Temple Hill - Drew Karpyshyn [106]
Azlar had taken precautions before this expedition to recover his stolen package. He had cast a spell before setting out. He had nothing to fear from the medusa's gaze. His men, however, were not immune to the effects, and neither was the army opposing them.
Statues began to crop up among the soldiers with alarming speed, and the common threat to both sides quickly became obvious. But neither force panicked- they were too well trained, too fanatical in their loyalty to their respective masters. Until the order to retreat was given, these warriors would remain at each other's throats, their relentless hatred matched only by their armed counterparts on the other side.
Azlar made no attempt to halt the medusa's progress. He didn't want to risk damaging her with a spell, and for all he cared she could turn every other living thing in the room to stone. All he had to do was stay beyond the reach of the vipers on her head, and he had nothing to fear. Once Xiliath's old mage finally died or the spell protecting him wore off, Azlar would take the ring and regain control of the assassin he had worked so hard to acquire and smuggle into the city.
Until that time, he thought, he would stay still and quiet, protected from sight by his invisibility, and watch his creature at work. Except he could now see his hands. His ^visibility was gone, and Azlar had to find cover. Azlar let his eyes drift, taking in the details of the chamber he had failed to notice before. The huge cache of weapons in the southwest corner. The chunks of ice and snow scattered about the room, melting remnants of a spell cast over the melee earlier in the battle. And in the far corner of the room, unguarded and almost unnoticeable, a secret door in the floor.
Had Azlar known about this entrance before, he would not have wasted his energies tunneling through the earth to reach this chamber. Curious, the mage approached the secret door. It was closed, but Azlar could see no handle or chain. Obviously it could only be opened from beneath. There was something else. A faint sound from under the earth, a dull roar coming from beneath the heavy door. The sound was getting closer. Azlar took several cautious steps back.
The door flew open, nearly bursting from its binges as the monster exploded up from the sub-tunnel below, erupting through the cavern floor to hover high above the soldiers still waging war on each other. Azlar fell to the ground, numb with terror at the apparition before him.
For a second the intruder loomed above the battlefield in all its terrible glory, a creature of pure evil, a legendary denizen of the fabled Underdark, the sphere of many eyes, the great eye tyrants-a beholder.
Its gigantic, spherical body pulsed with power and all-consuming rage, levitating high above the chamber floor. The numerous eyestalks atop its head flailed about, looking in a dozen directions at once. The great central eye darted from side to side, taking in the entire scene. Azlar realized the awful truth. Xiliath had come.
Without a warning, without a word, Xiliath, unleashed his wrath on the battle. A magical fear descended on the combatants, creating terror among friend and foe alike. The steadfast discipline of the two armies, their unshakable morale, broke like a dam before the flood as a wave of panic washed over the assembled troops. Soldiers from both sides threw down their weapons and ran screaming from the cavern, completely oblivious to anything other than the unimaginable levitating horror that had emerged from beneath the cavern floor.
As the men scattered like insects under an angry boot, the eyestalks atop Xiliath's body unleashed their rays of destruction, choosing targets without any regard to allegiance or loyalty. Those struck by the rays rarely survived. Some collapsed into a comatose sleep, trampled under the feet of the fleeing mob. Others were hurled through the air by unseen forces and smashed against the cavern walls, their limbs twisted and shattered.