Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [158]
The wolf’s jaws gaped, tongue lolled. Semelon saw the wolf almost on her and screamed and raised her arms in front of her face. The wolf jumped, knocking her to the ground. Aylaen lost sight of both of them.
“Don’t hurt her! Wulfe, don’t hurt her!”
Aylaen yelled frantically. Aylaen found Semelon curled into a ball on the ground, her eyes squinched tightly shut. Wulfe, in boy form, crouched on his haunches a short distance from her, panting hard, his sides heaving.
“I did what you asked,” he said. “I didn’t hurt her.”
Aylaen kept a nervous eye on him and knelt down beside the priestess.
“The wolf is gone. You’re safe,” she said.
Semelon shrieked and struck at Aylaen with her fists.
Aylaen grabbed her wrists. “You’re safe! Open your eyes!”
Semelon’s eyes flared open. She stared at Aylaen and then at the boy crouching in the weeds.
“The boy is fae! A man-beast. You must kill him, quickly, before he changes and kills us both—”
“He won’t kill us both,” said Aylaen. She took hold of the priestess and dragged her to her feet. “He will kill you. Unless you do what I say.”
Semelon regarded her with horror. “You are in league with evil!”
Aylaen glanced sidelong at Wulfe, who was watching both her and Semelon. Swallowing her horror, Aylaen seized the priestess and dragged her through the garden back toward the catacombs. Moonlight glinted off the bronze door.
Aylaen feared Skylan and the others would still be caught in the grip of the god. She was astonished and pleased to find them on their feet, flexing their hands and looking confused.
Sigurd gave a grunt. “One moment Aelon is tearing off my arm and the next he is gone. What is going on?”
“The god has more pressing matters to attend to,” said Skylan. “And so do we.”
He turned his grim gaze on the priestess and pointed toward the catacombs. “Free my men!”
“Your friends angered the lemures by disturbing their rest,” said Semelon. “There is nothing I can do—”
“She is lying,” Aylaen said harshly. “I saw her work her magic. She summoned Garn. She holds his spirit prisoner—”
“I am not the one who keeps him bound to this world,” said Semelon.
Aylaen went livid.
Skylan didn’t have time for this. He pointed to the catacombs. “Use your power! Free my friends. Or I will set the boy on you.”
Semelon cast a look of loathing at Wulfe, who grinned at her.
“The boy is fae,” said Semelon. “He cannot be trusted. Mark my warning, he will turn on you someday.”
“I’ll worry about that when the time comes,” said Skylan. “Do as I tell you.”
Semelon shrugged and began to chant. The ghostly curtain remained, blocking the entrance. But inside the catacombs, the Torgun stopped fighting.
“The dead will let them depart,” said Semelon. “But they must leave their weapons behind.”
“Lay down your arms!” Skylan called to his friends.
The men hesitated, not happy.
“This is the only way the dead will let you go,” he urged them.
Erdmun was the first to fling down his axe and run for the door. Grimuir and Bjorn took hold of Farinn and helped him outside. Aki walked out on his own. They were all bloodied and bruised, but none had suffered serious harm.
Once they were all out, Skylan walked over to the bronze door. He clasped hold of it. The mist brushed his arm with a chill warning.
“We are sorry we disturbed you,” he cried.
Keeper came to help him, and between them, they pushed the bronze door shut. Skylan and the ogre walked back to where their friends had gathered.
“So much for our plans to escape,” Bjorn said glumly.
“We are leaving Sinaria,” said Skylan. “Tonight.”
They stared at him. Skylan glanced at Keeper and said, “Ogres are about to invade the city. Their fleet has been sighted.” He pointed to the tattoo on his arm. “That’s why the god let us go. He has more important matters to worry about.”
“How do you know this?” Sigurd asked suspiciously.
“Wulfe overheard Treia and Raegar talking. Aelon told them. Ask the priestess. Aelon speaks to her.”
Semelon regarded them in stony