The Temple of Yellow Skulls Page 21

  Uldane knew those ruins. He’d used them as a landmark before. He turned his head—cautiously for fear of setting the world spinning with quick movements—and squinted to the north.

  A faint trail weaved in and out of the reeds. A trail that, in a little more than a day’s journey on foot, would lead him directly to the King’s Road. Uldane’s heart jumped in his chest. Maybe halflings were lucky after all!

  The sudden baying of wild dogs brought his head back around to the camp and his stomach up into his throat. He swallowed, trying to keep himself from vomiting. Down below, the lizardfolk were all looking around as well. The dogs had howled earlier, but they’d been farther away and hadn’t gathered much attention. Now they were much closer. Very close, Uldane thought.

  He saw them before the lizardfolk did, three lean shapes that came tearing out of the tall reeds. Red eyes and foaming jaws flashed in the twilight as the dogs rushed for the heaps of butchered meat beneath Uldane’s tree. The lizardfolk screeched in unison and surged in to stop the frenzied animals. The yelping dogs scrambled around them, claws digging up sprays of dirt. A lizardman who had been playing with a blowgun calmly slipped a dart into his weapon, lifted the tube his mouth, tracked the lead dog for a moment, then blew hard. The dog yelped and snapped at its hindquarters. Moments later, its quick movements had turned sluggish. The darter laughed and called something to the other lizardfolk. Two of them closed in on the poisoned animal as the other dogs continued to race around the camp.

  None of them saw what Uldane saw: another shape slipping away from the spot where the dogs had appeared and circling around to the other side of the camp. The halfling blinked. His wounds and fever were finally getting to him, he thought. The shape looked like nothing he’d ever seen before, all long arms and legs with knobby, gnarled joints, and a head stretched out on one side. And yet there was something strangely familiar about the way it moved. A bad feeling rolled up Uldane’s spine.

  The attack came from the west, out of the last blaze of the sun as it slipped below the horizon. Massive hunched silhouettes that seemed to wear red fire like a mantle rose from hiding and descended on the camp with a thundering roar. With all their attention on the frenzied dogs, the first lizardfolk to fall didn’t stand a chance. The shadowy figures were on them in an instant, laying into them with not two, but four muscular arms. Three lizardfolk hunters went down quickly, felled by heavy fists, but a fourth put up a struggle. His spear wove back and forth as he sought an opening—the red fire, Uldane realized, was the sun shining through a heavy shell of crystal.

  The creature made two grabs for the lizardman. A third closed on the shaft of his spear and jerked it close. Monstrous strength pulled the lizardman off his feet. The creature’s other three arms seized him. The thing threw back its head as far as it was able and bellowed as it tore the struggling lizardman apart.

  Uldane couldn’t hold back his nausea any longer. He retched and the thin bile of an empty stomach spattered the tree trunk. There was no one to notice, though, as the lizardfolk reacted to the sudden attack. One of the hunters, a big lizardman with a red and yellow crest, screeched and roared at the others, organizing them. The lizardfolk scattered before their hulking attackers. Darters pulled back, loading their weapons. The two dogs had changed tactics, too, however, and lunged at any lizardman they could. One got its teeth into a scaly arm and dragged the lizardman to the ground. Steel and teeth flashed as hunter and dog wrestled together.

  The tall long-limbed shape Uldane had glimpsed in the shadows entered the camp in the wake of the big monsters. At first Uldane barely registered its presence. Though it moved with a frightening grace, it didn’t leap into the fighting. Instead, it paused beside the lizardfolk that had been knocked out and raked claws across their chests. It moved quickly—it had reached the third lizardman by the time the first started screaming. Once again, the focus of the fight shifted as the lizardfolk turned to the tall creature. It hissed and rose slowly. Firelight flashed on its face for the first time.

  On too many white teeth and too many red eyes. On flesh and bone stretched out of proportion to one side of its head—and, to the other, on a scarred face that Uldane knew.

  “Raid?” he breathed.

