Crypt of the Moaning Diamond (29 page)

“Don’t suppose they are just gold foil over wood,” said Zuzzara, also blinking at the wealth on display. Gunderal was just tilting her head from one side to the other, seeing how her reflection looked in the polished gold panels.

“It’s solid,” said the dwarf, rapping the door with a heavy fist. “And too heavy fot us to carry out.”

At Mumchance’s knock, the doors before them creaked half open, the lock neatly sprung. Wiggles jumped forward, squirming through the open doors ahead of the test of them. “Charmed and mechanical,” said Mumchance, stopping to peer at the lock in front of his nose. “But somebody went through it quick and clean. Must be Kid’s work.”

“That’s why Archlis took him,” Ivy said. “He needed Kid’s talents to get through this door and any other locks he might encounter.”

“Because he has no talents of his own.” Gunderal sniffed.

“Told you that it was all stolen magic and Kid’s just another token to him.”

“Still,” said Ivy. “If Archlis needs Kid’s talents, he should keep Kid alive until we can retrieve him.” She looked back the way that they had come. Even with her human nose, she could smell river water.

“Ivy,” said Gunderal, confirming her fears. “The river is coming closer. It will be in these tunnels soon.”

“Then we go forward,” Ivy said.

“And close the doors behind us,” added Mumchance, clicking his fingers at Wiggles to bring the dog to heel. “Solid metal, dwarf-made, these should seal tight. That should keep the water out of this section for a while.”

“But we can’t go back.” Even as Ivy voiced this objection, she realized that the doors were the least of their problems. With the river filling up the tunnels behind them, returning the way that they had taken into the treasure trove would soon be impossible.

More gems gleamed on the other side of the door. With Ivy’s help, Zuzzara was able to drag the heavy golden doors closed again. With a firm click, the doors locked into place.

“So now we hope that Archlis has another way out,” said Gunderal.

“I’m sure that he always did,” said Ivy. “He just wanted to get here, and he couldn’t with those destrachans in the way. When we drew them off, he came straight here and straight through. He is moving fast, hunting for one particular treasure, or he’d be chipping out part of these walls, wouldn’t he?”

“They are good crystals,” admitted Mumchance, trailing his fingers along the wall. “Useful for spells—the sort of thing most wizards would want. If it had been me, I’d have slowed down and taken a few with me. Maybe tried to shave a bit of gold off those doors.”

i “So he’s blind to all of this, and set on getting some other treasure out of these ruins,” Ivy said.

“Must be. And there’s something odd about these walls. Has been since we came down those stairs.”

“What?” Ivy asked.

“These crystals shouldn’t be here at all. Wrong type of rock for such gems. These come from lower down probably. And rhey weren’r set here by somebody. Not like dwarves studded the walls, if you see what I mean. More like the gems just pushed themselves out of the ditt here.”

“There’s more earth magic here,” agreed Gunderal. “Very strong and very close now.”

“I just wish I had not lost my sword back there,” Ivy said, pulling the long knife from her belt. It would work for close fighting, but she most certainly regretted feeding her sword to the destrachan. The corridors still blazed with an internal light, and for the first time since she had fallen into the river, Ivy could see clearly ahead of her—no shadows, no darkness, nothing hiding in front of her. It made her exceedingly nervous. Remembering the phantom fungus, she had the queer feeling that whatever you couldn’t see might turn out to be worse than what you could.

Zuzzara and Gunderal seemed equally anxious, starting at their own footfalls as they passed through the crystal-studded tunnel. Obviously, they too thought this was just too easy.

Only Mumchance seemed carefree. He was too intrigued by rhe gems surrounding them on all sides to notice much else. Turning slowly, his teal eye gleamed with appreciation of the stones arrayed in front of him, and even the fake eye appeared to sparkle in the light of the corridor. “I’m sure that these crystals were pushed straight out of the earth, called out of it as it were. This was done by magic. Then somebody came along

later and made those doors and sealed the place off. And who seals off a terrific source of wealth like this?”

“Somebody who is afraid of the magic down here,” said Gunderal with a shudder. “Whatever is here is what buried Tsurlagol before.”

“What was it?” Ivy asked. Whatever it was, this had to be what Archlis was hunting—an artifact so powerful that he had led Fottergrim to Tsurlagol and plunged an entire city into war just so he could roam around these ruins.

