Sands of the Soul (33 page)

Ciredor leaned jauntily on the poker, as though the metal rod was a walking stick, and said, “Nowhere left to go, little girl. And why should you want to? All of my work, and you played no small role in it, is about to come to fruition. You wouldn’t want to miss it. Behold.”

He waved his left hand like a mummer taking a bow.

Tazi looked around the room frantically and finally understood why Ciredor had left the mummies like guardians around the soul gem. With its light bathing them from one side, their positions against the glass exposed the other side of their bodies to the rays of the new moon. Together, the lights had a monstrous effect on them.

Tazi could only watch, horrified, as each mummy began to stir. She felt withered hands slide up her shoulders and whirled to see Ebeian’s empty sockets staring clown at her. She stifled a scream.

“Well,” Ciredor commented, “I’ll leave you two alone. I can tell there’s a lot you’d like to say to each other. And I still have much to do before the night is over.”

Tazi watched as the tall mage looked up at the ceiling. He flicked a finger at the amethyst gem, and it tumbled loose from its slot. Freed, it plummeted toward the flames. Ciredor

never removed his eyes from Tazi as he shot his hand into the fire and caught his precious artifact. The poker fell with a resounding, metal clang on the stone floor.

Ciredor inspected the stone and rubbed it against his tunic like someone about to bite into an apple. He smiled deeply.

“Off to collect my prize,” he told Tazi as he turned to go.

“But don’t worry,” he called over his shoulder, “I’ll be back to collect you later. If there’s anything left, that is.”

He disappeared down the stairs.

Tazi saw that the mummies grew more active after the stone’s rays no longer bathed their bodies. She briefly wondered if they were angered that it was gone or if the roek’s mystical properties kept them at bay. She guessed the former because she was fairly certain Ciredor’s gem was the receptacle for their stolen souls. She didn’t have time for further contemplation as one of the mummies’ snarls snapped her back to the here and now.

She could see by the firelight that they were all staring at her, perhaps blaming her for the absence of the stone. The circle of mummies started to tighten around her. Tazi turned in a circle herself, ready to strike though she knew she was hopelessly outnumbered.

A shout from the doorway drew some of the undead’s attention away from Tazi. She looked over as well to see Steorf and Fannah standing in the doorway to the lookout chamber.

“What is this?” Steorf shouted as several of the mummies had broken away from the circle and started their odd shuffling over to the newcomers.

Tazi could see that Steorf had his sword drawn and Fannah still had the dagger Tazi had given her during the worm attack.

“He’s here!”Tazi shouted.

She slashed across the arm of the nearest mummy. The partially severed limb dangled from the creature by a dried piece of tendon. That did nothing, however, to stop its inexorable march forward. Tazi backed up and bumped into the

brazier. The mummy that was pursuing her flinched a little at the sight of the flames.

“Of course,” Tazi realized, “you’re afraid of fire.”

She knelt down, and with her free hand she felt around for the poker Ciredor had dropped. When she found it, she stood and placed the metal into the fire.

She shouted to Steorf, “Have you got a torch?”

Steorf saw one mounted to the entrance of the chamber and wrenched it from the wall. He tossed the old wood toward Tazi, and she caught it with her left hand. Still brandishing her sword with her right, she shoved the wood into the red-hot brazier, and it burst into flames. She waved the fire at the mummified remains of the Mysterious Lurker, and he threw his rotted hands in front of his face. She used the opportunity to slip past the lurching horror and gain her friends’ side.

“I’ve got to stop him,” a breathless Tazi said to her companions.

A moan made all three of them turn, and they saw that the mummies had grouped up and were shuffling toward

“Yes,” she answered immediately.

As one, they entered the room, and the mummies moved toward the intruders with a slow certainty. Steorf beheaded the first one that approached him with one stroke but could feel how exhausted he was after the single effort. The worm poison had taken a heavy toll on him, and he knew he lacked the strength for even the simplest of spells. Fannah stayed close to his side. He wasn’t sure if she was clinging to him for protection or to offer it. He realized, however, that it didn’t matter.

