The Crystal Mountain (14 page)

He sent half the new demons accompanying him to flank the horde of devils on one side. “Wait for my signal,” he instructed the creatures. “I mean it,” he added, giving them a pointed stare. “We must strike as one, together.”

The other demons grimaced and gnashed their teeth, but none of them argued. They turned and scurried in the direction Kaanyr sent them.

He suspected they would only hold off for a few moments before battle-lust overcame them. Their fear of me won’t stay their weapons for long, he thought, but we’ll make sure it’s enough.

He led the other contingent of reinforcements to the opposite side and surveyed the battle once more.

“We must hurry,” one of the creatures near him growled. “There is blood-letting to be done.”

“Indeed,” Kaanyr replied, “but if we do not hit them in

the right place, the blood will be ours.” He raised an arm and pointed to a location where several devils were milling in confusion. “There,” he said. “Go.”

With shrieks and howls of glee, the half-dozen or so creatures rushed forward, thrusting their polearms at their targets. They slammed into their enemies and skewered the first few of the devils. It happened so fast, the devils did not have time to react. As the first fell, the demons swarmed and overwhelmed the next rank. Then the devils turned to fight back, and the fight grew hot.

Kaanyr rose into the air to get a better view of the overall battle. The demons he had sent to the far side were just joining in the fray from there. Somehow they had managed to time their attack as Kaanyr wished.

Excellent, he thought, smiling. This might work out well after all.

He spotted an enemy commander that stood a bit apart from the others and directed their forces. Half-human like himself, the leader stood upon a large protrusion of rock. A fine breastplate adorned the half-devil, beneath which he wore fancy clothing. A pair of small, curled horns protruded from his forehead, and his skin was tinged red. He wore an oiled black goatee and wielded a pair of falchions that dripped with a vile, greenish substance.

Kaanyr engaged his magical cloak and headed toward the opposing commander. The half-devil spied him approaching and gave the cambion a smile and a mocking salute with one of his blades, then took to the air himself.

The two half-fiends swirled toward one another in the air above the larger battle. Kaanyr launched a thrust with Spitefang and watched to see how his foe would react. His

counterpart spun and blocked the strike with one of his own weapons and then sliced low with the other. Kaanyr kicked the blade with his boot to deflect it. That drew a second strike from the half-devil’s first falchion that the cambion was forced to duck.

“Not bad,” the other commander said, smiling still. “I will enjoy this.”

“Not for long,” Kaanyr answered.

With that, the half-devil twirled in place and slashed at Kaanyr with a rapid succession of strikes that came from different angles and targeted various points on the cambion’s body. Kaanyr gasped at the speed of the attacks, but Spitefang was well balanced and up to the task, and the cambion parried them all.

The two parted and circled again.

The half-devil’s smile deepened as he surveyed Kaanyr’s defensive stance. “You seem a bit unsure,” he said. “Would you like a moment to collect yourself?”

“Thank you, but no,” Kaanyr replied. “I’m just relishing the chance to dispatch such a worthy foe. It’s been a while.”

Kaanyr twirled Spitefang and beckoned his opponent to come. The half-devil obliged, and they began a dance of blades in earnest.

The ring of steel clashing against steel created a bizarre song above the swirling melee of demon and devil on the floor below. Kaanyr and his foe jabbed and blocked, swirled and circled, each trying to find a weakness in the other’s defenses. Kaanyr had to work hard to keep the twin falchions at bay. More than once, a poison-coated edge got dangerously close to creasing his skin. Each time, he managed to evade the deadly strikes, but he was breathing hard with the effort.

Fortunately, Kaanyr’s opponent was exerting himself just as much. The two of them separated and hovered in the air, taking a moment to catch their collective breath.

“You fight well,” the half-devil said. “It’s a shame you fight for the wrong side.”

“That’s a matter of perspective,” Kaanyr replied. “I could say the same about you.”

The half-devil grinned. “True, but I was not referring to your demonic kin. You stink of the taint of angels.”

Kaanyr blinked in surprise. Had his association with Tauran rubbed off on him that much?

