Against the Giants (39 page)

Lhors caught his breath.

Faint as the sound was, the delicately boned face turned his
way and large, dark eyes met his very briefly. Her lips turned in amusement.

The youth could feel himself blushing, but Eclavdra’s
attention was again fixed on Nemis.

“You do not control the palace,” she said again. “I would know.” She laughed
throatily. “But it is good to see you again, Nemis. I expected you to return to
me, but scarcely like this.” She gestured. “A handful of would-be heroes to…
what? Take your vengeance against one who cared for you? I did, you know. Why
else did I put up with your sulks and your angers, your loathing for your uncle,
and your kind touch on my—”

“Save that,” Nemis said flatly. “This is justice, not
vengeance—”

Whatever else he would have said went unheard. Eclavdra’s
peals of laughter stopped him.

“I see. You will take vengeance against me for the sake of
grubby peasants and ignorant herders, is that it?”

Agya gripped Lhors’ arm when the enraged youth surged
forward.

“Stay put!” the little thief hissed. “Can’t y’tell? She wants
us angered! She wants t’get Mal and Nemis so mad as they can’t think proper,
then she c’n kill us all.” She kept hold of him until he took a deep breath and
let it out slowly. She was right, of course.

Lhors had missed something in listening to Agya. The
sorceress had apparently said something to upset Malowan. His mouth was grim as
he took a step toward her. “What can you hope to get from this? All the fields
and cities of Oerth? They are no use to you!”

“No? We could live again on the surface, if we chose—if it
were
ours.
In the meantime, it will be a source of wealth, worked for us
by slaves with giants to oversee the harvests, collect the cattle and sheep,
even dwarves to mine for us. Of course,” she added with a tight-eyed smile in
Rowan’s direction, “we will do away with aberrations such as
that
at
once.”

The ranger merely raised her chin and sighted down her arrow.

“Do not bother with that toy,” Eclavdra added with a nasty
laugh. “I can turn it against you—or better, turn it against your
sister.”

The drow’s hands moved sharply.

“Mal!” Nemis shouted a warning as, with a faint cry of
protest and pain, Rowan turned away from the drow and aimed it at her sister.
She struggled against the magic, but it was of no use. She let go the arrow, and
it shot through the air straight into Maera’s throat. The ranger fell, one
flawless end of the arrow protruding from under her chin, the bloodied point
emerging from the back of her neck.

Lhors dropped his daggers and ran to take the half-elf’s
weight in his arms. She weighed less than he would have thought. He scooped her
up as gently as he could and backed away. Agya was at his side, holding his
daggers and ready to throw. Lhors eased Maera back close to the wall. He set her
down gently on the floor, careful not to jar the arrow. The ranger was
shuddering slightly but seemed to have passed out from the shock. Lhors could
just hear a faint rasping. She was still breathing!

“Don’t touch the arrow,” rasped Gerikh, who had come over to
help. “She’ll bleed more, and it might kill her. As long as she’s breathing, the
paladin can still save her.”

Lhors couldn’t see Rowan, but he could hear her frantic
weeping, then even that was lost under Eclavdra’s wild laughter. The rest of the
party had been stunned into inaction at the attack upon their comrade. Even
Vlandar and Malowan stood stunned, eyes wide. In that instant, the sorceress
darted forward to touch Vlandar’s arm then threw herself back against the drape,
Vlandar screamed and staggered, his arm bleeding from shoulder to elbow.

“Get back!” Nemis bellowed.

Lhors half-expected some taunt from Eclavdra, but the drow
seemed too intent on her spells to bother. As her lips moved this time, Malowan
threw himself to one side and began a spell of his own.

The colorful drape behind the sorceress suddenly sprouted
thorns. Eclavdra jumped, and when she stepped away from the wicked points, there
was blood in her hair.

Not enough to slow her, Lhors realized unhappily. He glanced
back at Maera. Dreadful as the rangers wound was, it was scarcely bleeding, and
she was still breathing in ragged, shallow breaths. Maybe the paladin
could
heal her, if any of them managed to get out alive….

Lhors swallowed and turned away. Agya handed him his daggers
and drew her own, shoving the dazed-looking Florimund behind her.

A swarm of lights darted around Nemis’ head—some spell of
hers,
no doubt. But the lights didn’t seem to bother the mage. As Eclavdra
began another spell, Nemis began one of his own.

