Bruce Cordell - Lady of Poison

Shafts of afternoon light bored into the chamber from two high punctures in the ceiling. Luckily, neither of them had appeared beneath those rough apertures. Damanda had picked the bastion of retreat the very moment Lex had penned the scroll, of course. A fortified but empty building in the middle of the Dun Tharos ruins still above ground, it had seemed unlikely to fall into disrepair after having stood for so many centuries. It was near the Close but not in it, in case it was from the Rotting Man she had to use her escape. Despite the odds, in the intervening time the structure had moldered and fallen into further disrepair. That would teach her for choosing an above-ground retreat. Of course, she couldn’t repeat her mistake even if she wished. Lex had been destroyed by that prince of betrayal, Fallon.

Damanda roundly cursed the elf, envying the Rotting Man his way with words and ancient languages but making do with her own obscene vernacular. At least Lex had slashed the little bastard as she fell. Damanda knew lethal blows. She doubted she’d see Fallon again.

“What now, Damanda?” inquired Bonehammer, already back on his feet. With the light of day so close, the wounds given by that odd dark man with the strange war club were not mending as quickly as they should.

Damanda considered her minion’s question. She said, “The Talontyr once told me that the cleric and his band would bring the Child to him of their own accord. If that is true, we merely need to arrange an ambush of such magnitude that nothing can survive it; well, we want the girl to survive, of course.”

“Perhaps we should refrain from setting an ambush, if they’re going to come to the Rotting Man anyway.”

“I’d rather the Talontyr receive the girl from the hands of his trusted lieutenant.”

Bonehammer nodded; he was nothing if not a yes man to Damanda’s will.

While the sun remained above, they were trapped there in her emergency redoubt. On the one hand the building stood within sight of the Close itself. Once darkness fell, she’d raise an army. In a few hours, she’d gather hundreds of blighted volodnis, twigblights, and other rot spawned creatures. She knew all the passages, all the ways that the Close could be accessed, both above and below ground. If the cleric pressed ahead with his fool’s errand, they’d be caught and flayed, there was no doubt in her mind.

First, a bit of rest. Activity during the day, even spared direct light, was taxing. Yes, a bit of a lie-down was called for, she decided. Soon, in just a few hours, the sun would dip below the horizon. Then her full powers would return. Her quarry was as good as in her grasp.

Ash bent, touching the limp form of Fallon on the forehead. Where she touched, a glow lingered before suffusing the body. It seemed then to Marrec that Fallon’s motionless form sighed.

Ash said, “Redemption he has.”

Marrec turned quickly to the crouching girl. “Ash. Can you hear me?”

The girl rose, the look of compassion fading from her face, animation fleeing her body. In a moment, she looked as she always didunresponsive and uncaring.

Marrec was grateful for the small miracle that moved Fallon to save Elowen from the vampire’s bite. He murmured thanks to Lurue. He just wished the betraying hunter had decided to return to the light before he’d kidnapped the girl. Had it been so, perhaps all might now be different.

“Now what?” wondered Elowen.

“We continue to head toward the center of Dun Tharos and confront the Rotting Man. With Ash in our keeping, we may have some protection,” replied Marrec.

“Going overland will take daysyet I do not wish to return to Under-Tharos.”

“True,” said Marrec. He turned to the Oslander, “What do you think, Gunny?”

“Either route has its difficulties. Above ground we’ll likely run afoul of the Rotting Man’s forcessuch was the original reason we decided to approach from belowbut the subsurface route seems far more indirect and dangerous than we hoped. The path is not clear.”

“It is not,” agreed Marrec, sighing.

Gunggari continued, “If the blightlord had retreated physically rather than magically, I might have tracked her back to the center.” The Oslander shrugged.

Ususi held up one hand. “Hold on… that gives me an idea.”

The imaskari grasped the Keystone that she still wore around her neck. She brought it to her eye, then began scanning the chamber as if gazing through a looking glass.

Marrec furrowed his brows. “Surely the Mucklestones do not reach so far?”

Ususi said, “They do not, but listen. The Keystone is a tool designed for use with the Mucklestones, true, yet it is also sensitive to all magic associated with portals and transport. Perhaps the magic used by Damanda to escape left a seam in space, as such spells often do, though they always fade quickly. I might be able to locate the seam using the Keystone… and there it is!” the wizard crowed.

“What good is that to us?” wondered Marrec.

‹S› ‹S›-

When they appeared, Marrec and the others did not fall ten feet like Damanda and Bonehammer. Despite utilizing a raw, poorly executed, and fading seam in reality, Ususi had the Keystone. With its power, she grasped the unraveling threads of Damanda’s escape, wove a new portal, and transported the group into an echoing warehouse with nary a bump.

Marrec blinkedslanting shafts of daylight betokened approaching twilight, but it was still brighter than where they had just stood. The cleric slowly turned, scanning the area for Damanda and her hulking henchman. As he looked, he kept one of Ash’s hands firmly in his left hand. In his right hand was Justlance.

Loose brick rubble covered the floor, piled in untidy heaps in some places. Dust covered all. Gaps in one wall revealed a ruined cityscape, tumble-down and covered in forest growth. Ususi had thought that the endpoint of Damanda’s escape lay near the center of Rawlinswood. The mage was correct. They must be somewhere within Dun Tharos, in one of thousands individual ruins that made up what remained of the ancient Nar city.

Where was Damanda?

If she was in truth cursed with vampirism, she wouldn’t enjoy standing there, indirectly illuminated by fading daylight. Perhaps farther back, where the ceiling allowed through less light?

Marrec pointed to the rear of the building, lost in shadow, where a slender stone door stood closed. Gunggari caught his gesture and nodded. Marrec released Ash’s hand. He looked down at the girl and said, “Stay here.” Ash studied the middle distance. With his free hand he unstrapped his shield from his back.

The cleric and the Oslander approached the door. Elowen was not far behind, her blade still shimmering with its exposure to the sun it loved. Ususi hung back.

Without losing time to doubt, Marrec heaved open the stone door. It fell backward, unsecured to the lintel, generating a terrific rolling boom as it struck the ground. Beyond was a tiny chamber without exits, no more than fifteen feet on a side. The light from Justlance’s tip revealed two forms lying upon the ground, side by side, arms crossed across chests, eyes closed.

One reclining figure was Damanda, the other Bonehammer.

Before he could get his sinews to respond or cough out a warning, the eyes of both the sleepers shuttered open.

Damanda jerked upright like the arm of a catapult, without the intervening need to lever herself up as a living creature might. Her arms shot forward as her form moved to vertical, catching Marrec in the chest. That supernatural shove bowled him back through the narrow entry and out into the brick-strewn warehouse. A brick cut him above the eye and another across his forearm.

Marrec gained his feet, cursing his slowness. He heard Gunggari yell, then a clash of arms. Elowen called out the Nentyarch’s name, as she so often did when fighting. Ususi stood to the side of the doorway, not committing to entering, but chanting and waving in the midst of casting a spell.