The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 02 - The Darkest Hour (12 page)

             
Any attack made from this point of entrance would be a slow, methodical thing, not a rushing surprise attack that would sent their enemies into a blind panic. He turned to the others.

             
“Single file, and slowly. A word said out-of-place could bring the whole thing down around us. Watch your step, and touch nothing.”

             
His words were quickly relayed to those outside the range of his quiet growl. Zarfensis carefully picked his way through the rubble, tucking his tail down between his legs to ensure he wouldn’t accidentally brush it against an already crumbling support. It was a very slow advance, but the Xarundi plodded onward in silence.

             
As they descended deeper into the tunnel, the packed earth and wood supports gave way to a rough-hewn tunnel of rock, which made them all feel a little more comfortable. The passage was reminiscent of the tunnels in the Warrens and had obviously been created by the same tools and manufacture. Emboldened by the familiarity of it, their advance picked up momentum. That was just as well, Zarfensis thought. It would be dawn soon and while the Xarundi could fight in daylight, it made things more complicated. Their night vision gave them an advantage over the vermin that he’d rather not give up if he could avoid it.

             
Turning a sharp bend, Zarfensis abruptly came to the end of the tunnel. He stopped so quickly, that Chrin, following close behind, ran into him. Only the sure footing of his replacement leg kept them both from toppling over.

             
“There’s a wall here,” Zarfensis said. “The tunnel is too narrow for more than one. We’ll need to pass the bricks out one by one.”

             
Extending his claws, Zarfensis dug into the loose mortar around the bricks. It was an easy task, but tedious. After a time, he loosened the first brick enough to ease it from its place in the wall. He drew it out and passed it Chrin, who passed it to the warrior behind him. The brick was exchanged, hand to hand, leaving the last warrior in their procession to determine what to do with the loosened bricks.

             
Zarfensis had little time to worry about such details, as the missing brick offered him a narrow window into what lay beyond the wall. He pressed his eye to the opening, peering through into the comparatively brightly lit room. Shelves of books lined the walls, which were illuminated with flame-less lanterns. A few desks were scattered among the shelves, but the room appeared to be empty.

             
Not knowing if this would be the case for any particular length of time, Zarfensis quickly set about removing the next brick from the wall, and then another brick following that. Once the opening was sufficiently widened, it was easier to remove the surrounding bricks and the entire process became much more rapid. Finally, the High Priest stepped into the library and moved away from the hole they had created, allowing the other Xarundi to pass through and into the space where they could all stand without crouching.

             
“Vermin,” one of the warriors snarled, his nose wrinkling with distaste.

             
“Yes,” Zarfensis agreed. “There will be many. When we leave this place, douse any light you see. The vermin are nearly helpless in the dark. The advantage is ours.”

             
Where Zarfensis had been the first into the tunnel, Chrin now took the lead, issuing orders in a series of quiet yips and snarls. Given their instructions, the warriors set out along the walls of the room. They tossed shelves out of the way, seeking an egress into the city. Their zeal earned them a savage reprimand from Chrin to be stealthier. When one of them found the staircase leading up, there was a low whine and the others moved to the foot of the stairs.

             
Bounding up the stairs, the warriors were alert for any sign of their ancient foe. However, they skidded to a stop in the center of the reliquary. There were no humans in the building. Their sense of smell made that a certainty, but as he climbed the last of the steps, being careful to quietly place the metallic leg lest he give them away, Zarfensis suddenly felt the heavy weight of eyes on him again. He quickly inventoried the room.

             
In the far corner, well apart from the shelves that held the other magical oddities that thrummed with muted power, was an enormous gargoyle. It sat on its haunches, its stony wings folded against its back, its carved scowl glaring sightlessly into the room.

             
“Chrin, your strongest warriors, now. We need to get the gargoyle outside.”

             
“Your Holiness, this is no time for treasure hunting...if one could call it that.”

             
“The gargoyle,” Zarfensis insisted. “Outside. Now.”

             
While the strongest of Chrin’s warriors, including Chrin himself, lifted the awkward bulk of the gargoyle, Zarfensis found the doorway leading outside. He pushed it open, carefully peering around the edge. There were no patrols in sight and there was an alley across from the building that would suit his purpose perfectly.

             
“There,” Zarfensis growled, motioning them toward the alley. He stepped quickly out of the way so that the encumbered warriors could pass, then ushered the rest of the Xarundi out of the building and closed the door behind him.

             
They dashed into the alley, clustered around the gargoyle in a loose circle. Their eyes burned with blue fire as they looked expectantly at the High Priest, waiting for some explanation. Zarfensis cast an eye skyward. The night was almost cloudless, and the moon shone brightly down upon them, almost making their superior night vision superfluous.

             
“Your Holiness,” Chrin snarled. “I don’t understand.”

             
“You will in just a moment.”

             
The moonlight beat down upon them, bathing the gargoyle in its gentle glow. As the astounded Xarundi watched, the chiseled features of the stone guardian softened, becoming less angular as it unwound from its crouch. Its eyes were liquid silver in the moonlight. It folded its wings against its back and cocked its head at Zarfensis.

             
“Five hundred years,” it said, its voice like rocks in a barrel. “Five centuries have I been locked in that place, unable to feel the light of the moon on my skin. You have my eternal thanks, Chosen One.”

             
“It is our duty to the Shadow Assembly to assist where we may,” Zarfensis said with a slight bow. “If I may, there is a favor I’d ask of you.”

