Son of Thunder - Murray J. D. Leeder [127]
He glanced at the dagger in puzzlement. Geildarr had examined it himself years before and found it to be completely ordinary. One of his useless relics, Moritz had termed it.
A realization struck Geildarr. Moritz must have asked Sememmon to weave a new enchantment into the dagger.
Moritz had berated Geildarr for collecting worthless relics of the past-this must be his sense of irony at work.
Geildarr guessed that Sememmon had infused it with the stuff of sunshine.
Sungar and the others watched in amazement as Geildarr struck again and again, sinking the dagger into Ardeth's flesh. Each time he withdrew the dagger, her wails grew louder as explosions of light tortured her dark form from the inside. The bursts of sunlight grew brighter, blanketing the room with flashes of white light.
Finally, Geildarr drove the cruel dagger into Ardeth's face. With a single flash brighter than any sun, her black form disintegrated beneath him. He flopped to the floor, falling flat on the carpet, now marked with an inky black stain beneath him.
The Heart of Runlatha rolled out from under him, toward the door from which he and Ardeth had come. But before the Thunderbeasts could move to claim it, another man emerged from the doorway and picked up the Heart in his hand.
He was tall, handsome, and black-haired, and he wore long blue robes that flowed down to the floor. He held a long staff topped with a black bat in his free hand. He was an imperious, impressive figure; his expression was calm and self-satisfied, showing no fear.
Kellin, Sungar, Thluna, and Lanaal held their weapons ready. But they were uncertain who to fight.
"You may kill Geildarr if you like," said the deep voice of the wizard, as he looked directly at Sungar. "You have every right, and I won't stop you. But know this: he rules Llorkh at the Zhentarim's pleasure. When word of today's disaster reaches them, they will be highly displeased. I'll wager that Geildarr doesn't have more than four or five days to live. And if I know Geildarr, I imagine those last days will be spent in fear and dread as he desperately schemes for a way to save his skin. But the Zhentarim do not tolerate failure, and they can neither be reasoned with nor hidden from. At least-" he added with a dark chuckle "-not by Geildarr. Chieftain Sungar, the torments you endured in Geildarr's dungeon are but a shadow of what Fzoul will inflict on the Lord Mayor."
Geildarr pulled himself to his knees and turned to the tall wizard. "Please," he gulped. "Help me, help me now-" he pronounced the name carefully,"-Sememmon." The name sent a shiver of recognition through Kellin, which brought a touch of a smile to the former Master of Darkhold.
"Do you not think you've had enough chances?" the wizard asked, tapping his staff against the floor, catching part of Geildarr's robe.
"Please," Geildarr said, dropping his face to the floor before Sememmon, gripping the bottom of his quarterstaff in a gesture of submission. If the barbarians would only believe that this was a wizard of extreme power before whom he supplicated himself, perhaps they would be humbled into submission, into sparing him. "I'll do anything you say," Geildarr said. "Protect me, save me-"
"Save your groveling for Fzoul," said Sememmon. "But it won't do any more good with him than with me."
"The Heart of Runlatha," said Thluna from across the room.
"What of it?" Sememmon snapped at the young barbarian.
A nervous shiver ran through Thluna's limbs. "We need it."
"No, my Uthgardt friend, I think not." He looked at the glowing artifact. "When I have a Netherese artifact in my hands, I'm not about to let go of it."
Geildarr admired the economy with which Moritz, in the guise of Sememmon, voiced his threat. He clutched the staff more tightly.
"We will not let you leave with it," Sungar threatened.
"You won't be able to stop