Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [80]
"The designers of this place must have been madmen," said Davoren.
"Or geniuses." The others stared, and Liet laughed nervously. "Art-heh."
Gargan shook his head.
Slip beamed. "Magnificent," she said.
The others looked at her this time.
"Well, it «,"she asserted with her hands on her hips.
The section of city in which they stood was markedly clear and empty, but such was not the case a few streets away. They saw something like a giant mound of clay, stretching from floor to ceiling-a calcified, golden-red web. "What's that, I wonder?" Slip said.
The mass looked like red amber, with an eerie translucence. It glowed crimson from the inside, as though from a beating heart. Gold veins ran through it, like tunnels bored by a worm. The red substance ran over the buildings like glass, or perhaps ice that had frozen around them. It reached to the ceiling, holding fully half the city prisoner.
Then they became aware of a sound-a distinct humming, almost like buzzing, as though the air shuddered and crackled in expectation of a storm.
"Rain?" Slip asked.
"Magic?" Liet asked.
Gargan shook his head. He pointed.
Half a dozen black and yellow creatures swarmed out of holes in the mass of red amber and buzzed toward them. Flickering light twinkled off a hundred facets in their eyes, and gossamer wings zipped through the air. They might have been bees, if bees grew to the height of men and sported arms carrying spears, but these were abeil.
"Down!" Liet cried. A better command might have been "scatter," "ware," or even "run!" But he said the first thing that came to mind.
Liet did not know why he took one of the iron bars from his pack and placed it between himself and the diving creatures. Nor did he understand how he knew to press the end of the rod. Instinct, perhaps-or that odd power Twilight had spoken of. The rod gave a little hum but did nothing else.
A lightning bolt streaked into the sky and tore the wings from one of the bees, which plummeted to the street with a buzzing screech. Hefting his crackling scepter, Davoren scoffed. "Fear not. I shall defend you." He waved his hand and fire spread through the air.
Liet cursed himself. What had he been hoping for? A blast of fire, a protective shield? A flare of self-loathing came then, and he fought it back. Fury at himself, at Davoren. But he couldn't get angry-not now. Seeing the bees fly around the fire, Liet pulled up the rod and prepared to retreat.
Rather, he tried to retrieve the rod, for it could not be moved. No matter how much he strained, the rod floated in place. The bees were coming, so he abandoned it.
A bee-thing crashed face first into the immobile rod and crumpled around it, there to hang, broken. The rod did not twitch, as though a mountain held it still.
A hissing sound reached Liet's ears then. Now what?
A bouncing motion caught his eye-it was Slip, waving at him and whispering his name from an open, crescent-shaped doorway. Above it floated the flickering image of a hammer emblazoned with seven stars. The seven stars of Mystra?
Whatever the failing image betokened, Gargan was ducking in and Davoren was tearing through the underbrush toward the door, cursing the incoming bees. Then Gargan yanked Slip off her feet and slammed the door.
Bees swarmed past their crushed, hanging comrade, throwing themselves against the crescent-shaped door and oddly curved windows in a killing fury. In reply, Davoren invoked his powers, and a forest of black tendrils sprouted from the building, flailing. The bees swarmed away before he could conjure fire.
Liet and Davoren reached the door at the same moment. It popped open and the men tumbled in past Gargan. The goliath slammed it once again and they collapsed in the darkness.
The four huddled behind the door, Gargan holding it shut. Liet sat near