Fannah waved the torch at the face of a mummified troll that had slithered up beside her. The creature screamed in pain and backed away, batting at the places where the flames had singed its leathery skin. While it was distracted, Fannah flicked her dagger across its throat. Nothing poured forth, as the troll was long since a desiccated husk, but the cut was deep enough to cause its head to sag back.

The weight of its skull and gravity finished the job for Fannah. The troll’s head snapped off and tumbled to the ground. Its body stumbled about, directionless.

Steorf smiled at Fannah’s handiwork but had his hands full soon enough. Two more creatures shambled over. While a hulking human waved a sword blindly at Steorf, a female half-elf jumped on his back with a shrill scream. She wrapped her arms around his throat and her slender, rotted legs around Steorf’s waist. While he slashed at the air between himself and the human, the half-elf clawed at his eyes and bit his ear.

The mummy with the sword made blind slashes at Steorf, which he parried easily. The half-elf was another matter. Steorf had to continue to thrash his head from side to side to avoid her raking fingers. He could feel warm blood trickle down the side of his neck where the female had bitten through his earlobe, and he was momentarily surprised that he had enough fluid in his body left to bleed.

“Enough!” he shouted.

Fannah turned at the sound of his voice. When he saw her, an idea came to him. Steorf began to swing harder with his weapon and forced the human mummy backward.

Thrust after thrust, the creature lost more ground until it tripped on the stone support for the brass brazier and dropped its weapon. The creature stumbled back and fell into the flames. It writhed from side to side and managed to jump up as fast as its hulking body allowed. It made one staggering step before the flames ran up the length of its body. The mummy tumbled to the ground and rolled once before burning completely. An acrid smoke filled the chamber.

Steorf had no time to admire his handiwork. The half-elf managed to get her claws into his chest wound and tear it further. Steorf bellowed in rage and slammed his back, with the half-elf still on him, into the metal doorframe of the chamber.

There was a sickening crack, and when he moved forward the half-elf released her grip and slumped bonelessly to the floor. She toppled forward and Steorf could see that her back had split open. To his horror, she still made a swipe at his boot with one hand.

In absolute repulsion, he brought his heel down on her hand and reduced it to powder.

“You won’t be clawing anyone with that,” he spat, moving away from the shuddering mummy.

Fannah was cornered by three undead, and she swung her torch in a protective arc in front of her. Steorf saw her predicament and moved to help her. He raised his broadsword with two hands and swung across the mummies like a thresher would a field of wheat, his rage sparking his last reserves of strength. Each mummy was cleanly sliced through the midsection, and they toppled over like a child’s set of blocks. Steorf looked at Fannah and saw that she was relieved to hear the mummies’ crash, but there wasn’t a hint of fear on her face. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her free of the torsos that still tried to clutch at her feet.

“We’re almost done,” he told her, and she smiled. “I knew we’d make it,” she replied. “How?” he asked her.

“Because this is part of what I saw within the gate,” she answered simply.

Before Steorf could reply, he saw another mummy come up behind Fannah with a raised weapon.

“Duck!” he shouted to the Calishite and roughly shoved her aside.

He parried the monster’s blow and brought his knee up into the creature’s groin. The force of the blow doubled the mummy up, and Steorf smashed the hilt of his broadsword into the thing’s skull. The mummy’s head exploded in a puff of dust and rot.

“Behind you,” Fannah warned him. “I hear something.”

He turned in time to see the Mysterious Lurker staggering toward him with his hands extended.

Steorf was becoming tired, and his reflexes were too slow. Before he could bring up his sword, the old priest wrapped his large hands around Steorf’s throat. He dropped his sword and tried to claw the Lurker’s fingers away, but to no avail. The Lurker’s grip was like steel, and Steorf started to hear his own blood pound in his ears, and small patches of black danced in the corners of his vision.

The undead Lurker’s eyeless face remained emotionless as he swung Steorf around by his throat and bent the young mage backward toward the brazier as though he wanted revenge for his burned comrades-in-rags.