Rowan, still sobbing, ran out to grab Vlandar from the melee
and drag him back behind one of the couches. Her eyes were puffy and red, and
tears ran two pale tracks down her dusty cheeks.

Movement along the wall caught Lhors’ eye. Bleryn had
Khlened upright and was trying to get him out of the open. Eclavdra shouted
something and a searing flame tore across the room. The fire slammed into
Bleryn, throwing him into the wall with a bone-shattering
crunch,
and the
dwarf went up like a torch. He didn’t move as the flames consumed him.

Khlened, who had fallen heavily when the dwarf let him go,
dragged himself onto his hands and knees. He tried to escape the hellish heat,
but he was too near to get away. The barbarian’s cloak began to smolder, his
hair steamed, and then he too was enveloped in flames.

Lhors clapped his hands over his ears to try to shut out the
barbarians howls of agony, vaguely aware of Agya huddled tight against him. The
agonized cries suddenly ceased, and the only sound from the far end of the
chamber was the cruel crackle of flames.

Malowan turned briefly to speak in that direction, his eyes dark with pain.
Whatever he did, the fire stayed where it was, and even the smoke didn’t seem to
get any thicker.

“We end this now!” roared Nemis.

The drow laughed wildly.
“You
end this? I think not.”

She lashed out with a spell, and Malowan stumbled and
clutched his eyes. Lhors tackled Agya before the girl could run to the paladin.
A sidelong glance from Eclavdra told him the sorceress had wanted that.

Ignoring Lhors and Agya for the moment, Eclavdra caught hold
of a mace and took a cautious step toward the paladin.

“Mal!” Nemis shouted. “Metal weapon!”

“Can’t see!” Malowan said. He sounded furious.

Eclavdra laughed again, and Malowan turned toward the sound,
his hands moving. The handle of her mace suddenly turned a dull red and the
drow’s laughter rose to a shriek of pain. She dropped the weapon, and it fell
with a dull thump, the carpet beneath it beginning to smolder.

Malowan’s lips curved in a grim smile.

“Paladin!” Rowan’s voice was low, but it cut through
Eclavdra’s wailing and the crackling flames.

Malowan began backing toward her, moving his feet cautiously
across the carpet so that he wouldn’t trip over anything.

Eclavdra held up her hands, and Lhors could see that her
palms were red and badly blistered.

“You have only one spell to neutralize whatever I use against
you,” Nemis said grimly. “I know you, Eclavdra—and that was your greatest
mistake. When I woke today, I made sure I would have several such spells. Go
ahead and try to blind me. You’ll be the one who cannot see. You wasted your
fire on two who couldn’t have fought you anyway. Now you cannot touch me.”

The sorceress’ lips began to move, her black eyes fixed on
his, but before she could complete the spell, an arrow sang past Nemis’ ear and
plunged deep into the hollow between the draw’s throat and shoulder. She cried
out, staggered, and almost managed to catch herself before she reeled back into
the thorns. Blood soaked into her tattered robe as she tried to pull away from
the clinging barbs.

Nemis gazed into her eyes for a long moment.

The sorceress drew a deep breath and began another spell.
“Ignisthre navlanim,”
he said quietly and pointed at her. A spear of fire
erupted from his fingers and enveloped her. Eclavdra fell back full force into
the thorns and hung there. A faint moan escaped her, and then she hung limp and
lifeless.

“Water!” Nemis shouted urgently.

Lhors stared as the blackened horror curled in on itself,
still burning. Agya caught up her water bottle and ran across the room. Nemis
stopped her from throwing it on the burning drow.

“No! For Mal. Go.”

The mage did something that smothered the flames and stopped
the smoke.

“Rowan, leave Mal to Agya and help Vlandar. He is cut badly.
Lhors and Gerikh, help me find Eclavdra’s chest. We need to get out of here, but
I won’t leave without proof if it is here!”

“What of Maera?” Rowan sobbed.

“She’ll die with the rest of us if we don’t leave here soon,”
Nemis said. “The silence spell did not hold. We will all be killed in a few
minutes if we don’t find that scroll!”

“But—”

“If there is anything to be done for her, we can heal her in
Cryllor! Now obey me!” The mage’s was grim as he looked across the room where
Khlened and Bleryn’s remains lay smoldering. His gaze hesitated on Maera, then
he turned away. “We owe it to them.”

