The Mirror of Her Dreams (74 page)

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Authors: Stephen Donaldson

BOOK: The Mirror of Her Dreams
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'No,' Terisa rasped. She fought for air, but was too frightened to get it.
'
I can't run far enough. We don't know where we're going. If we get out of here, we'll just lead these things into Orison.'

 

In response, Geraden gave her a look of pure anguish.

 

'We've got to fight somehow,' she said as if a total stranger were talking, someone who had no acquaintance with the panic which hammered in her heart, the dread and revulsion that twisted her stomach. 'We've got to fight.'

 

For one more moment while the cockroaches rushed closer, he stared at her as though he were about to start sobbing. Then he gave an inarticulate shout like a cry of battle and leaped for the lantern.

 

Wrenching it from its hooks regardless of the way the heated iron scorched his hands, he flung it at the insects.

 

It hit in a splash of burning oil, and a dozen or more of the creatures caught fire.

 

They burned almost instantly, spouting flames as bright as torches: they were incendiary in some way. After two or three heartbeats, nothing remained of them except bits of charred carapace-

 

-nothing except a black vapour which rose into the air and spread quickly.

 

It smelled like a strong combination of formaldehyde and partially digested meat; and it clawed at Terisa's throat and lungs like acid. Gagging, she doubled over: the spasm which gripped her chest was too fierce to let her cough.

 

The passage had gone dim without the lantern, but she was close enough to the floor to see the nearest cockroaches scuttling rabidly forward, unconcerned by a few deaths. She had to run,
had
to-

 

She couldn't. It was impossible. She could not break the hold of that black vapour on the inside of her chest.

 

Retching hard enough to crack his ribs, Geraden got his arms around her and somehow found the strength to lift her off her feet. With her convulsed weight awkward in his embrace, he stumbled away, struggling to outrun the insects again.

 

In a few strides, he set her down to see if she could carry herself now. She snatched a whooping breath, and the spasm began to unclench. Still clinging to him for support, she fled farther before turning to look back.

 

She was in time to see Artagel run up with a lantern which he must have retrieved from the opposite direction and throw it like a madman at the head of the last erect attacker.

 

He didn't know his danger: he was too far away to have seen accurately what had happened to Geraden and her. But she couldn't shout a warning. Her raw throat could barely whisper his name as the lantern hit and broke-and the lumbering figure went up in flames, burning with such sudden fury that he seemed incandescent-and the spouting black exhalations of that many insects engulfed Artagel, causing him to collapse as effectively as a sword-thrust in the belly.

 

'Artagel,' croaked Geraden.
'Artagel.'

 

Terisa watched Artagel and the insects while her fear turned to a cold, dark anger. This time, she was the one who grabbed at Geraden's arm and pulled. 'Come on.' Her voice was only a scrape of pain in her throat; but now the chill seemed to be doing her some good, slowly numbing the hurt of the black vapour. 'Come
on.'

 

Ahead, she saw that the corridor came to a T, branching left and right. More light seemed to emanate from the right than from the left.

 

When she reached the T, she scanned both passages to ascertain that there was in fact a lantern nearby off to the right. Then she released Geraden. The cockroaches were after her. They had come through the same mirror which the man in black had used to attack her. She was the only person she knew who had active enemies.

 

'Get the lantern,' she choked out. 'I'll lead them away.'

 

He gaped at her as though his brother's fall had cost him his wits.

 

Urgently, she pushed him into motion.
'Go!
I'll lead them away. You follow. Every lantern we pass, you can kill a few more. Just don't breathe that vapour.'

 

At last, he appeared to understand. He moved into the right-hand corridor a few steps ahead of the cockroaches.

 

Retreating backwards so that she could see what he did, she went to the left.

 

Unfortunately, her assumption was mistaken. The entire swarm swept after Geraden, ignoring her completely.

 

Geraden
-

 

Her anger crumbled into horror and incomprehension. The strength ran out of her: she nearly sank to her knees. Slowly, she raised her hands to her mouth, and fear filled her eyes.

 

He didn't realize his danger until he reached the lantern, unhooked it, and turned back. Then he saw the oncoming rush. For a second, he was paralysed. Dismay wiped the combative stubbornness off his face. His hands lowered the lantern: it looked like it was about to fall.

 

One of her knees failed. She lost her balance and stumbled to the floor, breaking the ice which scummed a wide puddle. Water soaked into her gown. She wasn't even on her feet when she heard him howl, Terisa! Get help!'

 

But she was watching him, watching with all she had left, yearning for him in voiceless desperation, as Adept Havelock arrived at his side and levelled a beam of light against the onslaught.

 

Apparently, the mad old Imager had been waiting in the hall for just this purpose. The reflections from his eyes danced insanely; but his movements betrayed none of the erratic frenzy, the hysteria of intent, which she had seen in the past: they were deft and sure, almost calm.

 

One hand took hold of Geraden's collar and pulled him back; the other directed his beam at the seething cockroaches.

 

Terisa was past surprise, so she noticed as if it were a matter of course that the Adept's weapon was the same small piece of glass he had used before to light her way and save her life. Now, however, that mirror shone much more hotly: its light was as fierce as fire. More powerfully than burning oil, it ignited the insects. They took flame and were incinerated almost instantly, popping like firecrackers as they died.

 

Then billowing black vapour filled the corridor so thickly that the illumination of Geraden's lantern was obscured. Only Adept Havelock's fire was bright enough to show through the sudden midnight as the beam swept the floor and cockroaches by the hundreds burned.