ŚŠŚ ŚŠŚ ŚŠŚ ŠŚ ŚŠŚ

Tazi carefully started down the stairs, not knowing where the necromancer might be in the darkness. He must have hidden himself somewhere, she reasoned, since Steorf and Fannah hadn’t seen him along the stairs. She slid with her back against the stone wall, smearing Ciredor’s graffiti with

her leathers. After she had gone down a few steps, she paused and listened. She thought she heard a whisper.

At the third level, Tazi stopped her descent and cautiously peered around a corner. She was certain she’d heard was a low, melodic whisper and that it came from that floor. She gripped her sword with both hands and walked sideways, using the walls as shields whenever she could.

Unlike the east tower, this floor was not empty. She could see that Ciredor had transformed this level into a den of luxury, not unlike how he had kept his secret rooms in Selgaunt. There was a decadence to his selections.

As Tazi turned a corner, she could feel velvet drapes on the walls. He had lined the entire room with the sumptuous fabric and blotted out all the exterior light. Furs were thrown haphazardly on the floor, and she secretly thanked him for his opulent taste. Everything was so well padded, there was no way he could hear her approach.

Nestled in the center of a pile of large pillows, Ciredor was sitting with his legs crossed, but Tazi could see that his heels rested on top of the opposite thighs. She had seen Cale assume the pose once when she had caught him deep in his meditations. She realized that Ciredor, who had his back to her, was not actually sitting on the pillows but floated a few feet above them. She thought she caught a glimpse of the purple gem twinkling just in front of him.

He’s mesmerized by the thing, she thought. He doesn’t even hear me coming.

Tazi padded closer, holding her breath. She moved her blade back and prepared to slice his head off.

“But I do hear your heart beating,” he spoke aloud and rotated around to face her.

A flash of green burst from his finger, and Tazi was knocked across the room to slam against the wall. She crumpled in a heap, and Ciredor unfolded his legs and stood to his full height.

“I always hear your heart, sweet Thazienne.”

He moved over to her, the gem winking in the candlelight behind him.

ŚŠŚ O- ŚŠŚ ŚŠŚ

Steorf was nearly unconscious as the Lurker began to lower his head toward the flames. The first strands of his blond hair touched the fire and the smell of his own burning body snapped Steorf back to awareness. He tried chopping his hands down on the Lurker, but the mummy was unfazed by the blows. Steorf couldn’t think of anything else to try and vaguely wondered what had happened to Fannah. He dropped his arms behind his head to strike the Lurker one more time when one of his fingertips brushed a rod of some kind.

Nearly unconscious, Steorf wrapped his fingers around the object and realized it was the poker Tazi had left in the brazier. With his last remaining strength, Steorf brought the red-hot poker up over his head and stabbed the Lurker through one of his eyeless sockets. The metal sizzled as it slid easily through the desiccated flesh of the one-time priest of Ibrandul. The Lurker flailed his arms about and tried to draw the burning rod from his head.

Steorf withdrew the poker, and as the Lurker raised his arms in one last attempt to kill him, the young mage snarled, “This is for Asraf!”

He stabbed the priest through the heart.

“Revenge does taste sweet after all,” Steorf whispered.

The mummified Lurker fell to the floor and squirmed like a bug impaled on a study board. He tried to pull the poker out but the hot metal ignited his purple robes.

The Lurker fell still as the flames consumed him.

Steorf leaned against the stone support and tried to catch his breath. He surveyed the room full of corpses and rotted bones. The fetid smoke stung his eyes, but no tears came.

He rubbed a hand against his bleeding chest and whispered,

“Is this what you want for me, Mother? A life filled with death all in the name of justice?”

There was no one left to answer him, and he suddenly realized Fannah was missing.

Steorf looked around the room, but she was not amongst the fallen, either—then he saw that she was outside on the parapet, with the last remaining mummy.

“Hold on!” he cried as he searched for the passageway outside.

When Steorf made his way out, he saw that Fannah had her dagger drawn but she was standing calmly. The mummy had also stopped and Steorf thought it looked as if they were regarding each other in the torchlight.

As he got closer, Steorf let out a startled gasp. The last mummy was his old adversary for Tazi’s affection: the elf, Ebeian.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Fannah asked.

“Yes,” Steorf whispered. “Somehow Ciredor collected his body and reunited it.”