The Archmage Unbound (49 page)

I spoke another word to close the hole
and trap it within the earth and then I turned my attention to the great bear
that was bearing down upon me.
“Pyrren thylen,”
I said again and this
time my magical fire tore into its target, slicing the undead beast into two
large and smoldering pieces. I felt a surge of exultation as it fell apart and
I turned to finish the other monster lumbering toward me on its three remaining
legs. Then the light I had conjured above went out and the subterranean
chamber was plunged into darkness.

“Did you think I would be so easily
trapped?” came Timothy’s soft words in my ear as it dropped catlike down from
the ceiling above. It had escaped my pit before it closed and it now stood
directly behind me, so close I could smell the unnatural state of its flesh.
My shield had vanished, utterly absorbed by its close physical presence and now
the creature’s hand fell upon my bare neck.

The world vanished, replaced by a black
void and a dark wind. The wind was hungry and it tore at me, drawing me into
the emptiness that stretched before me. I fluttered in that wind, but try as I
might I could find no purchase to stop my inexorable slide into oblivion. In
the distance I heard Harold’s voice screaming something. It was too faint to
understand, but I could only assume the bear had found him.

Then the world returned to me in a
rush. It was still black to my normal vision, but my magesight could see
Harold holding the void wrapped form of a small child, kicking and struggling
pathetically in his strong grasp. I scrambled backward across the floor to
gain space and then my hand landed upon my staff.

Drawing myself up to my feet I ignored
my exhaustion and created a new light above us. The new illumination made it
even clearer what had happened. In the darkness Harold had fought and
dismembered the remaining bear. One of his swords still lay on the ground near
its mutilated hind quarters. Now that he could see again he was preparing to
strike the undead child in his vice-like grip with the other sword. It was a
sight that made me want to cheer.

Unfortunately the creature that now
called itself Timothy had not given up yet. As Harold drew his arm back to
slice it in two one of its arms traced more symbols of blue fire and they raced
across Harold’s enchanted armor, smoking and burning wherever they found a gap
that led inward to human flesh. With a scream of pain and anger he threw the
small body of our enemy across the cavern to land some twenty feet away. “Damn
you!” he screamed in anger. I had to agree with his sentiment.

Raising my staff I sent fire streaming
toward it, hoping to burn it to ashes before it could raise another protective
barrier. My aim was off however and the thing leapt from the ground with
blinding speed before I could strike again. It ran toward me faster than my
eyes could track and yet before it could reach me Harold was there, blocking
its path and striking out with the one sword that remained to him. His aim was
true and one of the thing’s arms went flying to the side before it could
scramble away.

“Ha!” Harold yelled challengingly. “Not
so brave when faced with honest steel are you?”

Honest enchanted steel,
I added mentally, but I didn’t think it was really appropriate to
mention at that point. “Stay close to me, I’ll try to burn it from a
distance,” I told him instead.

The abomination that occupied Timothy’s
body had had enough. Before I could aim another strike it darted away, fleeing
into the tunnel that led back the way we had come.

“Walter!” I yelled in warning, “It’s
coming from behind you!” A loud explosion answered my cry and a thunderous
roar followed. Walter had brought down the tunnel. Dust filled the air and we
waited for what seemed an eternity for the rumbling of falling rock to cease.

When the dust had settled the three of
us were trapped inside the cavern, with no open route to the surface. The
tunnel that Walter had collapsed had been the only way in or out. Thankfully
Walter had hidden his presence and the creature had merely run past him. For
now, we were alone.

“What now?” Harold asked, breaking the
silence that had fallen over us.

I opened my pouch and drew out the
silver stylus that was quickly becoming my favorite tool. It would be much
easier to create the teleportation circle using it rather than my hands or
staff. I held it up dramatically and looked at my tired and emotionally
drained companions. Fear is one of the most exhausting emotions. For some
reason their weariness sparked my perverse sense of humor. “With this,” I
began dramatically, “we can cut our way through the rock and take the enemy from
behind!” I grinned and waited for their reactions.

Walter couldn’t even reply, his jaw
simply fell open. Harold was more pragmatic, wiping his sword blades off he
sheathed them before commenting… “How did Dorian survive childhood with you?”

I decided to revise my previous estimation
of Harold; he was definitely developing a nasty case of sarcasm. “I was
joking. Give me half an hour and I’ll have us back in Lancaster.”

“Why not take us back to the Duke’s
camp?” asked the burly warrior.

I shrugged, “I can’t. There isn’t a
circle there.”

“If you leave a circle here that thing
may be able to use it,” Walter pointed out.

I opened my magical pouch again and this
time I drew a set of two small round objects wrapped together in a small square
of paper, one made of glass and the other of iron. “These are a matched set,”
I told him. “I created a lot of these for the war with Gododdin but I still
keep a few handy. They are similar to the necklace I put on you a while back.
Smash the glass bead and the iron one explodes. I’ll place the iron one near
the circle before we teleport away. Once we’re safely in Lancaster I’ll smash
the glass bead and destroy the circle.” I smiled smugly; I was rather pleased
with myself for thinking up such a neat solution. Honestly though I hadn’t
thought it up on the spot, I had spent some time considering such problems
after some channelers had used one of my previous circles to invade Castle
Cameron.

Harold whistled appraisingly, “Dorian
was right.”

“About what?” I asked.

“He said you were too dangerous to be
allowed to run free without a babysitter,” he explained.

“Was this when he explained why you were
being stuck with guarding me?”

