Foster, Dean - Spellsinger 04 - The Moment Of The Magician

"Look, they're all dead," stuttered the javelina. He

pointed at the bones. "The wizard Opiode killed

them. A great sorcery." There was fear in his voice

now.

"1 don't know about that," muttered the fennec,

"but we'd belter tell Thomrack." He started backing

toward the exit,

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As he did so, Mudge and Quorly dropped from

the crevices in the ceiling where they'd been hiding

and flailed away at the guards with the leg bones

they'd been holding in their teeth. The javelina

[, dropped his long knife, the man he'd been question-

ing underwent-a miraculous transformation, and in

seconds both guards lay dead on the floor of the cell.

Mudge netted the fennec's spear while Quoriy

helped herself to the knife from his belt. "Now, that,"

Mudge said with ghoulish satisfaction, "is wot I calls

magic!" He kicked the javeiina in the side.

"I'm sorry we had to kill them," Jon-Tom murmured.

"I don't like unnecessary slaughter."

"Oi, but this were necessary slaughter," Quoriy

observed. She glanced at Mudge. "Wot is 'e. squeam-

ish or somethin'?'*

"Or somethin*, luv, but don't 'old it against *un."

They crept out of the cell and started up the stairs.

No one challenged them when they entered the

deserted guard room, where they helped themselves

to handfuls of weapons. Thus equipped, they took

the place apart searching for Mudge's bow and Jon-

Tom's duar.

"No luck," grumbled Mudge as he finished exca-

vating the last cabinet. "Maybe further up. I thought

I saw a barred storeroom on our right when they

| were bringin' us down 'ere."

Jon-Tom nodded. They climbed to the next level.

Where they found the storeroom Mudge remem-

bered. They also saw a pudgy but alert hare standing

in front of the half-open door.

At the same time, the rabbit saw them and turned

to slam the door shut. Mudge threw his spear and

the swinging grate slammed against it. The guard

did manage a piercing scream before Quoriy could

cut his throat. Nothing can scream like a dying hare.

"Shit!" Quoriy snapped, her eyes going immediately

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to the stairwell leading upward. "That'll bring 'em

down on us in a minute. I'll watch while you and

Mudgey get your stuff."

Jon-Tom rushed into the storeroom. Tossed indif-

ferently on a pile of spears was his ramwood staff.

He grasped it like an old friend's proffered hand.

But where was the duar?

"Right, mate, let's go."

He turned. Mudge stood waiting nearby. His quiv-

er of arrows and longbow were slung against his

back. and he was staggering beneath a load of metal

and rock. Long links of gold coins were draped

across his chest like bandoliers while necklaces of

pearls and gems hung from his neck and wrists. His

arms were full of gem-encrusted plates and goblets.

Two tiaras rested askew on his crushed cap.

"Mudge, what the hell are you doing?"

The otter blinked, then looked embarrassed. He

dropped his heavy load. Coins and gems went rolling

across the floor.

"Sorry, mate. For a minim there 1 kind o' forgot

where we are." Reluctantly, he unburdened himself

of the rest of the treasure. "Couldn't we maybe take

just a wee bit with us?"

"No, we could not." Jon-Tom snapped angrily.

"Will you two kindly get your arses in gear?"

Quorly's shout reached them along with pounding

footsteps from the stairs. There was a startled squeal

and a four-foot-tall armored hedgehog went sprawling

into the room, bleeding from a stab wound in the

belly. "I can't hold this lot off forever."

Jon-Tom turned to search the room, but Mudge

spun him around. The otter's eyes were wide as he

pointed, not into the storeroom, but across the floor.

"There she is, mate!"

Jon-Tom fairly flew across the stones toward the

crackling fireplace. He ignored the heat and the

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283

cinders as he yanked the priceless duar from the top

of the fire. It was blackened in a couple of spots, but

the strings were intact and so was the body. He

tested it, was rewarded with a familiar mellow ring.

"That," he gulped, "was too close." He tried the

tremble and mass controls. Everything worked. A

slight shudder went through the paving stones as the

music filled the room. "Let's get out of herel"

Only the fact that the stairwell was so narrow had

enabled Quorly to hold off the guards. Mudge glee-

fully went to work with his longbow, and in a couple

of minutes the passage was blocked by the bodies of

the fallen. Those guards who hadn't been shafled

retreated.

• "That ought to 'old the bastards," Mudge said with

satisfaction.

They plunged down the stairs, for the moment

pursued only by confused shouts and angry cries.

Jon-Tom had thoughtfully requisitioned the unfortu-

nate javelina's keys. Now he used them to lock the

cell from the inside. Arrows flashed past him. The

guards had finally managed to bring up archers of

their own.

Jon-Tom tossed the keys into the hole in the floor

and followed them down.

"Wot about puttin' the stones back in place?" Quorly

, asked as she fell on top of him and slid off to one

side.

"Take too much time," he told her. "They saw us

come in here. As soon as they get the door open, the

first thing they'll do is start checking the walls and

the floor." He started running down the tunnel,

cursing as he bumped against the unyielding ceiling

while trying to juggle his burden of staff, duar, and

extra weapons.

They weren't halfway back to the well chamber

when excited yells sounded behind them. Some of

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Jon-Tom's initial confidence evaporated and he tried

to run faster, but it was hard to speed up in the

confines of the tunnel.

"I didn't think they'd follow us down here," he

yelled to his companions.

"I imagine they figure they can follow anyplace we

can go, mate."

"You go on ahead. I'll catch up."

"Now wot kind o' cowards do you think we are?"

Mudge replied, outraged. "Do you think that after

all we've been through together, you and I, 'avin'

come all this ways, that I'd for a minute think o'

leavin' you behind to get your behind shot off? Wot

do you take me for?"

Jon-Tom was gasping for breath now but still couldn't

keep from replying. "There's also the fact that unless

I can manage to do something with this duar, we'll

all likely never get out of here."

"Well, yeah, that 'ad occurred to me, too," Mudge

confessed -

Jon-Tom grinned, though he knew the otter couldn't

see him. "Glad to hear it. For a second I thought the

dampness might've addled your brain."

"Now, mate, you do old Mudge an injustice." But

the otter didn't complain very strongly.

Meanwhile their pursuit continued to gain ground

on them. Occasionally a flicker of light from closing

torches would reach the refugees, spurring them to

run still faster. The tunnel seemed to have stretched

in their absence, lengthening like a rubber tube. The

only advantage they possessed was the assurance of

knowing their destination.

Even so, by the time the faint circle of light that

marked the entrance to the well chamber appeared

ahead, the guards were near enough for Jon-Tom to

pick out individual voices. The three of them stum-