Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III (7 page)

“But not for long . . .” The Pack Leader cradled the piece in his hand and returned the box to the blue man. He then turned back to where his men fought to survive and held out the talisman toward the gleaming landscape where he supposed the cavern entrance was.

Yet again the earth was shaken by a burst of deadly light. The Quel might no longer be masters of the realm, but they still wielded power. Their strikes were also systematic; each time the raiders shifted away from the previous blow, they were attacked anew from the opposite direction.

A silence seemed to surround the former keeper as he held the talisman up to the sky. The only one still daring to stand near him was D’Rance, who eyed his commander with both anticipation and envy.

D’Farany whispered, “Behold the legacy of my Lord Ravager. Behold his glory.”

The carved tooth glowed bright.

Its effect was not something that was seen, not, at least, by the wolf raiders who were there. At most, a few who were sensitive, such as Orril D’Marr, felt a rippling in the fabric of the world itself. The rippling washed across the area like a tide coming into shore. It passed through rank after rank, moving swiftly toward the front and then beyond.

“Mustn’t destroy,” muttered the Pack Leader to himself. “Mustn’t take the chance. Merely take the fight from them.”

The silence around D’Farany spread as well. Even the screams and shouts seemed to fade away as the power unleashed by the talisman blanketed the land. Those who did not have the touch of sorcery within them still could feel that something was different.

At last, the tooth ceased to glow. Lord D’Farany looked at it with great sadness. The spell had drained it of everything he had collected. Now, it was no more than a useless trinket. Nonetheless, the Pack Leader did not throw it away, but rather returned it to an overawed D’Rance, who gingerly placed it back in the box.

“They may advance again.”

The command proved to be unnecessary. Already, soldiers were reorganizing and moving forward. D’Marr had understood what had happened. The Aramite leader nodded to himself. It was an example of why the young officer was one of his favorites.

Now the raiders moved unimpeded. Even Lord D’Farany did not know what he had unleashed, but he knew that the Quel would be helpless now. Their power had been negated for a time and that time would be enough to ensure total Aramite victory.

“Come, Kanaan. It’s time to join them.”

The blue man bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

As they trailed slowly after the advancing troops, D’Farany contemplated what he would do with that power now that it was his. Building new ships was a possibility, but what sense was there in returning to rescue the fools who still fought back home? How much better to claim a portion of this realm and begin expanding here. How much more satisfying to take from the Gryphon’s friends the same thing the birdman had taken from the Aramites.

D’MARR PEERED INTO
the darkness of the cavern entrance. The walls gleamed faintly from the torch he had directed one of his men to throw inside. There was nothing to be seen, but that did not mean that there was no danger. D’Marr was not that naive.

He turned to the man nearest him. “Inside. Double file. Do watch the ground and the walls. . . . and the ceiling, for that matter. They could come from anywhere.”

The raider blinked, then hurried to obey as D’Marr’s free hand slowly shifted toward the rod hanging from his belt. The Aramite officer nodded and watched as two ranks quickly formed. He allowed the first three pairs to enter, then tightened his grip on his sword and entered with the next.

Where are you, my little beasts?
Even with the intervention of Lord D’Farany, it could not be this easy. There had to be resistance. There had to be battle.

Farther and deeper they marched and yet still they did not encounter the creatures whose lair this was. A sense of unease spread throughout the lines, even infecting D’Marr. No enemy gave up so easy. Lord D’Farany’s magical counterattack, while potent, should not have been able to eliminate
all
opposition.

He was almost pleased when the first man finally died.

He had commanded them to be wary of all directions, but no one save those who had been involved with the capture of the first Quel could have understood the speed at which they could burst through the earth and strike at their foes. Suddenly there was a huge, taloned hand erupting from the tunnel floor. It took hold of the ankle of the nearest soldier and withdrew as swiftly as it had come. That the hole that had been created was far too small for the human form did not matter. The helpless raider was pulled as far as the gap in the floor allowed and then pulled farther.

