Mask of Dragons (15 page)

“A soliphage?” said Mazael. “Why the devil would she run off with a soliphage?”

“Likely she betrayed us,” said Earnachar, but Mazael’s glare silenced him. 

“She must have gone to look at something unusual,” said Adalar, “and the soliphage surprised her.”

“Maybe,” said Mazael, lifting Talon. “We can find out after the soliphage is dead. Timothy! Some light.” 

Timothy nodded and raised his free hand, a ball of blue-white light shimmering into existence above his palm. Adalar went to Mazael’s left and Earnachar to his right, while Romaria and Timothy brought up the back. The cave mouth yawned in the side of the rocky hill, larger than Adalar would have expected. Webbing clung to the walls and roof of the cave, and the smell of dead flesh was very strong. 

Gods, Sigaldra had gone into that place? 

Or she had been taken into the cave…and she had been that hellish place for at least an hour. 

They entered the cavern. The floor sloped down into the darkness, Timothy’s spell-light throwing harsh shadows over the rough walls. Here and there Adalar saw corpses trapped in the webbing, long decayed and crumbling into dust. 

A woman screamed somewhere ahead, the noise full of hopeless terror, and Adalar recognized Sigaldra’s voice.

He sprinted forward.

“Adalar!” snapped Mazael, but Adalar was past caring. Part of his mind pointed out that sprinting ahead like was a terrible idea, that he ought to wait for Mazael and Romaria and the others. The rest of his mind did not care. That scream…

He burst into a large cavern, lit by a pale blue light. More webs covered the walls, holding dozens of long-dead corpses. A massive web stretched through the center of the chamber, diving the cavern in half. Sigaldra hung suspended in the web, trapped in its thick strands. Before her stood a tall, thin man in chain mail, a heavy greatsword strapped to his back. The man started to turn…

Adalar skidded to a halt with shock. “Father?”

Sir Nathan Greatheart stood before him, thin and severe, his features twisting into a scowl.

“Adalar,” he spat. “What a disappointment you have been. I left you my lands, and you failed to protect them. All our people are dead, and you are nothing but the lord of a ruined castle and a land filled with corpses. How I wish I had fathered another son, a worthy son…”

For an instant the sheer pain of the words froze Adalar.

Then his mind caught up to his pain, and pointed out that Sir Nathan Greatheart had died years ago. Adalar himself had interred Sir Nathan’s bones in the crypt beneath Greatheart Keep. Which meant that this had to be a trick or a ruse of some kind.

Adalar sprinted forward, drawing back his greatsword to strike. 

“You wretched, useless child,” said Nathan, shaking his head with sorrowful disappointment. 

“Adalar!” screamed Sigaldra from the web. 

“I wish that you never had been…” started Nathan.

Adalar swung his sword with all his strength, and for the first time it seemed to dawn upon Nathan that he was under attack. The old man leaped back, his right arm snapping up to block with fluid speed. Adalar’s sword struck the limb, and the heavy blade should have sheared it off at the elbow. Yet Adalar’s sword rebounded as if it had struck a steel bar. Adalar stumbled, caught his balance, and raised his weapon in guard, watching Sir Nathan.

Or whatever creature pretended to be Sir Nathan.

“It’s a soliphage!” said Sigaldra, the web swaying as she struggled to break free. “Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real! It’s…”

“Bother,” said Nathan. “I should have killed you all in your sleep.”

Sir Nathan blurred and disappeared, replaced by a sleek blue soliphage, its eyes burning with harsh white light. Adalar attacked, and the soliphage leaped back, avoiding his blow. With its four additional legs, the creature was faster and more maneuverable, using its legs to execute quick turns and sudden withdrawals. Adalar swung again, and the soliphage moved back, his blade blurring a few inches before its face. The creature raised its left hand, purple fire snarling around its claws as it summoned dark magic. 

A hissing sound went past Adalar’s left ear, and an arrow plunged into the soliphage’s torso. The creature screamed in fury, and Adalar heard the sound of running boots. He did not allow the noise to distract him, but attacked again. For an instant the soliphage’s attention was focused upon the arrow embedded in its chest, and it did not see the blow coming in time. Adalar had aimed his blow at the creature’s head, but instead his greatsword lopped off one of the spider legs jutting from its right side. 