  The big crested lizardman bellowed a battle cry and threw himself at this new threat. Uldane watched Raid—the monster that had been Raid—smile and duck aside, his knobby limbs making him look like a bizarre spider as he drew his familiar axes.

  There was no question that the crested lizardman was overmatched. His barbed spear darted and thrust, but its reach gave him no advantage against Raid’s long arms. He slid back from Raid’s whirling blades and tried to strike under the axes, but Raid was faster. The spear plunged in. Raid twisted. An axe chopped down—and the head of the spear went spinning away. The lizardman’s eyes narrowed. He leaped away toward the water of the swamp, and Raid stalked after him, axes held wide. Raid smiled and Uldane heard the words he rasped even over the howls and roars of the rest of the battle.

  “The Voidharrow will take you. You will serve!”

  As if in reply, the crested lizardman blew a sharp, sliding whistle between bared teeth.

  The swamp water seemed to boil as something big surged out of it. Low to the ground but moving fast, a massive crocodile charged at Raid with jaws snapping. Raid jumped away, his smile faltering. The lizardman moved to the crocodile’s side, a look of triumph on his face.

  Then, inexplicably, Raid’s smile returned. He hunched slightly, spread his arms wide, and hissed. The crocodile thrashed suddenly, shaking its big head from side to side. Its eyes blinked shut for a moment.

  When they opened again, they shone red like Raid’s. The lizardman stepped away in surprise, but not quickly enough. The crocodile turned and lunged.

  Its jaws closed on the lizardman’s leg and powerful muscles wrenched it out from under him. The crested lizardman’s screams merged with the crocodile’s snarling as it whipped him back and forth until screams gave way to a horrible wet pop and the tearing of flesh. Uldane couldn’t watch anymore. He turned his head, looking away to the north and the distant haven of Fallcrest.

  The final rays of the sun flashed on the three mounted figures galloping along the swamp edge trail toward the battle. Uldane’s heart leaped. Even in the gathering gloom of twilight, he knew Shara. And that was Albanon beside her, silver hair and blue robes streaming. He didn’t recognize the third rider, an old man in bright chainmail, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter how they’d managed to get here. They were probably only reacting to the sounds of battle, thinking they were interrupting a bandit attack. Either way, he was saved!

  In the same instant the thought flashed into his mind, though, his leaping heart froze. Was he saved? Fighting the dizziness that swept over him, he looked back at the scene in the camp.

  The big crested lizardman clawed weakly at churned mud, trying to drag himself away from the crocodile as it chomped on the mangled remains of his leg. Blood poured out of his wounds and Uldane knew he wouldn’t make his escape. Most of the other lizardfolk were down, either dead or unconscious. Only three still stood, struggling in the grasp of the four-armed monsters, the big blackscale lizardman among them. Their captors bled from numerous wounds and had darts sticking out of their thick hide like spines, but hardly seemed affected. The last of the dogs still howled and thrashed as it died. The three lizardfolk Raid had gone out of his way to injure still screeched as well, as if in the grip of a terrible fever. In fact, Uldane could have sworn he saw their skin shifting and bubbling.

  And Raid, completely untouched, his axes not even bloodied, looked over the scene with satisfaction.

  The elation of rescue slipped away from Uldane. Raid and his monsters had devastated a full dozen strong lizardfolk without difficulty. Shara and the others had no idea the danger they were riding into—and in only moments, the lingering screams of Raid’s victims would no longer be enough to cover the sound of their horses’ hoof beats.<
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  Bracing himself against the trunk of the tree, Uldane sat up. He drew a breath deep enough to send agony through his chest, squeezed his eyes shut, and cupped hands over his mouth. As loud as he could, he let out the piercing wail of a night heron, the call Shara’s father had always used to signal danger.

  He cracked his eyes open to see his friends reining in their horses. Shara wheeled hers in confusion—before looking straight at his tree and punching her heels into the animal’s side, urging it back to a gallop.

  “No,” Uldane whispered to himself. “No!” He cupped his hands again and made the call again—a call that died in his throat at a sudden snarl from below. “You!”

