Margaret Weis & Don Perrin
(Based on the world and characters created by Larry Elmore)
"Begging your pardon, good sir," said the barkeep deferentially, "but this note is for you."
"For me?" The man thus addressed was considerably amazed. "But I am a stranger in these parts! I am merely passing through on my way east. Surely you have made a mistake." He waved the note away. "This must be for someone else."
"I do not think I could be mistaken, sir," said the barkeep with a cunning look. "You have graced my tavern with your presence these three days now, being kind enough to say that my mead is the best in the area—"
"And so it is," said the man, interrupting.
The barkeep bowed and continued. "And thus I have come to know you, sir, very well, as have many of my patrons, for you have been most generous in buying rounds for the house."
The man smiled in a self-deprecating manner and smoothed the ends of a very long and very black mustache. He winked at his companion, a young woman with thick red curly hair, bound up in a coil at the base of her neck. She wore the plain brown robes of one who practices earth magic.
"Therefore," said the barkeep, "when a note is delivered to me to be given to a person of a certain description that matches you most wonderfully, sir, I am left with no doubts."
"What would that description be?" the man asked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Let us hear it."
"This is what I was told: 'He is a human male of middle years with a nose like an hawk's beak, a chin like an ax-blade, eyes blue as the skies above New Vinnengael and a long black mustache of which he is very proud and is constantly smoothing or twirling. In addition, he has long black hair, which he wears bound in a tail at the back of his head, in the manner of the elves.' "
"Bah! That could be anyone," said the man.
"He is very handsome—" continued the barkeep solemnly.
"Oh, then, you are right. That is me," said the man calmly and he plucked the message from the barkeep's hand.
"You are insufferable, Shadamehr," said his companion in a low voice.
"You are only jealous, Alise," Shadamehr said as he broke the seal and unfolded the note. The two spoke in Elven, a language which no one in the Karnuan city was likely to understand. "Jealous that no one sent the beautiful human female with the red hair a mysterious missive."
His companion rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"I trust this note means that our generous hospitality has finally paid off," Shadamehr said. "At last we are about to receive some information. I don't mind telling you that I am growing sick to death of mead."
Reading the note, he appeared puzzled, then gratified. "Here now! I never expected this." He handed the note to his companion.
Doubtless you do not remember me, my lord, but we were companions in our youth. I was an acolyte with the Revered Magi at the time you were in training as a knight. We met through the unfortunate circumstance of our each falling in love with the same woman at the same time. I shall never forget the tricks we played on each other as rivals, tricks that turned out to be for naught, when she married a third man neither of us had known about. Our rivalry became friendship, a friendship that was severed when you left Vinnengael in anger over the policies of the Emperor and I left to return to my homeland to take up my duties for the Church.
I have followed the tales of your exploits with the deepest pleasure and, although you travel under another name, when I heard from a traveler of a generous stranger with hair as black as midnight, a nose like a hawk and a laugh that booms like a mountain slide, I knew there could only be one. I am certain the gods have sent you. I believe that you come in answer to my prayers.
You will recall that I was particularly sensitive to the evil magic of the Void. I dare not write more in this note, for fear it will be waylaid. I live in the town of Cunac, about twenty miles north. I beg you to come with all possible haste.
Your friend,
Revered Brother Ulien.
Alise frowned. "How could he possibly have known it was you? Hundreds of miles from our homeland. I don't like this." She handed the missive back.
"Bah!" said Shadamehr with a grin. He tucked the note in his boot and beckoned the barkeep. "Our tab, please. We are leaving your fair city. Of course, Ulien would know it was me, Alise," he added, giving his mustache a twirl. "Everyone for a twenty-mile radius must be talking of the handsome and generous stranger, by now. And his lovely red-haired companion," he included teasingly.
He paid the bill, throwing in enough extra to cause the barkeep to sing his praises for days, and left the bar with Alise.
She snorted. "Your ego will be the death of you, Shadamehr."
"Nonsense, my dear," Shadamehr said, assisting her to mount her horse. "I will cheat death for the simple reason that all the wonderful things people say about me are true. Which is why you adore me."
He whistled to his own black steed, a horse of a vicious temperament who so terrified the stable boys that they would not come close to him. The horse whinnied in delight at the sight of his master and draped his head over Shadamehr's shoulder, almost purring with pleasure when Shadamehr rubbed the horse's muzzle.