It was not a pleasant sight, but it gave D’Marr new respect for the strength of the overgrown armadillos.

“Leave it,” he warned the two who started to reach for the remains in some vain hope that there was still a chance. “I want spears and torches ready.” He had had some of the men bring light spears, weapons about a foot longer than a short sword and quite useful in tight areas. As light as they were, the spears were very, very sharp and highly resilient. “Right flank watch right wall and ceiling. Left flank watch left wall and floor. The man who misses the next one will not have to fear death at the beasts’ claws. I shall be more than happy to oblige him myself.”

Yet, even as he spoke, another arm burst through the wall across from him, seizing the nearest man by the throat and bringing his head hard against the rock face. The crack and snap echoed throughout the cavern, then was drowned out by the noises of belated action as the raiders closest tried to cut the hand of the creature off. One man managed to slice the back of the huge paw, but the digger quickly retreated into the earth.

How do they move through it so quickly? It might as well be water the way they come and go!
There was only a small, collapsed hole to mark where the second attack had originated from.

He did not have time to consider the matter further, for the third attack was directed at
him.
D’Marr was turning when the talons came shooting from the wall next to him. With a swiftness he did not know he had, the officer ducked back. Even still, his reaction was nearly too slow. Huge claws slashed at his jaw, leaving a bloody trail. His sword was up in almost the same instant. The raider had the great satisfaction of watching the blade cut up through the arm just past the wrist of his attacker. A shower of blood drenched his breastplate.

The Quel’s arm shook, its actions nearly twisting the sword free of D’Marr’s grip. He took hold of it with both hands and held on for dear life. One of the soldiers raised his own weapon and brought it down on the still exposed limb. The armored hide of the Quel was thick, but not thick enough. The edge of the sword embedded itself in the arm, causing a new shower of blood.

The attacker tried to withdraw, but the swords prevented that. A soldier with a spear moved forward and thrust into the hole. D’Marr again wondered at the vast stamina and strength of the armored beast. Even as badly wounded as the Quel had to be, there was no sign of weakness.

The wall before him shattered, pelting men with bits of rock. The Quel, unable to retreat into the earth, had chosen to come to them instead.

The subterranean dweller filled the passage. D’Marr could not tell whether it was male, like the first, or female and did not really care. As an
it
, the Quel was terrible enough. With its good arm, it took the man with the spear and threw him into the soldiers behind him. The raider with the sword had wisely retreated already. D’Marr released his hold on his own weapon, having realized that he would be next if he insisted on maintaining his grip any longer. The young officer had no delusions that he could take on one of the beasts singlehanded.

Still . . . he reached for the rod by his side even as the Quel pawed at the blade buried in its wrist. Both arm wounds still bled profusely but the monster moved as if nothing were wrong.

“Don’t just gawk! Bring the spears in!”

There was a scream and then much commotion farther down the line. The Quel were no longer attacking one at a time. He had no time to concern himself with the others, however, for the one who had tried to kill him evidently was intent on completing its task. D’Marr suspected that the creatures had known all along that he was the leader of the invading force. The initial attacks might even have been made so that they could better locate him among the rest. He suspected that the Quel relied greatly on their sense of hearing or some similar trait when they moved through the ground.

With a loud, long hoot, the monster swung at him with one huge paw. D’Marr ducked away and pulled his staff free of his belt. He held the long rod before him. Several men with spears had now closed on the Quel. Two feinted from the left of the huge digger. When the Quel turned toward them, those on the right jabbed with their own spears. One caught the massive creature in the arm that had been wounded. This time, D’Marr’s adversary unleashed a shrill, unmistakable cry of agony. While it was thus occupied, the other lancers also attacked. Three spears penetrated the armored hide of the Quel.

So you do have a soft shell in places
, the Aramite officer noted with some satisfaction. Like the creature it resembled, the Quel had less protection near the stomach region. That was not to say it was not protected well there, for two of the spears had snapped in that initial thrust, but of necessity the subterranean monster could not have as thick and hard a shell as it wore on its back. D’Marr had suspected as much from his time with the prisoner, but knew better than to trust that all the creatures were built the same way.

