The Magehound - Elaine Cunningham [105]
The log was broad enough for them to cross in pairs. Andris looped Wolther's arm across his shoulder to help him across. They moved quickly, and the log held firm. The jordain nodded to Iago, holding up six fingers to indicate that they should cross in small groups rather than all at once. All went well until the last group began passage.
The assault came suddenly as scores of creatures burst from the stagnant waters. Hideous forms, as pale as beached fish and bloated to thrice their living size, reached out with swollen hands. Incredible stench rolled off the creatures in waves, several of the fighters bent over, retching. Those who could still stand took aim. The air was suddenly filled with the snaps and whumping sounds of the miniature catapults and the sparkling flight of the strange ammunition.
The saltpowder crystals pelted the drowned creatures. Fetid steam rose from the bloated forms as the minerals seared through cheesy flesh and warred with the trapped gases beneath.
"Down!" commanded Andris. He dropped flat and threw his arms over his head.
The explosion shook the ground and sent unspeakable goo splattering over the warriors. The log shuddered and shifted, creaking as it threatened to fall into the water. Andris rose and began shouting and gesturing to the men who lay flat on the log. They struggled to their feet and hurried across.
Suddenly two enormous, skeletal forepaws slammed down on the log bridge.
The massive knuckles flexed and water surged as an enormous skull broke free.
Nimble as a gigantic squirrel, the undead monstrosity clambered onto the bridge.
Never had Andris seen such a creature, alive or dead. A pair of long pointed horns thrust forward out of its ridged skull, and a beaklike maw was filled with teeth that resembled those of a titanic vampire. Incisors the length and sheen of daggers flashed as the creature darted at the last man on the bridge.
The man turned, alerted by his comrades' screams, just as the massive jaws clamped down on him. As horrid as it was to see a comrade disappear into a monster's maw, it was more terrible still to see the rent pieces fall through the skeleton form to stain the log bridge and the water below.
Horror gripped the men, lending frantic speed as they ripped through the foliage and up the hill. In perhaps an hour, they stood panting at the crumbling, vine-colored gates of the city itself.
Andris stared in awe at the remains of what had once been a wondrous town, with buildings even more fanciful than those of Halruaa's cities. Remnants of leaping towers rose into the trees, some of them almost entirely obscured by vines. None of them had been constructed with stone, indeed, they had been grown, not built. Piles of multicolored crystal lay in heaps, looking like the mounds of a dragon's hoard. A small waterfall spilled over one such ruin, and the passage of water coaxed high, ghostly notes from some of the crystal shards.
To his astonishment, Andris recognized the ruined structures as elven. The history books claimed that the town was a rough outpost inhabited by rogues and bandits. He had never heard of early civilizations of elves in this part of Halruaa.
The city was eerily silent as they worked their way through the ruined streets.
The only sound was the thud of their machetes as they cut through the foliage clogging the area.
Quon Lee worked his way over to Andris's side. "There should be undead here," he said softly. "Why haven't they attacked?"
"There will be undead," Andris murmured. "I don't know why they're waiting.
Perhaps they're standing guard over something that seemed important in life."
"So if we leave now without despoiling this unknown treasure, they will let us withdraw in peace?"
Andris shot an ironic smile in the scout's direction.