The Golden Key (Book 3) (36 page)

14

Angus walked down the dimly lit corridor until he reached
the door at the end. There was a snake’s head protruding from the door, and it
reminded him a great deal of Symptata’s crest. Only Symptata’s crest had three
snake heads with the top one poised to strike, not one. The shape of the snake
was similar—a narrow angle to the jaws, bulges on the side of its head where
the poison glands were located—and he couldn’t quite shake the peculiar feeling
that they were somehow connected. But how?

Sardach coalesced in front of the snake’s head, and a thick
tendril emerged from the whirling mass of his smoky form. He inserted the
tendril into the snake’s head, and then stopped.
Angus?
Sardach thought.
Are you at the door?

Yes
, Angus said, a bit surprised that Sardach didn’t
already know it. He had known exactly where he had been on the lift when he was
invisible, so why didn’t he know his location now?

The tendril wriggled and the snake’s maw slowly closed down
upon it. It seemed to hold Sardach’s tentacle firmly as the eyes of the snake
began to glow red. Angus focused on the magic around him and smiled. It was a
very simple spell, one that would impress many of Argyle’s visitors, but not
Angus.

A deep, resonating voice bellowed through the corridor, and
Angus almost jumped. “Who calls upon me?”

Say your name,
Sardach thought to Angus.

Angus frowned. He didn’t want Argyle to know he was there.
The whole point of the Cloaking spell was to conceal his presence from Argyle,
and if he said his name, Argyle would know he was there. It would undermine at
least a part of his plan, if not the whole of it.

Say your name,
Sardach thought to Angus, this time
sounding a bit more urgent.

Still Angus hesitated, unwilling to give away his presence.
The snake bit down more firmly on Sardach’s tendril, and venom dribbled down
the side of its coal-black surface.

If you wish to gain entry,
Sardach said,
Say your
name. It is the only way.

Angus shook his head. It wasn’t the only way. He could destroy
the door with the wand, and the little magic that protected the door could
easily be subverted. But that would not only alert Argyle of his presence but
also of his purpose. He sighed and half-whispered, “Angus.”

The snake’s maw seemed to ease for a moment, but a few
seconds later, it clamped down with a viciousness that should have severed
Sardach’s tentacle. But it didn’t; it passed through it as if it weren’t there,
and the jaws clanged together. Venom oozed from its fangs and dropped to the
floor in a small, sizzling puddle. The snake’s head stayed that way for several
seconds before easing back into its original position and its eyes faded to
dull, empty gems.

Sardach dissipated into his natural, cloud-like form and
hovered next to him.
One comes,
Sardach warned.

A moment later, the door began to slide open. A wiry young
man with a short sword held out before him stepped into the opening and
stopped. He looked down the corridor and frowned. The tip of his sword began to
shake, and he gulped. “Where—”

Sardach engulfed him.

The youth slashed about with his sword and grabbed at his
throat with his free hand. He squawked like a strangled chicken as he fought futilely
against Sardach’s clutches. He dropped his sword and began to sag.

Don’t kill him!
Angus hastily thought as the youth’s
eyes bulged and he slumped to the floor.

It is necessary,
Sardach said.
He would harm you
.

Before Angus could reply, it was over. The young man lay
sprawled and unmoving on the floor.

Come,
Sardach said, fluttering through the doorway.

Angus glared at him and thought,
You didn’t need to kill
him. He could have been subdued
.

Sardach barely paused to give Angus time to step over the
body, and then led him into the chamber.

Angus hurried after him, and a few seconds later, he was through
the antechamber and inside Argyle’s meeting chamber. It was a huge room with
very high ceilings, and Sardach led him to a large throne in its center. It was
an impressive throne. The armrests were made from human skulls plastered
together, the seat was at eye level, and the back was composed of slabs of iron
welded together.

Wait here,
Sardach thought as he fluttered away.

Angus did not have to wait long before he heard the muffled
rumble of an inarticulate shout followed by the heavy clomping of humongous
footfalls. An eager yipping joined them, and Angus turned in their direction
and backed away from the throne. As he watched, a giant wearing a frilly powder
blue blouse, purple pantaloons, and black boots stomped into the chamber and
cast his eyes about. At the giant’s side was a huge dog, one that was nearly as
tall as Angus and much heavier. It had a spiked collar and slavered in
anticipation.
Argyle,
Angus thought, drawing the magic close to him and—

There was something strange about Argyle. He was smothered
in magic that radiated out from his center, and the core was no larger than
Angus and shaped in much the same way.
Magic
, Angus thought.
Argyle
is a deception! The real force is buried within him!
He stared at that
core, wondering if he could somehow uncouple the strands holding the image together—no,
not the image, the
substance
of Argyle. It wasn’t a mere illusion; it
was something much more tangible, and the magic—

It wasn’t the magic Angus understood; it was like the magic
of Symptata’s curse. It wasn’t even a part of the magic around him; it was
something different, something separate and self-contained. It was also beyond
his understanding.