"I don't adore you. I don't even like you," Alise said coldly. "I don't know why I put up with you. You will get me killed someday. Get yourself killed, too, in some hare-brained scheme to set the world right when it doesn't want to go right."
Shadamehr leaned over, kissed her on the cheek before she could push him away. Then he was off at a gallop, exhibiting his riding skills to the admiring populace, who took off their hats to wave good-bye.
"I should turn around now and go back home." Alise muttered as she kicked her horse in the flanks. She was forced to ride hard and fast to catch up.
Twilight had fallen by the time the two arrived in Cunac, a small town located near the border of the human kingdoms of Karnu and Dunkarga. Once a united kingdom, the two had split apart in a civil war two hundred years earlier. As much as humans of Karnu and Dunkarga hated all those of other races in the world of Loerem, they hated each other more. The town of Cunac was notable for only one thing—it was the site of a large military outpost, built to deter the Dunkargans from crossing the border.
Strangers were not normally welcomed into Karnuan towns, but Shadamehr, with his glib tongue and his charming manner, was never a stranger anywhere long. The guard who had begun by brusquely refusing them admittance ended by embracing Shadamehr with tears in his eyes. He gave them directions to the Revered Brother's dwelling and added an invitation to come drinking in the tavern when the guard was off-duty.
"What did you tell that man?" Alise demanded. She did not speak Karna. "I thought he was going to throw us out on our ears. What was all that hugging and kissing?"
"A Karnuan tradition when family members meet," Shadamehr said solemnly. "He is my second cousin once removed on my mother's side."
Alise stared at him. "I don't believe you!"
"Ah, but it's true, nonetheless. Someday I will explain. Let us make haste, before Revered Brother Ulien retires."
They secured rooms in the only inn in Cunac and stabled their horses. This done, they left in search of Shadamehr's childhood friend.
Brother Ulien's dwelling was a small house attached to the local temple. The brother was awake and very glad to see them.
"I would have known you anywhere, my lord," said Ulien, regarding his friend with pleasure.
"And I you," said Shadamehr with such heartiness that Alise knew he was lying.
"I could have walked past him in the street and never known it," he confided to her when Ulien had left to bring them food and water. "He used to be a tall, good-looking youth with curly black hair. Now he is gaunt and haggard and gone completely gray."
"He's probably saying the same thing about you," Alise said teasingly. "Especially the part about the gray."
"I am not!" Shadamehr protested. He drew forth the long black tail of hair that fell down his back and studied it by candlelight. "Am I?" His search for gray hairs was interrupted by the return of their host, who told them of his concerns over dinner.
"About a week ago, I first noticed the presence of Void magic." Ulien spoke in hushed tones, his red-rimmed eyes glancing furtively at the window as if he feared they might be overheard. "The feeling was overwhelming. I've known nothing like it. It was as if a black and noxious cloud had settled over the town. I cannot draw breath. I feel as if I am being smothered."
In truth, he gasped for breath constantly. His thin body jerked and twitched nervously at every sound.
"And you say that two strangers arrived in town at the same time?" Shadamehr asked.
"One of them a dwarf, my lord. A Fire Mage," said Ulien.
Shadamehr frowned. "I have never known a dwarf to have dealings with the Void."
Ulien gave him a sad glance, as if pitying such naïveté. "He is one of the Unhorsed, almost certainly, most likely cast out of his clan for some terrible crime. He might well be a follower of the Void."
"Possibly," said Shadamehr, but he appeared unconvinced. "And the other?"
"A newly appointed commander of the fortress. Since Karnu is a military state," he added for Alise's benefit, "the military commander is also the leading government agent in Cunac. He is an ordinary enough fellow, not especially bright, but he carries a most remarkable sword. The hilt is set with black and red jewels, as is the scabbard. Such a valuable sword might be worn by the Emperor of Vinnengael. What is a captain in the Karnuan army doing with it?"
"Is it tainted with Void magic?" Alise asked with interest.
"I do not know for certain, Revered Sister," Ulien answered with a shiver. "I have not been able to get close enough to find out."
"If so—and I must say that it sounds very much like a Void artifact—this would explain the sensation you are feeling," Alise said.
Ulien shook his head. "I am sorry to have to disagree with you, Sister, but I have been around powerful Void artifacts before and I experienced nothing like this. I have been physically ill over it. I am frightened all the time. I cannot eat. I cannot sleep." He held out his hands. The long fingers trembled and shook. "You see how it is?"
"Then what do you think is causing this, Ulien?" Shadamehr demanded.
