The Vacant Throne - Ed Greenwood [84]
All this, and it could pass through stone…
Enough-more than enough! Bodemmon Sarr barked the order that would send all of his guards into action and turned his own mount, heading for the mules and Glarth's none-too-reliable assistance. Now that they'd all seen its speed, that many blades should make swift work of its eyes-for he could see no place for its head to retract all the way into, to avoid seeking steel-and he'd yet to see a beast, however large, outlive for long the loss of its head.
Of course, magic could persist where flesh failed, and the crab-thing had passed through stone. So this just might be the work of Tharlorn of the Thunders, sent to weaken and annoy. Wherefore he'd make ready to blast and rend it utterly, while thinking of a suitable response to send back to the hedge-wizard who dared to think of himself as Bodemmon Sarr's rival.
The rear guards whipped past their master, grim-faced and with their blades already drawn. He let them pass before making his own gallop back along the road to the milling cluster of mules and frightened faces, the wenches and his apprentice kept from fleeing only by the sharp tongue and ready reins-grabbing of the cook. Ugly and wrinkled as an old boot, but worth her weight in ten armsmen. There was another scream from behind him, and then a hoarse, ragged shout. Bodemmon Sarr permitted himself a soft curse as he hauled hard on his reins, slowing his charger from what seemed almost panic-driven swiftness, and sprang from his saddle.
"Glarth, I'll need you. The wyvern-head chest."
"Master, what-?"
"Questions later, chest now. Here, on this rock. Brithra, my thanks-see that the lasses tether all the mules to the trees, and join us. I'll need you to pour out some powders."
The cook merely nodded and turned to do as she was bid, with none of the stammering and fumbling of his apprentice. Bodemmon Sarr turned his head to see how his men had fared-and was in time to see one of them flee on foot through the trees, crashing and stumbling in terrified haste.
Not just one of them; the fleeing man was the last of them! The mightiest wizard in all Aglirta cast a last look at the slaughter-and the land-crab spitting out armor as it bit and chewed at the heart of it-and then calmly bent to his boot, drew forth a dark and slender wand that thrummed as he muttered a word over it, and sent death leaping through the trees to behead the man who'd dared to flee his service.
The dark-armored torso danced headless past a tree before it toppled; Bodemmon Sarr watched it fall from sight before he looked again at the crab-beast.
It was almost upon him, its claws and jaws slick with dark, wet blood. The wizard swallowed, spat out a word that made the runes up and down the wand flicker-and fed the land crab all of the fire in the wand in one swift, air-splitting burst.
His own skin tingled, the air blistered and roiled around him, and the snarling of rushing magic almost plucked him off his feet-but then, quite suddenly, the wand sputtered and died.
The crab-beast loomed up over him, shuddering in pain but very much alive, and whole, and-
Furious. Its first bite almost took off the right foot of the mightiest mage in all Aglirta, but Bodemmon Sarr leaped for his life, planting his face in road dirt, and the beast contented itself with devouring a pack-mule-the one carrying most of the food-instead.
The horrible wet sounds were loud in Bodemmon Sarr's ears as the wizard angrily wiped his eyes clear and snarled out a spell that filled the air with crackling green lightings, made one of his pleasure-wenches topple with smokes curling from her nose, mouth, and the holes that had, mere moments before, held her eyes-and left the Thrice-damned crab-beast unharmed.
Glarth was sobbing with fear and clutching blindly at the ankles and legs of Brithra the cook; she was beating at him with her fists in a vain attempt to get him to let go.