The Summoning (42 page)

The spell erupted from his hand in a blinding flash of gold light, blasting the nails off his fingers and scorching the tips, then streaking across the cavern into the knight’s stomach. There was a deafening clang and the mordant smell of molten iron. Jhingleshod’s legs flew in one direction and his torso in the other, eyes bulging and locked on Galaeron’s face. The upper half came down a dozen paces away and skipped across the pool’s surface, then rolled to its stomach and sank beneath the surface.

Galaeron started toward Vala, who was stooped over holding

her throat, gasping down breath between harsh coughs.

“Galae … ron!” Takari’s voice was so weak he barely heard it above Vala’s wheezing. “Phae-r-rim!”

Placing a hand under Vala’s elbow as he passed, he looked across the chamber to Aris’s tunnel. Takari was draped across the entrance, pointing down the passage. Outside, two cone-shaped blurs were streaking toward the butte. Galaeron pushed Vala toward the crimson whirlpool in the cavern’s far corner.

Time for your plan, I think,” Galaeron said.

He turned to ask Malik to take Takari and found the seraph already wading toward her. To Galaeron’s surprise, the little man reached for his treasure coffers instead. Galaeron blasted the coffers with a lightning bolt, blackening his fingertips some more and strewing the tunnel with gems-Malik whirled with fire in his eyes.

Galaeron merely pointed at Takari and said, “If she dies, so do you.”

“As you wish.” Malik grabbed her and started toward the whirlpool. “But I will have my fortune from you!”

Galaeron paid him no attention, for the phaerimm were so close now he could make out the sticklike arms surrounding their mouths. He considered staying to ambush them inside, but suspected that even with the power of the Karsestone, he would be little more than a gnat to a pair of wasps. He turned back into the cavern, nearly falling as he tripped over Jhingleshod’s disembodied legs, then pointed at the shadow silk on the far wall and spoke an incantation.

Again, he was filled with the silky fire of the Karsestone’s magic, the power of the magic turning the skin on his hand black and leathery. The rock wall drew away from the dark circle, fashioning a long tunnel that was, if not as elegant as Aris’s, nearly as straight. Turning away even before it broke into the light, Galaeron touched a hand to the Karsestone and uttered a levitation spell. He was beginning to enjoy the feel of the boulder’s magic, the power of it flowing through his

arm, even the searing tingle it left in his hand.

In response to his summons, the Karsestone rose from the pool. He glanced out Aris’s tunnel and saw the phaerimm still coming, so close now he could make out the barbs on their tails. Galaeron started toward the corner, where Vala was already vanishing down the whirlpool. Malik and Takari were close behind, swinging around the rim as the current drew them in.

Galaeron and the Karsestone were a dozen paces behind when an iron hand grasped his ankle. He cried out, then saw Takari glance in his direction before she and Malik vanished down the whirlpool. Galaeron tried to kick free, then stomped down on the unseen wrist.

A second hand snatched at the attacking leg. He jerked away and lunged toward the whirlpool, dragging Jhingleshod’s top half along with him. His captured foot twisted, then Galaeron felt—almost heard—a bone snap. His ankle erupted in pain and buckled.

Barely catching himself on his good leg, Galaeron heaved the floating Karsestone ahead of him, then held on tight as the current drew it forward.

Jhingleshod caught him by the second ankle. Galaeron kicked madly, but could not free himself. The ceiling began to spin as the whirlpool caught them. He took a deep breath and glanced toward Aris’s tunnel, expecting to find the phaerimm streaking into the chamber, but seeing only Wulgreth’s ghostly form coalescing out of his untended ashes.

Galaeron’s second ankle snapped, and he nearly passed out from pain. He waited until the ceiling vanished from sight, then released the Karsestone and reached for his buckle. Having lost his sword and dagger against Wulgreth, he had no blades left with which to fight, nor could he use another spell. Most required at least a word of spoken magic, and the only thing speaking would get him now was drowned.

They swirled down into darkness, bumping and scraping along the slick walls of the passage. Galaeron pulled his belt

off and stretched it between both hands. Jhingleshod clawed his way up the elf s legs, his fingers digging through the magic chain mail as though it were silk.

