The Complete Dilvish, The Damned Page 8

  "Reena, can't you shut that damned thing off?" he asked.

  "Why, you summoned it," she said sweetly. "Can't you just wave your wand or snap your fingers and give it the proper words?"

  He slapped the table again, half rising from his seat.

  "I will not be mocked!" he said. "Shut it off!"

  She shook her head slowly.

  "Not my sort of magic," she replied, less sweetly. "I don't fool with things like that."

  From up the hall came more cries:

  "It hurts! Oh, please! It hurts so…"

  "… Or that," she said more sternly. "Besides, you told me at the time that it was serving a useful purpose."

  Ridley lowered himself into his seat.

  "I was not—myself," he said softly, taking up his wineglass and draining it.

  A mummy-faced individual in dark livery immediately rushed forward from the shadowy corner beside the fireplace to refill his glass.

  Faintly, and from a great distance, there came a rattling, as of chains. A shadowy form fluttered against a different window. Ridley fingered his neck chain and drank again.

  "The time is coming," announced the corpse-colored face under glass.

  Ridley hurled his wineglass at it. It shattered, but the mirror remained intact. Perhaps the faintest of smiles touched the corners of that ghastly mouth. The servant hurried to bring him another glass.

  There came more cries from up the hall.

  "It's no good," Dilvish stated. "We've more than circled it. I don't see any easy way up."

  "You know how sorcerers can be. Especially this one."

  "True."

  "You should have asked that werewolf you met a while back about it."

  "Too late now. If we just keep going, we should come to that slope you mentioned pretty soon, shouldn't we?"

  "Eventually," Black replied, trudging on. "I could use a bucket of demon juice. I'd even settle for wine."

  "I wish I had some wine here myself. I haven't sighted that flying thing again." He looked up into the darkening sky, to where the snow- and ice-decked castle stood with a high window illuminated. "Unless I've glimpsed it darting about up there," he said. "Hard to tell, with the snow and shadows."

  "Strange that he didn't send something a lot more deadly."

  "I've thought of that."

  They continued on for a long while. The lines of the slope softened as they advanced, the icy wall dipping toward a slightly gentler inclination. Dilvish recognized the area as one they had passed before, though Black's earlier hoof prints had been completely obliterated.

  "You're pretty low on supplies, aren't you?" Black asked.

  "Yes."

  "Then I guess we'd better do something—soon."

  Dilvish studied the slope as they moved along its foot.

  "It gets a little better, farther ahead," Black remarked. Then: "That sorcerer we met—Strodd—had the right idea."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He headed south. I hate this cold."

  "I didn't realize it bothered you, too."

  "It's a lot hotter where I come from."

  "Would you rather be back there?"

  "Now that you mention it, no."

  Several minutes later they rounded an icy mass. Black halted and turned his head.

  "That's the route I'd choose—over there. You can judge it best from here."

  Dilvish followed the slope upward with his eyes. It reached about three quarters of the way up to the castle. Above it the wall rose sheer and sharp.

  "How far up do you think you can get me?" he asked.

  "I'll have to stop when it goes vertical. Can you scale the rest?"

  Dilvish shaded his eyes and squinted.

  "I don't know. It looks bad. But then, so does the grade. Are you sure you can make it that far?"

  Black was silent for a time, then: "No, I'm not," he said. "But we've been all the way around, and this is the only place where I think we've got a chance." Dilvish lowered his eyes.

  "What do you say?"

  "Let's do it."

  "I don't see how you can sit there eating like that!" Ridley declared, throwing down his knife. "It's disgusting!"

  "One must keep up one's strength in the face of calamities," Reena replied, taking another mouthful. "Besides, the food is exceptionally good tonight. Which one prepared it?"

  "I don't know. I can't tell the staff apart. I just give them orders."

  "The time is coming," stated the mirror.

  Something fluttered against the window again and stopped, hanging there, a dark outline. Reena sighed, lowered her utensils, rose. She rounded the table and crossed to the window.

  "I am not going to open the window in weather like this!" she shouted. "I told you that before! If you want to come in, you can fly down one of the chimneys! Or not, as you please!"

  She listened a moment to a rapid chittering noise from beyond the pane.

  "No, not just this once!" she said then. "I told you that before you went out in it!"

  She turned and stalked back to her seat, her shadow dancing on a tapestry as the candles flickered.

  "Oh, don't… Please, don't… Oh!" came a cry from up the hall.

  She settled into her chair once more, ate a final mouthful, took another sip of wine.

  "We've got to do something," Ridley said, stroking the ring on the chain. "We can't just sit here."

  "I'm quite comfortable," she answered.

  "You're in this as much as I am."

  "Hardly."

  "He's not going to look at it that way."

  "I wouldn't be too sure."

  Ridley snorted.

  "Your charms won't save you from the reckoning."

  She protruded her lower lip in a mock pout.

  "On top of everything else, you insult my femininity."

  "You're pushing me, Reena!"

  "You know what to do about it, don't you?"

  "No!" He slammed his fist against the table. "I won't!"

  "The time is coming," said the mirror.