Argyle stepped up to his throne and sat down. He frowned and
turned to his side and hissed, “Where is he?” He seemed to listen for several
seconds, and then turned to stare in front of him. When he spoke again, his
tone was pleasant and his eyes were scouring the part of the room in front of
him. “Angus? Sardach tells me you have my key. I would like it back, and if you
give it to me, I will reward you handsomely for it. Why don’t you show yourself
so we can negotiate?”

Angus smiled to himself and said nothing. He had come to know
enough about Argyle’s duplicity not to trust him. There was no sense in relinquishing
his advantage until the agreement was concluded. “I think not, Argyle,” Angus
said.

Argyle’s dog’s head snapped in his direction, growled, and
bared his teeth. Argyle put a restraining hand on its head and turned to Angus
as he said, “Come now, Angus. How can I know for certain that you have the key
I seek if I cannot see you and the key together?”

Angus frowned. It was a fair point, and yet, it was not
enough to convince him to release the Cloaking spell. “Nonsense,” he said.
“Sardach has already assured you that I have the key you seek. There is no further
need for confirmation.”

Argyle kept one hand on his dog’s head and rubbed his chin
with the other one. “You may have left it somewhere when Sardach wasn’t
watching.”

“I did not,” Angus said, stepping softly to the side and
watching the dog watching him as he moved. “You must take my word on that.”

Argyle rubbed his chin some more, and then he turned to
Sardach, who was hovering beside him, and concentrated. After a moment, he
half-shouted, “What!” He listened intently for a long moment, and then stood up
and shouted, “What!” Another second or two passed, and then Argyle turned his
head and shouted “If you won’t do it, Pug will.” He pointed at where Angus had
been, snapped his fingers, and said, “Kill!”

Pug leapt toward Angus, barking and growling. Angus made the
first motion of the wand as he stepped aside. Pug followed him, and he knew
there was no chance he could activate the wand in time. Still, he started the
second motion, and then Sardach appeared in front of him and lunged forward,
toward Pug. He solidified as he went, and wrapped himself around the dog,
tripping him up. Angus hurried to the side, and when he turned back, he saw Pug
writhing on the ground, yipping in agony. Then, quite suddenly, a dozen ebon
spikes thrust out of its chest. A moment later, it sagged quietly to the
ground.

“Pug!” Argyle shouted, taking a step toward the dog before
stopping. “Sardach!” he bellowed, glaring at the elemental as it reformulated
itself into the shape of a condensed cloud of smoke. “How—”

Angus is under my protection,
Sardach thought,
letting Angus hear it.
You will not harm him.
Sardach moved to hover protectively
near Angus.

 Argyle stepped forward and knelt down to pick up Pug. He
cradled the dog in his arms like it was a small child and stroked the blood-soaked
fur. There were tears in his eyes when he glared at Sardach, and a few seconds
later, he said, his voice soft, resigned, “What are your terms?”

Angus held onto the wand, wondering if he would need it
after all. He had expected to use it on Argyle, but if Argyle was willing to
negotiate, and if Argyle satisfied the terms he had in mind…. “My terms are
simple,” Angus said. “They will be easy for you to meet.”

Argyle let Pug slide from his arms and stood up. He walked
back to his throne and sat down. He clenched his hands tightly together and
rested his chin on them. “The terms?” he asked.

“I have no need for the key and will gladly hand it over to
you,” Angus began. “In return, you and your minions will seek no vengeance upon
me or those associated with me. The matter will be ended, and I will be free to
leave and go about my business without interference from you or those
associated with you. Finally, I am to be reimbursed for the trouble you have
caused me. Gems valuing ten thousand gold should suffice. Do these things, and
the key is yours. If not,” the wand was becoming difficult to manage, so he
made the final gesture and pointed it at the far wall. Thunder reverberated
through the confined space, and a strong breeze ruffled Angus’s robe and sent
dust flying through the room. When he turned back to Argyle, the giant was
cowering on his throne.

