Escape from Undermountain - Mark Anthony [103]
Artek nodded grimly. "Halaster himself."
His gaze moved to the ancient mage. Halaster was chortling over his model. Artek shook his head. The Mad Wizard wasn't simply a name, he realized. Halaster truly was mad, an old man playing a child's game, his days of power and glory long forgotten.
Muragh let out a dejected sigh. "If he's Halaster, then we're doomed. I think he's more than a little touched, and not particularly nice. He'll never help us."
"What about that Wish Gate?" Guss suggested. "Couldn't it take us out of Undermountain?"
"Probably," Beckla answered. "But only if we could get to it. Judging by the model, it looks to be miles away from here. And it's much higher than we are now. The Horned Ring won't take us there."
Artek made a decision. "It doesn't seem Halaster much cares for company. I'm going to ask him if he'll transport us to Wish Gate. He just might do it, if for no other reason than to get rid of us."
It seemed they had little choice. Keeping close together, the five approached the ancient mage. Mad as he was, he was still a legendary wizard, and not a figure to be trifled with.
Artek cleared his throat nervously. "I'm sorry to disturb you again," he said as politely as he could manage. "I know you're getting rather weary of us by now."
The old man paused in the midst of pouring acid over a group of melting dwarf figurines. "What clued you in?" he snorted.
Artek risked continuing. "Well, there is a way you can be rid of us for good. All you have to do is transport us to Wish Gate and-"
"Bah!" Halaster spat. "I can come up with something far more interesting than that. But thank you for reminding me. It's about time I used these." From the pocket of his robe, he pulled out the small objects he had been working on earlier. They were figurines, like the ones scattered throughout the various levels of the miniature Undermountain. Artek leaned closer, squinting. He saw now that one of them was a tiny man: broad-shouldered, with black hair and black eyes, dressed all in black leather, with a curved saber at his hip.
Blinking in shock, he realized that the figurine was him. Four more diminutive figurines rested on Halaster's palm: a short-haired woman in a white shirt and gray vest; a willowy young man with golden hair; a bat-winged gargoyle; and a grinning skull no larger than a pea.
"How do you like my newest playthings?" the mad wizard cackled. "They're not bad likenesses, if I do say so myself. I'm going to have great fun with these. I'm rather sure of it."
Before Artek could wonder what he meant, with two fingers the old man picked up the gargoyle figurine. He scanned the maze on the table before him, which depicted one of Undermountain's many levels. "Ah, this will do!" He placed the gargoyle figurine inside a small chamber next to another figurine carved in the shape of a flame.
Guss vanished.
The others stared in astonishment. One moment the gargoyle was there, standing beside them, and the next moment he wasn't. There was no flash, no thunder, no sparkling magic. Guss had simply and completely disappeared. Humming an eerie tune under his breath, Halaster took the figurine of the golden-haired man and, stretching his arm, set it down in the model, on the edge of a chasm.
This time it was Corin who vanished.
This display before them was not merely a model of Undermountain's levels-it was Undermountain. By means of his vast magic, Halaster had bound the miniature and the real mazes inexorably together and what happened in one labyrinth happened in the other. Given his madness, Halaster probably thought this no more than a game. He was like a cruel boy burning his toy soldiers for fun, but each of the figurines he manipulated represented real, living beings: animals, monsters, and men. And now he had created five new figurines to add to his amusing little playhouse.
Artek lunged for the model to snatch up the likenesses of Guss and Corin, hoping that would return them to the laboratory. A thin sheet