They slammed into the Karsestone, which had become lodged in a choke point, and Jhingleshod’s truncated waist swung up, smashing Galaeron in the face. The elf thought for a moment his attacker might swirl away, but the iron knight held fast. Galaeron tried to kick free—then nearly drowned when his mouth opened to scream.

The Karsestone twisted in the choke point, and the iron torso drifted away from Galaeron’s face. Jhingleshod pulled himself around, lining himself to continue climbing the elf, and Galaeron saw his chance. He stretched the belt across the top of his attacker’s arms, then pulled one end underneath the wrists and encircled them in the thick belt With the deft finger work of any spellcaster, he drew the tail through the buckle and jerked it tight, then circled the knight’s iron wrists again and clasped the belt

The Karsestone slipped past the choke point, freeing the pent-up river to churn down the passage. Jhingleshod’s hands came loose, and the undead knight tumbled away, gurgling in outrage. Galaeron caught hold of the boulder and jammed his arm into the crack in its center, then swirled along behind it like a wagging tail. The world turned bright, then the bottom fell out as the river plunged from the butte into the crimson pool below.

Galaeron plummeted after the Karsestone, then slammed into it headlong. His initial thought was that his plan had not worked so well, that the cunning phaerimm had foreseen such an attempt and left someone outside to intercept the artifact—then, when his world did not explode into magic oblivion, he began to slip down the stone’s face and recalled the levitation spell he had used to move it in the first place. He wedged his other arm into the crack, and fighting the steady stream of silver liquid that continued to pour out of the stone, dangled beneath the boulder.

As it sank toward the river, Galaeron searched the area for signs of the phaerimm. Vala and the others were bobbing in the crimson pool beneath him, struggling to move away from the expanding ring of ripples that marked the entry of Jhingleshod’s torso into the river. An instant later, the knight’s legs came tumbling out of the butte and plunged, still kicking, into the water. When a pair of spell flashes brightened the mouth of Aris’s tunnel—no doubt the phaerimm’s response to Wulgreth’s coalescing form—Galaeron finally dared to believe Vala’s plan would work.

He settled onto the surface not far from his friends, and continuing to hold onto the Karsestone with both hands, began to drift after them.

“Watch your feet!” he yelled. “Jhingleshod caught me from beneath and—”

Galaeron was interrupted by a tremendous crash from the other side of the butte. He glanced up in time to see a silver bolt of lightning striking down from the heavens, then Aris’s deep voice bellowed in rage. The loud crash of a shattering boulder shook the butte, and the golden flare of two more war spells flashed against the sky The stone giant’s bellow changed to a cry of anguish.

Malik swam alongside the Karsestone and pushed Takari’s hand toward Galaeron. “My Kelda is over there!”

Galaeron pulled Takari onto the boulder. She looked weak but alert, and the wounds in her shoulder were no longer bleeding. Aris’s cries continued to reverberate over the butte, growing more intense. Vala surfaced beside them and pulled herself onto the Karsestone.

“What are they doing to him?” Galaeron asked, unable to look away from the butte.

‘Torturing him,” said Vala. “They probably think he was covering our escape.”

“In that case, I suggest we put his sacrifice to good use,” said Malik, struggling to pull himself onto the crowded stone. “My Kelda will find her own way back to the bridge, if she is

not there already We can float down the river to the swamp and pick her up there.”

“You would … abandon him?” Takari gasped.

A scream of anguish came from the other side of the butte. Galaeron looked to Vala, hoping to see some glimmer of an idea in her green eyes.

She met his gaze steadily. “It’s what Melegaunt would do.”

Galaeron’s heart sank. “I’m not Melegaunt.”

“Then you must… try,” said Takari. “I would not want to live … knowing I had deserted one so … noble.”

Galaeron nodded. “All right, but how?”

“You know how.” Vala sheathed her sword and took Takari in her arms, then slipped off the Karsestone. “We don’t stand a chance against the phaerimm. There’s only one way.”

