The Tomb of the Dark Paladin (25 page)

"Urelis," called the assassin. The wizard just waved him off. Seeing that the two magic-wielders were concentrating on their attack, Zach climbed up the cliff face behind the evil priest. When he neared the top a filthy and scabrous, scarred, hand with long yellow fingernails reached down to help the assassin up. Even though the priest did not offer Zach his scaly reptile hand, the priest leered at him and Zach knew better than to trust him. His fingers and hands were so numb from the cold that it became difficult for the man to do anything other than make a crude claw shape with his fist. He used his stiff, claw-shaped grip to pull himself up and over the ledge. He laid there on his back, breathing heavily, the dark form of Ebonaar standing over him.

"Having trouble, 
Shadowblade
?" cackled the priest, extending his scabrous hand. "Won't you take my hand?"

"I'll gut you like a pig, Ebonaar!"

"I think not, assassin," the dark priest leaned closer to Zach, his breath making the assassin nauseous. Zach had lost feeling and function in his hands; however, he had not lost the use of his legs. He was tiring of the priest's perpetual threats.

"You will pay for the loss of my hand!" The priest moved a step closer.

Zach pretended to have given up, the chanting of the witch intermingled with the screams and thrashing of the dragon and its supernatural attackers were drifting up to the plateau. The priest placed a booted foot on Zach's forearm and drew a knife, preparing to hack through with the blunt weapon.

In one quick move, Zach swept the priest's legs out from under him sending the man toppling over the ledge. The priest let out a shriek as he fell, hands futilely grabbing for purchase as he slid inexorably to a ledge below. Zach lurched to his feet and walked to the ledge, preparing to stomp the priest's scaly hand until the man fell. As he lifted his leg high, an oozing black form raced up the cliff face toward the assassin. The oily blackness darted past him and stopped, then more black shapes darted toward the same spot. More and more of the black shadows, coming from every direction, swirled and coalesced into a man-like shape until the distinct form of Urelis appeared.

The apprentice wizard smiled darkly and walked over to the ledge. Zach cast a wary glance down and saw that the battle below was over. The demon and the shadow-dragon were gone. Zach could see the rock dragon disappearing around a rocky crag in the distance to nurse its wounds; he was surprised how quickly the dragon could move on the ground.

"Shall I help you kill the runt?" asked the apprentice wizard. Then he peered over the ledge at the squirming priest, brandishing a dagger near the man's claw-hand. "So sorry, old fellow. Believe me when I say that this will hurt you more than it will hurt me." Ebonaar shrieked and whined, then begged for his life as the wizard's dagger pressed into his scaly flesh.

Zach stepped back and stomped his feet, trying to restore circulation to his limbs. He knew he was in danger of frostbite but the spectacle before him was darkly amusing. Urelis laughed at the pathetic priest and trailed the knife blade across the scaly hide of his claw-hand, severing scales and drawing blood.

"Are we finished?" asked a petulant, yet intoxicating, voice Zach knew all too well. Zach turned sheepishly and held his hands out before him, as though he were stating that he had nothing to do with the spectacle. Balzath gave the assassin a dazzling smile and patted his cheek as she strolled past him. She placed her hand on the apprentice wizard's shoulder and drew him away from the edge. Now unmolested, the priest scampered up and over the ledge and gave everyone the most scathing look he could muster.

"Come now, children. The ogres are waiting for us."

CHAPTER TEN

C H A P T E R

T E N

~

"Hala!" said Genn, standing in the doorway, her cloak flapping in the cold wind. "We have to go now."

Hala stared at the scorched floor for a moment longer. She recalled the sudden and desperate battle that awakened them a few nights before. She didn't understand the world of magic and Sigils, despite her own innate powers, yet she believed Carym would find his way back to them. But would he do it here? The blackened boards marked the site of Carym's disappearance, her heart was loath to leave it behind. The cold wind from the door signaled Genn's anxiety. Perhaps she was right and they'd waited long enough. With one glance over her shoulder she closed the door and followed Genn down the steps to the street below. The horses were ready and waiting for them, Genn tossed a coin to the stable boy who saddled them. 

"Gotta go, now," said the boy cheerily, skipping along. "There's some men coming here from the capital! I gotta see to the stables, now. Bye!" 

"The Rhi's patrol," said Genn, anxiety plain in her eyes. Hala nodded, it was a long overdue visit. With a sense of urgency the two trotted out into the road and headed north, hoping not to give the appearance that they were in a hurry to leave. It was early yet in the market area and eerily quiet; the shopkeepers were only beginning to open their doors and scant few produce carts had arrived for the day's business. Hala keenly felt the urge to give the horses their lead and let them run.

Two armored men on horseback trotted into the road before them and the princess knew trouble had found them.

"Hold!" called one. Both men wore helms of silver and black, each visor in the likeness of a leering skull. Their armor was silver and black too and their horses were twice as large as an ordinary horse. They each wielded a lance with a hooked blade, doubtlessly used for running down pedestrian victims or pulling a rider from his horse. The riders' mounts were breathing hard, perhaps having been the lead element for whoever was on their way to the small town now.

"What do you want?" demanded Hala proudly. Inwardly she was nervous, she wanted to be gone from this town. Genn's eyes narrowed and recognition was on her face. She held her wand at her side and flicked it in a silent signal to Hala. 

