The City of Splendors_ A Waterdeep Novel - Ed Greenwood [188]
Someone had been at work conjuring light in the shattered Purple Silks and banishing the dust, revealing a great webwork of cracks running from the huge hole in the ceiling to great gaps in the walls. Most of the tapestries had fallen, and the leaded panes of the windows behind them, too. As Beldar trudged across rubble to join the silently staring people in the feasting hall, he could see what they were staring at through those gaps.
Gigantic stone legs, blocking every way out of the trembling, crumbling festhall. Legs attached to stone bodies that towered over the shattered roof, like disapproving Watchmen standing above a fallen citizen.
The Walking Statues of Waterdeep had surrounded the Purple Silks and made of it a prison-a prison that with a few blows or kicks they could collapse into a tomb for all still inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Beldar's jaw clenched in fury. So Golskyn could control the Statues through him, without his knowledge.
Well, he didn't want this power, but by all the gods, he'd not let the mad priest use it!
Beldar growled aside the burning pain in his eye and hurled his will into a silent command. Overhead, the Statues took a single step back.
Mrelder looked up, hearing and feeling the Walking Statues moving. That was it; this battle was lost. He put a firm hand on his father's shoulder and steered the old priest firmly toward a side tunnel and escape.
But Golskyn pulled away, giving his son a scornful glare. Once it would have wounded Mrelder deeply, but he no longer desired his father's approval or believed the insane plans of Lord Unity could be made real.
"We can leave-or we can die," he said bluntly.
Golskyn raised hands that flickered with deadly magic, in clear warning. "I go no farther without the successor! Use your spells to bring us Beldar Roaringhorn!"
Mrelder wasn't sure that was still possible, but he nodded curtly and began to weave the sorcery that would roar commands inside the nobleman's head.
Terrible pain lanced through Beldar's skull. He tore off his eyepatch and sank to his knees, trembling. The beastman he'd been about to slay stopped his lurching retreat and trotted forward, spiked mace rising for an easy kill.
Beldar's beholder eye responded, forcing up the head that held it, to let it glare.
The noble watched a sore erupt on the beastman's face, oozing and spreading with incredible speed. It was rather like watching a wax party decoration tossed across a flame-if that wax figure melted, screaming, into greenish ooze and exposed bone.
The pain in Beldar's head ebbed, and he stared in revulsion at his dying foe. No one and nothing should die like this! He swung his blade across the beastman's throat and turned away as the gurgling scream faded.
Something stirred in his throbbing head: the faint echo of someone else's surprise.
So his watcher hadn't expected that mercy-slaying. Good. Then he knew that Beldar Roaringhorn was not yet a helpless puppet. His choices were still his own.
And by the gods, he would choose well!
* * * * *
Taeros coughed smoke and staggered to his feet. The foulness was billowing from burning corpses. Nearby, Starragar clung to his dead love, still sobbing. Roldo's tunic hung in slashed rags, but he stood wincing as Faendra worked to staunch the blood running from the gashes across his chest. Naoni knelt over Korvaun, who lay sprawled on the floor. Lark stood guard between her mistresses, eyes alert and dagger ready. Her gaze touched his, and Taeros blinked at the realization that she stood ready to leap to his defense, too.
A soft murmur came from the floor, and Taeros looked again at Naoni and Korvaun.
A good pair of Helmfast breeches had been slit away, revealing a row of round, red welts on his thigh. Naoni was lying beside Korvaun now, her head on his chest and her face deathly pale. Korvaun held her with one arm, but his other twitched, often and sharply.
Fear swept through Taeros in an icy tide.