Роберт Асприн - Forever After

Her vision tunneled as the strangling hands cut off more of her air. Blood pounding in her ears muffled the sounds of the melee. Domino knew death was near when the hallucinations began. Necrotica’s corpse rose from the ground, the arrow butt unbloodied, the fiery eyes brighter than before, her clawed hands grasping.

“Being killed is only an inconvenience when you’re already dead,” Necrotica gasped, “but you’ll know soon enough, General Blaid.”

Necrotica staggered toward Domino, apparently unwilling to wait for strangulation to kill her prey. Seeing the clawed hands reaching for her, Domino drew in the deepest breath she could manage. Cording the muscles in her neck and flexing for some faint purchase against the stair, she leaped at her tormentor. The ectoplasmic rope caught her in midswing, but she was too stiff-necked for it to break her. Instead, she swung enough to get purchase against something solid behind her — a person, she suspected, as it crunched against her bootheels and screamed — and launched forward with greater velocity.

This time she impacted solidly with Necrotica. One foot thrust the imbedded arrow deeper, slicing between neck vertebrae. The other caught her in the face, smashing the hatchetlike nose up and between the eyes.

The strain of resisting strangulation had nearly driven Domino unconscious so that she almost missed the sensation when her bound hands were freed. Lifting her numbed arms with a strength only the nearness of death could have granted her, Domino grabbed the rope above the noose and hung from her arms.

Her breath came easier and even the sensation of strangling hands diminished slightly, but a new torment awaited. Those same tiny hands were now focused on breaking her tenuous grasp on the rope, joined by myriad blunt-toothed mouths that nipped and nibbled with painful slowness.

Domino resisted even when driblets of her own blood tricked down into her underarms, tickling mercilessly. Hand over hand, she climbed the vengeful rope until she was astride the tree limb. Her confident captors had not removed her weapons, so she drew her hunting knife in bloodied fingers and slashed at the rope. At first, there was no effect, then gradually a shower of miniature, elongated corpses began to fall beneath her. Gasping her first free breath in an eternity, she looked down to see how she could help.

Her people were doing her proud. Jord was about him with his pen case, holding it two-handed clubbing the hedge wizard, who was trying to return the favor with his staff. Jord wisely remained inside the staffs effective range and was certainly getting the best of the battle.

Rafe had found a camel somewhere and from its height was subduing any who came near and many who did not. Seth had given up on archery, but Domino glimpsed her among the tents and wagons, cutting lines and removing cotter pins from wheels.

Some of the Magical Folk had changed sides, but after a brief inspection Domino wasn’t certain that this was intentional. One lanky man clad in varicolored rags was spinning wild circles, effectively toppling whatever he touched. Seven swirling whirlwinds spun like tiny tornadoes in his vicinity, crashing into friends and foes alike.

Grasping the remnants of the ectoplasmic rope, Domino slid to the ground. Unsheathing her saber, she dashed happily across the battlefield to where Spite still stood frozen. Lesser combatants got out of her way with flattering alacrity, but Mel maintained his proprietary seat on the green horse right until Domino leaped astride behind him and put her blade to his throat.

“I don’t suppose you would believe that I was protecting him for you, would you?” he said.

“No,” Domino growled. “Release him from your sorcery.”

“Spite is encased in a formfitting shell,” Mel replied, “and it is not of my making, so I cannot break it. If I could I would have stolen the horse already.”

Domino had her doubts, but kept them to herself as she slid to the ground, forcing Mel down with her.

“Did you hear that, Spite?” she asked. “Formfitting.”

The response was immediate and gratifying. Spite’s hindquarters became amorphous and then reshaped into a fishtail. Now the force-bubble that had held the horse was obvious as its glittering confines shifted to accommodate the new form.

Next, Spite shifted his upper body. The stallion’s heavy head and muscular upper body became the torso of a very buxom mermaid. Her white hair was styled in a cute pixie cut and her waist was trim, for Spite had shifted all available mass into the mermaid’s enormous breasts so that the magical field broke under pressure. Spite tumbled to the ground, her tail flapping in the dirt.

“Very creative,” Domino commented. “Now, if you would kindly change back.”

“Envious?” the mermaid queried with a flutter of her long, snowy eyelashes.

“Nope,” Domino replied, “but I can’t ride a mermaid and too many of my men would lose sleep trying to figure out how.”

Spite’s provocative smile vanished and hastily she shifted back into the green stallion.

When Mel would have run, Domino snapped, “Hold it right there, sorcerer. I have questions for you.”

Mel sneered at her. “Why should I answer them?”

“Well,” she said, “one of my men is standing right behind you.”

Jord tilted his battered pen case so that ink splattered blue blood across Mel’s shoulders.

“I’m right here, General,” he said cheerfully, “and the fight is about won. Rafe and Seth are rounding up captives with the help of a little green guy.”

“And?” Domino prompted.

“We haven’t found it yet, Domi,” he answered, his violet eyes troubled.

“Mel,” Domino said with a calm she didn’t feel, “any advice you have would be useful — now.”

The sorcerer trembled, hearing the gravel that seeped into her tone despite her control, studying the ink coursing down his arm with singular fascination.

“I won’t let you dye me, General,” he said, “not to further Necrotica’s plans, but I don’t know what you want.”

“General!” Rafe came hurrying over, the camel padding along behind. “We’ve secured the field and imprisoned those who opposed us. Necrotica still appears to be dead, but without her control, the ghosts have been sucked into the ghost trap.”

Domino spared a warm smile for him. “Very good. Well release with a warning those who fought with us.”

“Shall we set up gallows for the rest?” Rafe asked.

Domino felt a sudden, acute distaste for hangings.

“No,” she considered, “we’ll behead them instead — set up the block within the ghost trap. See if you can commission an axman from the Magical Folk. He can take his pay in body parts.”

Domino returned her attention to Mel. “What I want to know is where is the scroll tube that Jord was carrying when you took him prisoner?”

Mel stared back in stubborn silence. Domino was considering trying Granny when Seth came running up.

“Colonel Rafe says to tell you that the spinning guy will handle the ax and he’ll work for first choice on fingers and a couple of hands. He wanted to know if he could harvest some while the victim was still alive — they’re more potent that way.”

Domino slowly unsheathed her saber. “Normally, I’d say no, but I have a possible exception here.”

Mel’s eyes widened and then he started babbling. “Necrotica wouldn’t let anyone have anything until it could be checked for value. She heaped the booty in a tent and put Herb on guard.”

“Which one is Herb?”

“The goblin,” Mel replied, his gaze fixed on the saber. “He’s an herbalist.”

“Got a green thumb, huh?” Domino chuckled.

Seth cleared her throat. “Herb has been helping us, General. He swears he hasn’t seen the scroll and I believe him.”