Escape from Undermountain - Mark Anthony [53]
"You said we were in danger, Muragh," he whispered intently.
"Arcturia isn't what she seems," the skull replied. "She plans to use you and the others as subjects for her experiments."
"Experiments?"
"Yes! I heard her talking to herself after she left you here. She plans to-"
The skull was interrupted by a clear voice from outside the door. "Here I come, husband," the voice purred. "I hope that you are ready."
Artek stared at Muragh in terror as the door began to open.
7
The Black Dart
The beautiful woman with sun-gold eyes stepped through the door, her green dress swishing softly. Artek smiled nervously, folding his hands behind his head and trying to lean back casually in the chair. Something sharp dug into the small of his back, and he grimaced in pain.
A faint shadow touched her smooth brow. "Is something wrong, my love?"
He forced a smile. "No, dearest. Only a passing sadness that you were away. But it has gone, now that you have returned."
Her red lips coiled into a pleased smile, and she turned to shut the door. As she did, Artek whispered quietly out of the corner of his mouth.
"Quit squirming, Muragh! You'll give us away." As Artek leaned against the skull to conceal it from view, Muragh's pointed jaw dug painfully into his spine.
"I can't help it," came the skull's muffled reply.
"Keep still!" Artek hissed.
"Did you say something, my love?" the woman asked, turning around.
"Uh, no," he said, loudly.
"Good," she murmured in a sultry voice, moving toward him. "Talking is not what I had in mind." Sitting on the edge of the table, she leaned toward him and lifted a slender hand to the bodice of her gown, as if to untie the leathern laces. Then, with startling swiftness, she reached into the cleft of her bosom, drew out a shimmering green object, and thrust it toward Artek's face. It was a tiny serpent with ruby eyes and emerald scales.
Artek grabbed her wrist and held it fast. The snake hissed, baring its fangs, mere inches from his face.
"Why do you resist me, my love?" the woman crooned, straining against his grip. Evil light flashed in her golden eyes.
"Because I do not care for poison snakes," Artek said through clenched teeth. He tightened his grip on her wrist.
"You judge me wrongly, my love," she countered. "This is a dreamserpent. Its bite will bring you only sleep, so that you will not feel pain as I transform your exquisite body."
"Transform?" Artek asked. "How?"
Strange exultation twisted her beautiful face. "You are strong, my love." She ran the fingers of her free hand down his cheek, his throat, his chest. "I could do much with you. You could bear it. I would give you the arms of an ogre, the claws of a lion, the scaled armor of a dragon, and the poison stinger of a scorpion." She trembled with excitement. "You would be utterly magnificent!"
She would make him a monster? Little did she know that he was already part monster. Crimson rage flared in his brain.
"I will be nothing for you, Arcturia!" he cried.
He leapt to his feet and slammed her hand-still clutching the dreamserpent-against the table. In one swift motion, he drew his dagger and plunged it downward. A shrill, inhuman scream pierced the air as Artek pinned the woman's hand to the table. Then the illusions that masked the chamber wavered and vanished, revealing the true nature of all within.
The beautiful woman was gone. Her skin was still emerald, but now it was composed of overlying scales, like those of the serpent. Wicked spurs of bone protruded from her elbows, her shoulders, and her knees. Instead of hair, a writhing mass of slimy black tentacles sprang from her head. Her wings were not a fairy's, but rather a foul insect's, and they buzzed spastically as she tugged to free her wounded hand. She shrieked again, baring long yellow fangs.
Apparently, Arcturia had made herself the subject of her own experiments.
Grabbing Muragh, Artek hurried through the door. No longer was the space beyond bathed in silvery radiance. The air was dank