“Yes,” the half-devil said, his grin growing more mocking, “I can see by your sudden meek expression and quivering lip that I am right. Fall in with the wrong crowd, did you?”

Kaanyr glared. “Hardly,” he said. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I found it necessary to deceive a few and associate with them in order to further my own agenda.”

“Which is how you came to be ensnared in one of their magical compulsions, is it? How’s that working out for you so far?”

Kaanyr snarled and lunged at the half-devil. He slammed Spitefang at his foe’s head, smashing the magical blade against the falchions.

The half-devil laughed as he defended himself against Kaanyr’s enraged attacks. “I must have hit a nerve, cambion,” he said gleefully. “You let me know sometime how that agenda is coming along.”

The half-devil began to use Kaanyr’s own rage against him, redirecting his momentum as the cambion slashed and hammered at him. Kaanyr’s fighting became frantic and sloppy and it was only when he got nicked on the

forearm by one of the poison-coated falchions that he recovered his wits.

Kaanyr backed out of the fight and hovered out of the half-devil’s reach. As the other commander approached him again, Kaanyr reached inside his tunic and grabbed a handful of colored sand from a small inner pocket. He flung the sand toward his opponent and uttered a quick arcane phrase. The sand burst into light and sent a spray of dazzling color right into the half-devil’s face.

The magical burst startled the half-devil. He threw an arm up to protect himself from its effects. Kaanyr used the distraction to shoot higher into the air, above the half-devil. By the time his opponent had recovered from the arcane attack, Kaanyr was swinging his sword down.

The cleaving blow sliced the half-devil’s head in half. He seized up and then dropped like a stone from the air, nearly yanking Kaanyr down with him. Kaanyr wrenched his blade free of the half-devil’s skull and watched his corpse plummet into a crater in the floor.

Kaanyr sighed in relief and cast a quick glance around. The battle between demon and devil had ended. Two demons still stood, both wounded but still able to fight. They had been watching the aerial combat from below.

“Go,” Kaanyr ordered. “Find more devils to kill.”

The two demons grinned and took off, heading toward another tunnel. Kaanyr turned his attention to his injury.

The wound was slight, but it burned terribly. He saw that it was already festering and that pus seeped from it. What was worse, discoloration in the skin was spreading from it along his arm.

Blast, Vhok fumed. I let him taunt me into making that

mistake. Been around too-noble angels for too long. Must not let that happen again.

Wondering if Tauran had at last awakened and might be able to heal the poisoned wound, Kaanyr turned and sped from the chamber, seeking his way back to the angel.

The two demons that had been left behind, presumably to watch over Kael, Tauran, and Zasian, turned suddenly and departed. Kael watched them disappear up the gloomy passageway just beyond the cramped cave where he and his fellow prisoners waited. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. Kael certainly felt better, not having the vile creatures looming so near, but he wondered what would have drawn them away so abruptly.

He jerked again on the chain that kept his manacles connected, knowing he could not break it but needing to keep trying. To do otherwise felt too much like giving up.

Kael stole a quick glance at Zasian. The glow surrounding the priest had grown slightly brighter, more steady. He wondered why that might be, but he didn’t dwell on it. The human just sat, staring at nothing. He had grown very quiet after recounting their ordeal, and the half-drow wondered if he was beginning to suffer from the grimness of their predicament.

He can’t be doing well in this hellish place, Kael decided.

Kael tried to imagine what it must be like to have the sum total of his memory be only a few days old. He had grown convinced, based on the priest’s odd behavior, that his new personality was not an act, but a genuine transformation.

At least he’s not in as bad of shape as Tauran.

Tauran lay curled up nearby. His breathing was mostly slow and even, as though he slept, but occasional coughing fits interrupted his rest from time to time, and he tossed and turned as much as his bonds would allow, groaning or even whimpering. He had not said anything after Zasian’s recounting of what had happened, either.

Torm, Kael thought. This place is killing him. We’ve got to get out of here. He yanked on the chains holding him captive once more.

In a moment of desperation, Kael managed to get to his feet and, taking small steps because of the restraints holding his ankles, walk toward the tunnel leading out of their chamber. He reached the passage and peered down it as far as he could see, until it turned and disappeared from his view. Kael debated continuing, seeing what he could find out about their prison, but the way was rough and uneven, and with his chains, it would be difficult to maneuver. Plus, he loathed leaving Tauran behind.