  He covered his face with his hands and lowered his head.

  "I—I'm afraid…" he said softly.

  Now out of his sight, a look of concern tightened her brow, narrowed her eyes.

  "I'm afraid of—the other," he said.

  "Can you think of any other course?"

  "You do something! You've got powers!"

  "Not on that level," she said. "The other is the only one I can think of who would have a chance."

  "But he's untrustworthy! I can't anticipate him anymore!"

  "But he gets stronger all the time. Soon he may be strong enough."

  "I—I don't know____"

  "Who got us into this mess?"

  "That's not fair!"

  He lowered his hands and raised his head just as a rattling began within the chimney. Particles of soot and mortar fell upon the flames.

  "Oh, really!" she said.

  "That crazy old bat—" he began, turning his head.

  "Now, that isn't nice either," Reena stated. "After all—"

  Ashes were scattered as a small body crashed into the flaming logs, bounced away, hopped about the floor flapping long, green, membranous wings, beating sparks from its body fur. It was the size of a small ape, with a shriveled, nearly human face. It squeaked as it hopped, some of its noises sounding strangely like human curses. Finally it came to a stooped standstill, raised its head, turned burning eyes upon them.

  "Try to set fire to me!" it chirped shrilly.

  "Come on now! Nobody tried to set fire to you." Reena said.

  "… Said 'chimney'!" it cried.

  "There are plenty of chimneys up there," Reena stated. "It's pretty stupid to choose a smoking one."

  "… Not stupid!"

  "What else can you call it?"

  The creature sniffed several times.

  "I'm sorry," Reena said. "But you could have been more careful."

  "The time is coming," said the mirror.r />
  The creature turned its small head, stuck out its tongue.

  "… Lot you know," it said. "He… he beat me!"

  "Who? Who beat you?" Ridley asked.

  "… The avenger." It made a sweeping, downward gesture with its right wing. "He's down there."

  "Oh, my!" Ridley paled. "You're quite certain?"

  "… He beat me," the creature repeated. Then it began to bounce along the floor, beat at the air with its wings, and flew to the center of the table.

  Somewhere, faintly, a chain was rattled.

  "How—how do you know he is the avenger?" Ridley asked.

  The creature hopped along the table, tore at the bread with its talons, stuffed a piece into its mouth, chewed noisily.

  "… My little ones, my pretty ones," it chanted after a time, glancing about the hall.

  "Stop that!" Reena said. "Answer his question! How do you know who it is?"

  It raised its wings to its ears.

  "Don't shout! Don't shout!" it cried. "… I saw! I know! He beat me—poor side!—with a sword!" It paused to hug itself with its wings. "… I only went to look up close. My eyes are not so good… He rides a demon beast! Circling, circling—the mountain! Coming, coming —here!"

  Ridley shot a look at Reena. She compressed her lips, then shook her head.

  "Unless it is airborne it will never make it up the tower," she said. "It wasn't a winged beast, was it?"

  "… No. A horse," the creature replied, tearing at the bread again.

  "There was a slide near the south face," Ridley said. "But no. Even so. Not with a horse…"

  "… A demon horse."

  "Even with a demon horse!"

  "The pain! The pain! I can't stand it!" came a shrill cry.

  Reena raised her wineglass, saw that it was empty, lowered it again. The mummy-faced man rushed from the shadows to fill it.

  For several moments they watched the winged creature eat. Then: "I don't like this," Reena said. "You know how devious he can be."

  "I know."

  "… And green boots," chirped the creature. "… Elfboots. Always to land on his feet. You burned me, he beat me… Poor Meg! Poor Meg! He'll get you, too…"

  It hopped down and skittered across the floor.

  "… My little ones, my pretty ones!" it called.

  "Not here! Get out of here!" Ridley cried. "Change or go away! Keep them out of here!"

  "… Little ones! Pretties!" came the fading voice as Meg ran up the corridor in the direction of the screams.

  Reena swirled the wine in her glass, took a drink, licked her lips.

  "The time has come," the mirror suddenly announced.

  "Now what are you going to do?" Reena asked.

  "I don't feel well," Ridley said.

  When they came to the foot of the slope, Black halted and stood like a statue for a long while, studying it. The snow continued to fall. The wind drove the flakes past them.

  After several minutes, Black advanced and tested the grade, climbing several paces, standing with his full weight upon it, stamping and digging with his hooves, head lowered.

  Finally he backed down the slope and turned away.

  "What is the verdict?" Dilvish inquired.

  "I am still willing to try. My estimate of our chances is unchanged. Have you given any thought to what you are going to do if—rather, when—you make it to the top?"

  "Look for trouble," Dilvish said. "Defend myself at all times. Strike instantly if I see the enemy."

  Black began to walk slowly away from the mountain.

  "Almost all of your spells are of the offensive variety," Black stated, "and most are too terrible to be used, except in final extremes. You should really take the time to learn some lesser and intermediate ones, you know."

  "I know. This is a fine time for a lecture on the state of the art."

  "What I am trying to say is that if you get trapped up there, you know how to level the whole damned place and yourself with it. But you don't know how to charm the lock on a door—"

  "That is not a simple spell!"