The Quel was staggering now, even its great stamina unable to compensate for the many dripping wounds. It took one last swipe at him and then began to back into the wall from which it had emerged.

“You’ll not be leaving us so soon,” hissed D’Marr. He thrust at the retreating Quel with his rod.

The wounded creature’s howl shook the tunnel and echoed on and on long after the huge figure had collapsed to its knees.

Orril D’Marr touched the tip of the rod to the armored head. He smiled with grim satisfaction as the Quel shivered, hooted mournfully, and finally slumped.

“Yesss . . . I thought all it needed was a little adjustment.” He looked from his conquered foe to his favorite toy. With the prisoner, he had overcompensated with the rod, killing the Quel. The short staff was a magical tool that he had inherited from his late predecessor, who had, in turn, paid dearly to have a sorcerer not of the keeper caste create it. It had thirty-two levels of pain, many of which could kill. The captive Quel had died from level twenty-one. He had given this one level twenty. D’Marr was quite pleased. Lord D’Farany would want hostages to question. It would make up for his earlier overzealousness.

The raider leader turned to aid in the other attacks, only to find that there were no longer any. He summoned one of the lesser officers.

The wolf raider, a bearded veteran named D’Roch who, like most of the men, had to look down at D’Marr, saluted him and nervously explained, “They simply withdrew, my lord. Right after that beast you took down howled.”

It seemed odd that they would abandon the attack simply because one of their number had fallen. Such cowardice went against the Aramite way. “How many were there?”

“Counting yours, sir, four.”

“Four?” D’Marr frowned slightly. They had only dared expend
four
of their kind in defense of the tunnel against a force the size of his? There was a piece of the puzzle missing. “This place is too lightly defended.”

It was clear that the other officer did not think so, but he was wise enough not to say anything.

A soldier returned D’Marr’s sword, carefully cleansed of all blood, to him. The young raider inspected the weapon, then sheathed it. The rod would serve him better, it seemed. With the blade, he would be dead long before he finished hacking up one of the beasts. They now feared the rod and D’Marr enjoyed nothing more than wielding fear.

He glanced down at the Quel. It still lived, if only barely. “Bind that thing tight and put it somewhere safe. Lord D’Farany may desire to see it.”

D’Roch saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“Re-form ranks. I see no reason why we shouldn’t continue on, do you?”

“No, sir. At once, sir.”

He had them under way in little more than a minute. They continued on down the passage, ever wandering deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth. Once more, the trek became quiet, uneventful. The wolf raiders remained wary, however, for they had fallen prey to that trap once already.

D’Marr tapped the side of the rod against his leg.
Where are you, you cowardly monsters? Come out and play with me!

The men began to mutter among themselves. There were whispers of plots involving the collapse of the entire length of the tunnel. The notion had entered D’Marr’s mind earlier, but he had felt no need to mention it. Lord D’Farany had given a command and it was their duty to obey. Now, destroying the passageway did not even seem a likely trick, for if they had wanted to do it, he was certain that the Quel would have been better off if they had collapsed the passage earlier. They had not done so, preferring to risk themselves in more personal assaults that, to him, indicated again that something was amiss.

It was at the end of the passage that he found the first clue to the truth. The cavern that suddenly materialized before them took everyone by surprise, so accustomed had the raiders become to the narrow tunnel by that point. D’Marr pushed his way past the foremost rank and stared, his eyes drinking in everything. The mask of indifference barely remained in place, for although he had had time to contemplate the world of the Quel, the Aramite had failed to fully imagine its scope.

In a cavern that was nearly a world of its own, the vast city of the subterranean race silently greeted its invaders.

Enough of it resembled a human city that they understood instantly what it was. There were buildings that rose several stories and paths that could only be roads of a sort. Everything had been carved from the very rock. The path on which D’Marr found himself standing circled around the edges of the expansive cave. At various points, new tunnels branched off into the earth.