  Uldane looked down into Raid’s horrific, misshapen face.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Albanon had been the first to hear the sounds of the fight ahead down the trail, but Shara was the first to rein in her horse at the sound of the bird call. “That’s Uldane!”

  Disbelief was a like a slap in the face. “You must be joking,” Albanon said as he fought his horse to a prancing halt beside hers. From the moment they’d decided to go looking for Uldane, Shara had been pacing like a caged animal, consumed with worry for the halfling. She’d had them up before dawn to meet the Nentir ferryman on his earliest crossing of the day, ready to strike out for the nearest likely ruin to Fallcrest: a crumbling guard tower along the edge of the Witchlight Fens. He honestly hadn’t held out hope that they’d find Uldane in the first place they looked—although he supposed it wasn’t hard to believe that they’d find him in the middle of trouble. “We must be lucky!”

  “No.” Shara turned her horse as she scanned the trees and reeds of the Witchlight Fens. “That’s our signal for danger. If he’s trying to warn us, he must be somewhere he can see us.…” Her eyes fixed on the top of a tree that rose above the other undergrowth a short distance away. “There.”

  Albanon’s ears prickled. “Shara, if he’s trying to warn us—”

  His words came too late. The warrior kicked her horse and the beast took off along the trail toward the tree. “—maybe we need to be careful,” Albanon finished to empty air. A curse rolled off his tongue and he turned to Kri.

  The old man’s hand gripped the holy symbol of Ioun around his neck. His face was drawn and hard.

  The prickling in Albanon’s ears seemed to grow even stronger. “Kri?”

  “Go after her,” the cleric said through tight lips. “The Voidharrow is here!”

  Albanon’s stomach dropped. The Voidharrow? Here?

  Vestapalk.

  So much for their plan of questioning Raid about his connection to the Voidharrow. If the dragon was already here, Uldane might not be the only one in need of rescue. Albanon kicked his heels hard into his mount’s side. The horse leaped into a gallop, racing along the trail. Albanon leaned low over his horse’s neck and willed Shara to look over her shoulder and see him, as if that would do any good. She’d just think he was following her charge. “Shara!” he hissed as loudly as he dared. “Shara!”

  But she wasn’t going to hear him over the sound of her horse’s hooves, he knew, and raising his voice would just give them away—if the sound of their gallop hadn’t already. He dredged his mind for spells that might stop the warrior before she did something stupid. Short of blasting her horse out from under her with an arcane bolt, there was nothing.

  Fear gave birth to nightmare scenarios in Albanon’s mind of Vestapalk rising up just as they reached the tree. The sounds of fighting had faded. Now there were only screams of pain and terror. Whatever battle had taken place was over. Just ahead of him, Shara drew her greatsword from across her shoulders and charged through the bushes with a scream of her own.

  A scream that rose suddenly into an oath of dismay. Albanon’s heart skipped a beat.

  The bushes loomed before him. Albanon clenched his teeth, fixed a spell of icy destruction in his mind, and spurred his horse through.

  There was no dragon on the other side. He almost wished there had been.

  For a moment, it felt as if his mind refused to believe what his eyes were seeing. The devastated camp. The blood and scraps of flesh all around, some from a butchered deer but more from brutally mauled lizardfolk, including one in the jaws of a massive crocodile. The few still living lizardfolk held captive by creatures with a hunched stance and extra arms—just like the kobolds in Andok Sur, but bigger and with plates of red crystal like armor grown across their shoulders. Albanon felt a sickness in his gut. The Voidharrow had infected them. Whatever they had been before, they were demons now.

  Three lizardfolk writhed on the ground. He could already see the sparkling silver-red of the Voidharrow in their wounds.

  And right before him, confronting Shara and looking almost as startled as she did, another even taller creature. Thick, gnarled hands held twin axes above a head that on one side was stretched into a weird countenance and on the other was burned and scarred but distinctly human and shockingly familiar.

  Raid’s eyes fixed on Albanon and he smiled, his mouth stretching far wider than it should have. “And the eladrin,” he rasped. “Now everybody’s here. I knew you’d join me eventually.” He twisted his wrists, spinning the axes.