“Something was hidden here a long time ago,” Gunderal said. She pushed her dark hair back from her face and closed her eyes, a small worry line marking a perfect crescent between her eyebrows. She waved both hands with palms upturned, like a seer trying to draw scented incense toward her face. Gunderal swayed twice, and Zuzzara stepped forward to steady her sister. Ivy gestured her back. Gunderal sighed and then opened her eyes. “An object of great power. A gem that calls to other gems and rules the earth beneath it.”

“Is it evil?”

Gunderal shrugged. “No more than any other jewel. It is how it is used that has caused both trouble and sorrow. And fear. It was fear that caused them to build the golden doors and lock this treasure away.”

“She is more sensible than she looks sometimes,” said Mumchance. “Treasure is never evil. But the spending of it—that can cause great wickedness.”

“Well, then,” said Ivy, “it would probably be best to keep this treasure away from Archlis. Because I feel that he would be a very careless spender of wealth.”

The tunnel branched in two directions ahead of them. Both ways curved off into shadows; neither showed a clear path. There were no boot prints on the gem-studded floor, and no visible archways or flickering lights beyond the branching.

, Better still, Ivy noted with some relief, no trail of blood or beastly fluids.

“Right or left?” queried Zuzzara.

“Don’t see which way.” Ivy missed Kid more than evet. “What do you hear, Zuzzara?”

The half-ore cupped her hands around her ears. “Metal striking metal. Somebody in a fight, but no yelling or screaming. Not like a normal fight.”

Ivy grinned with relief. “Sounds perfectly notmal for a man from Procampur who thinks it is uncivilized to insult his opponents. Which direction?”

“Left,” Zuzzara said.

Ivy pivoted on her heel and started down the tunnel that Zuzzara indicated. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her dagger. “Come on, Sanval is down thete,” she said.

Whipping around a corner, Ivy barreled into the melee. Sanval and the magelord’s two bugbears were whirling in the middle of the corridor, stuck in an odd three-way fight with each othet. The bugbears were snarling softly, but Sanval, as expected, was fighting with his usual silent expertise.

Ivy was surprised to spot a new foe—two skeletal arms appeared to be floating through the air and spinning around the other fighters, wielding a rusty sword. There was nothing but empty space between the arms where a body and shoulders should have been. Still, when any of them moved, the upper arms drew slightly toward each other, the elbows shot out, and the hands tightened on the sword hilt, exacdy as though the arms were attached to an invisible body. Each arm was polished white bone, from shoulder to elbow to wrist to the ivory hands that clutched the rusty sword. This was a creature created by magic, and one that the Siegebreakers knew, and there was something rather comforting and welcome about facing a danger that you understood, rather than one like the destrachans.

“Oh dear,” said Gunderal behind Ivy. “More undead.”

“A dread!” said Mumchance. “Lousy, lousy dread. I hate dead things that don’t stay dead!” Wiggles’s ears pricked up, and she gave a happy bark as she spotted the flying bones.

“A skeleton without a head, a head without a skeleton, and now arms without a body. Another undead guardian,” Ivy agreed. “Somebody liked to play with bones in old Tsurlagol.”

The dread seemed to be guarding a doorway. Each time Sanval or one of the bugbears got too close, the arms would swing the sword. If they backed away, the arms stayed floating in front of the entrance.

“So where are Archlis and Kid?” asked Ivy. “Why didn’t that bony thing attack them?”

Gunderal gave a little sniff. She twitched her nose a couple of times to be sure. “No sword on Archlis.”

“Lacking a sword is an advantage? So I can march right past it?” Ivy asked. When Gunderal did not reply, and continued to stand with her head tilted back, nostrils flared, Ivy added, “How do you know Archlis doesn’t have a sword?”

“Keen sense of smell,” Gunderal said.

“You can smell that?” said Zuzzara. “You are kidding, little sister.”

“Of course not. I’m that good. I keep telling you that I can smell magic.”

Zuzzara gave Gunderal a “big sister” look. “You can smell a missing sword on someone who isn’t here?” the half-ore asked.

Gunderal giggled and then admitted, “I can smell an old command spell in this space, and I can see that Archlis and Kid shed their blades.” She pointed across the floor. Just outside the doorway lay the magelord’s slender sword and Kid’s three stilettos. “Kid probably told him how to get

around the dread—most likely it has a command on it to attack anyone bearing edged weapons. Kid’s good at guessing such things. Remembet the dreads that we found under the wizard’s tower—the ones that were commanded to attack only dwarves? Besides, watch the arms. Anytime Sanval or the bugbears get near it, it attacks their weapons. It’s there as a barrier, but one that would be easy to pass for anyone who knew what its commands were.”

