Emperor of Ansalon v-3 Read online

  As the echoes of his fall rang through the darkness, he reached forward to confirm with his fingers what his intuition already told him: Someone had closed an iron grate, completely blocking further ascent up the secret stairway.

  Chapter 7

  Three Ways to Die

  Climbing to his feet, sword in hand, Ariakas pulled against the grate and found it securely locked. His senses tingled in alarm, and his eyes strained to penetrate the blackness. Had anyone heard his crash? He waited, but after a few seconds his immediate tension eased. The delay would prove fatal for whoever had blocked his path; certainly Ariakas himself would have wasted no time in slaying an enemy who so carelessly announced his presence.

  He descended to the first landing and found the catch for the secret door. If his memory were correct-and he knew it was-the room beyond the door was one of the upper tower levels. He remembered the circular cham shy;ber, with its rings of stone columns. Even in daylight there would be plenty of places to hide. At night, it could be full of ogres concealed so effectively that he wouldn't be able to see any one of them.

  Still, he had nowhere else to go if he wanted to con shy;tinue back to the lady's chamber. Slowly, as silently as possible, he pushed open the door. Peering cautiously outward, his eyes strained to penetrate the shadows of the large room.

  The moons had risen, providing the only illumination. The red light of Lunitari spilled through the eastern win shy;dows, and the pale wash of Solinari glowed to the north. The multitude of columns in the circular room again gave him the impression of towering tree trunks and a smooth forest floor.

  He felt keenly certain that there were ogres in the room. Why else bar the secret stair? For an unsettling moment he wrestled with a new thought-how did the ogres know about the secret stair? The lady had told him it was used only by Oberon himself. Could it be that none other than the great warlord awaited him within? Ariakas had no choice but to find out.

  Beyond the tower the sounds of ogre pursuit had gradually faded into the night. Ariakas deduced that the monsters had finally separated, since the noise of their raucous chase had soon expanded to resound from many of the nearby heights. There had been no bellowed crow of triumph, so it seemed that Ferros Windchisel had not been caught-yet. Ariakas found himself hoping that the dwarf would complete his escape, and not only because a longer chase would make for a more successful diver shy;sion. The courageous fellow deserved his freedom, the warrior told himself, surprised at the strength of his sen shy;timent.

  For long moments he held still, listening and looking. His eyes, already adapted to darkness, searched every shadow, every darkened archway between the pillars. Soon he saw the first ogre near the center of the room, waiting to the side of the main stairway. The hulking brute crouched in the darkness below the stairs, a long club or sword held across his knees, eyes staring fixedly upward.

  The second ogre identified itself by a dull cough that rattled from the darkness, not terribly far from the alcove of the secret stairway. The warrior shifted slightly, but he couldn't see any sign of the creature. Still, judging from the sound, he guessed it to be hiding behind a pillar three or four columns away from his own location.

  Ariakas continued his observations for many minutes. He saw no other ogres, nor was the telltale cough repeated-for all he knew the second ogre could have stealthily changed position since then. Yet, with the grate blocking the secret stair, he had no alternative but to advance into the room.

  He decided to do so with aggressive stealth. Keeping as quiet as possible, he pulled the door open just enough to allow him to emerge, and then stalked quickly to the place where he had heard the ogre cough.

  A shadow darker than the surrounding blackness rose before him, uttering a grunt of surprise. Ariakas stabbed, and the rude sound became a bellow of outrage as the ogre twisted away from the attack. A noise whooshed and the warrior ducked, shivering as a heavy club smashed into the column beside him.

  Ariakas thrust from his crouch and again felt the steel tip of his sword strike flesh. The ogre groaned, a deep and agonized sound, and the man pressed forward, dri shy;ving the sword home with all of his strength. With a strangled, gurgling moan, the monster slumped to the floor, kicking weakly, unable to rise.

  Another bellow jerked Ariakas's attention back to the main stairway. The ogre he had seen in the shadows was charging. Abandoning his wounded opponent, Ariakas raised his blade to meet this lumbering onslaught. Metal clanged sharply against his own sword, and the human staggered into a pillar, stunned by the force of the ogre's blow. The brute's weapon was a sword of immense proportions.

