Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [154]
Dauneth nodded soberly, and they went on. At a certain spot that to the noble looked no different than the rest of the passage, the masked mage stopped and turned to the wall beside her. She touched something and then simply stepped into the wall, her body passing into the solid stone as if it did not exist.
The young noble stared, fascinated, at the hand that reappeared out of the solid wall and beckoned to him impatiently. He went to it, clasped it with his own, and was drawn through-nothing. They were in a side passage. He blinked at the masked face and the glowing hand that went with it, and then turned to look back. A sort of veil or misty curtain seemed to hang across the mouth of the tunnel they now stood in. He extended his hand through it and waved his fingers. There was no resistance. The veil must be some sort of magical illusion, an image of a stone wall that concealed this opening.
A firm hand came down on his shoulder. He turned and followed the masked mage again until she led the way up a steep, narrow stair and into a room, where she stopped and turned to face him.
"We're in the palace now," she explained, "or rather under it, in the vaults that the crown princess ordered sealed. We took this last, hidden way to avoid a guard-post. I can't risk this light any longer stand still."
The radiance faded, and Dauneth had a last impression of her fingers weaving intricate gestures before two cool fingertips touched his eyelids. Startled, he stepped back, blinking, only to find that he could see clearly in what must be utter darkness.
Those emerald eyes seemed to be smiling at him again. Emboldened, he asked, "But if these are the royal vaults, how are we to get around? The bards always say only the Lord Vangerdahast and the royal family have keys! We'll-"
His words died in his throat as slim hands drew a chain up out of her bodice to reveal a trio of long-barreled, dark, ornate keys. "It seems the bards are wrong for once," the masked mage said softly. "Draw your sword now and keep watch. Danger awaits us."
Three archways led out of the room, the masked mage chose the one to the left, and they entered a room full of small casks branded with the device of a flying bird encircled by stars. The next room held stacks of crates, and its loftier ceiling was held up by three pillars. A ladder on wheels leaned against the central pillar, and as they approached, something seemed to boil down out of the tangle of railing and platforms at the top of the contraption. It appeared as tendrils of smoke, yet the misty tentacles moved of their own volition.
"Dauneth-strike at it!" the masked mage snapped, stepping back. Without hesitation, the nobleman thrust his blade into the heart of the smokelike mass. His companion snarled out some words, and something like lightning leapt from her hands to touch his blade.
The weapon seemed to leap and then hum numbingly in his hands, and Dauneth almost dropped it, but around him the smokelike thing seemed to be shuddering and fading all at once.
In another moment, it was gone, leaving the vault silent except for his loud breathing. Dauneth stared around to find that the masked mage was already continuing on down the room to the door at its far end. He hastened after her.
"What was that?" he panted.
"A guardian," said the mage, "one that my spells would have had little effect against. Hush now."
The woman in the azure mask muttered a few words, and the door swung wide. Something moved in the darkness beyond: a warhelm, hanging in the air as if it rested on a man's shoulders. It turned a little, and then flew into the room like a gliding bird, right over the mage's shoulder.
Fire blossomed from the helm's eye slits, twin beams of flame that stabbed out at Dauneth. The nobleman dodged behind the nearest pillar, hissing something that was half prayer and half curse. Fire scorched the stone, and sparks sprayed and tumbled around his head. Rolling, Dauneth tried to get away, keep hold