By the time the dust settled, Argyle had already agreed to
Angus’s terms, and ten minutes later Sardach was escorting Angus through the
tunnels to the Grain Street entrance.

15

Embril landed in the clearing and waited for Lieutenant
Jarhad to land. She watched him clumsily orienting himself to avoid the
trees—dipping too sharply, rising too quickly—and shook her head. He was
horrendous at flying, and there was nothing she could do about it. At least
when they were high in the air it didn’t matter much if he made absentminded
gestures that rapidly, radically changed his orientation and sent him into a
panic. But landing required finesse and concentration. And experience. She had
tried
to explain it to him, but some of the movements relied upon subtle knot-tying
motions that he knew nothing about. Worse, she couldn’t even show him those
movements because of the Concealment spell making them look like puffy white
clouds floating in the air. She had ultimately had to float in next to him and
move his hands for him, and even then, he was only able to do the maneuvers in
broad strokes. That was fine when they were high in the air and weren’t going
to run into anything, but landing
required a more delicate touch.

She watched and waited as Lieutenant Jarhad struggled to
stay inside the clearing and lower himself toward the ground. He was supposed
to come straight down and land on his feet so she could release the strand of
air magic holding the Flying spell together, but he wasn’t coming straight
down; he was shooting sideways or forward or backward and would have crashed
into the trees if he hadn’t shot rapidly upward to avoid them. She sighed and
waited for him to try again, wondering if she should go back up, wrap herself
around him, and bring him down that way. It’s what the Masters did when their
students lost control or panicked, but those students were trained to hang limp
and release their own spells in that situation. Lieutenant Jarhad wasn’t. Besides,
his flying was erratic, and she didn’t think she could get close enough to him
for that maneuver. So, she waited.

It took six tries before Lieutenant Jarhad finally struck
the ground. But he alit too firmly and stumbled to his knees. He might have
been seriously injured, but he rolled and bounced up into the air again. He
hovered there for a long second before Embril released the strand holding their
spells together, and then he dropped about five feet to the ground, flapping
his arms as if he was still trying to fly. He landed hard on the soggy grass, and
then struggled to his feet.

“Where are you?” he demanded as he limped in a tight circle.
“Where are the horses?”

“I am here,” Embril said as she moved toward him.

He whirled on her and said, “Why’d you drop me like that?”

Embril shrugged and said, “I thought it was safer than
letting you land on your own.” Then she whinnied softly and an answering whinny
came from just outside the clearing. A few seconds later, she saw the magical
outline of the horses as they walked toward them. The magic around them was
pulsing, throbbing as it struggled against the knots and the stronger strands
were already breaking free.
Hours, then
, she thought. They had spent too
much time investigating the fires—the Lieutenant was not satisfied with seeing
one
fire with a dwarf sitting next to it; he had to see
dozens
of them—and
they were going to have difficulty making the rendezvous. “We need to hurry,”
she said. “The spells are breaking free. Soft Passage is already gone. Hear
that? The mud clinging to their hooves as they walk? It won’t be long before
the Swiftness and Concealment spells also collapse.”

“Right,” he said. “We’ll ride as long as we dare and hope we
don’t meet up with any fishmen before we rejoin the men.”

We won’t,
Embril thought.
There aren’t any fishmen
up here. If there were, we would have seen them by now.

“Why do you think the dwarves are making the Tween Effect?”
Embril asked as they were edging their way out of the clearing.

“Strategy,” Lieutenant Jarhad said at once. “The Tween is
the border between Tyr and their mountains. The Tween Effect keeps us out of it,
and if we were to send a large patrol or army into The Tween, they would be in
no shape to fight the dwarves by the time they reached their tunnels. I’m glad
it’s them and not the fishmen. The dwarves keep to themselves.” Before she
could ask another question, they were on the road and he said, “Ride as hard as
you can. We need to get as far as possible before this spell of yours runs out.
Unless you have another one handy?”

Embril shook her head and said, “No. The books are in my
chest.”

“Make haste, then,” Lieutenant Jarhad said, spurring his
steed to a hard gallop, the harsh clatter of his horse’s hooves alerting
everything nearby of their passage. She shook her head and fell in behind him,
trying to remember how the Soft Passage spell was tied together. But for some
reason, she was having difficulty concentrating and the mantra was not helping.
Neither was her backside….