"I think . . ." Ulien paused, then said in a whisper, "I think we are dealing with a . . . with a vrykyl."
Ulien waited tensely for their reaction. Alise looked at Shadamehr, who hid his smile by smoothing his mustache. Ulien gave a great sigh and closed his eyes.
"I feared you would laugh at me, my lord!" he said, almost weeping.
"No, no," Shadamehr said, soothingly.
"What are vrykyl, after all, but tales made up by old women? That's what they said in the Temple in Vinnengael. That's what any sane person would say."
"Old women are wise," said Alise with a reproving glance for Shadamehr. "And the truths they keep burning bright through the years are oftentimes the only light we have to guide our footsteps when the darkness comes upon us."
"I say this to you, Ulien, for your ears alone," Shadamehr added, "but we have come to Karnu because I received information relating to the return of the vrykyl to this world."
Ulien gazed at Shadamehr in awe. "Then certainly the gods have brought us together!"
"Perhaps. Perhaps not," Shadamehr said dryly. "What is it you expect me to do?"
"Why, rid the town of this evil, of course," Ulien said.
Shadamehr shook his head. "If this is truly a vrykyl, that is a foe beyond my ability to fight. According to the old wives tales, that is."
"It is said that perhaps a Dominion Lord could slay them," Alise remarked. "That has not been proven, however."
"But, sir, you are a Dominion Lord!" Ulien protested. "You served under a different name, but—"
Shadamehr smiled and again shook his head. "You are mistaken. I am not a Dominion Lord. I never underwent the Transfiguration."
Ulien regarded him with narrowed eyes. "The counsel voted to approve you. It was unanimous. The Emperor himself—"
"It is a long story," Shadamehr said, abruptly ending the topic of conversation. "As to the vrykyl, if they do walk this world"—he quirked an eyebrow—"they walk it safe from me. I came to gather information on them. Nothing more."
"Then we are lost," Ulien said in despair.
Shadamehr placed a kindly hand on the trembling hand of his friend. "You are weary. You have not slept in days. Alise will give you a potion to help you find rest."
Alise was already removing a small potion bottle from a belt she wore around her waist. She handed the potion to Ulien, explained the directions for its use.
"We will return in the morning," Shadamehr said, rising to his feet. "I would like to meet this dwarf and the commander, at least. You will point them out to me. Good-night, Ulien. Rest well."
"I will try, my lord," Ulien said unhappily. He held tightly to the potion.
"Vrykyl!" Alise repeated the word accusingly, as soon as they were well away from Ulien's house. "So this is why you brought me!"
"And you thought it was for your red hair," said Shadamehr.
Alise gave a little sigh, which he did not hear, for he was humming a dance tune to himself. The town's streets were empty. Windows in the houses were dark and shuttered. All the inhabitants were decently abed. Or perhaps not all.
"After all, you are the acknowledged expert— What was that?" Shadamehr asked suddenly, stopping and turning his head.
"What was what?" Alise said. She had been walking the street abstracted, absorbed in her own thoughts.
"Someone passed us," said Shadamehr. "He was keeping to the shadows, but I caught a glimpse of him in the moonlight."
"A vrykyl?" Alise asked with a slight curl of her lip.
"No," said Shadamehr, continuing to stare behind him. "A dwarf. And he was headed in the direction of Ulien's house."
"Which is the same direction as the city gate," said Alise in exasperation. "And the barracks. And the six ale houses we passed on our way. You know how restless dwarves are. He might be out for a nightly stroll."
"That's true," said Shadamehr, but he did not move.
"If you want to traipse after him, do so," Alise said in exasperation. "But I am bone-tired. I mean to sleep until noon."
"He's gone. I don't see him." Shadamehr turned back and fell into step beside her. "You are probably right. Now, tell me all you know about vrykyl."
"I gave you my report in writing, my lord," Alise returned.
"Ah, but you know that I am no great reader," Shadamehr said with a laugh. "I glanced at it. I read enough to know that I want nothing to do with these fiends—or the old wives who made them up, for that matter. Tell me again. Just the main points."
Alise sighed, this time loudly, so that he would hear. "Very well, my lord. The vrykyl are creatures of the Void. Perhaps they date back to ancient times. We do not know for certain. All we do know is that when Prince Dagnarus turned to evil and became Lord of the Void, he received a most powerful artifact of Void magic known as the Dagger of the Vrykyl. With this dagger, he killed a living man and brought him back to life, granting him a horrible immortality. The vrykyl must continue to kill to maintain his life, feeding upon the souls of mortal beings. Lord Dagnarus created many vrykyl, who were constrained to serve him alone. Vrykyl wear magical armor that gives them strength and prowess in battle and immense power in Void magic."
