Escape from Undermountain - Mark Anthony [78]
"That was going to be your lunch?" Beckla gagged, staring at the rat.
"This is not the time to discuss gargoyle eating habits," Artek hissed in annoyance. "Now here's my plan. Listen close, Muragh. I'm going to need your help."
Moments later, Artek boldly strode into the temple, leaving the others outside. The priests looked up at him in surprise. Corin lay within the jaws of the wolf, his blue eyes nearly mad with fear behind his mask. The augur held a handful of dripping entrails, ready to cast them onto the floor.
"What is the meaning of this?" M'kar demanded. "You are not of the Inner Circle. I should have you fed to Malar for this insolence!"
"It is no insolence," Artek said in a deep voice from behind his mask. He gestured to Muragh, who hung from his belt. "Malar has spoken to me through this skull. He does not care for you or your gifts, M'kar."
Fury blazed in M'kar's eyes. However, behind M'tureth's mask, interest flickered in the cool gaze of the rival priest.
Artek did not give M'kar a chance to respond. He lifted his hands above his head. "Give us a sign, Malar! Tell us what you think of M'kar's desire to rule us all!"
A small object dropped out of the shadows above, landing with a plop on the stones-Guss's dead rat. Beckla had been right on cue.
"Malar has spoken," the skull intoned in an eerie voice. "Heed the sign! Malar has spoken!"
The priests gaped in horror at the skull. "Behold, it is a rat," Artek intoned while he had their rapt attention. "So that is what Malar thinks of you, M'kar."
Murmurs of shock rose from the gathered priests, while wicked chuckles issued from M'tureth's bronze mask. M'kar glared at the laughing priest. "Did you arrange this little travesty, M'tureth?" he demanded in rage.
"No, M'kar," M'tureth crooned. "It seems Malar has found a way to ridicule you himself. Clearly, your gifts have won you no favor."
"We shall see," M'kar spat.
The priest moved faster than Artek had thought possible. Before Artek could spring away, M'kar swung his clawed mace and roughly knocked aside Artek's mask. The mask clattered to the floor, spinning away. The priests stared at Artek in astonishment.
"An impostor!" M'kar cried.
"Now!" Artek shouted.
At that signal, a winged form flew between two columns, crimson cloak fluttering, snatching Corin from the jaws of the wolf. Guss flew back out while the priests stared in confusion.
"Kill him!" M'kar screamed in rage.
His words propelled the priests into action. As one, they lunged for Artek. In desperation, he grabbed the bronze vessel filled with entrails and heaved it toward the feet of the oncoming priests, spilling the contents of the bowl across the floor. The priests skidded upon the slimy entrails and went down in a tangled heap.
Artek did not waste the chance. He ran out of the temple, and the others met him on the steps. Guss slashed Corin's bonds with his sharp talons.
"That was fun!" Muragh giggled. "I like being a prophet of Malar."
"You're going to be a snack of Malar if we don't get out of here," Beckla said breathlessly.
"May I suggest that we run for it?" Guss proposed.
"You may," Corin agreed weakly.
A deafening noise rose from the temple. Someone was beating a gong of alarm. "Come on!" Artek yelled.
They dashed in the direction of the gate but were brought up short by a dozen priests who had answered the alarm. Hastily they turned and ran in the other direction with the disciples of Malar on their heels. They careened into the smoke-filled foundry and abruptly came to a halt. On the far side of the square stood a score of priests, all gripping clawed maces. Behind them the other priests approached at a run. They were surrounded.
"There's nowhere left to go!" Beckla cried.
Artek's eyes locked on something in the center of the smithy. "Yes, there is!" he shouted. Grabbing the others, he lunged for the open garbage pit. The priests swung their clawed maces, but the weapons only whistled through empty air. Artek leapt into the hole,