The soliphage stumbled with a shriek of fury, yellow slime spurting from the stump of the severed leg. Adalar hit it again, and the armored chitin of its chest absorbed the blow, though the power of the strike knocked the creature back. It lunged towards him, but Mazael attacked from the side, Talon a blur of golden fire in his hand. The blade of dragon talon proved more effective than Adalar’s greatsword, and the curved sword tore a smoking gash across the soliphage’s torso. Once more the soliphage stumbled with a cry of pain, and Adalar hit it on its human-like right leg. 

The soliphage fell to one knee, its remaining spider-legs clawing for purchase, and Earnachar stepped behind it, mace gripped in both hands as he lifted the weapon.

His first blow caved in the back of the soliphage’s head. The creature went into a twitching, spasmodic dance, and Earnachar struck again and again, methodically reducing the soliphage’s head to pulp. On the fifth blow the creature collapsed in a heap to the cavern floor. Its remaining limbs twitched once, and then went motionless, a pool of slime spreading over the rock. 

Adalar let out a long breath and stepped back, looking for additional soliphages or spiders, yet the cavern was deserted. 

“Damned things,” muttered Earnachar, shaking the droplets of yellow slime from his mace’s head. “Mighty Tervingar of old was right to kill them wherever he found them.”

“Sigaldra,” said Adalar, stepping towards the web. “Are you wounded?” 

“No,” said Sigaldra. “Just…stuck. If you could cut me down, I would…I would be grateful.” She was trying to keep her voice level, but he heard the note of barely controlled terror in her words. 

“Aye,” said Adalar, sheathing his greatsword and drawing his dagger. 

“I’ll help,” said Mazael, lifting Talon. 

Adalar took a step forward, and then realized that Sigaldra was naked beneath the strands of webbing. For a moment embarrassment more intense than anything he had ever known and the overpowering desire to simply stare warred in his mind, but he forced himself to step forward and start cutting the sticky strands from her legs. 

Her well-muscled, well-formed legs...

Adalar rebuked himself and forced his mind to focus upon cutting the web. 

“Why did you run off like that?” said Mazael. “That was foolish.” Unlike Adalar, he seemed perfectly at ease, and Talon sliced through the webbing without trouble. 

“I thought,” said Sigaldra, taking a shuddering breath. “I thought…I thought that I saw Liane. I thought that the soliphage was Liane. I don’t know how.”

“It must have been a spell of illusion,” said Timothy. He scowled at the corpses hanging from the ceiling. “Clearly the soliphage has lived here for a long time, and has been luring travelers to their deaths for years.”

“It must have controlled the pack of spiders we fought at the shrine stone,” said Romaria. 

“Charming little trap,” said Mazael, raking Talon through another strand of webbing. The web jerked, and Sigaldra lurched forward, her feet waving in the air. 

“This next cut will get you down,” said Adalar. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” said Sigaldra. “Just get me off this thing, please.” She sounded more frightened than he had ever heard her. 

Adalar nodded and sawed his dagger through the final strands. Sigaldra fell from the web, landed upon her heels, and lost her balance. Adalar moved to catch her, and she slammed against him, all her weight on him as she fought to recover her balance on the slick cavern floor. For a moment she looked up at him, blinking, and he stared back, unable to look away. 

Gods. He had promised to help her, and she had almost been eaten alive by that damned soliphage. He would have to do better. 

“Did anyone bring a cloak?” said Adalar, his voice hoarse. 

To his surprise, Earnachar nodded. “I have a spare.”

Sigaldra hesitated, but not for very long. She gave a sharp nod, not meeting Earnachar’s gaze, and then took the cloak, wrapping herself in it. 

Chapter 8: The Secret Church

Sigaldra had endured a lifetime of terrifying experiences, but her ordeal in the soliphage’s web had been the worst. Always before she had been able to fight or run when her life had been in danger. Never before had she been trapped and helpless, unable to do anything at all while death came for her. 

It did not help that her brush with death was followed by one of the most embarrassing experiences of her life.

“Is this really necessary?” said Sigaldra, her teeth chattering as she stood naked in the predawn chill. 

“I’m afraid so,” said Romaria, plucking another strand of sticky web from Sigaldra’s right thigh, her hand protected by a thick leather gauntlet. She had started at the feet, working her way up as she removed the strands one by one. “The soliphage used a fresh web for you, but if it finishes hardening, it will pull off your skin.”