"If the Lord of the Void had the ability to create beings of such power, I am surprised the world is not overrun with vrykyl," Shadamehr observed.
"Ah, but there is a catch," Alise replied, ignoring his bantering tone. "The man or woman who becomes a vrykyl must give free consent. He must be willing to choose death over life. And he dies with the knowledge that the magic may not work."
"All this happened two hundred years ago, you say, when Dagnarus was alive. And no reports of anyone seeing vrykyl since?"
"But there have been reports of mysterious deaths during those two hundred years, my lord," Alise said. "Entire families slain, their faces frozen in terror as if the last sight they saw was a horrible one. And every death the same—a single, small puncture wound to the heart. The mark of the soul-stealer dagger. Thus the vrykyl have remained alive, waiting—some believe—for their lord to return."
"Which, according to what we hear from the Dunkargans, he has. Well, well, this is all very interesting." He yawned widely. "Poor Brother Ulien. He was always a bit moonstruck. I think it must have whalloped him a good one this time."
The inn was dark. The landlord had gone to bed but had left them a candle to light their way to the not overly clean rooms.
"Good-night, Alise," said Shadamehr, handing her the candle. "My room is next door to yours. You know the code. Knock three times if you need me."
He entered his room and shut the door.
Alise spread out her bedroll on the floor, not trusting the bed, which was already occupied by at least one cockroach, who came out to glare at the light.
She put her hand to the wall, tempted to knock three times. But she withdrew her hand, after a moment. She closed her eyes and resolutely tried to banish the touch of his sensual lips, the glittering blue eyes and that ridiculous mustache.
A thunderous knock on her door woke Alise from a sound sleep. She could hear the sounds of crashing furniture and cries coming from the room next door. Roused and alert, she was on her feet, the words of a magical spell on her lips, when the door burst open and three armed guards entered her room. They were prepared to face an earth mage, for one immediately knocked the requisite spell component—a bit of earth—from her hand, while another clapped his hand over her mouth.
Once she was pinned, the guards removed the belt which contained her potions and vials of holy earth. They even had the temerity to pat their hands all over her body, searching for hidden objects, a task they enjoyed, by the leering grins. This done, they dragged her out into the hallway.
Shadamehr was neatly trussed and bleeding from a cut over one eyebrow. Two guards had tight hold of him. One of the guards was rubbing a swollen jaw and another nursing a cut lip. Looking past him, into his room, Alise saw another guard stretched out unconscious on the floor.
"Good morning, my dear," said Shadamehr. "Sorry about the early cock-crow. I told these banty-legged louts you wanted to sleep late but they wouldn't listen."
"I was having a bad dream anyway," Alise said. "What is all this about?"
Shadamehr shrugged and shook his head. There was no more time for talk. The two guards dragged them down the stairs, where the innkeeper stood pleading with a man in uniform, frantically disavowing all knowledge of them. A glance outside showed the sky just starting to grow pinkish gold with the dawn.
The uniformed man was tall and brawny, with the black curly hair and swarthy complexion of the people of Karnu. He wore trappings of a commander in the Karnuan military and he carried at his side a most uncommon sword.
Alise looked intently at the weapon. The hilt and the scabbard were encrusted with rubies and jet, set in a fanciful design. Since she could not touch it with her hands, she stretched forth her other senses to try to touch the magic. The taint of Void was palpable. She almost gagged with the corrupt odor. She shifted her gaze from the sword to its owner.
The dark eyes were flat and cold, small and mean. He had the sort of mouth that rarely smiled and then only at the sight of someone being hurt. But was he a vrykyl? Could she tell by sight? From what little she had read, she could not. Not unless he was wearing his magical black armor. For the vrykyl could take on the appearance of any mortal they chose and their victims would never know until the soul-stealing blade pierced the heart.
The sword, though. That was definitely of the Void. When Shadamehr looked at her with a question in his eyes, Alise nodded her answer.
"Take them to the prison," ordered the commander, the first words he had spoken.
"Excuse me, sir, but I wouldn't mind knowing why we are being arrested," Shadamehr said, his tone mild, as if this little misunderstanding could be easily rectified.
"You are under arrest for murder," said the commander.