  "No one said that it was. I am merely pointing out your deficiencies."

  "It is a little late for that, isn't it?"

  "I am afraid so," Black replied. "So, there are three good general spells of protection against magical attack. You know as well as I do that your enemy can break through any of them. The stronger ones, though, might slow him long enough for you to do something. I can't let you go up there without one of them holding you."

  "Then lay the strongest upon me."

  "It takes a full day to do it."

  Dilvish shook his head.

  "In this cold? Too long. What about the others?"

  "The first one we may dismiss as insufficient against any decent operator in the arts. The second takes the better part of an hour to call into being. It will give you good protection for about half a day."

  Dilvish was silent for a moment. Then: "Let's be about it," he said.

  "All right. But even so, there must be servants, to keep the place running. You are probably going to find yourself outnumbered."

  Dilvish shrugged.

  "It may not be much of a staff," he said, "and there'd be no need to maintain a great guard in an inaccessible spot like this. I'll take my chances."

  Black came to the place he deemed sufficiently distant from the slope. He turned and faced the tower.

  "Get your rest now," he stated, "while I work your protection. It will probably be the last you have for a while."

  Dilvish sighed and leaned forward. Black began speaking in a strange voice. His words seemed to crackle in the icy air.

  The latest scream ceased on a weakened note. Ridley got to his feet and moved across the hall to a window. He rubbed at the frosted pane with the palm of his hand, a quick, circular motion. He placed his face near the area he had cleared, holding his breath.

  Finally: "What do you see?" Reena asked him.

  "Snow," he muttered, "ice…"

  "Anything else?"

  "My reflection," he answered angrily, turning away.

  He began to pace. When he passed the face in the mirror, its lips moved.

  "The time is come," it said.

  He replied with an obscenity. He continued pacing, hands clasped behind his back.

  "You think Meg really saw something down there?" he asked.

  "Yes. Even the mirror has changed its tune."

  "What do you think it is?"

  "A man on a strange mount."

  "Perhaps he's not actually coming here. Maybe he's on his way someplace else."

  She laughed softly.

  "Just on his way to the neighborhood tavern for a few drinks," she said.

  "All right! All right! I'm not thinking clearly! I'm upset! Supposing—just supposing—he does make it up here. He's only one man."

  "With a sword. When was the last time you had one in your hands?"

  Ridley licked his lips.

  "… And he must be fairly sturdy," she said, "to have come so far across these wastes."

  "There are the servants. They obey me. Since they are already dead he'd have a hard time killing them."

  "That would tend to follow. On the other hand, they're a bit slower and clumsier than ordinary folk— and they can be dismembered."

  "You don't do much to cheer a man up, you know?"

  "I am trying to be realistic. If there is a man out there wearing Elfboots, he has chance of making it up here. If he is of the hardy sort and a decent swordsman, then he has a chance of doing what he was sent to do."

  "… And you'll still be mocking and bitching while he lops off my head? Just remember that yours will roll, too!"

  She smiled.

  "I am in no way responsible for what happened."

  "Do you really think he'll see it that way? Or care?"

  She looked away.

  "You had a chance," she said slowly, "to be one of the truly great ones. But you wouldn't follow the norma
l courses of development. You were greedy for power. You rushed things. You took risks. You created a doubly dangerous situation. You could have explained the sealing as an experiment that went bad. You could have apologized. He would have been irritated, but he would have accepted it. Now, though, when you can't undo what you did—or do much of anything else, for that matter—he is going to know what happened. He is going to know that you were trying to multiply your power to the point where you could even challenge him. You know what his response has to be under the circumstances. I can almost sympathize with him. If it were me, I would have to do the same thing— destroy you before you get control of the other. You've become an extremely dangerous man."

  "But I am powerless! There isn't a damned thing I can do! Not even shut off that simple mirror!" he cried, gesturing toward the face that had just spoken again. "In this state I'm no threat to anybody!"

  "Outside of his being inconvenienced by your having cut off his access to one of his strongholds," she said, "he would have to consider the possibility that you keep drawing back from—namely, that if you gain control of the other, you will be one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world. As his apprentice— pardon me, ex-apprentice—who has just apparently usurped a part of his domain, only one thing can follow—a sorcerous duel in which you will actually have a chance of destroying him. Since such a duel has not yet commenced, he must have guessed that you are not ready—or that you are playing some sort of waiting game. So he has sent a human avenger, rather than run the risk that you've turned this place into some sort of magical trap."

  "The whole thing could simply have been an accident. He'd have to consider that possibility, too____"

  "Under the circumstances, would you take the risk of assuming that and waiting? You know the answer. You'd dispatch an assassin."

  "I've been a good servant. I've taken care of this place for him…"

  "Be sure to petition him for mercy on that count the next time that you see him."

  Ridley halted and wrung his hands.

  "Perhaps you could seduce him. You're comely enough…"

  Reena smiled again.

  "I'd lay him on an iceberg and not complain," she said. "If it would get us off the hook, I'd give him the high ride of his long life. But a sorcerer like that—"