Harold grinned and nodded but Walter interrupted
before we could say anything else. “Excuse me…” he said mildly. Once he was
sure we had paused he continued, “How many of these explosive devices do you
carry about on your person? Aren’t you worried you’ll trip and blow us all to
bits of bone and jam?”

I chuckled at his odd turn of phrase. It
was a valid question though, especially since I hadn’t shown him my special
pouch. I drew it out again and opened the top. Rather than explain I demonstrated
by pushing my arm into the bag. Although it appeared to be no more than eight
inches deep I was easily able to put my arm into it until my shoulder reached
the mouth of the purse. From his perspective it now appeared as if most of my
arm had been amputated. “I keep all my dangerous surprises stored far from my
person,” I informed him.

The look on his face was priceless, but
I didn’t say anything else. I got busy working on our way out. I didn’t think
any of us wanted to spend any more time in our subterranean prison.

Cyhan followed the king down a long
flight of stairs. He had been summoned late at night but he was used to such
odd hours. During his years of service Edward had often needed him to serve in
various capacities at times when most common men were long abed. Tonight was
unusual in that the King was leading him through a circuitous route. The
stairs they were on now led down from the outer palace wall and reached the
courtyard near where the infrequently used postern gate stood.

The implication was obvious; Edward
planned to meet someone secretly at the gate. Cyhan’s presence was purely for
protection. If the King had wanted him to serve in a more aggressive role he
would have been given more warning and time for preparation.

As they reached the gate the King
addressed him, “The ones we will be meeting are dangerous but they should keep
to their word unless I am mistaken. They will be bringing hostages, two of
them. You merely need to keep them secure until the priests arrive.” While he
was speaking Cyhan noted that the gate was open and the night duty guards were
absent.

The veteran warrior understood
immediately. This wasn’t the first time he had been asked to perform such a
role. The fact that the priests would be arriving to take charge of the
prisoners meant that the king wanted these ‘guests’ kept discretely in a place
where none would think to find them. Edward had kept a number of such hostages
over the years. What was unusual was the fact that the king had chosen to
receive such prisoners without any other guards.

“Your majesty,” said Cyhan carefully, “I
cannot guarantee your safety and secure the prisoners at the same time by
myself.”

“We understand that,” answered the
King. “Just make sure the prisoners are kept safely until the brothers
arrive. There will be no treachery tonight.”

Other than our own,
thought Cyhan. Given the timing he had a good idea who the
prisoners might be though it still didn’t explain Edward’s obsessive need for
secrecy. The King had a number of guards that could be trusted in such
situations, and in the past he had used them. Something about tonight was
different, so different that he needed to hide the details even from his most
trusted guards.
Except me, for my oath is my life.

They waited a short time, less than a
quarter of an hour before several heavily cloaked figures entered through the
open gate. Between them they had two people, bound and being led on short
chains. All in all there were eight of them escorting the two prisoners. The
prisoners were also cloaked but their faces were only partly hidden by the deep
hoods and Cyhan was fairly certain that his suspicions were correct regarding
their identities.

The king stepped forward confidently,
“Let me see their faces. I need to be sure they are who you claim them to be.”

The voice that answered was a woman’s,
though her speech was oddly inflected, as if she wasn’t used to speaking
regularly. “Of course your Majesty, it shall be as you say. We do not wish
you to suspect us of any trickery.” Despite her strange intonation Cyhan
thought she sounded somewhat familiar.

Hands reached up and pulled the
prisoner’s hoods aside, removing any doubt as to their identities. Standing
before them were the Countess di’Cameron and Sir Dorian Thornbear. They
appeared unharmed but their eyes were a bit wild around the edges. Penny’s
gaze immediately locked upon Cyhan. “Snake! I should have known you’d be here
serving your…,” she said vehemently but she was interrupted by one of her
captors.

“Silence,” the strange woman’s voice
broke in as she held up a finger in front of Penny’s face. The countess’s eyes
locked upon that finger as it drew close to her cheek, and a look of intense
fear and loathing was evident in her visage. Penny promptly closed her mouth
while drawing her head back to avoid her captor’s touch.

Dorian struggled beside her, but he was
tightly bound and gagged, even so he managed to pull away from those holding
him for a moment and struck the woman threatening Penny with his shoulder. She
stumbled backward as the two holding his chains pulled and tugged to get him
back under control. The motion caused her hood to fall away and for a moment
her face was clearly visible to Cyhan in the dim moonlight. It was Ruth.

A chill passed down his spine. Seeing
her there was not unexpected, he had already guessed at the purpose of her
mission before she had left. What unnerved him was her expression, or rather
her lack of expression. Her eyes passed over him with no hint of recognition.
That along with the strangeness of her voice a moment ago told him more than
enough. She was no longer the woman he had known.

“Chain them to the post there,” said Edward
calmly. “I want you gone before the others arrive.”

“We have kept our part of the bargain.
Do not forget your part, King of Lothion,” answered the creature that had once
been Ruth.

Edward’s eyes narrowed in the darkness.
“Do not presume to lecture me. I have not forgotten. Begone lest I lose my
temper!”

The shiggreth made no reply and within
minutes they were gone, leaving behind their shackled prisoners. Cyhan stood
guard silently beside his king while they waited for the priests to arrive. His
eyes never left Penny and Dorian’s faces but his mind was far away.

My king has made an alliance
with the undead,
he thought quietly,
and
Ruth is now one of them.
Those two facts chased each other in circles
within his head and he could find no way to escape the horror they presented. He
had gone numb, physically and mentally. Try as he might he could find no
meaning or reason in what he had just witnessed.
I have only my oath.