"Murder?" Shadamehr was understandably confused. "We have murdered no one. We are newly arrived in town. We are friends of Brother Ulien. We were with him last night. You can ask him—"
Shadamehr's voice faltered and faded. For the first time in the months she had known him, Alise saw Shadamehr shaken.
The commander was eyeing him grimly. "So you admit it. You were with him last night. The last to be with him last night, it seems. He was found dead in his bed this morning. An empty vial, a vial that matches those vials"—he pointed to Alise's belt, now in the hands of a guard—"was by his bed. Proof enough that an earth mage was there."
"He did not die of what was in the vial, though, did he?" Alise asked.
The commander sneered. "You know well enough how he died, witch."
"Yes, I think I do. He died of a single, small stab wound to the heart," Alise said. "If you will look at the weapons we carry, you will find none that could have caused such a wound."
Shadamehr was silent, probably berating himself for having left his friend to die.
"Such a weapon is easily discarded," the commander replied scornfully. "And I have a witness."
"Of course, you do," Shadamehr murmured.
The commander rested his hand on the hilt of his jeweled sword. "A dwarf. We found him with the body, so at first we figured he was the killer. But then he told us he saw you two leaving the house and heard you speaking of the murder you had just committed."
"And so we were," said Shadamehr. "My companion and I were shouting it to the rooftops. We wanted everyone in town to know that we had murdered a man. I take that back. In fact, we were singing. My companion has a lovely soprano voice and I—"
"Shut him up," the commander growled. "It doesn't much matter who killed the brother. Maybe you and the dwarf are in it together. We have him in jail, as well. I'll have the truth eventually. I enjoy questioning people."
Grinning, the commander made a jerking motion with his thumb. The guard holding Shadamehr gave him a clout on the head that reopened the wound over his eyebrow, started the blood flowing.
"And so, my lord," Alise said in an undertone, as the guards marched them off, "we have just been arrested for murder by the murderer. How are we going to get out of this one?"
"I got us out of the last one, my dear," Shadamehr said, grinning through a mask of blood. "Now it's your turn."
The prison cellblock was located beneath the military command post, a massive stone structure surrounded by high walls, containing a barracks, stables, a headquarters building, and a parade grounds. Lit by torches that sputtered in iron sconces, the underground jail also housed the "interrogation rooms" replete with various instruments of torture and, next door, the morgue.
"How convenient," said Shadamehr.
The body of Brother Ulien lay on a stone slab inside the small, cold room. The corpse had not been attended yet. He was still wearing the brown robes in which he had died. There was little blood, Alise noted with professional interest. A wound such as the one Shadamehr had described—small, penetrating straight to the heart—might not bleed much. The skin of Ulien's face was grayish white, the lips and nails of the hands starting to turn blue. The eyes were open wide. The face was hideously twisted into an expression of extreme terror.
"Stop!" Shadamehr ordered, as he was being marched past the morgue.
Such was Shadamehr's presence that the guards halted at his command. He shook off the guards and stood looking intently at the body of his friend.
"I am sorry, Ulien," Shadamehr said quietly. "This is my fault. Forgive me. Very well, gentlemen," he added magnanimously, "you may proceed."
Realizing that they had just obeyed an order given to them by their prisoner, the guards looked guiltily to see whether the commander had noticed, then quickly seized hold of Shadamehr and hustled him off.
The cells were located along opposite sides of a long, dark and narrow corridor. Large iron keys hung from hooks on the wall. The commander lifted a set of keys in passing and took down a torch to light their way.
"To the cell at the end of the hall," he ordered.
A peasant was in the corridor, cleaning the floor with a large broom, sweeping a pile of foul-smelling straw out of one of the cells. The stench was horrible.
The other prison cells appeared to be empty. The prison was eerily quiet. The only sound Alise could hear was that of running water. She was wondering what this might be when the floor suddenly dropped out from under her.
Alise cried out in alarm. Off-balance, she wavered on the edge of a gaping chasm, terrified that she would fall. Her guards let her teeter one heart-stopping moment, then hauled her back to safety, laughing at her fear. Below her, a rushing stream ran black and turgid. A sewer, to judge by the smell. The peasant plodded past her, swept his load of muck into the hole. Tugging on a rope that hung from the ceiling, a rope attached to what Alise now saw was a wooden door set in the floor, he pulled the door closed.
"There are grates at either end," the commander announced. "Just in case you were thinking that this might make a good escape route."
