"Somebody who is afraid of the magic down here," said Gunderal with a shudder. "Whatever is here is what buried Tsurlagol before."
"What was it?" Ivy asked. Whatever it was, this had to be what Archlis was hunting-an artifact so powerful that he had led Fottergrim to Tsurlagol and plunged an entire city into war just so he could roam around these ruins.
"Something was hidden here a long time ago," Gunderal said. She pushed her dark hair back from her face and closed her eyes, a small worry line marking a perfect crescent between her eyebrows. She waved both hands with palms upturned, like a seer trying to draw scented incense toward her face. Gunderal swayed twice, and Zuzzara stepped forward to steady her sister. Ivy gestured her back. Gunderal sighed and then opened her eyes. "An object of great power. A gem that calls to other gems and rules the earth beneath it."
"Is it evil?"
Gunderal shrugged. "No more than any other jewel. It is how it is used that has caused both trouble and sorrow. And fear. It was fear that caused them to build the golden doors and lock this treasure away."
"She is more sensible than she looks sometimes," said Mumchance. "Treasure is never evil. But the spending of it-that can cause great wickedness."
"Well, then," said Ivy, "it would probably be best to keep this treasure away from Archlis. Because I feel that he would be a very careless spender of wealth."
The tunnel branched in two directions ahead of them. Both ways curved off into shadows; neither showed a clear path. There were no boot prints on the gem-studded floor, and no visible archways or flickering lights beyond the branching.
Better still, Ivy noted with some relief, no trail of blood or beastly fluids.
"Right or left?" queried Zuzzara.
"Don't see which way." Ivy missed Kid more than ever. "What do you hear, Zuzzara?"
The half-orc cupped her hands around her ears. "Metal striking metal. Somebody in a fight, but no yelling or screaming. Not like a normal fight."
Ivy grinned with relief. "Sounds perfectly normal for a man from Procampur who thinks it is uncivilized to insult his opponents. Which direction?"
"Left," Zuzzara said.
Ivy pivoted on her heel and started down the tunnel that Zuzzara indicated. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her dagger. "Come on, Sanval is down there," she said.
Whipping around a corner, Ivy barreled into the melee. Sanval and the magelord's two bugbears were whirling in the middle of the corridor, stuck in an odd three-way fight with each other. The bugbears were snarling softly, but Sanval, as expected, was fighting with his usual silent expertise.
Ivy was surprised to spot a new foe-two skeletal arms appeared to be floating through the air and spinning around the other fighters, wielding a rusty sword. There was nothing but empty space between the arms where a body and shoulders should have been. Still, when any of them moved, the upper arms drew slightly toward each other, the elbows shot out, and the hands tightened on the sword hilt, exactly as though the arms were attached to an invisible body. Each arm was polished white bone, from shoulder to elbow to wrist to the ivory hands that clutched the rusty sword. This was a creature created by magic, and one that the Siegebreakers knew, and there was something rather comforting and welcome about facing a danger that you understood, rather than one like the destrachans.
"Oh dear," said Gunderal behind Ivy. "More undead."
"A dread!" said Mumchance. "Lousy, lousy dread. I hate dead things that don't stay dead!" Wiggles's ears pricked up, and she gave a happy bark as she spotted the flying bones.
"A skeleton without a head, a head without a skeleton, and now arms without a body. Another undead guardian," Ivy agreed. "Somebody liked to play with bones in old Tsurlagol."
The dread seemed to be guarding a doorway. Each time Sanval or one of the bugbears got too close, the arms would swing the sword. If they backed away, the arms stayed floating in front of the entrance.
"So where are Archlis and Kid?" asked Ivy. "Why didn't that bony thing attack them?"
Gunderal gave a little sniff. She twitched her nose a couple of times to be sure. "No sword on Archlis."
"Lacking a sword is an advantage? So I can march right past it?" Ivy asked. When Gunderal did not reply, and continued to stand with her head tilted back, nostrils flared, Ivy added, "How do you know Archlis doesn't have a sword?"
"Keen sense of smell," Gunderal said.
"You can smell that?" said Zuzzara. "You are kidding, little sister."
"Of course not. I'm that good. I keep telling you that I can smell magic."
Zuzzara gave Gunderal a "big sister" look. "You can smell a missing sword on someone who isn't here?" the half-orc asked.
Gunderal giggled and then admitted, "I can smell an old command spell in this space, and I can see that Archlis and Kid shed their blades." She pointed across the floor. Just outside the doorway lay the magelord's slender sword and Kid's three stilettos. "Kid probably told him how to get around the dread-most likely it has a command on it to attack anyone bearing edged weapons. Kid's good at guessing such things. Remember the dreads that we found under the wizard's tower-the ones that were commanded to attack only dwarves? Besides, watch the arms. Anytime Sanval or the bugbears get near it, it attacks their weapons. It's there as a barrier, but one that would be easy to pass for anyone who knew what its commands were."
"I hate those things," muttered Mumchance, who still had a few scars from his previous encounter with the dwarf-activated dread.
"They're mindless, at least," said Gunderal. "They'll only fight what they are told to fight. Sort of like you, big sister."
"Ha-ha. So what about those three? Do we rescue Sanval first? Or get rid of the dread?" asked Zuzzara.
"We really can't afford to lose any more weapons," Ivy said. "Fairly soon, we'll be down to chucking stones. I would rather dismantle the bones than shed any blades that we have left." She gave the fight ahead of them a cool look. "Sanval's doing all right. Let's get rid of the dread first. It's upsetting those bugbears-look at them snarl and whine. And a frightened, upset bugbear is a big, hairy problem."
A dread always cast an aura of fear. As Ivy had learned in previous encounters, that fear could be ignored if you knew what was causing it. But if you didn't know what was causing it, that creeping feeling of terror could shake your confidence. The bugbears obviously didn't know why they were feeling so panicked, and that was making them fight all that much harder. Their huge ragged ears twitched, their tiny eyes narrowed to pinpoints, and their bear noses quivered. One of the bugbears had clenched his jaw so tightly he had thrust a pointed fang through his own lip, and a fine line of blood trailed down his chin and dripped over his matted chest. He brushed at it where it fell onto his shiny breastplate, dulling the gleam, and let out a low growl of frustration. In one clawed hand he clutched a glaive, and with the other he pulled his dagger from its scabbard. He hunched forward and swung wildly at the dread with the knife.
The dread lifted its arms and made a quick downward slice that missed the bugbear's sword but clipped against the loose chains hanging from the bugbear's shoulders. The blow did no harm other than rattle the chains and clang loudly. The bugbear let out a howl of anger; or was that fear? He jerked in a clumsy turn on his clawed feet, and the chains spun out around him, banging against the wall but missing the dread. It floated up and away, then paused beyond the bugbear's reach.
"Suggestions?" said Ivy.