Nemis did something that reversed the spell on Malowan’s
eyes. The paladin joined in the search for evidence then. His reveal spell found
a chest deep in a cupboard where the clerics’ spare clothing was stored. He
freed the box and handed it to Nemis. The mage made a quick check for traps,
then began rummaging through the chest.

“Here!” He shouted in triumph as he withdrew a scroll.

Malowan handed the chest to Gerikh as the mage began perusing
the scroll.

“It’s your only responsibility,” said the paladin. “Keep it
safe.” He moved across the room, pausing to pray briefly over both dead clerics
and the sorceress. He walked slowly over to look down at what was left of the
barbarian and dwarf. Agya joined him.

The paladin knelt to pray, but Agya stood very still, her
head tipped to one side as she listened. “Mal, Nemis! There’s someone coming
this way!”

“I know,” Nemis replied. “Almost ready.”

A white-faced Vlandar stood behind them, his sleeve torn and
stiff with blood. Lhors ran to help him. The warrior managed a faint smile for
him, but his eyes were dark with pain.

“All of you, over here!” The mage commanded sharply. “Now!”

Agya helped Lhors get Florimund to his feet. Rowan stared
down at her sister and refused to move when Vlandar tried to draw her away.
Nemis came over then, scooped the ranger up in gentle arms, and handed her to
Malowan.

“Everyone, get as close together as you can,” the mage said
sharply.

Lhors could hear deep voices out there now, and someone began
slamming something heavy against the wall.

“They can’t get in… can they?” Agya asked nervously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nemis said simply, then he voiced his
spell.

The smoke and heat and carnage were suddenly gone, and so was
the chamber. The world twisted and turned, blurring in and out of existence.
Before Lhors could draw breath, he found himself sitting on wiry, coarse grass
and cold ground. A cool wind ruffled his air, bringing the smell of road dust
and horses. He blinked at the familiar walled city he’d seen only days before.

Cryllor, he thought dazedly. They weren’t more than two
hundred paces from the main gates. He could see people on the walls—guards and
soldiers—staring at them. Two farmers riding a cart piled high with hay had
drawn their bony horse to a halt so they could stare.

Vlandar crouched next to him. He was very pale and obviously
still in a great deal of pain, but seemed in very high spirits. Gerikh set the
chest down at Vlandar’s side and tugged a blanket from his pack to cover the
warrior.

Most of the onlookers had fled in fright, but a few alarmed
guards with shields up and spears raised were beginning to approach tentatively.
Ignoring their surroundings, Malowan let Agya spread another blanket so he could
lay Maera on that. Rowan knelt there, silently weeping.

“It will be all right,” Malowan told her. “We’re safe. She
still lives. When I draw the arrow out, there likely will be a great deal of
blood, but she should be fine. Gerikh and Lhors, you should hold her down in
case she wakes.”

As gently as he could manage, Lhors sat across the wounded
ranger’s knees and pinned her wrists to the ground while Gerikh leaned heavily
upon her shoulders. The paladin knelt, snapped off the bloody point of the
arrow, and with one slow, smooth motion, he pulled it out. There was a horrific
gush of dark blood. Maera shuddered violently and whimpered but did not wake.

Whispering an almost silent prayer, Malowan laid his hands
over the wound. Blood seeped between his callused fingers, and still the ranger
did not wake. After a moment the paladin removed his grip and sat back with a
sigh. Maera’s wound was completely gone.

“A moment’s rest, Vlandar,” the paladin said tiredly, “and I
will see to you.”

Vlandar nodded. With a painful wince, he got to his feet and
waved at the cautiously approaching guards. “It’s Vlandar of the outer guard!”
he shouted. “Send someone to let the lord know we’ve returned and get men out
here to help us!”

Lhors felt light-headed, all at once. He watched, bemused, as
men came running to clap Vlandar on the back. Everyone was suddenly talking at
once, but the youth couldn’t understand a word of it. There was a strange
throbbing pulse in his ears, and a sudden exhaustion threatened to overwhelm
him. He moved obediently when a healed Vlandar wrapped an arm around his
shoulders and drew him into the city. He followed dreamlike through the streets
and through the arched gate leading into the ruling lord’s courtyard. All the
while, their party was surrounded by astonished soldiers and gawking townspeople.