"You are under arrest," came the bored reply. "Surrender your arms."

"Whose authority do you carry, hurkin?" demanded Genn. Hala frowned. Hurkin? Could that be right? Hala was a skilled warrior but holding two hurkin warriors at bay, even with Genn and her magic at her side, would prove difficult.

"The authority of the Rhi of Myrnwell, of course," he said, ambling closer. It was clear that neither of the men seemed to feel the least bit threatened by the women. They could not afford to hesitate if the Rhi's men were indeed closing in on the town. They had to escape!

Hala closed her eyes, feigning an expression of fear. She called upon the ancient and powerful magic that only she and her kin could call upon, shape-shifting magic. A burst of amber light seemed to infuse the princess and in seconds her skin was covered in a sheen of dark fur. Her fingers lengthened and long claws protruded from their tips. Her face resembled that of a cat and her body rippled with muscles under the protective fur covering her body. She leaped from the back of her surprised and frightened mount landing lightly on the ground before a rapidly backtracking draft horse; she was a fearsome image of a cat-woman. The hurkin drew his sword and his kicked his horse, urging it to attack. However, the sight of the seven foot tall woman that looked like a jaguar spooked the mount and the rider could not keep it under control. She leaped into the air and wrapped her arms around the creature's neck even as the hurkin tried to beat her with his sword. Long claws raked great gashes in the thrashing mount's neck, unleashing a torrent of blood. 

She nimbly dropped to her feet and bounded a few paces away, claws out and ready to fight. The rider calmly rode his dying horse to the ground then stepped off, leaving the thrashing creature to its death and advanced upon the formidable cat-creature. A bright flash and a bang revealed that Genn was engaging the second rider. Hala stood her ground, daring the rider to get close enough to taste her claws. The hurkin obliged.

Without missing a step, the armored rider advanced and swung his lance at her, testing and probing her reactions. A grim laugh sounded from behind the leering visage on his helm. When she advanced to attack, the rider defended and backed away.

"Does it hurt when you change?" asked the rider in an eerie and hopeful voice. "I hope it hurts more when I bleed you slowly. I want to feel you die." He was taunting her, trying to prolong the duel. Whether he was perversely savoring the moment or simply drawing out her weaknesses, she couldn't be sure. 

"Then fight me!" she shouted, leaping high into the air. The hurkin rider stepped in and tried to gut her with an overhead stroke, but her powerful arm knocked the blade away and the sound of ringing steel split the air. The hurkin underestimated the strength the protection her magic-infused fur afforded her, he crashed to the ground under her momentum. The claws of her right hand penetrated the savage hurkin's visor and found flesh on his face while her left punctured metal and ripped the straps holding the armor to his arm.

The hurkin was stunned, but not dead. As she ripped the visor from his face, he kicked her hard in the gut and she was forced to roll away. She crouched, ready to spring, but used the moment to glance at Genn. The other woman was locked in combat with her own enemy rider. 

Hala's opponent laughed as he wiped blood from his face. His bare arm bled from a gash made by her claw. The muscular hurkin faced her with his lance held in both hands. The hurkin closed the gap between them, ready to fight. Hala obliged and sprang forward, claws extended. Using her enhanced strength, she blocked the powerful warrior's blow and stepped in close, too close for a spear strike. Sensing that he made a fatal mistake, the hurkin spun away and tried to get out of the reach of her dangerous claws. But Hala was too fast. She slashed a terrible blow across the hurkin's flank as he twisted, splitting the metal of his armor and gouging the flesh beneath. Finally, the hurkin showed signs of weakening and grunted in pain as he stepped away. Hala slashed low, cutting the muscles behind the man's knee and he went down. The hurkin continued to fight, viciously swinging his spear in a protective arc. But in his weakened state, he was no match for the warrior-princess. Hala slashed with both arms, alternating blows from each side, until the hurkin lost all grip on his spear. Then she slashed him across the throat and ended it. 

Winded, she backed away from the scene of the battle to the edge of the road near a tree and leaned on it to catch her breath. The other hurkin seemed to have been subdued by Genn's spells and Hala let go of her hold on native power of the Jaguar Tribe. Her body returned to normal once again.

That's when the rest of them arrived.

More warriors were coming fast. The women could not flee, their mounts ran off in a panic when the fighting started. If they tried to flee afoot, the advancing horsemen would cut them down from behind. Wearily they faced the street, toward the inn they so recently vacated, and watched the horsemen approach. There were two more hurkin, armed and armored as the first, the others were humans with crossbows aimed at them. 

"This is what it comes down to?" asked Genn angrily. "It can't end here! I cannot go back!"

Hala thought the woman's mumblings were curious, but she didn't have time to mull them over. She was not sure she was strong enough yet to change back into her feline form and fight off these men, and her pack and weapons were on her horse. Even so, she was a capable fighter and tried to think of a way to turn the odds in her favor. 

"It will 
not 
end this way!" Genn shouted, her fists held out to her sides. Hala thought she saw the air about the woman darken and come alive, but she couldn't take her eyes from the enemy soldiers long enough to be sure. The riders stopped a distance before the women but would not make the mistake of closing the distance with them.