The guards pushed Alise forward. Her footsteps echoed hollowly as she walked across the wooden door. She passed the cell occupied by the dwarf, who was dark-eyed and dour, unkempt, disheveled and dirty. He was shackled hand and foot, the manacles attached to the stone wall and he glowered as they passed him. In response to Shadamehr's polite greeting in dwarven, the dwarf made a rude gesture with a manacled hand.
The guards hauled Alise and Shadamehr into the same cell, stood them against a wall and clamped manacles over their wrists and ankles. The commander looked on with approval as the guards locked the manacles in place with the keys, which they then returned to the commander. He slammed shut the iron barred door of the cell and locked it.
"I demand—" Shadamehr began, but he was talking to himself. The commander had left, taking the torch with him.
The cell was pitch dark. Alise could not see Shadamehr at all, though he was chained only a few feet from her.
"Shadamehr?" she said softly, needing to hear his voice.
"Here," he replied. He was silent a moment, then said quietly, "Did you see Brother Ulien's face, Alise?"
"Yes, I saw." Alise decided it would be best to handle this dispassionately. Shadamehr would not appreciate maudlin sympathy. "His expression fits the description of a vrykyl's victims. Don't blame yourself, my lord. There is nothing you could have done. You yourself said that you could not fight a vrykyl."
"Especially not chained to a wall." His voice in the darkness was bitter. He shook his manacles in frustration.
"I've never known you defeated before," she said. Her hands were manacled to the wall attached by a short length of chain on either side of her head. She twisted her head experimentally to see whether she could reach her thick coil of hair. "I find it rather endearing."
"Yes, well, I hope you find it so when the vrykyl comes. What are you doing?" He could not see her, but he could hear her chains rattling in the darkness.
"You told me it was my turn to get us out of a situation," she said, her hands busy. "I have a vial of earth hidden in my braid. Do you have your lockpick?"
"I did bring you for your red hair, after all!" Shadamehr stated. "Yes, I have lockpick, but I can't reach it."
"I believe I can remedy that."
Her searching fingers discovered the small vial she habitually kept tucked into the thick coil of red hair for just such an emergency.
"Now, pray I don't drop it," she muttered.
"I'm praying," said Shadamehr fervently.
Alise forced herself to make each movement deliberate. Moving slowly and carefully, she pried loose the stopper on the vial and shook a pinch of earth into her hand. She concentrated her thoughts on the stone wall to which she was chained, especially the portion of the wall to which the manacles were attached, and closed her eyes to better focus her thoughts.
"Stone, split!" she commanded and sifted the bit of earth through her fingers, letting it fall to the ground.
The sound of rock cracking was extraordinarily loud, or so it seemed to Alise, who cringed and looked apprehensively at the cell door, expecting that the commander would return at any moment. No one came.
Alise tugged on the chain and the heavy manacles pulled free and fell to the floor with a crash. She grit her teeth and continued her concentration on the spell. The fissures spread down the wall and the manacles on her feet pulled out of the stonework.
Unable to lift her arms due to the weight of the iron manacles, barely able to move her feet, she dragged herself across the cell, groping along the broken wall to find her way. Finding Shadamehr, she clutched hold of him thankfully.
"What did you do?" he asked. "Knock the wall down?"
"In a way," she replied. "Don't talk to me. You'll break my concentration."
"Not talking," he said and shut his mouth.
Taking another pinch of earth, Alise repeated the spell. Again the loud cracking sound. Surely the commander must have heard that! Shadamehr dropped from the wall. He ripped open one of the seams of the leather jerkin he wore, removed the lockpick which had been sewn into the seam.
"I could use some light," he muttered beneath his breath, fumbling to try to find the keyhole in the darkness.
As if on command, light flared.
"Shadamehr!" Alise gasped. "We're on fire!"
The floor of the cellblock in front of the iron-barred door had burst into flame, a magical flame that consumed stone, apparently, for the fire had no other fuel. Not until the flames reached the dry straw that covered the floor on which they stood.
"Ah, that helps!" said Shadamehr. He thrust the lockpick into the keyhole of the manacle on her right hand.
"Hurry!" Alise urged, coughing in the acrid smoke.
"A dwarf Fire Mage, Ulien said," Shadamehr recalled, removing the other manacle from Alise's hand and starting on the manacles on her ankles. He cast a glance toward the cell where the dwarf was chained.
Alise covered her mouth with her hand to avoid breathing the superheated air.
The flames shot high into the air, forming a wall of fire between them and the cell door.
