Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [63]
"Well met," Belkram said calmly. Irreph gave him a terrible smile and gathered his chains into a bunch in his right hand. "My thanks, both of you. I've a mage to slay- and I must learn what has befallen my daughter-as soon as I'm free of this stinking mill cellar."
Suddenly, out of the darkness above, the pointed, rusting fang of a halberd stabbed down at him. Irreph twisted aside, flung a loop of chain over the weapon as it bobbed and reached again, and hauled hard.
Cursing darkness came helplessly down atop him. Irreph lashed it with his chains until its groans and shrieks had died into silence. Then he swarmed up the spindle in angry haste. Belkram and Itharr exchanged looks and followed.
Darkness fled from him along a gallery. Irreph followed, bounding along on legs stiff from not stretching for so long. Chained to the wood, there'd been nowhere to run. He laughed exultantly as he caught up with the darkness-just another man wearing a ring that cloaked him in concealing magic-and flung a loop of chain around the unseen throat from behind. A dagger clattered to the floor. Limbs flailed against him frantically and gasping sounds began… and then died away in slow agony.
Irreph strode on to the stairs. Somewhere ahead was the sun, and the men who'd stolen his wits and dale from him. They must die, all of them. Soon.
* * * * *
Ylyndaera hurried down the stairs like a ragged wraith, clinging to railings from time to time to peer ahead. Doors slammed here and there, men shouted and ran, their booted feet thundering on the old, uneven wooden boards, and from below came dull crashings, thumps, and an occasional short scream. What was happening?
Daera reached the ground floor of the mill, a huge room always piled high with full sacks-or, in winter, drifting snow-where stairs went up and down in all directions. Sunlight spilled in through the open door, and there were men running and fighting everywhere. She saw Yoster, the old innkeeper, hacking with a huge old axe at a Wolf as if he were chopping at a tree that wouldn't fall. There was blood all over the axe.
Beyond the two struggling men she could see others, more Wolves slashing and hacking at two men she'd never seen before. Where was Father?
There was no rumbling. The wheels had stopped! Was he dead? Free? Daera swallowed and had to duck aside as a man reeled put of the darkness, cursing, and almost fell over her. He charged on into the fray, clutching at his shoulder, trailing dark drops as he went.
This was no place for her. Carefully, Ylyndaera peered around a pile of sacks toward the light, just in time to see one of the guards fleeing her way.
She didn't have time to do anything but crouch in fear. He struck her with a crash, one very hard shin smashing into her side with bruising force. With a fearful curse he pitched over her and crashed to the floorboards, sword bouncing away. Winded, Daera rolled helplessly over against a pile of sacks. She did not even have breath left to moan.
A dark form strode past, not even seeing her. It savagely swung something long and heavy and metal- chains!-at the scrambling guard. Metal thudded down with a horrible, heavy, wet sound. Daera heard a sob, a groan, cracking noises, and more thudding. Then silence.
She lay still, struggling for breath. Booted feet rushed past her, and she saw the flash of a sword. It clashed and slid against chain, and Daera saw the black-armored swordsman flung back against a pile of sacks only to regain his balance and charge again.
The terrible chains swung again, and Daera heard the man's helm crumple. The sword spun from his hand, and he crashed heavily to the floor.
Father stalked toward her, gathering bloody chains in one hand as he came. Except for long matted hair, he was naked. Ylyndaera could not even speak as he strode past, not seeing her. But-gods be praised!-his eyes weren't the dull, unseeing things that had wandered over her as he howled in the darkness, but the sharp, clear eyes of the ranger of old, the aroused and angry high constable