Too Many Curses (25 page)

Tiama held up a hand to keep him back. "Your defiance grows tiresome, Nessy."

"And I'm growing tired of this endless discussion." Nessy made a show of yawning. "You keep threatening to destroy me if I don't open that Door. I keep refusing. And yet, here I am, not destroyed."

The fire in Tiama's eyes surged, and smoke poured from
her sockets. "Very well. The time for reasonable discussion is over. You're quite right. I have no intention of killing you. Dead, you would be worthless to me. I was merely hoping to do this in a civilized manner. But I see now you've forced my hand. You've no one to blame but yourself. You'd be surprised the pain you might endure without dying. In truth, the most terrible pain is rarely fatal. It's a lesson you shall learn most intimately. Every stubbornness has its limits. We shall find yours. You shall beg for death's mercy, but I shall not grant it. Not until you open that Door. Only then will I give you that gift. Perhaps. If I'm feeling charitable." She grinned. "Although, to be perfectly honest, charity is not my strongest suit. Seize her, Dan."

The nurgax leapt upon the skeleton, clamping its mouth around one arm. Dan growled with annoyance. With his free hand, he grabbed the nurgax by the horn and threw it down to the floor. He punched it once across the jaw, knocking loose several long, white fangs that clattered against the stone. The creature tumbled over, on the verge of unconsciousness.

He chuckled. "I said ol' Dan was strong, didn't I? Now let's have no more of this silliness." He wrapped his painful grip onto Nessy's shoulder. "Be reasonable. I don't like torture. *Hic* I may be mad, but I'd rather just kill you. *Hic* The suffering never appealed much to me. Ol' Dan just likes the pretty pretty death rattle."

But he saw that Nessy wasn't about to change her mind and sighed.

"Have it your way then. *Hic*"

A steel gauntlet wrapped around the skeleton's own neck suddenly. The Blue Paladin hoisted Dan high in the air. Though his every move was a rattle of armor, somehow he'd sneaked up on them. The Paladin raised his other hand and with a single finger, flicked the skull from Dan's shoulders. The skull bounced to the far end of the pillar chamber.

"No fair! No fair!" he cried.

The Paladin backhanded Tiama, hurling the wizardess away. She lay on the floor, a broken heap. The Paladin brushed the kobold gently aside. Behind him, the army of empty armors stood ready. The strange new tendency of things to suddenly appear no longer surprised Nessy.

"I was wondering when you'd find me." Tiama rose, much to no one's surprise. "Do you really think you can stop me?"

The Paladin held high his massive battle-ax. Tiama laughed, and this time, somewhere under it all, there was a trace of honest amusement. Then the Blue Paladin lowered his ax, and the armors charged forth. There were no war cries, no bloodthirsty whoops, but they clanged and banged, rattled and clattered. The dragon armor's steps thundered loudest of all. With its wide strides, it reached Tiama first. It reared up and brought all its weight down upon her, crushing her beneath its two unforgiving gauntlets. The brick floor buckled, threatening to give way. The dragon raised its helmet as if unleashing a victory call.

The army circled around.

"She isn't dead, is she?" asked Nessy.

The Blue Paladin shook his helmet.

"Can she die?"

He shrugged.

The chamber trembled.

The Paladin motioned for Nessy to step back. He clutched his battle-ax. His army readied their spears and swords. The stone armor of the rock brute pounded its granite fists together.

"Should we leave them to their business?" asked Sir Thedeus.

Echo said, "If they don't stop her, I don't think we'll be in any less danger anywhere else. Not in the long run."

"Easy for ye to say, lass. Ye haven't a body to get hurt."

The rumbling grew louder. Cracks rolled up the pillars, shedding chips of marble. The dragon armor struggled to hold Tiama down.

"You can't tell me you're willing to miss this," said Echo.

Sir Thedeus grinned. "Aye. But it might be wise to step back a bit."

Nessy grabbed the stunned nurgax by the tail and attempted to pull it to a safer distance. Mister Bones came to her aid. He wasn't as strong without Dan atop his neck, but they managed to drag the creature behind a pillar.

She thanked him, and Decapitated Dan, clutched under Mister Bones's arm, scowled. "Already back to your goody goodness. Ol' Dan's disappointed in you, body of mine."