Sigaldra nodded and folded her arms across her chest for warmth. That made her arms stick to each other, so she cursed and pulled them apart, resigning herself to the cold until Romaria finished. At least none of the men were here. Timothy had gone to keep watch with his crystal and his spells, and Adalar, Mazael, and Earnachar were searching the cavern for anything useful. If she had been forced to ask Mazael or Adalar to help her remove the remaining strands…gods and ancestors, she might have died of pure mortification. It was bad enough that they had already seen her trussed up in the web. 

Sigaldra let out a shuddering breath, blinking as she tried to keep the tears back. 

“A rough time,” said Romaria, tugging a thick strand of web from Sigaldra’s hips. 

“What would you know about rough times?” snapped Sigaldra. 

“One or two things,” said Romaria, her calm unruffled.

“Forgive me,” said Sigaldra, closing her eyes. “I am overwrought. I…”

“No forgiveness is necessary,” said Romaria. “If you want to have a good cry, I won’t mind. It might make you feel better.” 

“I am the last holdmistress of the Jutai nation,” said Sigaldra. “I do not have time to waste with such…nonsense.” 

“True,” said Romaria, getting to her feet with a grunt. She circled to the right and started peeling the webbing off Sigaldra’s back. “But there is no one here to see you but me.” 

“If you are implying,” said Sigaldra, “that I do not want Lord Adalar to see me cry, then you are mistaken. I…”

“Actually,” said Romaria, “I didn’t think you would want to cry in front of Earnachar.” 

Sigaldra said nothing for a moment, blinking.

“Oh,” she said at last. “No. I…wouldn’t want to do that either.”

Romaria peeled a strand of webbing from Sigaldra’s neck. It came off with a burning, pulling sensation, stronger than the others. 

“Ouch!” said Sigaldra.

“See what I mean?” said Romaria. “Another hour and you wouldn’t have much skin left, which would feel much worse. Have you ever seen a man tarred and feathered?” 

“I have not,” said Sigaldra.

“Mmm,” said Romaria, examining Sigaldra’s braid. “I forgot they never developed the custom in the middle lands. But it’s important to take care of things before it’s too late. Like the webbing.” 

Sigaldra closed her eyes. She didn’t think Romaria was talking about the webbing any longer. 

“Lord Adalar shouldn’t have come along,” said Sigaldra. “This isn’t his fight. He doesn’t owe me anything. He doesn’t owe Liane anything. Yet he came. Why?”

“I suppose he didn’t have anywhere else to go,” said Romaria. Sigaldra felt a painful tug as Romaria tried to get the webbing out of her hair. “I knew him when he was a boy. His father was a dutiful man, and so is Adalar. He wanted to fulfill his duty to his family and his people and his lord. Well, he has no family left, and his lands are mostly empty of people. A man needs a purpose in life, something to fight for.” She felt Romaria shrug. “Maybe rescuing your sister is his new purpose.” 

“But we are Jutai,” said Sigaldra. “He is not Jutai.”

“There are valiant men outside of the Jutai nation,” said Romaria. “I was at the Battle of Stone Tower, the day old Richard Mandragon the Dragonslayer defeated Ragnachar and the Tervingi. Most of the lords wanted to exterminate the Tervingi and the Jutai with them, and I think Lord Richard would have done it. Yet Mazael persuaded him otherwise.”

“Why?” said Sigaldra, wincing as Romaria pulled upon her braid again. 

“If there is any man in this world who knows the value of not killing,” said Romaria, “it is my husband.” She sighed. “The webbing is wrapped up in your braid. I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut it off.” 

That upset Sigaldra more than it should have. She was lucky to be alive. Yet Jutai women wore their hair in braids, and had done so since time immemorial. Her mother had taught Sigaldra how to braid her hair, and Sigaldra in turn had taught Liane… 

“Fine,” said Sigaldra. “Do it. Just…quickly, please.” 

Romaria drew a dagger. “This will probably hurt a little.” 

She gripped Sigaldra’s hair and hacked through the braid with the dagger. Sigaldra winced at the tugging in her scalp, and then it was over. Romaria dropped the braid, which coiled at Sigaldra’s feet. Sigaldra raked her fingers through the ragged length of her remaining hair. Her head felt lighter, though she did not like the sensation at all.

“How does it look?” said Sigaldra.

Romaria hesitated. “It will have time to grow back before you see a mirror again.” 

That wasn’t reassuring. 

“Lady Romaria,” said Sigaldra. She took another deep breath to calm herself. “Thank you. For…helping me.” She tried to smile. “Even if you are not Jutai.”