  The monster's blade whistled again, and the human rolled to the side, just beneath an explosion of sparks where sword smashed column. Ariakas sprang upward and drove his blade toward the brute's chest, but the ogre deflected the attack as a man might swipe away an annoying mosquito. Once again that massive sword chopped, and this time the sparks flashed along the floor, barely two inches from the warrior's foot.

  Frantically dodging, Ariakas darted behind one of the pillars and then rolled to another, the ogre barely a step or two behind. He bounced back to his feet and thrust again, but once more the monster parried the blow, preparatory to another crushing attack of his own.

  Dancing through the wash of red moonlight, Ariakas fell steadily back. The ogre moved through the same illu shy;mination, and the warrior saw the dull glint of steel on his enemy's sword-this monster bore no blade of corroded bronze!

  A slight movement in his peripheral vision whirled Ariakas around, just in time to see a shadow loom toward him. A third ogre! The beast had remained hid shy;den until the warrior was fully engaged-only the vagaries of moonlight saved Ariakas. The man dived for shy;ward, rolling between the two ogres and barely avoiding the chopping of that deadly sword and the bashing of a heavy club.

  Whirling to his right, Ariakas came around a pillar and drove his sword into the flank of the club-wielding ogre. The monster howled, twisting so sharply away from the wound that he almost tore the weapon from the man's hand. Ripping the blood-streaked blade free, Aria shy;kas again lunged to the side, feeling the thunk of the other ogre's sword chopping a piece from the heel of his boot.

  Now the two monsters separated, advancing carefully with a row of pillars between them. Ariakas had no choice but to fall back, since the beasts effectively blocked any sideways attempt at escape. He feinted toward the deadly sword but was quickly driven back by a vicious slash-a slash that would have decapitated him if he'd pressed his advance.

  In the darkness, the third ogre, badly wounded but not killed, groaned piteously. The warrior took advan shy;tage of the sound to scuttle past the club-wielder. Once more Ariakas slashed with his broadsword into the sag shy;ging belly. Warm blood splashed onto his hand as the beast barked in sharp agony, but even that wound didn't prevent the ogre from swinging its heavy club.

  The gnarled wood smashed Ariakas in the shoulder, driving him into one of the pillars, where he stumbled to the ground.

  He sensed both ogres lumbering toward him, but for a precious instant, his body refused to move. With concen shy;trated effort Ariakas propelled himself into flight, scram shy;bling crablike to avoid the sword. The ogre's blade again drew sparks from the bare floor, but the man cursed in pain as the club smashed onto his left arm. He heard bones snap in his wrist, and in the next second searing agony shot through his shoulder and side.

  Furiously he rose to one knee and drove his broadsword upward, piercing the soft flesh of the ogre's stomach and driving the blade all the way to the hilt. The monster's howl of agony shook the rafters of the ceiling as he doubled over in mortal pain. When the great body tumbled to the ground Ariakas could only dive away to avoid being crushed, cursing as he was forced to release his sword-and then shouting in anguish as he stumbled and tried to catch himself on his broken arm. Instead, he tumbled headlong to the floor. He executed a desperate roll as the surviving ogre pressed his advantage.

  A film of ag
ony grew taut around Ariakas's eyes, the sensation pounding at his brain, driving him toward oblivion. All his determination could barely hold blissful unconsciousness at bay-but, by dint of his will, he refused to yield.

  The heavy sword flashed again, and this time Ariakas shouted from the fiery pain in his leg. Warm liquid sprayed across the floor, and he idly knew that this was his own blood. Instinct seized him then as, rolling and scrambling, he squirmed away from the ogre's repeated thrusts, though not before the keen edge also put a slice into his left shoulder. Finally he darted back, feinting right, and then tumbling over his wounded arm to col shy;lapse with his back against a column. The ogre, in the full momentum of his charge, lunged after the feint and then lost his balance, crashing to the floor.

  Unarmed and maimed, Ariakas clawed his way to his feet and stumbled past several of the stone pillars. The booming footsteps of the ogre reverberated behind him as he ducked this way, dodged that. The ogre was fast, but not nimble, and at last Ariakas leaned against a stone pillar, gasping for breath and trying to suppress the shrieking pain of his wounds. The ogre groped through the darkness some distance away.