“I hate those things,” muttered Mumchance, who still had a few scars from his previous encounter with the dwarf-activated dread.

“They’re mindless, at least,” said Gundetal. “They’ll only fight what they are told to fight. Sort of like you, big sister.”

“Ha-ha. So what about those three? Do we rescue Sanval first? Or get rid of the dread?” asked Zuzzara.

“We really can’t afford to lose any more weapons,” Ivy said. “Fairly soon, we’ll be down to chucking stones. I would father dismantle the bones than shed any blades that we have left.” She gave the fight ahead of them a cool look. “Sanval’s doing all right. Let’s get rid of the dread first. It’s upsetting those bugbears—look at them snarl and whine. And a frightened, upset bugbear is a big, hairy problem.”

A dread always cast an aura of fear. As Ivy had learned in previous encounters, that fear could be ignored if you knew what was causing it. But if you didn’t know what was causing it, that creeping feeling of terror could shake your confidence. The bugbears obviously didn’t know why they were feeling so panicked, and that was making them fight all that much harder. Their huge ragged ears twitched, theif tiny eyes nat-rowed to pinpoints, and their bear noses quivered. One of the bugbears had clenched his jaw so tightly he had thrust a pointed fang through his own lip, and a fine line of blood trailed down his chin and dripped over his matted chest. He

brushed at it where it fell onto his shiny breastplate, dulling the gleam, and let out a low growl of frustration. In one clawed hand he clutched a glaive, and with the other he pulled his dagger from its scabbard. He hunched forward and swung wildly at the dread with the knife.

The dread lifted its arms and made a quick downward slice that missed the bugbear’s sword but clipped against the loose chains hanging from the bugbear’s shoulders. The blow did no harm other than rattle the chains and clang loudly. The bugbear let out a howl of anger; or was that fear? He jerked in a clumsy turn on his clawed feet, and the chains spun out around him, banging against the wall but missing the dread. It floated up and away, then paused beyond the bugbear’s reach.

“Suggestions?” said Ivy.

“Break the dread’s hold on its sword,” said Gunderal. “That should weaken the spell. Might even dispel it.”

Ivy looked at the arm bones floating in front of her. They were very skinny. A slow, wicked grin crept across her face. “Hey, Wiggles, come on, come on. Let’s play fetch!” Ivy shed her knife, the only edged weapon that she had left, and skipped toward the arm bones, waving the little dog on.

“Ivy!” shouted the dwarf as his dog went racing after her, attracted by Ivy’s whistle and “come hither” gestures.

Wiggles danced on her back paws, her fluffy white tail beating back and forth in an eager wag. As neither the dog nor the woman carried any type of edged blade, the dread ignored them. Ivy lunged for the bones and grabbed the nearest forearm. She punched down on the slender bones with her mailed gloves. As with most dreads, the thing was too tough to break, but she forced it near to the ground. Wiggles immediately leaped forward and clamped her sharp little teeth around the nearest wrist bone. She growled, backing away and dragging the dread after her. With no command laid upon it regarding

Ťsmall dogs with sharp teeth, the dread just went bumping after Wiggles, its sword still scraping behind it.

Ignoring the tough old bones, Ivy jumped directly on the rusted blade, landing hard on her boot heels. Unlike the bones, the blade was not magically immune to breakage. It cracked and crumbled under her feet. She stomped a few more times. The bony hand now held only the remnants of a rusted handle, a weapon that posed no danger to anyone. Wiggles still growled and tugged at the bones. She had hooked one paw over the hand bones in an attempt to hold them down for better chewing. With her sharp little teeth, she finally worried free a thumb bone. As soon as it snapped off, the entire dread broke into a shattered pile of bones. Ivy shuffled through the pile, scraping her soles along the floor, and quickly scattered the pieces as far apart as possible. She glared at the bones fot a moment, but they remained only broken bits on the floor with no flicker of magic trying to paste them together.

With the dread no longer attacking him, the largest bugbear, Osteroric, whipped around and tried to brain Sanval with his glaive. Ivy shouted for her knife. Zuzzara grabbed it and flipped it blade over handle to her. Ivy caught it with one mailed hand. She took a running jump and flung herself at the bugbear, kicking with both feet at the creature s knee.