It’s not like he’s going anywhere, he decided, taking a few steps farther along his route. He braced himself against a stalagmite and used it to aid him in scrambling up a small incline. And if I get close to something I’d rather avoid, I can always scoot back here.

Still, Kael felt vulnerable. The weakness stemmed not just from wearing shackles, but also because he did not have his sword with him. It was a rare occurrence for him to be

without his blessed blade easily within reach, if not in his hands outright.

No, Kael realized. It’s more than the sword. I am afraid that Torm is beyond my reach, too.

The half-drow had uttered a prayer or two to his patron in the time since he had come awake in captivity, but they were throwaway offerings made out of habit. He had not dared beseech his god to intervene on his behalf, granting some power or energy to aid him in his escape.

What if he cannot hear me? What if this place is too far removed… or too tainted?

Get over it! he snarled. Do I really need that comforting connection so badly? What would Tauran think of such timidity? Use what you have. Be the power that’s inside you. Act!

With his fears of being cut off from Torm cast aside for the moment, Kael cast a glance back at Tauran and set out again, ready to face whatever might be lurking around the next turn in the tunnel if it meant the possibility of escape.

Kael did not get too far before he heard the sounds of commotion ahead in the distance. He froze in place, slowed his breathing, and listened.

It sounded like battle. And it was coming closer.

Kael’s fingers itched to be holding his greatsword. He fought to keep his hands still as he tried to ferret out some sense of who was fighting whom. He strained to hear more clearly, but whatever was happening was still too far away. Nonetheless, he did not want to get in the middle of some conflict with who-knew-what bound as he was.

He needed an advantage.

Ambush, he decided.

Kael turned and headed back the way he had come, returning to the small chamber where Tauran still lay in a troubled sleep and Zasian sat in a stupor.

I won’t get much help from either of them, Kael decided. No matter.

He surveyed the chamber carefully, taking note of every feature and protrusion of rock. There wasn’t much. The floor was rough but relatively flat. The ceiling overhead hung pretty low; near the edges of the room, he had to duck to avoid cracking his skull on some bit of sharp, jutting stone.

Kael decided his best option was to position himself near the exit to the chamber, flat against the rock wall, and watch for anyone coming in. With their attention on the other two occupants, particularly Zasian and his bizarre glow, he might go undetected. It wasn’t much of a hiding place, but he had nothing else.

He got into place by bracing his feet against a short, stumpy stalagmite and lifting himself high against the cave wall. Use the high ground, he thought. Take every advantage you can. He pressed his back against the rock and waited.

So, what do I do when something does come in? he wondered.

He considered the chain between his manacles. He could use it like a garrote, perhaps even lifting an opponent off its feet and swinging it around to dash it against the rocks. It was the best he could do, and it would have to be enough. He wasn’t going down without a fight. He owed Tauran that much. And Torm, he reminded himself.

The sound of the fighting increased until Kael was convinced the conflict was just beyond the entry. He fought his own nervousness and waited.

Suddenly, there was a gasp and a dying scream, and the sounds of combat ceased. Kael held his breath, anxious to find out what had happened, worried about betraying his inadequate hiding place. He detected the sound of footsteps, faint but rapid, approaching. Then a shout issued from deeper in the corridor.

Just when he thought he couldn’t stand to wait any longer, a figure dashed into the room. It was some kind of fiend, short and squat, with greasy black skin and patches of fur growing everywhere. It held a nasty looking saw-tooth-edged blade in one hand. A foul odor filled Kael’s nostrils, a mixture of feces and acrid smoke. The creature skidded to a halt, stared at the two occupants, and the obvious dead-end. He let out a howl of frustration.

Zasian cried out in alarm and scampered backward from the intruder. Tauran didn’t move, seemingly oblivious to his own danger. Kael prepared to lunge at the thing, knowing he only had one chance to get behind it and get his manacles over its neck, but he hesitated. He sensed something else coming, following the fiend through the tunnels.