             
“Name it, Xarundi, and if it is within my power, you shall have it.”

             
“We come to this place to right an ancient wrong that continues to this day. In order to extinguish the humans, we must catch them by surprise. I know the legends of your power. Will you block out the light of the moon?”

             
The gargoyle laughed, its eyes flashing brightly. “Deny them the moon they denied me for so long? Yes, it shall be done.” The gargoyle extended its claws, breaking the tip off the smallest digit of the living stone. He offered it to Zarfensis.

             
“I am ever in your debt, Xarundi. If you know the legends, then you know what I offer you is beyond price or value. Go well and strike swiftly.”

             
Without another word, the gargoyle spread his wings and leapt into the air. A rush of air wafted over them as the powerful wings caught and propelled him upward. They saw his silhouette pass across the moon and heard his voice, booming from above, invoking ancient words of power. A moment later, a thick rolling darkness formed over the city, just below the upper edge of the barrier wall. It blocked out the moon and stars above, as if a sackcloth had been thrown over the city.

             
“I don’t understand what just happened,” Chrin growled to Zarfensis.

             
“I’ll explain it later. Right now, we have much to do and limited time to accomplish it.”

             
They heard a shout from the top of the curtain wall, as if the vermin were acting on Zarfensis’s words. Though the gargoyle’s magic prevented them from being seen from above, it would only be a matter of time before their shouts roused the city guard.

             
“Leave three of the warriors with me,” Zarfensis commanded. “Take the others and find our brothers. Free them from the vermin and kill any that dare oppose you. Find me when you’ve released them. We will be hunting the Swordmage.”

             
“As you command, Your Holiness.”

* * *

              Tiadaria felt as if she had just laid her head on the pillow when a deep bass roar shook her bed. She rolled out from under the blanket, sleep blurred and fuzzy, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. A series of loud crashes echoed down the hall. There had been a few people in the common area when she had staggered through on the way to her room, but no one who seemed like they’d be enough of a problem to cause this kind of commotion. The Elvish Harlot attracted a colorful clientele, but no one who ever really got out of hand.

             
Whatever was going on, she couldn’t be of any use half-naked. She quickly pulled on the tunic and pants she had slithered out of far too recently. Jamming her feet into her boots, she went to the door and pulled it open.

             
Splinters of wood were scattered over the hallway floor. Now that the door was open and she was a little more awake, Tia realized that the sounds she heard weren’t the shouting of a bar fight gotten out of hand, they were screams of terror. She sprinted to the end of the hall and skidded to a stop, her feet going out from under her. Tia landed hard on her rump and cracked her teeth together.

             
The common room was in shambles. There had been a large window that looked out on the high street. It was gone. All that remained was a gaping hole of jagged wood. A towering beast with glowing blue eyes and gray fur was swiping with razor-sharp claws at the patrons who were trying to defend themselves with belt knives and overturned chairs.

             
The fighters were ranged in a loose circle and Tiadaria peered between their legs to see Harold, his face bloody, laying motionless on the floor in the midst of their group. Her feet worked against the floor, her boots refusing to find purchase in the debris of the destruction that surrounded her. Xarundi! Xarundi! Xarundi! The word pulsed in her mind with every frantic beat of her heart. Instinct took over and she groped for her scimitars, remembering too late that her sword belt was still wrapped in its traveling felt and shoved under her bed.

             
Tia finally got to her feet, pulling herself up on the bar. The sudden motion caught the attention of the Xarundi, who turned on her. A long string of blood-stained spittle dripped from the corner of its maw. The beast threw back its head and howled so loudly that Tia clasped her hands over her ears. She saw the muscles in the powerful thighs bunch and she dove down the hallway. The creature sprang.

             
The Xarundi crashed into the bar, shattering it and adding more broken wood to the ruined common room. Somehow, Tiadaria managed to keep her footing and pelted headlong toward her room. The door still stood open. If she didn’t reach her room before the beast grabbed her, she was done for. A split-second glance over her shoulder showed her that the Xarundi was too close. It was running on all fours, which was her only advantage. With its body mass on its front arms, it couldn’t grab for her without going into the floor face first.

             
Ducking left into her open room, she dove under the bed, frantically searching for the felt bundle that she normally kept behind her saddle. Her fingers tore at the jute that tied the parcel closed. She had nearly gotten the felt unrolled, when she felt the powerful hand grasp her ankle. The grabbed the hilt of one of the scimitars and held on with every ounce of strength she could muster.

             
The gray-furred Xarundi hauled her out from under the bed. Tia forced away a moment of blind panic and shifted into sphere-sight. Freed from the physical constraints of her body, she turned and faced the black roiling mass that was the Xarundi’s essence within the sphere. Instinct took over and she quickly selected her point of attack.

             
Snapping back into the physical realm, she twisted at the waist, striking out with a backhanded slice that only barely connected with the Xarundi’s face. The well-honed blade sliced through skin and cartilage with ease. Blood sprayed from the wound where the monster’s nose had been a moment before.

             
Howling in pain, the Xarundi loosened its grip on her ankle. She rolled up onto the balls of her feet and, calling on the power of the sphere, flipped backward over the bed. Tia rolled her wrist, bringing the scimitar into an offensive position. With her free hand, she grabbed the side of the bed and flipped it up and over, sending it hurtling at her attacker. The bed slammed into the bloodied Xarundi, pushing it back into the hallway. The moment of reprieve gave her the chance to grab her other scimitar.