  Where could he get a weapon? The slain ogre had effectively pinned Ariakas's sword in the death-wound. The wounded ogre flailed weakly on the floor, nearly dead, but the only weapon he'd carried was that great club-a wooden tree limb that the human would have been hard-pressed to hoist with both hands. Now, his arm smashed and his body fatigued, the knobbed stick was useless to him.

  Finally his thoughts fell on the long dagger, still buried in his belt pouch. It was hard to imagine the twelve-inch blade inflicting a killing wound on the huge, flab-fleshed ogre, but Ariakas grasped the slender steel weapon-his best, his only, hope. Still listening to the thumping pur shy;suit of the sword-wielder, who had temporarily lost his quarry, Ariakas unsnapped the pouch's buckles with his good hand.

  The sounds of the clasps brought the ogre thundering toward him. Ariakas darted around columns, nearly slipping on the blood of the dead ogre, and then back shy;tracked through the shadows until once again his clumsy pursuer had fallen behind. Only then could the man thrust his hand inside the pouch. He pulled the dagger free just before the snarling humanoid reached him.

  Leaping over the dead ogre, Ariakas once more tried to stumble away. The pursuing beast tripped over the corpse, sprawling heavily to the floor. The monster caught itself with its great paws, gasping for a moment while it peered through the darkness with bloodshot eyes.

  Sensing his opportunity, Ariakas lunged at the ogre's head. The monster's mighty sword came up, but Ariakas fell to the side, then slashed inward with the dagger. The knife seemed hot in his hand, thirsty for blood as he drove toward that bulging neck. The keen blade sliced through skin and muscle as if the ogre's flesh were noth shy;ing more than a down pillow.

  Shrieking in pain, the monster twisted away, dropping the heavy sword. As the weapon clanged to the stones, the ogre plunged toward it, but Ariakas's quick kick spun the blade out of the monster's reach.

  Before the ogre could recover its balance, the man had leapt on the dropped weapon, and though it required all of his strength to raise it in one hand, Ariakas leveled the huge sword at a point between the ogre's bulging eyes.

  "Wait," croaked the monster. "Don't kill!"

  "You won't bargain for your life with me!" snarled Ariakas, drawing back his hand for the fatal blow.

  "Let me talk!" spit the ogre, cringing away from the blow that didn't fall… yet.

  "What do you want to say?" Ariakas gestured with the blade for the ogre to continue.

  "This tower-it's trap for you! The lady, she's our cap shy;tain-she orders us to whump you, warns us that you pretty good."

  "Liar! How dare you-" A flush rose to Ariakas's face, and once again he steadied his aim.

  "She tell us to goes after dwarf-all buts us. We gets to kill you," blurted the ogre.

  "Why kill me? What would be your reward?"

  "You big test-kill you, and I gets to keeps my sword." The beast nodded at the weapon Ariakas still held lev shy;eled before the brutish face.

  A wave of nausea swept upward through the warrior's body, and he suddenly felt dangerously light-headed. The ogre, too, sensed his weakness-the beast pulled his legs beneath him, readying for a powerful spring.

  "Liar!" repeated Ariakas, driving the blade forward, piercing the ogre's throat even as the monster broke to the side. Fatally cut, it fell, kicked several times, and died.

  Groaning, Ariakas slumped to the floor. His arm throbbed, and his lungs struggled for breath. Even as he labored to retain consciousness, he listened for sounds of danger-and he heard nothing. All three ogres had expired, and the rasping in his own throat was the only sound in the large room. As his heart settled, he realized that the entire tower was silent, and then his mind shifted back to the lady who awaited him above.

  The ogre was lying! This conviction rose to reassure him, but then the fog of his pain played silly games with the truth. How had the ogres known of the secret stair? Why had the lady told him exactly where to find the keys? But of course-if she'd wanted him to fail, she'd never have told him about that key ring!

  Still, contradictory assumptions and suspicions whirled through his mind, heightened by the rising obfuscation of physical pain. Blood flowed from a multi shy;tude of wounds, and his broken wrist throbbed. He must go to the lady! There he would learn the truth.

  He considered trying to retrieve his sword and im shy;mediately discarded the idea. Instead, he clutched the ogre's huge sword in his good hand. Before he started toward the stairs, he reeled against one of the pillars as a wave of pain and nausea threatened to drag him down. Grimly he shook off the feeling, like a wounded bear might shrug away the pestering bites of a wolf pack.