  “Don’t try to fight him!” Uldane’s voice, terrifyingly weak, came down from above. Instinctively, Albanon glanced up into the tree and found the halfling clinging to the trunk high up among the branches. “Get out of here!”

  Raid’s smile turned into a snarl and he whirled, kicking the tree hard enough to shake it. “Close your mouth and die, you—”

  The instant he turned, Shara spurred her horse forward and slashed out with her greatsword. Caught by surprise and off-balance, Raid flung himself back. “Albanon, get Uldane!” Shara ordered over her shoulder.

  She didn’t have a chance to say anything more. Faster than should have been possible, Raid sprang back at her, axes swinging in blurring arcs. Shara sent her horse dancing aside, then struck again to force Raid away from the tree.

  Clenching his teeth, Albanon rode in as close to the fight as he could, but his horse wasn’t trained for battle the way hers was. The beast was skittish, its eyes rolling at the blood and sudden movements. He had to fight to keep it steady. Out in the camp, the armored creatures were looking between themselves as if unsure whether to abandon their captives and join Raid.

  Albanon twisted and looked up. “Uldane, can you get down?”

  The halfling nodded. His limbs trembled as he shifted from the branch he stood on and wrapped his arms around the trunk.

  Raid let loose a howl and ducked past Shara’s horse. Albanon yelped and dragged on his reins, but he wasn’t Raid’s target. On the far side of the tree hung the partially slaughtered carcass of a deer. Raid slammed into it and kicked off like a street fighter, using the impact to bound away from Shara’s sword and out into the open. The carcass swung the other way—toward Albanon.

  It was too much for the wizard’s already frightened mount. The horse whinnied and shied away, thumping hard into the tree. Agony blazed through Albanon’s leg as the beast bashed it into the hard wood.

  Between the swinging carcass and the impact of the horse, the tree shuddered violently. High above, Uldane gave a feeble gasp. Albanon looked up to see the halfling lose his grasp and topple backward.

  Sometimes during his training, Moorin had tried to distract him as he cast his spells. A loud noise, a sudden shaking, once a bucket of water dumped over his head. “You have to learn to hold your focus,” his master had told him. “It could save your life some day.”

  His life or someone else’s. Albanon’s leg throbbed from knee to hip. His horse still fought him. Shara and Raid bellowed at each other and exchanged ringing blows. Thanks to Moorin’s lesson, though, the words of a spell rolled smoothly off his tongue. Uldane’s plunge turned into a gentle drift. Albanon wrenched his horse’s head around, bringing it back under control, then reached up and pulled in Uldane as if he were a floating feather.


  The halfling’s skin was burning hot. Mud and dried blood caked his torn leathers. The stink of an infected wound rose from him. Fear gripped Albanon and he quickly scanned Uldane for signs of the Voidharrow—crystalline blisters, sparkling wounds, anything. It was almost a relief to see only angry, pus-wet wounds. Albanon swallowed and settled the halfling against his own body as best he could. Uldane’s eyes flickered, then opened wide, Albanon had to grab him. “Uldane!” he said “Easy. It’s—”

  “Your horse!” Uldane grabbed for the front of Albanon’s robes with one fist as if he could drag the wizard closer than he already was. “Get your horse away from Raid.”

  “What?” Albanon’s first reaction was confusion, but his ears were prickling again. Uldane knew things they didn’t. He gathered his reins and turned his horse, twisting around in the saddle to call back to Shara. “I have Uldane. Let’s—”

  The words stuck in his throat. Between watching Uldane and struggling with his horse, he hadn’t paid close attention to Shara’s fight against Raid. He wished that he had. The warrior was still beating her sword against Raid’s axes, but the first blow that had sent Raid stumbling back had just been luck. Raid caught each of her swings and turned them away, defending himself with ease. He almost had a smile on his face, while Shara wore concentration like a mask. Albanon watched as she tried to guide her horse back with pressure from her knees. The horse responded, dancing back from the demon, but Raid stayed with her.

  The moment she tried to turn and run, he would cut her down. He was toying with her.