Realms of the Arcane - Brian M. Thomsen [78]
It hurt when she cleared her throat, and she blushed when a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Yes," she almost grunted, then cleared her throat again, and her voice was almost back. "Yes, I have to kill you."
He smiled and nodded.
"Aren't you going to kill me?" she asked him, not having the energy to fight, and getting the idea that he didn't have the energy to fight either. "Now's your chance. I can hardly move."
It took him some effort to look serious and threatening, and the look didn't really come off. "Honestly, I just don't have the energy to kill you."
Without looking at either of them, the maid stood up and walked out of the room. The water in the bucket was a sickly pink.
"What was that place?" she had to ask.
"Long story," was all he could offer just then. "Suffice it to say, it's the reason your employer wants me dead. One of the reasons."
"Those things were killing you, too."
"Yes," he whispered, "I wasn't ready. You shouldn't drag someone into a demiplane like that, you know, when he's not ready."
He smiled, realizing he had been about to do just that to her. She smiled, realizing he knew she'd beaten him at his own game.
"If I hadn't had a link to your simulacrum, the shadows would be feeding on us by now." Something about the smile on his face warmed her, and she suddenly felt ridiculous, lying in the bed of the man she'd been hired to kill, whom she'd thought she'd decapitated earlier that morning.
"So," she said, "you needed me to get back here."
"Yes, as much as you needed me." He sighed deeply and forced a smile. "Does that make us even?"
She peeled back the heavy blankets and managed to move herself up to a sitting position. Warmth and movement were returning quickly. She had always been able to recover quickly, and it had saved her life at least once that day. Her leathers were gone. She was wearing the same plain white shift the maid wore, and she was embarrassed for no good reason at all.
"The maid changed you," he said. "I was unconscious, myself."
She looked at him and nodded, swinging her legs slowly over the side of the high bed. She heard a metallic twang and looked at him again. He was holding her whip-rapier.
"Interesting weapon," he said, looking at it appreciatively, curiously.
The maid came back in, and there was something wrong. The look on her face made Alashar stand, her knees threatening to give way again but holding firm after a split second. There was a ripping, crunching sound, and the maid's body shook. Something big was in the hallway behind her, filling the door with an amorphous black silhouette. Something thick and green and covered in the girl's thin running blood burst through the maid's chest. Blood exploded out of her mouth, and Alashar couldn't help screaming as the maid was ripped apart in front of her.
Shadow shouted Alashar's name, and she put out her hand, not consciously aware of seeing him throw the whip-rapier. She caught it in one hand and was up and swinging before she even got a good look at the thing coming fast now through the door.
The only way she knew it was covered with hundreds of tentacles was that every time her flashing, shrieking whip-rapier met any resistance, one of the thick, twitching things ended up squirming at her feet. She was aware of its blood, too, hot and yellow-green, sticky and everywhere. The creature was at least twice her size, a wall of writhing green tentacles and dozens of gaping, fang-lined mouths, themselves full of smaller tentacles.
She was shredding it, but stepping back at the same time as it continued to advance on her. She was a blur of motion, her muscles warming and growing looser, more responsive for the exercise.
The fact that the thing made no sound even as she dismembered it actually disturbed her; then she saw that the tentacles were already growing back.
She had no idea what Shadow was doing and had no time to find out. The monster was backing her slowly