly feeling the pressure of his grip. She looked at him, truly met his eye for just one amazing moment. In those eyes, Marrec found rest and the promise of renewed strength. He gasped, but already Ash’s grip had slackened to its usual flaccid strength.

Once more, Ash had shown forth her secret, inner power. The strength promised in her eyes grew and blossomed in the cleric’s flesh. Marrec felt hale and whole of body and mind. Moreover, for a fleeting moment, it felt as if his nascent connection with Lurue herself might return. The momentary bonding weakened immediately then winked out, but it left a lingering feeling of hope, and his renewed vigor didn’t hurt.

“Yes, the time has come to face the Rotting Man, even here in his place of power,” Marrec told Gunggari, but loudly enough to address everyone. “With Ash at our side, I believe we have a chance.”

“One moment, though,” cautioned Gunggari. He looked over to Ususi. “What of her? She met the vampire’s gaze. She could be under the blightlord’s influence.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” barked Ususi.

“It’s not idiotic to enumerate our weaknesses prior to battle.”

Ususi responded, “No simple glance by a blightlord can suborn my mind; I am stronger willed than that. She merely caught me off guard—had I been any less strong, yes, she might have had me. What you perceived as weakness was in fact my fighting off her insidious instructions. I’m happy to note that I was successful.”

Gunggari studied the mage, no expression crossing his face. Marrec knew the Oslander well enough to interpret the look. Gunggari didn’t trust Ususi’s words.

Marrec shrugged. Before Lurue’s absence, he had access to spells that might have cleansed any taint potentially remaining from the vampire’s gaze. He said aloud, “She seems fine.”

That earned him a quick smile from Ususi. Of course, he mentally vowed to keep an eye on the mage, too.

“It is time to beard th’e Rotting Man in his lair,” said Marrec. “Everyone ready?”

(jreat plazas and wrecked temples devoted to demonic powers lay half-buried in the boggy forest that covered all. Stone, cracked and broken into numberless pebbles, littered the expanse, hinting at tumbled statuary, building facades, and other structures. Only ruinous heaps remained of what was once a grand avenue, overgrown with forest plants. There was an arch that still stood, but it looked upon an empty cinder, flooded with foul water. Stagnant pools floated a detritus of wreckage and age-old destruction, but despite the growth, the crumbled grandeur, and encroaching marsh, the outlines of a once-great city were clear, visible despite the lowering twilight.

Elowen took the lead, but Marrec paced at her side. She had once walked these very streets, before the Rotting Man took possession

of the Nentyarch’s guardian fortress at the center of Dun-Tharos. Her knowledge allowed them to find a dry path over the half-drowned streets.

As they trudged along, alert to every shadow, Elowen volunteered, “The Nentyarchs ruled from the forest castle at the center for nearly six hundred years, preserving the Rawlinswood from the encroachment of human kingdoms that sometimes sought to loot the Nar conjuries.”

Marrec commented, his voice quiet, “A strange place to choose as a druid capitol.”

“Perhaps, but the Nentyarchs believed that the ruins of the old Nar capital remind us of humanity’s ability to wreak harm on nature. On the other hand, the forest that encompasses the city offers an example of what might be accomplished with patience, strength, and belief in the sanctity of nature.”

“Hmm.” Marrec didn’t know if the elf hunter offered wisdom or an excuse. Before he could formulate his thoughts into something more politic, his eye caught movement high above the trees.

“Say, what’s that?” Marrec pointed to a darkness growing in the sky. Light was fading too quickly to be the natural fall of night. It almost looked like…

“A thunderhead,” said Elowen. “The cloud is forming unnaturally quickly, and unless I’m turned around, it is above the Close.”

Lightning flashed within the boiling thunderhead, as it continued to grow and expand outward in all directions. The smell of rain, mixed with something foul, gusted across them.

Gunggari said, “The Rotting Man knows we are coming.”

Marrec couldn’t gainsay his friend’s conclusion.

They passed down a ruined street, dotted with pines and potholes, between gaping buildings missing doors, windows, and in many cases ceilings and even walls. Then they turned down a wide lane. Before them, not

more than five hundred yards by Marrec’s estimate, was the Close.

It was as if the largest trees ever to grow naturally in the world were all gathered together in one place, trunk to trunk, in a great ring. From their perspective, and with the failing light, Marrec couldn’t know the diameter of that ring, but he guessed that the great trees encompassed a circle at least half a mile in diameter.

The great trees were bare of green leaves or needles, seemingly dead. Worse than dead, they were gray and stony, petrified. But they swayed in the rising wind as the thunderhead above began to make its presence known. Or was their movement controlled by some deeper malevolence?

“That bastard,” said Elowen, looking upon the petrified trees, a tear on her cheek.

With a flash of lightning and a crashing clap of thunder, a driving rain emerged from the belly of the black cloud. Marrec and his friends were instantly drenched in the water, which smelled stagnant.

The weakening light revealed that the great fortress of dead trees had a glow all its own—a faint greenish phosphorescence—not the green of living things, no, but instead the essence of gangrene itself—greenish black, pustulant, and pulsing. Thus, even with the arrival of night and through the mist produced by the driving rain, Marrec was able to see the forces that began to stream from the Close.

He had thought the great petrified trees were fused together, but there must have been enough space to navigate between them. Like cheese squeezed from a colander, lines of figures squirmed from between the trunks. The figures, once free of the Close, massed and moved down the lane toward Marrec and the others.

The cleric noticed that the ruined buildings on either side, too, were disgorging ungainly figures. There were hundreds of figures closing upon them at a dead

run, with dozens more appearing each second.

Marrec took a pace forward. Gunggari stepped up to Marrec’s left, but a pace behind. Elowen remained to his right, also back a pace. Ususi remained directly behind Marrec, but with space enough between to shelter Ash. In that way, they encircled the girl.

As they rushing forms grew closer, Elowen said, “Volodnis. They’re all rot-touched, like those we fought in Lethyr.”

It was as Elowen said. A tide of blighted volodnis threatened to flow over them, and the rain continued to fall, cold and uncaring.

The blighted volodnis were worked up. They hissed, shouted, and stamped their feet. They broke upon the defenders like a tide, but Marrec held steady. Justlance’s tip became a silver flame in his hand like a thunderbolt, a veritable rod of death to every volodni who opposed him. Marrec slew them as fast as they approached. To his right, he saw Elowen make a similar impact with Dymondheart, save when she slew, the volodnis’ rotting bodies took flame with purifying fire. To his left, Gunggari laid about him, dispatching foes with his sap-spattered dizheri. Behind him, he could hear the continual chant of Ususi, bolts of magical fire laying volodnis low—sometimes one, sometimes several at once.

They advanced. Through the flashing lightning and implacable rain, the silhouette of the Close loomed larger.

They fought, they cursed, and they slew, and the tide continued to part, and a trail of the dead grew behind. Larger shadows begin to stir on the outskirts of the fight, which in a flashing dazzle of lightning were revealed as reinforcements for the enemy—twigblights. Marrec realized that the Rotting Man must know the secret of their animation even without the aid of Anammelech.

The cleric shouted above the thunder, “We can’t fight both volodnis and twigblights and hope to win.”

Ever economical in wielding his dizheri, the Oslander took a moment to shrug, which became the initial move of a dramatic swing that laid two volodnis low.