The tremors ceased, and all was quiet. The dragon armor lowered its helmet and carefully opened its gauntlets. Even the armors seemed to wait with bated breath for what would happen next. A ball of red flame shot straight into the dragon's helmet. Though it had no eyes, it clawed and beat at the fire. Its panicked sways sent its tail sweeping across the room. Several armors were batted aside, breaking into pieces.

Tiama waved her hands about, casting bolts of green and purple in every direction. Those armors struck fell apart on the floor. Several suits got close enough to stab her with their swords without much effect. She stood unaffected by the blades running through her flesh.

The rock brute smashed Tiama beneath its relentless fists. The first blow staggered her. The second brought her to her knees. The third and fourth dropped her prostrate. Again and again, the brute struck until its enemy ceased to move, until her skin burst at the seams. There was no blood. Tiama had been filled with only red sand and white flames.

The Blue Paladin stepped forward and raised his mighty ax to deliver the deathblow. The brute held her down that the Paladin might finish the job with a clean beheading. He swung with every ounce of his considerable might. Tiama, looking very much like a doll without stuffing, swiveled and caught the blade's edge in her hand. Her eyes flashed, and both the Paladin and the rock brute were hurled away by invisible force. The Paladin struck a pillar with such power
it collapsed, burying him. The rock brute crashed so hard against the ceiling that the stone armor shattered into a rain of dust and gravel and a few odd stones.

Several spears were thrown. They skewered Tiama impotently as she inflated again. The pixie leathers whirled about, lacerating her skin with a thousand cuts of their tiny daggers. The wizardess clapped her hands, and they burned away to ash.

Fire and magma dripped from her wounds. But Tiama kept smiling.

And the armors hesitated. For they had learned fear.

The dragon armor, having regained its senses, raised its long neck. Its helmet spewed forth a tremendous silver-and-gold gout. Tiama crossed her arms, and the fire splintered into a dozen smaller flames. They ricocheted through the chamber, blasting armors. In seconds, nothing was left of the army but mounds of broken, blackened steel.

The dragon, the last standing warrior, rattled its wings. The silver-and-gold flame collected into a ball above Tiama's head. She stopped smiling, shook her head as if no longer amused, and turned her back on the final suit.

It took one step forward. Her fireball launched itself into the dragon's face. Its helmet flew off its neck, and the dragon stood still for a very long moment.

Tiama sighed. "Somehow, I was expecting more."

The dragon armor fell apart, one piece at a time. Its neck brace collapsed. Then its wing sheaths. Then its arms
and body and tail. Finally, its legs. The noise was almost musical. Like orcish war gongs, beautiful in a way but never a sound one was eager to hear.

The rubble shifted, and the Blue Paladin rose. His helmet swept the remains of his troops.

Tiama spoke, once again a lifeless creature. "I know you had to try, but this will come to pass. And in the end, you'll thank me for it."

The Paladin snatched up a nearby spear and rushed at her.

"Very well." Tiama's hair shimmered with fire. "I grow weary of this distraction. Let's finish it."

He knocked her aside with a blow of his elbow and hurled the weapon across the chamber. Nessy fell to her knees, lanced through her chest.

Sir Thedeus gasped, struggling for words.

"Oh no," said Echo. "Oh please no."

"Well, I didn't see that coming." Decapitated Dan frowned. "Though I enjoy a good surprise as much as the next gent, this is a turn not to ol' Dan's liking."

Tiama screamed, and the castle itself screamed with her. "What did you do? What did you do?" A pyre of black fire devoured her, and she disappeared. "What did you do?" her voice echoed from one end of the castle to the other.

"Nessy, lass. Hang on. Ye have to hang on." Sir Thedeus pleaded with teary eyes. "We need ye."

She drew in one last pained breath, and then she was still. Blood ran down the blade, dripping into a red pool.

"She's gone," said Echo.

"She canna be." Sir Thedeus whispered gently in her ear. "Come on, lass. Ye were always a stubborn one. Yer not going to let a little thing like this keep ye down, are ye?"

Mister Bones knelt down and closed her eyes.

"No need for all that gloom." Decapitated Dan chuckled. "She's just gone off to have a chat with ol' Margle, she has. He'll have some words for her, I'm sure."

"Shut up," said Echo. "Show some respect, you lunatic."