"I take that for yes." Shadamehr was working on the manacles on his ankles with one eye on the flames and the other on the keyhole. A click and he was free. He looked at the manacles on his wrists, eyed the fire, and shook his head. "We'll have to run for it. The flames are magical. Can we escape through that?"
"I don't see we have much choice!" Alise cried. "It's either that or burn to death where we are."
"Then here we go!" Shadamehr leapt into the fire.
Alise closed her eyes, covered her face with the sleeve of her robes, and plunged into the wall of flame.
She was through, gasping and slammed into the cell door. A few sparks clung to her robes, but she patted them out. Shadamehr had his arm thrust through the iron bars, turning the lockpick in the lock. An expert twist and the lock gave. The cell doors swung open.
"How are you?" he asked her, regarding her worriedly.
"A little weak," she replied. "The spell casting saps my energy. But I'll be all right. What about the commander?"
All was quiet in the cellblock. No sign that anyone had heard or seen anything.
"I don't know. I can't see anything for the smoke. I'll keep watch. You check on our neighbor the fire bug."
The flames in the cell had already starting to die out. Perhaps that is what gave Alise the clue. She knew before she went to look for the dwarf what she would find.
He hung from the wall, head and hands and feet dangling limp and lifeless. She could not see the hole in his heart from here, but she had no doubt it was there.
She caught hold of Shadamehr. He had managed to free one of his wrists from the manacles and was working on the second.
"The dwarf's dead," she said, her voice catching in her throat. She coughed. "Blasted smoke! My guess is that he didn't set the fire."
"One suspect gone. How much earth do you have left?
"Enough for one more spell."
"Excellent."
"Shadamehr, compared to a vrykyl, my magical power is that of a child!"
"I wasn't thinking of taking on the vrykyl. I was thinking more about removing grates. Can you swim?" he asked, working on the lock and not having much luck. "This one's stuck!"
"Swim! Shadamehr," she protested. "You're not serious! You didn't see what it was like down in that sewer!"
"Call it a hunch, but I don't think they're going to let us walk out the front door— Look out!" Shadamehr grabbed Alise bodily, swung her behind him.
A figure loomed out of the smoky darkness. Rubies sparkled blood red in the light of the dying flames. Fire light flashed on a steel blade.
Shadamehr ducked. The blade hissed through the air just above his head, sending the smoke swirling. Alise tried to see the person—or the creature—wielding the blade. The smoke was too thick. Her eyes burned and stung. She fell back against the wall.
Shadamehr scrambled backward to avoid the return stroke. He had no room to maneuver. The ruby-hilted sword slashed again and this time drew blood. He cried out in pain and staggered backward, clutching at his upper arm. Alise caught hold of him, pulled him into a dark corner.
The smoke whirled and eddied around them. The commander had lost them and was slashing blindly, coughing and peering through the smoke.
"Zounds!" Shadamehr gasped, leaning against her. "It feels like I've been stung by a thousand wasps!"
"That's the Void magic. It can work like poison. Can you stand?"
"Yes, but I don't know for how long. Here he comes again!"
Shadamehr's only weapon was the manacle, still attached to his wrist, and the short length of chain that dangled from it. He dashed forward, swinging the chain, trying to entangle the sword.
Alise took her last pinch of earth and flung it into the air. She focused her thoughts on the ruby-bejeweled sword and spoke a single word. "Brittle!"
The commander evaded the swinging chain. He lunged at Shadamehr, who was too weak to dodge the stabbing blade. The sword struck Shadamehr in the breast. He shut his eyes involuntarily, expecting his death blow.
The blade snapped in two.
The commander stared at his sword in an astonishment that changed rapidly to rage. Flinging aside the useless weapon, he leapt to grapple with his prisoner.
Shadamehr swept his manacled arm and the flying chain caught the commander in the jaw, snapping his head to one side. He fell backward, landed on the stone floor, and lay still.
Neither Shadamehr nor Alise moved. Both held perfectly still, not even breathing, waiting for the vrykyl to rise again. The commander was out cold. He didn't so much as twitch.
Shadamehr sank back against the wall. "The old wives' tales were wrong. I've known pecwae to put up more of a fight."
Alise knelt gingerly beside the commander. She put her hand to his neck. "Shadamehr," she said, "this isn't a vrykyl. He has a pulse."
"What are you saying? He has to be the vrykyl! Brother Ulien—" Shadamehr sucked in a breath. "Brother Ulien! What a fool I've been! We have to get out of here!" he said in a low, urgent voice.
