The Darksteel Eye (29 page)

Marek fell back and disappeared into the fog.

*  *  *  *  *

Malil pulled the head of Pontifex’s halberd from his arm. The vedalken’s petty jealousies were getting in the way. For the love of Memnarch, all he wanted was another dose of serum, another burst of enlightenment. Surely that was not too much to ask for.

Malil’s life on this plane had been relatively short in comparison to Pontifex’s. He’d had the opportunity to see many strange and interesting things. He’d also had the occasion to fight. Most of the time it was in doing Memnarch’s bidding, and never had it been against a skilled opponent. So he’d never really had the opportunity to fully test his own capabilities as a warrior.

Until now.

Tossing Pontifex’s blade to the ground, Malil took three quick steps. His metal body had been made to react to emergency situations by making him thrice as strong and thrice as fast—but only for a short distance. This had been Memnarch’s way of making Malil capable of getting himself out of trouble, should the situation arise.

Malil had never needed this function before, but it seemed as good a time as any to try it out.

His body moved in a blur. In three steps, the metal man managed to get around and behind Pontifex.

The vedalken lord tried to spin, but he wasn’t nearly fast enough. Malil punched the four-armed lord squarely in the back, sending Pontifex to his knees. Raising his greatsword into the air, the metal man looked down on the back of the vedalken’s bent neck. He could cut right through it and be rid of this childish fool.

The Vault of Whispers rumbled, and dust cascaded from the ceiling.

“Stop this fighting, and bring me the elf girl.” The words filled the cavernous chamber, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

Malil lowered his sword. “Yes, my lord.”

Pontifex too seemed unnerved by the command. He stood up, his eyes darting this way and that. Then he looked at Malil, and the metal man looked back.

Both men stared into the other’s eyes for a long, tense moment.

Pontifex broke the silence. “We will finish this later.”

Malil nodded. “After the elf girl is captured and returned to Memnarch.” He squeezed the hilt of his sword.

The vedalken looked away. “Agreed.”

Bosh stood up.

One minute everyone was fighting everyone else, then a booming voice filled the chamber—a voice Bosh recognized as Memnarch’s. Now it seemed everyone had turned to fight the metal golem.

Levelers and vedalken swarmed over him. They poked his fleshy parts and pounded his iron ones. He fought back. With each wave of his hand, he bashed back the advance of a half-dozen attackers. Still more came on.

They climbed up his arms, swung at his head, made him bleed. Again he crashed to the floor.

*  *  *  *  *

Blue blood dripped from Al-Hayat’s muzzle.

Tossing his latest victim aside, he lashed out, trying to catch another. His teeth closed around the scythe blades of a leveler beast, and the razor-sharp edge cut right through his lip. Yowling in pain, his own red blood mixing with that of his foes, the wolf retreated a step.

The leveler charged in, and it wasn’t alone. Six other levelers were right beside it, and a dozen vedalken added their
halberds as well. Their blades cut into him, tearing off fur and reaching straight down into flesh.

He swatted at them, growling and barring his teeth, but something made these combined foes more aggressive, less afraid. And in moments they swarmed him.

Al-Hayat backed off the dais. His rump bumped into the back wall of the chamber. Looking around, all he could see were four-armed warriors and scythe-bladed levelers. Not a single one of his friends was in sight.

Cornered, trapped like a common animal at the end of a hunt, the great forest beast crouched down and bared his fangs.

If he was going to die here, then so were they.

*  *  *  *  *

Bruenna turned away from Marek. He might live, but she didn’t have time to finish him off just now, not while the other wizard who had accompanied her into this hellhole was fighting for his life right behind her.

She stepped behind a vedalken warrior. With all of her strength, she jammed the tip of her blade into the small of his back. The four-armed guard squirmed like a bug on a pin and dropped his sword.

Something hit Bruenna in the back of the head, and she fell forward. The force of the fall pushed her blade deeper into the vedalken’s back, and he let out a gurgling cry.

She was hit again and let go of her sword, her arms flying out in front of her to stop her fall. Turning over onto her back she looked up just as a leveler’s scythe blade descended through the fog and bit into her shoulder.

*  *  *  *  *

“Do you have those damn things working together yet?” screamed Glissa.

Slobad, kneeling on the ground near the big pile of disks, waved his hand at her, not bothering to turn.

The sounds of battle were getting louder. Glissa’s nerves were shot. Who knew how many of her friends were dead or dying up there right now. She felt powerless, trapped down here, waiting for Slobad to summon a creature she wasn’t even sure would help her.

“If you don’t hurry, they’re all going to be dead,” she said, pacing around one of the smaller piles.

The goblin stood up and brushed himself off. “Finished.”

The heavy shield Glissa had uncovered lifted itself up. The pile of metal disks that had been covering it cascaded away. Jingling as they hit the others, there were so many of them landing all at the same time, they sounded like a heavy downpour—only all the raindrops were made of metal.

When Glissa had landed in this room, she had thought the floor was not so far below her feet, simply covered in a thin layer of these strange metal disks. She had been wrong. This chamber ran deep.

The elf and the goblin stepped away, pressing their backs against the wall. Gold disks continued to roll from the avatar’s shoulders as it rose and rose.

The disks fell back, filling the empty space in the piled gold. The floor became like quicksand, dissolving underneath their feet, grabbing at their ankles and threatening to pull them down into the crushing pit of gold. Glissa and Slobad struggled to stay on top, almost running in place as the floor sucked them down.

Slobad tripped. Landing flat on his chest, the little goblin slid backward, caught in a roiling current of metal disks.

“Help!” screamed the goblin, trying to swim through the gold.

Glissa dropped to her knees and reached out. “Grab on.” The moment she stopped running, she too got stuck in the wave of gold, and the two of them slipped toward the edge of the empty pit.