 

At the last moment, Terisa remembered to hold her breath. For what felt like a long time-a dozen heartbeats-two dozen

 

-the Adept's light moved swiftly and methodically over the stone, boiling the damp to steam in order to achieve the death of each insect. Of course, the creatures simplified this process by marching with mindless determination in Geraden's direction: Adept Havelock didn't need to be concerned that any of them would sneak past him along the walls-or would turn and flee. Nevertheless he was careful, and so the cleansing of the passage took time. She felt her mind going giddy as she wondered whether the Adept had enough sense-or Geraden enough self-awareness

 

-to stop breathing.

 

Then the vapour became thick enough to block even Adept Havelock's beam. The air began to sting her eyes. She lowered her forehead to the floor. The ache of her bruise against the cold stone gave her a focal point for her concentration; and she clung to it so that she wouldn't breathe.

 

Unexpectedly, something nudged her shoulder.

 

Believing in panic that she had been found by one of the cockroaches, she flipped to the side and gasped for air so that she could scream.

 

Adept Havelock stood over her, dressed as usual in his worn surcoat and tattered chasuble. His light played on the ceiling, filling the corridor.

 

He looked like a dangerous lunatic. His disfocused eyes bulged; the few remaining tufts of his hair protruded wildly. His fleshy grin was gleeful and lecherous. Behind the dirty stubble on his cheeks, his skin seemed to be turning purple.

 

As she began to cough, however, he let his own breath out with a burst and started breathing again. The air made him cough as well, and a few tears trickled from his eyes; but his eyes stopped bulging almost at once, and his skin lost its purple intensity.

 

'I see,' he rasped hoarsely, 'that the air is now tolerable. It was kind of you to sample it for me.'

 

Geraden stumbled into her range of vision. His eyes were raw, and the difficulty of breathing showed on his face. Nevertheless he was on his feet. As soon as he saw that she, too, would survive, he groaned, 'Artagel,' and pushed himself into a coughing run towards his brother.

 

'Artagel?' Although one of Havelock's eyes leered, the other was sane and serious. His nose, as fierce and ascetic as a hawk's beak, made every word he uttered count. 'Was he caught in this trap as well?'

 

'Back there.' A spasm of retching racked Terisa. After that, however, the pain in her lungs eased, and she was able to breathe more normally. With an effort, she climbed to her hands and knees, then to her feet. 'He tried to save us. That vapour got him.'

 

'Balls of a goat!' the Adept snapped. At once, he strode away.

 

Struggling not to be left behind, she reeled after him.

 

Slowly, her balance improved as the effects of the vapour faded. She was nearly steady as she and Adept Havelock reached Geraden.

 

He didn't notice them. He sat on the floor, cradling Artagel's head in his arms.

 

Artagel's face was mottled with exertion and pain, and his eyes gaped at the ceiling as though he had gone blind. But he was breathing.

 

Her relief was so acute that her eyes spilled tears.

 

Stooping to Geraden, Adept Havelock tapped him crisply on the shoulder. 'Come along, Geraden. Carry him if you have to. I don't like staying this close to that translation point. Who knows how many more surprises Vagel has for us? I'll take you somewhere safe.'

 

Geraden hugged his brother harder and didn't move, Terisa couldn't tell whether he had heard the Adept.

 

As if he were making a concession, the old Imager said, 'I have some wine. I think it'll help him.' Then he lost patience. 'Horror and bollocks, boy! If you're attacked again, I might not be able to save you!'

 

Still Geraden didn't move. But Artagel jerked his head in a nod as if he understood. When Terisa took hold of his arm and tried to pull him upright, he made a feeble effort to assist her.

 

Roughly, Geraden rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Then he helped Terisa lift his brother off the stone.

 

'Come along,' repeated Havelock. With a brisk stride, he moved away.

 

Supporting Artagel between them, Terisa and Geraden followed. Artagel was unable to keep his feet under him; but she heard an improvement in his breathing. He was beginning to sound like he would live.

 

She found that she was completely disoriented: she had no idea where Adept Havelock was taking them. After a short distance, he entered a side passage which led at once to a sturdy wooden door that looked like the entrance to a storeroom. In fact, it was the entrance to a storeroom. The storeroom, however, appeared to be full of nothing but empty crates in various stages of disrepair. Adept Havelock ignored them as he picked his way to another door hidden in a niche at the back of the room.

 

This door looked ordinary enough from the outside; but inside it held enough bars and bolts to seal a dungeon. Havelock shut it behind Terisa, Geraden, and Artagel, then led them down a passage which opened almost immediately into a room crowded with a disarray of mirrors.

 

'King Joyse confiscated most of these during his wars,' the Adept explained off-handedly as he crossed the room to another corridor, 'After he created the Congery, he restored quite a few mirrors to the Masters. But he kept more than he gave up.

 

'I wish they did me some good.'

 

The sight astonished Geraden out of his distress, at least for a moment. Adept Havelock had the only light, however, and he left the room promptly. Terisa and Geraden followed with Artagel.

 

After two or three turns, as many short hallways, and another door, they suddenly found themselves in the large, square room where Terisa had listened to Master Quillon explain the history of Mordant's need.

 

The place appeared unchanged: it was still furnished and cluttered like the study of a man whose mind had gone. Lamps set into the walls and the central pillar shed plenty of light towards the doors which lined the walls, giving admittance to Orison's secret passages.

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