  Lurching from pillar to pillar, using his sword hand to support him against each, he staggered toward the land shy;ing of the tower's main stairway. For the last five steps there were no columns to lean against, and he stumbled forward to fall at the foot of the stairs. He looked upward, vaguely remembering the many flights leading upward to the lady's chamber.

  Slowly, with gritty determination, he clumped upward, one step at a time. A filmy haze, blood red in color, drifted across his eyes, but he shook that off as he had earlier banished the creeping unconsciousness. Instead of weakening, he seemed to grow stronger as he climbed, striding firm and steady past the first and sec shy;ond landings.

  Upward he marched, past the third, and finally around the fourth landing. Now his memory burned clear, and he knew he climbed the last flight before the lady's chamber.

  Then, with a nauseating wave of weakness and despair, he heard the sounds of marching overhead. Only then did he remember the guard posted at the top of the stairs, and the prospect of another fight sapped the little blood he had left in his veins. But he had come too far- the prize was too great-for him to turn back. Blunder shy;ing up the stairs, he abandoned stealth in favor of speed, seeking the flickering torch that illuminated the top.

  True to pattern, the ogre sentry clumped past shortly, marching to the man's left, apparently unaware of the threat ascending from below. As soon as the ogre passed the stairway, Ariakas lurched upward with all his remaining strength. The creaking of his boots betrayed him, but the ogre merely hesitated in his monotonous patrol, the great head cocked to one side as if to hear bet shy;ter. The huge sword drove like an arrow toward the monster's blunt neck.

  Some dull premonition spurrred the ogre to spin with remarkable dexterity. Ariakas snapped a curse as his blade merely gouged the flab rolls around the hefty neck. Eyes widening in surprise, the ogre drew its own weapon — a huge, bronze-tipped hammer.

  Once again Ariakas struck, desperate to slay this last obstacle. This time the sword plowed deep into the bulging abdomen, and the ogre grunted as a jet of blood spurted from the wound.

  The great jaws gaped, and the hammer flailed out shy;ward. A glancing blow to the man's broken arm brought a cry of pai
n from Ariakas. Gasping in agony, he pulled his blade back slightly, and then drove it forward, again aiming for that fat-protected neck.

  "Unghhh!" The monster uttered the beginning of a word, but then the cold steel sliced through his larynx, his jugular, and finally his spine. Collapsing like a sack of potatoes, the beast crashed to the floor at the top of the stairs. The hammer clattered to the flagstones, poised at the rim of the steps, and then bounced downward, clanging and ringing toward the landing below.

  His mind a fog of pain, Ariakas instinctively turned down the corridor toward that bright room, that ephemeral beauty. Before he made it halfway, however, the wave of sickness swept upward again, seizing him and swirling a cloak of unconsciousness around his brain.

  Then she was there, appearing to him in sudden clar shy;ity. She was strong, this lady, and she knew more about him than he dared to believe about himself. In that instant of understanding, he knew that the ogre had spoken the truth.

  He was not aware of the impact as his body went sud shy;denly limp and crashed to the floor.

  Chapter 8

  The Lady of Light

  Ariakas opened his eyes, but immediately closed them again as the full brightness of the sun seared his vision. He didn't know where he was, though his body felt as though it floated upon a mattress of air, or drifted in bathwater of perfect warmth. He tried to see again, this time cau shy;tiously parting his eyelids a bare slit, recoiling slightly from the intense glow that washed over him. Only slowly did he realize that the light did not come from the sun after all.

  Instead, it was the lady herself who glowed. She ex shy;tended a bright hand to his leg, and he felt her fingers probe the edges of the near mortal sword wound. Mirac shy;ulously, there was no pain in her touch. Then, even more astonishingly, the pain from his wound ceased entirely.

  With wonder, he reached a hand downward, touching his skin through the long tear in his leggings. Every shy;where he touched, his flesh was firm. There was no hint of the cut, no lingering sensation of the wound-it was as if the ogre had never struck him. Beside him he felt the edges of a cushion, and guessed that he lay upon the mattress in the lady's room. How had he gotten here? Surely she hadn't carried him.