Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [90]
On the tenth floor of the soaring building, they came to a room without stairs. It was like a grand atrium, though the glass ceiling had long ago shattered. Blue trees with bright orange flowers filled the place, along with thorny bushes that might have been giant roses. Vines the thickness of human arms hung all about. The garden spiraled around a grand circle with a black disk in the center that was probably large enough for eight humans at a time.
"Thank the All-Mother!" Slip exclaimed through her gasps and wheezes. "I've had enough stairs to last me two tendays."
"Our thanks for that," Davoren said, "but we are all, not just you, still far short."
"Huh?" Slip looked at the warlock as though he'd sprouted a second head.
On a whim, Twilight checked to see if he had. He hadn't.
"In case you're oblivious, which isn't surprising," Davoren said, gesturing up through the absent glass ceiling, "we are only halfway to our goal."
It was true. The atrium seemed to be the top level of the High Tower, except for the spires that stood around it like tines on a crown. Several were broken off. The central spire leaned over precariously and curled under itself. There was no way into it, though it looked hollow, from windows in its surface above.
"Easy!" Slip said. "We just fly up there!" "Asson was the only one who could fly," Twilight reminded her in a soft voice.
"Oh. Ah, well… we climb?"
"That far?" Davoren raised an eyebrow. "You can'tbe serious." He mimicked the halfling's accent with considerable skill. Slip bit her lip.
"Options?" Twilight sighed. She'd grown weary of the whole affair, and almost wished some great foe would fall upon them. She'd had too much heartache. Twilight longed for battle.
"This." Liet walked onto the black disk at the center of the garden.
"What?" Davoren hissed.
"This." Liet tapped one of his silvery transmutation rods to the black surface beneath his feet. Magic sizzled, and the black disk shuddered. Immediately, it rose as a disk-shaped platform, powered by Negarath s aging mythallar.
"How did you know to do that?" she asked.
"I saw you," Liet said. "Back in the Forge…"
Twilight almost smiled. The boy was becoming useful, even if they had had a falling out. She stepped up and Gargan immediately joined her-whether out of loyalty or because he still watched her suspiciously, she did not care.
"Is it-safe?" Davoren asked.
"Since when is the 'everything is wretched and dismal and filthy' warlock afraid?" Slip asked, mocking his voice perfectly.
Grumbling, Davoren climbed on. "Now what?"
Liet shrugged. "Now, we-" And suddenly they were shooting up, borne aloft on the flying disk. Twilight reached out to catch the startled human back from the edge. Liet had nothing but awe on his face as she held his hand. Then he came to his senses and squeezed her hand. Reassured, Twilight managed to tear her eyes away from him.
The disk bore them in a rising spiral around the garden, then up through what must have been, in ancient times, a hole in the ceiling, and carried them streaking out over the city.
Slip gasped. "Beautiful!" Then, eyes darting, she added, "And strange-very strange."
Twilight could not disagree. While Negarath showed a primal chaos, the purest of eccentricity in the works of madmen, it was difficult to resist the awe.
The disk twisted and turned its way around the spires, offering a silent tour of what must have been a glorious city in its day. And indeed, despite the oddity of its architecture, the ancient towers and statues whose features were worn away still held a sort of demented beauty. Towers curled downward, and stairs sprouted like teeth on the underside of arches. Spires twisted this way and that like needles thrust into huge stone cushions. Great facades with dozens of statues shrouded nothing, or they concealed great buildings