The Kingless Land - Ed Greenwood [129]
The warrior screamed once, a wet and bubbling sound that quavered to the floor along with his body. His flesh and bone melted together into a sort of red jelly that slumped across the floor, leaving his armor behind as an empty, rocking shell of armor plates. All around the room, bats turned to dark and shapeless globs, and splashed and pattered like broken eggs on the floor in a short, wet rain.
The Master of Bats tasted real fear for the first time in long years, turned on his heel from that horror, and rushed for the door, hoping his shielding could hold off the flesh-drinking fire long enough for him to escape.
Of course, he was running right into whatever those mages wanted to hurl at him-and they knew it. He shaped bats in feverish haste as he ran, feeling them wriggle along his flanks and crawl near his throat. If he fell, and but a single bat of his desire flapped safely away, Huldaerus could rise again…
Long and cold years might pass then before he had his revenge. But have it he would, oh, yes…
The younger mage was, of course, too impatient. He stepped into view before Huldaerus had quite reached the doorway. A ruby circle appeared in the air above his palm, red radiance that burst into a thin, bright, ravening ray that seared the very air. The Master of Bats, racing too fast to stop or veer, simply flung himself on his face-and the floor opened up beneath him.
Red fire exploded harmlessly above his head as the Ornentarn mage tumbled down a stone-lined pit, a trap that Ehrluth must have placed under the very threshold of his spell chamber, a-no, not a trap.
It was a bone pit, a body disposal for creatures slain by spells, and…
He was crashing through their remains, bones crumbling to acrid dust all around him as he plunged and rolled and came to a crashing, breathless halt atop some loose stones that had fallen from the pit walls.
Dazedly, Huldaerus heaved himself upright, wincing at his bruises and still struggling for breath. He must climb out, or be truly trapped to face the next spell-as if he were standing at the bottom of a bottle held in the gloating hands of his foes.
He'd fallen only about twenty feet or so, and the walls of the pit were all large, rounded, loose stones stacked carelessly together, offering easy purchase everywhere for fingers and boots. The Master of Bats let two of his little creations spring out of the neck of his robes and flap upward, and then he set his teeth and followed them, surging up swiftly. He was going to make it, he was…
Gasping as he set his hand on a smallish stone, and raw power shocked through his arm! Power that numbed and surged and… he was lying on his back amid swirling bone dust again, back at the bottom of the pit.
Huldaerus shook his head to clear it, barely knowing where he was. Such power! Could it be? Well, whatever it was, he needed it now, more than he'd ever needed raw, untried magic before.
He started to climb again, slipping in his haste, looked up-and saw the younger Silvertree mage smiling down at him.
Snarling in fear and desperation, the Master of Bats clawed his way upward, crying in a desperate ploy, "It's eating me! It's got me! Come no closer! Save yourself!"
Markoun laughed aloud-and Huldaerus of Ornentar tore the small, round, dun-colored stone out of the wall. Fingers bleeding, he held it up… and the Silvertree mage stopped laughing.
And then, with a leaping heart, Huldaerus was certain. He was holding the Stone of Life!
His hand swept up, trailing fires, and he exulted. Then he called on its power, and as the leaping warmth flooded through him, he hurled a spell he'd dared not use before. He knew he held power incarnate, one of the Dwaer that could reshape all Darsar.
A moment later, Markoun Yarynd knew