Try as they might, they couldn’t stop their descent. The closer they got to the hole the faster they went. Glissa grabbed Slobad’s hand and squeezed it as they slipped off the edge and fell into darkness. The jingling noise grew louder the farther they fell, and gold disks pelted them from all sides, falling into the pit and bouncing off their skulls.

“We’re going to be buried alive,” shouted the elf.

“Not if we die from fall, huh?” Slobad shouted back.

A pale blue-white glow filled the pit. Glissa could see the sides of the hole as the disks sloughed off and fell. Then the glow coalesced into an enormous five-fingered hand and wrapped itself around the falling pair. The gold stopped pelting them, and they stopped falling.

“What the—?” Glissa’s question was cut short when she was tossed against the side of the hand as it lifted her and Slobad back up to the top of the pit.

Up and up they went, then just as suddenly as their fall had been stopped, so did their ascent. The hand opened up, and Glissa looked out over a ghostly white palm.

“Oh.” Slobad’s jaw dropped.

The Kaldra Champion floated before them. Its head, arms, and hands were formed from a glowing, pale blue-white plasma. At first, Glissa thought it was magical energy, but sitting in the middle of its palm, she could feel its substance. It was rubbery and soft, almost like flesh.

Its arms were strong and inscribed with hundreds of tattoos. Some formed rudimentary pictures of animals and monsters. Others appeared to be simple runes—letters or words in an alphabet Glissa did not understand.

Under the great helm its face looked human—only much, much larger, and blue. It had a strong, angular chin that jutted out past the rest of its face, and its eyes were empty white orbs, like those of an old blind man. In its right hand it clutched the sword, whose power Glissa already missed.

“So you’re the Kaldra Champion,” said Glissa looking up into the towering creature’s white orbs.

It nodded.

“Help us save our friends, huh?” asked the goblin.

The Kaldra Champion smiled then nodded.

“Hurry.” Glissa pointed to the hole in the ceiling.

The Kaldra Champion closed his fist around the goblin and the elf and looked up. Glissa could just see between the creature’s fingers as he launched toward the light. The ceiling came up in a blink, and Glissa covered her head.

*  *  *  *  *

The floor exploded.

Bits of blackened metal scattered across the room, ricocheting off the levelers and pinning several vedalken to the walls.

A pale blue-white giant shot up and hovered above the broken ground. With a wave of his hand the fog covering the floor completely disappeared, revealing the wounded and dying creatures who had been concealed.

“What in the nine hells is that?” shouted Pontifex.

Malil stood beside him, shaking his head.

The creature opened his palm, and two figures stood up.

Pontifex grabbed the metal man by the arm. “It has the elf girl.”

“I can see that.”

Pontifex turned to find Marek. The leader of his elite guard
was squirming on the floor about twenty feet away. He appeared to be in no condition to give orders.

Pontifex shouted at the top of his lungs, “Get the elf girl!”

The vedalken warriors who hadn’t been knocked down by the flying debris immediately disengaged and charged the floating blue creature holding the elf.

“Do you think that’s wise?” asked Malil turning to Pontifex. “I’m not entirely certain we shouldn’t be very afraid of this creature.”

*  *  *  *  *

Levelers covered Bosh from head to toe. Vedalken poked at him with their halberds. One group of attackers he could handle, but two … He smashed at them, crushing them between his mighty palms, but there were too many of them.

He was going to die.

Something exploded, and Bosh felt the floor rumble under him. The fog lifted, and he heard someone yell, “Get the elf girl!”

The vedalken turned and ran. The odds had improved.

Rolling over to one side, the half-iron, half-flesh golem pushed himself up onto his elbow. Levelers cascaded from his chest, bouncing as they hit the hard metal floor. Unlatching the compartment on his chest, Bosh flung it open. The big door swung down, creaking on its hinges, and slammed into the ground. Reaching over, the big golem closed the hatch and admired the two smashed leveler carcasses on the floor before him.

Pushing himself onto his feet, Bosh looked down at the little metal constructs before him. With no fog, he could see them all clearly.

“Time to smash.” His deep voice rumbled, and he brought his fist down atop the nearest foe. Bits of broken metal spun off into all directions.

*  *  *  *  *

A leveler pinned Bruenna’s shoulder to the ground. The metal burned inside her skin, and she couldn’t move. Worse, she couldn’t even see where the thing was. Lying on the ground, the fog blocked her view of everything except the first few inches of the scythe blade that jutted from her shoulder.

The artifact creature pulled back, yanking the blade from her flesh and disappearing into the fog. A wave of relief rolled over her only to be replaced by a dull throb and panic. It’s preparing to hit me again, she thought. If only she could see it.

The fog swept away from the floor, revealing the entire room—and the leveler about to strike. The killing device’s blade came whistling through the air, but Bruenna kicked and rolled, throwing herself just barely out of harm’s way. The blade crashed into the ground, sticking into the metal floor, and the human wizard placed her hand on the leveler’s hide.

Bruenna flooded the device with a combination of blue and black mana. Gears ground to a stop, and the beast shook. Smoke seeped from its seams, and the light in its eye sockets grew blindingly bright.

“This is for my shoulder,” she said, and she placed her other hand on the creature as well.

Another spell flooded into the leveler. Metal plates collapsed, crushing the creature’s insides. The artifact shook more violently, shuttered once, then came to rest as the light inside it went out.

*  *  *  *  *

The great forest wolf looked out at more than two dozen levelers and vedalken combined. They closed in, fearless but cautious all the same.

Al-Hayat waited, growling at them, watching each inch closer. A vedalken was the first to step too close. In a flash, Al-Hayat bounded forward, closed his powerful jaws around the blue-skinned warrior’s head, then stepped back against the wall.