Escape from Undermountain - Mark Anthony [110]
Artek took a menacing step forward. Beckla and Corin flanked him on either side. "Save the compliments, Thal," Artek spat. "They're wasted on me. There's only one thing I want from you."
Thal affected an expression of mock regret. "Oh, do forgive me. But I really am in a bit of hurry. I have an important appointment to keep." Wicked laughter rose in his chest. "It seems that a foolish little titmouse of a lord has turned up missing-hardly a great loss, I know-and in his stead I am to be elected to the seventh seat on the city's Circle of Nobles."
Corin hung his head at Darien's cutting insult. Worried, Beckla glanced over at the young man.
Artek laughed bitterly. "What was it you told me when you first offered me this task, Darien?" He snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes. I remember. 'Among Silvertor's rivals are those with dark ambitions. They see the Circle as a means to rule over all the city's nobility, and as a position from which to launch an all-out assault against the hidden Lords of Waterdeep.'"
"Well, then," Darien said with dark mirth. "I did not lie about everything."
Darien's wizard gripped his staff. "Shall I dispose of this refuse for you, my lord?"
"Hush, Melthis," Darien crooned. "Be polite. These are our guests, after all. Besides, in just a few more seconds, the worst of them will be disposed of for us."
Artek glanced at his dark tattoo. The sun was nearly centered upon the arrow. The windows of Darien's mansion glowed deep red-it was almost dawn.
Artek walked up to the dark-haired lord and thrust out his arm. "Have your vulture take it off, Darien," he hissed between clenched teeth. "Now. If you don't, I swear, you won't outlive me."
Darien sighed deeply. At last he nodded. "Very well, if you put it that way." He turned toward the bald-headed wizard. "Melthis?"
"Yes, my lord?"
"Die," Darien said flatly. The lord pulled his right arm from beneath his heavy cloak, and three whirling prongs sprang from the end of the burnished steel Device where his hand should have been. Before Artek could react, Darien plunged the spinning prongs into the wizard's chest. Melthis jerked spasmodically, his eyes going wide in disbelief, his mouth opening silently.
Darien pulled the bloody Device back. Melthis slumped to the floor, blood pouring from the ragged hole in his chest. The wizard twitched once, and that was all.
"Damn you, Thal!" Artek shouted in fury. "Why?"
Darien's smiled with an almost mad glee. "Melthis was weak and stupid. Had you threatened my life, he might have capitulated and given you what you wanted, removing the tattoo. But now there is no chance of that." His voice rose exultantly. "The seconds are slipping by, Ar'talen. Can't you feel them draining away, one by one? You've lost. If you were wise, you would use these last moments to make peace with whatever uncouth gods you orcish rats worship in your rancid little holes in the ground."
Beckla raised her hands to cast a spell. "No!" Artek roared. "He's mine!" Orcish rage cast its blood-red veil before his eyes. Drawing the saber at his hip, he lunged forward. He swung the blade in a whistling arc, precisely aimed to sever the lord's neck.
But before it connected, the saber jerked in Artek's hand, wrenching his arm painfully. The blade changed direction of its own volition, and Artek twisted his body, barely managing to keep from severing his own leg.
"You are a fool, Ar'talen," Darien laughed. "You should have known you could not harm me with that blade. I was the one who gave it to you, after all."
Artek tried to cast down the sword. He would squeeze the life out of Darien with his bare hands if he could just release the cursed blade. But it was all he could do to keep the saber from turning on him again.
Darien tossed his cloak back, holding the bloody Device before him. He started moving for the door. "Out of my way-all of you! Waterdeep is going to be mine. And no one can stop me."
There was a sharp ringing of steel.
"I can," someone said.
All