But they had only taken a few steps when a blast of wind as chill as death blasted through the corridor. The smoke vanished, torn apart in shreds. The flames flared up behind them. The corpse of Brother Ulien strode purposefully down the corridor.
"He's the vrykyl!" Alise whispered.
The power of the Void magic crashed over her, an immense wave of soulless empty darkness which struck her an almost physical blow. Alise's hands went numb and limp. She dropped the vial of holy earth. Not that it would matter. Her own magical power was being sucked into the maw of the Void. Beside her, leaning against the stone wall, Shadamehr let his breath out in a long sigh.
"A trap," he said softly. "It was all a trap. You said my ego would be the death of me. I walked into it as blind as a mole in a snare."
"Indeed you did, Lord Shadamehr," said the vrykyl. The face was pale and gaunt in death, yet the lifeless mouth moved, the unseeing eyes saw. "My master has watched you long. He knows you to be a threat. He heard you were searching for information about us. We had orders to answer all your questions, provided we could find you. Imagine my joy when I discovered, after feeding upon the soul of Brother Ulien, that he was once your friend. The rest was simple, after that. Now you will see me for what I am."
The illusion of Brother Ulien vanished. In its place stood a hideous knight in shining armor, black as the carapace of some huge, malevolent insect. His hands were covered with metal gloves adorned with sharp, hooked black talons. In his right hand he wielded a small poinard that glowed with an eerie, empty white light.
Terror gripped Alise. She felt her face starting to contort into that look of horror which would freeze upon it when she died. She could not think. She could not scream. She shrank closer to Shadamehr and felt him move. His left arm was creeping slowly up the stone wall against which he leaned. She glanced above them and saw a length of rope, running across the ceiling.
Swiftly, Alise lowered her eyes, lest the vrykyl follow her gaze and guess Shadamehr's desperate plan.
"I wouldn't advise feeding on my soul," said Shadamehr, watching the vrykyl advance and hoping to keep his attention. Just a few more steps. A few more. "I'm likely to give you indigestion."
The vrykyl said no word. He walked toward them, his booted footfalls echoing loudly on the stone.
And then the footfalls struck wood.
Shadamehr grabbed hold of the rope and pulled hard. The wooden trapdoor flew open, booming against the side of the stone wall below it.
The vrykyl vanished, plunging down into the darkness. They heard his roar of anger and a splash as he hit the water.
"What do we now?" Alise cried.
"We run!" Shadamehr said grimly.
He caught hold of her hand and together they dashed down the corridor, making wide detour around the hole in the floor. Neither took time to look for their enemy, who could be heard raging and thrashing about in the foaming water.
They ran up the stairs to the ground floor and out the front door of the military command post. They paid no heed to the startled guards, who yelled after them and began to give chase.
"Keep going!" Shadamehr panted.
Alise needed no urging. She could feel the pent-up rage and fury of the thwarted vrykyl rumbling beneath them like molten hot lava. The ground began to shake and the guards halted in alarm. Alise glanced back and saw blinding white flame engulf the fortress. A concussive blast tore the fortress apart.
Alise dove under a large wagon standing in the roadway and covered her head with her arms. Shadamehr flung his body down beside her and put his arms around her. Rock rained around them, crashing off the wagon and bounding into the street.
And then it was over. The night was eerily quiet, for an instant, until screams and shouts and the sounds of people running toward the burning fortress shattered the stillness.
Shadamehr crawled out from under the wagon, turned to help Alise. "Are you all right?" he asked.
She nodded. She was bleeding from cuts on her hands and face where she'd slid along the ground, but otherwise she was unhurt.
"You?" she asked.
"Aside from being singed by magical fire and poisoned by the Void, I am fine," he said. "A lot finer than I thought I was going to be there for a moment."
"Do you suppose the vrykyl's dead?" Alise asked, shivering at the memory.
"No, I don't suppose it," Shadamehr answered. "But it's going to take him a while to crawl out from the under the ruins of the fortress. In the meanwhile, I suggest that we take our leave. My questions have been answered. We now know the nature of the foe the people of Loerem must eventually face. And we know that neither of us has the power now to face it."
"But who does have the power, Shadamehr?" Alise asked, helping him to his feet. She looked back at the burning, blackened fortress. "Is there anyone who can fight them?"
"Not even the Dominion Lords are prepared to face this, Alise," Shadamehr said. "I don't know anyone who is."
He shook his head and, putting his arm around Alise, he drew her close. "But remind me to apologize to the first old wife I meet."