Malik’s eyes bugged out. “What are you talking about?”

“You know.” Galaeron slipped into the river beside Vala and Takari, then turned toward the Karsestone. “Up.”

The boulder left the water, Malik still clinging to its side. “Wait!” the seraph called. “There must be another—

“Up!” Galaeron said again. The boulder rose faster, and Malik let go, dropping into the river beside them. “Up!”

Now the Karsestone fairly shot skyward, the ribbon of silver magic trailing it like a glittering comet tail. The screams from the other side of the butte softened, and the two phaerimm rose into sight, flying skyward after the stone.

“Up!” Galaeron cried again.

The Karsestone pulled away, shrinking to a tiny speck visible only because of the horsetail cascade falling behind it

“Now,” said Takari. “Hear me now…”

She let the sentence trail off, too weak to finish.

Vala turned to Galaeron. “Say it. You’re the one who sent the stone up. You must be the one who calls them home.”

“No doubt,” Galaeron said. “Just remember the promise you made to Melegaunt—and to me.”

“I do,” she said. “And I also remember the one I made to your father. Ill be there to take care of you.”

Galaeron nodded, then looked skyward. “Hear me now, people of Shade. Follow me now, for the Return is at hand!”

The silver horse tail vanished, and nothing else happened. Aris’s cries faded to muffled groans. The companions swam to the riverbank and dragged themselves to shore. Vala and Malik set Galaeron’s broken ankles. Then, with Vala cradling him in her arms and Malik carrying Takari, they started around the head of the butte to see what could be done for Aris.

They were just passing the waterfall when Malik pointed across the pool, to where Jhingleshod was dragging himself to shore. The knight had finally snapped Galaeron’s sword belt and recovered his legs. As they watched, he pulled his two halves together and slowly began to work his flesh like clay, kneading it and pushing it together, filling in the gaping hole opened by the elf’s spell. He glanced across the pool and glared at Galaeron, then looked skyward, to where a shadowy ribbon of darkness was beginning to swirl down out of the heavens. Tiny flashes of silver and black began to streak back and forth between the end of the ribbon and a pair of specks streaking southward across the sky.

As the companions watched, the specks resolved themselves into tiny cone-shaped figures, the dark ribbon into a long line of bat-winged mounts, each carrying a murky rider armed with a long death-spewing lance.

At last, the phaerimm had their fill of running. They spun on their pursuers, and in a flurry of spellcasting, set the sky alight with flame and magic. A dozen riders vanished into the maelstrom and came tumbling out the bottom, their mounts reduced to charred husks of wing and talon. Still, the riders behind never faltered. One raised his hands, and with a quick gesture, opened a hole in the fiery barrier before them. The rest whirled through the breach on their dark-winged mounts, pelting their quarry with black bolts from their lances.

One of the phaerimm started to writhe about madly and

began to drop—then vanished in a mote of spell light. Taking its lesson from its companion, the second creature also teleported away, leaving the bat-riders to wheel through the air in swirling pinwheels of darkness.

A shadow fell over the butte, then Malik gasped, “By the One! A mountain is falling from the heavens!”

Galaeron looked up to see the summit of craggy black peak hanging upside down above them, just low enough that its jagged tip divided the rising sun. On top of the overturned mountain sat a murk-swaddled city of shimmering black walls and ebony towers, trailing wisps of shadow and layered in bands of hazy black cloud. It was swarming with hundreds— if not thousands—of bat riders, all circling the city in a mad wheeling stream, trailing pennants of royal blue and amethyst and black-red ruby, tipping their lances and performing wild acrobatics for hordes of cheering, gem-eyed citizens gathered along the dark ramparts.

“There is the help Evereska needs,” Vala said. When Galaeron did not respond, she looked into his eyes, her brow furrowed in concern. “Galaeron, you should be happy What’s wrong?”

Galaeron did not know how to answer. After breaking his word twice in one day, he had expected to feel disgraced, even corrupt or evil. Instead, he merely felt hollow—hollow and a little cold.

Vala’s expression grew hard. “Galaeron?”

He just looked away.