Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [168]
Tristan and Robyn stood together as their companions deployed for the confrontation. He felt a curious sense of detachment now that the most important thing had been accomplished – his reunion with Robyn. Hesitantly, he turned toward her.
“I was thinking…” whispered Tristan. He looked nervously at Robyn, then away again. “That is, I would like to be king of this land, someday. I know this now. And, if I should be fortunate enough to win the crown, well…”
“Let’s talk later,” she said, but the answer to his unspoken question shone in her eyes.
She seemed to be full of peace, and the prince envied her calm.
“Good luck,” Robyn whispered, kissing him again. Then she took her staff and walked to her position.
Tristan drew the Sword of Cymrych Hugh, and the weapon seemed to hum with anticipation. He slogged forward, each footstep sinking to the knees. He nodded at Keren.
The bard struck a jarring chord from his harp. It was not music – it sounded more as if he were trying to tune a badly warped instrument. Again, and once more, the harsh notes jangled through the heavy air.
The mud in the center of the pond started to shift and bubble as if a great upheaval had occurred within it. Gradually, the center of the mass began to rise, and then mud flowed from a mountainous form that slowly became visible. Black, fetid muck flowed quickly off the huge, scaly body.
Tristan stopped short, as the monster rose above him. “You have grown,” he whispered, unconsciously.
Indeed, the Beast towered nearly twice as large as it had been in the castle. Stunned at the awesome size of the Beast, the prince stared in awe and was unable to move.
The thick shoulders and the two forelegs broke free of the mire as the creature grew. It blinked slowly, showing mud-stained but fiery red eyes, and looked around for the source of the discord that had disturbed it.
Keren was the first to react. As the monster climbed from the sludge, the bard dropped the harp into the mud at his feet, swept up his bow, and drew the weapon with the nock of an arrow pressed tightly against his cheek.
Kazgoroth loomed above Tristan, the mudspattered jaws spread wide. The whitened flesh inside the Beast’s mouth cut a garishly bright streak across the blackened, muddy body. Above the mouth, two red eyes glinted with cunning and determination. The eyes focused on the prince.
Keren loosed his arrow, and the missile thunked into the Beast’s left eye, puncturing the orb in a shower of gore. The monster bellowed – a deep rumbling cry that shook the roots of the tallest trees. Then the baleful gate of its lone remaining eye fixed upon the bard.
Even as Keren whipped another arrow onto the string and began to draw the weapon, Kazgoroth’s jaws opened wide. A crackling beam of hot magic exploded from the monster’s mouth, striking Keren in the chest and flowing around him until the bard’s rigid body was outlined in a blazing light.
A loud explosion rocked the pond, and the bard was gone. All that remained was his harp, lying in the mud where he had dropped it.
“No!” screamed Robyn, staring in disbelief and horror.
The prince felt a cold stab of fear, for the Beast was mightier than he had imagined. But he also felt the burning heat of his own fury, and he turned back toward the towering shape.
“I’ll kill you,” he said evenly, stepping forward through the clutching mire. Each footstep slurped loudly as he pulled his boots free, and the progress seemed agonizingly slow.
Canthus raced through the mud to bite at one of the monster’s feet. Kazgoroth ignored the savage hound, and turned to find another two-legged opponent.
Pawldo reacted quickly. Balancing on a high limb, he let an arrow fly. The tiny missile struck the monster’s other eye with enough force to puncture it. Kazgoroth, now blinded and shrieking with rage, turned vehemently toward the source of the new attack. A black shadow dropped from above as the falcon Sable tore at the monster