Margaret Weis - Into the Labyrinth

“I’ll go with you,” Marit offered.

“So will I,” said Hugh the Hand, frustrated, eager for action. The assassin had tried fighting, but every spear he threw went wide of its mark; the arrows he shot might have been flowers for all the damage they did.

“You can’t kill,” Haplo reminded him.

The Hand grinned. “They don’t know that.”

“You’ve got a point,” Haplo admitted. “But maybe you should stay here, protect Alfred...”

“No,” said Alfred resolutely. “Sir Hugh is needed. You will all be needed. I’ll be all right.”

“You sure?” Haplo regarded him intently.

Alfred flushed. Haplo wasn’t asking if Alfred was sure he’d be all right, but if he was sure about something else. Haplo had always been able to see through him. Well, friends could do that sort of thing.

“I’m sure,” Alfred said, smiling.

“Good luck, then, Coren,” Haplo said.

Accompanied by the dog and Hugh the Hand, the Patryns—Haplo and Marit—left, disappearing into the fog and smoke of battle.

“Good luck to you, my friend,” Alfred said softly. Closing his eyes, he delved into the very depths of his being—a place he had never before visited, consciously at least—and began to search among the clutter and the refuse for the words of a spell.

Kari and her band of hunters volunteered to go with Haplo to fight the serpents. They armed themselves with steel, taking the time to inscribe the magic on the blades as Haplo instructed.

“The head of the serpent is the only vulnerable part that I know of,” Haplo told them. “Between the eyes.”

No need to add what they could all see, that the serpents were powerful, that the lashing tails could batter them until their own shielding magic gave way, the enormous bodies crush them, the gaping toothless maws devour them. Four serpents crawled around the walls, including Sang-drax.

“He’s ours,” said Haplo, exchanging glances with Marit, who nodded grim agreement. The dog barked in excitement, dashed in circles in front of the gate.

The walls continued to hold, but they wouldn’t much longer. Cracks spread from base to top now; the flaring light of the runes was starting to dim and in places had gone out. Hosts of the enemy were taking advantage of the weakness to throw up ladders, begin scaling the walls. The attacking serpents occasionally knocked down their own allies, but paid little heed. Another swarm arrived to take the places of the dead.

Haplo and his group stood by the gates.

“Our blessing on you,” Vasu said, and, raising his hand, he gave the signal. Patryns who were guardians of the gate’s magic placed their hands on the runes. The sigla flashed and darkened. The gates began to open. Haplo and his people dashed out rapidly, squeezing through the crack. Seeing the breach in the defenses, a pack of wolfen let out a howl and flung themselves at it. The Patryns cut them down swiftly. Those few wolfen who managed to win through were caught between the iron gates as they boomed shut.

Haplo and those with him were now locked outside their own city, with no way back in. The gates would not—by Haplo’s own orders—open again until the serpents were dead.

The magic of the Patryns’ swords and their own bodies shone brightly. At Haplo’s command, the teams separated, spread out, breaking off into small groups to challenge the serpents individually, prevent them from banding together, draw them away from the walls.

The serpents mocked them, turned from their destruction to eliminate these petty nuisances and go back to the task at hand. Only Sang-drax understood the danger. He shouted a warning, but it wasn’t heeded.

One serpent, seeing puny creatures attacking it, dove straight down upon them, intending to seize them in its jaws and fling the bodies back over the walls. Kari, flanked by three of her people, stood fast against the horror descending on her. Gripping her sword, she waited until the terrible head was right above her; then, with all her strength, she plunged the sharp blade—its magic flaming blue and red—into the reptile head.

The blade bit deep. Blood spurted. The serpent reared up in agony, yanked the sword from Kari’s hands. Blinded by the blood that rained down on her, sickened by the foul, poisonous smell, Kari fell to the ground. The serpent’s gigantic body rolled to crush her, but her people dragged her out from beneath it. The serpent’s tail lashed out, would have smashed them, but its thrashings grew feeble. The serpent head crashed to the ground, just missing the wall, and lay still.

The Patryns cheered; their enemies cursed. The other serpents, more cautious now that one of their number had been slain, viewed their attackers with respect, making the Patryns’ work far more dangerous.

The head of the one-eyed serpent loomed over Haplo.

“This will be our last meeting, Sang-drax!” he called.

“True enough, Patryn. You have outlived your usefulness to me.”

“Because I’m no longer afraid of you!” Haplo retorted.

“Ah, but you should be,” Sang-drax returned, his snake-head swiveling, trying to see Marit and Hugh, who lurked on his blind side. “As we speak, several of my kind are speeding toward the Final Gate, with orders to seal it shut. You will be trapped here for all eternity!”

“The people of the Nexus will fight them!”

“But they cannot win. You cannot win. How many times have you struck me down only to see me rise again!”

Sang-drax’s head dove for Haplo, but the move was only a feint. The serpent’s tail whipped around, struck Haplo from behind. The Patryn’s body magic protected him, or the blow would have broken his spine. The tail knocked him flat, stunned him. His sword flew from his hand.

The dog stood protectively over its fallen master, teeth bared, hackles raised.

The serpent ignored Haplo, however. He was down and no longer a threat. The red eye found Marit. Sang-drax’s jaws opened wide, swooped in for the kill. Marit stood waiting—apparently frozen with terror—making no move to defend herself. The jaws were snapping shut when a heavy weight struck the serpent on its blind side.

Hugh the Hand had thrown himself bodily onto the serpent’s head. Using a rune-covered Patryn dagger, he tried to stab into the gray scales. But the dagger broke. The Hand hung on tenaciously, fingers clutching the empty eye socket. He had hoped that the Cursed Blade might come to life, attack this foe for him, but perhaps the serpents were controlling the knife now, as they seemed to have done in the past. Hugh could do nothing but hang on, at least hamper the serpent’s attack, give Marit and Haplo time to kill it. Sang-drax flailed about, shaking his head, trying to break the human’s grip. Hugh the Hand was strong and hung on with grim determination. Yellow lightning crackled along the serpent’s gray skin. The assassin bellowed in pain. An electrical surge jolted through his body, caused him to loosen his hold in agony.

He slid to the ground, but he’d bought Marit time enough to move in close. She drove her sword into Sang-drax’s head. The blade bit into the serpent’s jaw and up into the snout, causing pain, but not killing.

Marit tried to free her sword, but Sang-drax flung his head up, jerked it from her blood-slick grasp.

Haplo was on his feet, his sword in hand. But he was staggering, hurt and confused. Marit ran to grab his sword. His hand closed over hers.

“Behind me!” he whispered urgently.

Marit understood his plan. She crowded behind him, taking care to keep clear of his sword arm, which now dangled limply at his side. The dog danced in front, jumping into the air, snapping and taunting the serpent with shrill yelps and barks.

In hideous pain, seeing his foe weak and wounded, Sang-drax plunged down for the kill. Too late he saw the shining blade lifted to meet him, saw the magic flare in a radiance that blinded his one good eye. He could not stop his downward momentum, but he could at least destroy the man who was about to destroy him.