"Very well, but do not risk yourself needlessly."
"What do I do?" Gorst asked.
Already casting the spell, Zayl replied, "You must engage the gargoyle in combat."
"That all?"
From the skull came another response. "You could also try praying a bit, lad!"
Gorst grunted. Zayl finished the spell, explaining, "If it works as planned, whatever blow it strikes against you will damage it instead. If you feel the slightest pain, retreat quickly."
The giant said nothing more, not even commenting on thefact that if the gargoyle got one good strike at him, he would not have the chance to retreat. Hefting his weapon, the mercenary descended toward the metallic beast.
Nearly within range, Gorst suddenly paused. "If I strike him, does it hurt me?"
"No, you may attack at will."
The massive figure gave him a happy grin. "Good."
Nearly motionless while the two had stood atop the steps, the winged gargoyle suddenly stirred to savage life as the human approached. It snapped and slashed at Gorst even though the fighter had yet to get near enough. Despite his confidence in his spellwork, Zayl could not help feeling much concern for his companion. One never knew what spells might also surround the beast. He readied himself to protect Gorst the moment anything turned awry.
Barely a yard from the guardian, the giant suddenly raised the ax over his head and let out a war cry. The gargoyle roared in turn, leaping forward.
Metal clashed against metal. Despite the spell set upon him by the necromancer, Gorst fought as if his skills alone would save him.
Twice, three times, the head of the ax met the claws and savage beak of the gargoyle. The razor—sharp nails came within inches of the mercenary, but Gorst avoided them as he would have any attack.
With his prodigious strength, he dented the head of his adversary, but the toll of hitting the iron hide of the beast proved too much. The blade chipped and dulled, and each swing came slower and slower.
The gargoyle finally got one paw under Gorst's defenses. The fighter tried to retreat, but stumbled over the step behind him.
"What's happening?" Humbart called.
Zayl said nothing, poised to cast a spell even though he knew that it would not save the mercenary from terrible injury.
The claws tore at Gorst's right leg.
A horrible, metallic screeching sound rippled through the passage.
Gorst's monstrous foe suddenly tumbled to the side, its right rear leg shredded open. Seemingly unconcerned, the gargoyle pushed forward, trying with its beak to snap at the human's unprotected midsection.
Again the metallic shriek echoed throughout the area. Now the gargoyle did back away, although in rather haphazard fashion. In the area of its belly, a gaping hole now existed. A live animal would have already been dead or dying from such wounds, but the magic animating the winged terror kept it going, albeit without as much skill and fluidity of movement as in the beginning.
"It's working!" shouted Gorst. "I'm going in closer!"
Even seeing that his spell worked perfectly, Zayl did not relax. He also moved nearer to the struggle, watching for any possible threat or an opening of which he could make use.
Swinging the ax hard, the giant actually indented the gargoyle's left shoulder. Unimpeded by such a wound, the beast struck again, reaching for Gorst's right forearm.
The results were as expected. Instead of mangling soft, human flesh and ripping apart muscle and bone, the animated guardian only tore its own front right leg asunder. Suddenly stricken with two badly mauled limbs on the same side, the gargoyle teetered, falling against the wall. Yet still it did not give in.
"This is takin' too long!" bellowed the mercenary. "I'm gonna try something!"
He threw down his ax and leaned forward, presenting his face and throat for the beast.
"Gorst! No!" Even though the spell had so far protected the fighter, Zayl wanted to take no chances.
The metallic guardian, however, reacted too swiftly for the necromancer. With its good front limb, the wingedcreature slashed hard, aiming for the entire target. Claws that could have ripped away Gorst's face to the very bone came closer and closer…
With a savage squeal of wrenching iron, the gargoyle's own muzzle and throat tore off.
Little remained of the monstrous visage save a bit of eye. A ragged hole reminiscent of the damaged golems greeted the staring humans.
The gargoyle took an awkward step forward, choosing to stand on the ruined front limb. This time, it toppled completely to the side and seemed unable to right itself.
With almost childlike interest, Gorst leaned down and bared his chest to the one good forelimb. He then reached out and tapped the ruined guardian on the paw.
The paw instinctively attacked.
A great gouge appeared in the gargoyle's chest.
The metallic beast screeched once… then stilled.
"Nice spell," Gorst commented, rising. "How long does it last?"
"This battle is done," replied the necromancer. "It is gone now."
"Too bad. Can you cast it on me again?"
Zayl shook his head. "Not with any trust to its success. Besides, I suspect that such a spell will not help you down there."
The giant seized his battered ax again, not at all bothered by the other's answer. "Guess I'll just have to fight like normal, huh?"
With the gargoyle destroyed, the handle to the door had also been lost, but Zayl suspected that it did not serve as the true mechanism for entry. Such a place would not depend upon so mundane a device. The true key to opening the door had to involve magic—but how to discover that key?
He pulled the skull free. "Humbart, what do you see?"
"A red force blankets the whole thing. There's dark,greenish lines zigzagging over it from top to bottom, and in the center I see a kind of blue—yellow spot—"
That had to be what Zayl sought. "Guide the tip of the blade to it."
The skull did, urging the necromancer's hand left and right, up and down, as needed. "Right on the mark there, lad!"
A slight tingle coursed through Zayl as he touched the point of his weapon to the spot. Immediately, he began a spell of searching and unbinding. Without the unique properties of the skull, Zayl knew that he would have never been able to pinpoint the area so precisely, so cleverly had the wards been set in place.
His mind untied and unfolded the myriad patterns creating the lock, slowly teasing out the secret to its opening. Unbidden from his mouth came words even he had never heard before, old, old words of dark imagining. The necromancer considered pulling free, but that would have left him with no other options, and Captain Dumon most certainly in some dire strait.
Then, at last, a single word came to him, the final key and, if he had been privy to the knowledge of the original caster, the only one truly needed.
"Tezarka…" Zayl whispered.
With a slow moan, the door began to open.
The necromancer leapt back, joining a wary Gorst in preparation of the attack surely to come. The iron door opened wider, revealing light from within. A flood of varied and powerful forces emanated from within, enough to awe even Zayl.
Yet nothing burst forth to attack them. No guards, no golems, nothing.
Glancing at each other, Zayl and Gorst cautiously entered.
The vast, angled room immediately snared their attention, for here clearly stood the most private sanctum of apowerful spellcaster. The weighty tomes, the gathered specimens, powders, and artifacts—Zayl had never seen such a collection. He stared, for the moment caught up in the sight. Even Gregus Mazi's abode had not touched him so.