Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [52]
A small band of drow awaited them outside the wizard's lair. Gorlist told them what they needed to know and set off at a brisk pace through the tunnels leading to Pharx's lair.
The vast stone chamber was dark and empty, silent but for the steady dripping of water from some antechamber, haunted by the memory of battles fought and lost. The treasure had been claimed, hauled away by Qiluй and her cohorts. Not a single coin remained.
They found Pharx's body in an adjoining chamber. There wasn't much left of it. A few dull scales draped well-picked bones, lending the massive corpse the appearance of a skeletal knight moldering in plate armor.
The drow set to work with swords and axes. After a long and sweaty interval, they wrestled off the skull. It took all thirteen of the warriors to carry the massive skull. With six to a side and one bringing up the rear, they looked like pallbearers on their way to a crypt.
They struggled down a series of tunnels, each one a bit narrower than the last. As they neared the necromancer's cave the drow were reduced to pushing the skull along, tipping it this way and that to move it through the tight passage. Bone screeched against rock, setting up a vibration that sent small stones tumbling down the tunnels walls and onto the laboring drow.
A wild, piercing yell cut through the racket, and a tall elf exploded out of a hidden cave. He spun toward the drow, arms and legs flailing wildly.
All fifteen drow drew their swords in deadly unison.
The elf gyrated closer, but Brindlor held up a restraining hand. Gorlist noticed that the "elf" was taller than most humans and covered with a faintly green, scaly hide. His wild eyes were golden and bisected by vertical pupils, like the eyes of a goat.
Or a dragon.
"A half-dragon," murmured Brindlor, as if responding to the warrior's thoughts. "Crazy as a gasinta bug but gifted in necromantic sorcery. You couldn't find a better mage for the money."
"What are we paying him?" Gorlist inquired.
"We're not."
This logic did not exactly inspire confidence, but before Gorlist could protest, a glowing mist began to rise from the titanic skull. In moments, a wraithlike image of a deepdragon swirled through the air, circling the skull and weaving in and out through the empty eye sockets like a cat curling around the legs of its favorite human.
"Pharx's spirit," Brindlor said softly. "You can ask it four questions or make four demands. Chose carefully. The dead tend to favor oblique answers."
Gorlist stepped forward, glad that his search had yielded the magic gem's name. "I seek the Ruby of Chissentra. Tell me where it lies."
The massive skull swiveled to face him, but the voice came from overhead, where the dragon wraith circled. "How should I know? The Chissentra Ruby was not in my hoard."
"One point for the dragon," murmured Brindlor. He met Gorlist's murderous stare with a smile and gestured toward the skull.
"It was added after your death," Gorlist specified, "and taken from the hoard chamber along with gems you knew. Can you sense familiar gems alongside a large, magic-laden ruby?"
"Yes."
The deathsinger sent Gorlist a wry glance. "That would be two. Care to rephrase that last question for your third attempt?"
Gorlist gritted his teeth, then tried again. "Describe the stones that accompany the ruby, and tell me where I may find them."
The ghostly dragon faded into shadow as if drifting off to seek the gems. After a while, it flared back so swiftly that it seemed, just for a moment, to take on solid form.
"The Nssidra diamonds," it mused. "A full score of them, trapped in silver filigree. They frame the gem you seek. I see it gracing an elf woman, a red-gold torch flaming behind walls of black stone."
"Black stone," muttered Brindlor, looking not the least bit surprised and none too happy. "Tell me this: Does this black stone mark the tomb of ancient dragonkind?"
The dragon wraith looked to the deathsinger, and ghostly fangs flashed in a smile. "You know the answer to that already, death-singer, or you would not have asked the question.