"Ol' Dan's got nothing but respect for the dead. Why do you think he's sent so many to their grave?" He stifled a giggle and clicked his teeth and said nothing else.

Sir Thedeus sat quietly for a very long time beside Nessy's body. He kept seeing her alive, thinking to catch signs of life. But they were just twitches of fur in the drafts of his imagination.

"Why?" he asked the Blue Paladin.

The Paladin offered no explanation. He bent down and stayed on one knee, helmet bowed as if in silent prayer. The nurgax howled a low, sad dirge, and curiously enough, the Door joined in with a mournful creak of its own.

Nessy knew she was dead. She hadn't really known until after the fact. It'd happened so suddenly, and the living mind wasn't made to truly acknowledge mortality. But now that it'd come to pass, and her soul was freed from its delicate mortal flesh, she had no problem understanding her demise.

Nor did she have much trouble deducing where her spirit currently dwelt. To take it as it appeared was to see only the brick walls of the castle. But there was something more to it. She felt the warmth of vitality beneath her feet, the pulse of a living essence beating up and down the halls.

"What are you doing here, beast?" Margle stood before her.

She bowed to her former master, mostly from habit. "The same thing you are, I suppose."

A voice spoke up, and Nessy knew it belonged to the
castle itself. "Nothing leaves my comforting embrace without my master's permission." The voice was soft and delicate, not the voice of an accursed fortress, but a loving, cozy cottage. "Not even souls. That's your doing, Margle. Or have you forgotten the boundless greed which so defined you in life and continues to do so even now in death?"

The wizard didn't reply. He stared coldly at Nessy.

"You killed me."

The castle laughed. "You killed yourself. Don't blame her. But I suppose your arrogance was as unlimited as your greed."

Margle glared everywhere at once, nowhere in particular. He thrust his fingers in Nessy's direction and muttered an incantation, meaning to roast her from the inside out. But he called upon magic he no longer had, and nothing happened.

"If I must collect my vengeance with my own bare hands, distasteful as that may be, then so be it."

He lunged, and she sank her teeth into the tender flesh of his hands, just short of drawing blood. Although she wasn't at all certain spirits had blood to draw.

He recoiled. His eyes widened. "You bit me!"

The castle laughed. "Very good. Though I would've taken one or two of his fingers myself."

"You can't bite me." Margle rubbed the wound. "I'm your master."

"You were my master." She bared her sharp teeth in a friendly smile.

The torches around Nessy brightened while the others extinguished. Dark things, there was no other way to describe them, slithered from the shadows and wrapped around Margle, dragging him into the blackness, where his screams soon faded. The light returned, and he was gone.

"What did you do to him?" asked Nessy.

"No more than he deserved." The voice was now lower, harsher, tinged with grim humor. "Allow him to wrestle my shadows for a while. It should serve to distract them for a time."

Faint shrieks and howls, belonging to Margle and something else, reached Nessy's ears, and she frowned.

"Where do you find compassion for such a wicked soul?" said the castle. "Your sympathies are misplaced. My darkness is of Margle's own creation. He reaps only what he has sown."

She shrugged. She'd never seen the point in cruelty, even towards the cruel.

The halls dimmed, and several torches flared brightly. "Walk with me, Nessy. But stay in my light. My soul is a jumbled ocean, and many of the less pleasant things swimming within have grown restless of late. Unlike Margle, you haven't the wizardly training to withstand such spiritual torments."

The torches led her down the corridors and as Nessy listened, the castle explained.

"To understand the situation, you must understand the most basic philosophy of spells. This is a secret not
many know because wizards and their ilk don't like to speak of it much. They like to pretend they're masters of magic, when in reality they are little more than tailors and seamstresses who stitch and weave their spells from a much larger tapestry. They snip off a little here, knit together two pieces there, trim a few unwanted bits. Those rejected scraps are tossed aside to be absorbed naturally back into that tapestry.

"But this is where Margle, in his all-consuming voracity, made his mistake. For greedy fool that he was, he refused to release those scraps. He threw them behind a special door in his castle for no other reason than he couldn't stand the notion of letting them go. They weren't of any use to him, these little pieces of unfinished magic. So they sat ignored behind that special door for a long, long time. Until something unforeseen started to happen.