Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [117]
Caledan stared at the thin, hard-faced lord steward for a long moment. He sighed, lowering the pipes. He could not do it. He had lost Kera. Now Mari lay unmoving, almost certainly dead. How could he let himself lose his newfound son as well?
"No, Father!" Kellen cried out. "You don't have to do what he says. Isn't that what you told me?" The boy's voice was plaintive, but there was something different about his eyes…
"I'm… I'm sorry, Kellen." Caledan let the pipes slip from his fingers.
"In the name of the Abyss, look above!" Ferret shouted, Pointing to the crypt's domed ceiling. Involuntarily, Snake turned his gaze upward. There was nothing there but shadows. Too late the lord steward realized he had fallen for the oldest trick of all.
He winced in pain as he looked down at the golden needle protruding from his chest. In the instant when he had looked away, the boy had grabbed his hand and turned the needle into the lord steward's body.
"Master…" Snake said as he pulled out the needle. But that was all. In the space of a heartbeat his lips turned blue, and his hands stiffened into rigid claws. He toppled to the floor. His hard eyes stared blankly forward, as dull and lifeless as stones. The lord steward Snake was dead.
But the Shadowking was not.
"Thanks for the distraction, Ferret," Caledan said grimly to the thief.
"Don't mention it." the thief replied. "Though you might want to start worrying about that." He nodded toward the dais.
The Shadowking was nearly complete. Muscles and veins writhed like serpents beneath skin as dark and smooth as night. Its legs were as thick as columns, ending in cloven hooves. It flexed its powerful arms; long, dark talons sprang from its fingertips. A tail lined with jagged, saw-toothed barbs cracked like a whip in the air. All that remained indistinct was the Shadowking's face. And slowly, inexorably, that too was taking shape.
"Do something, Father!" Kellen cried, running forward.
"Play the shadow song, Caledan," Estah said, her voice strong and reassuring.
"Now would be a good time," Ferret added.
Caledan reached down and picked up the pipes. His fingers felt numb, and he fumbled, nearly dropping the pipes. It had been so many years since he had played music. He feared he would not remember how. He feared that he had read incorrectly the Talfir letters inscribed upon the columns. Then a hand reached up and touched his own, a hand that was small but strong. He did not need to look to know it was Kellen's. Suddenly all his fear slipped away, all his regrets and bitterness. And then there was only music.
He played a first, clear note-a wistful, almost optimistic sound. Talek Talembar had not told him to listen for the echo of the song in the place it had last been played. Talembar had told him to look for the echo of the song. That was the key.
He played the second note of the song, higher in pitch, a pure, ringing note. What the words written in Talfir said, Caledan wasn't certain, but he knew enough of the ancient language to recognize what letters the runes stood for, and that was enough. The first letter of each word was a note of music. It had been so terribly obvious, a puzzle so simple any apprentice minstrel would have seen it, yet anyone who could not read music would never have understood.
Caledan played the third note, this one lower, more ominous, a note of power. The pipes felt warm in his hands.
"I don't mean to be pushy, but you might want to hurry it up," Ferret whispered, jerking his head toward the dais.
Slowly the Shadowking had begun to draw itself up to its full, towering height, spreading its arms wide. Two batlike wings unfurled from its back. The Nightstone pulsed lividly in the center of its misshapen chest as hot and red as blood. Now the Shadowking's visage was coming into focus, but its face was not the face of a man, not like that