The bones littering the floor made it clear he had.
The mummy moved very deliberately toward them. Pernika’s screams became frantic, piercing. The kind of screams that burrowed into a person’s mind and never, ever came out. Tam tried to grab hold of the holy symbol he wore pinned to his collar, but his fingers couldn’t find it and he could not look away from the mercenary lying in the mummy’s path.
The arcanist reached down and picked up Pernika by her dislocated arm, as if she were a forgotten doll. The mercenary swiped at the creature with one blade, slashing at the mummy’s desiccated skin. He regarded her a moment, as if puzzled by what she was doing.
Then he wrenched her waving arm from her body, as easily as plucking a flower from a wet field. A spray of blood red as poppies erupted from her body. The screams broke off as she collapsed in shock. The fountain of blood diminished pump by pump. The arcanist brought the end of the limp arm to his mouth and bit through leather, muscle, bone.
Silver Lady, Tam prayed, unable to look away, don’t forsake us.
The air cracked and split with a gust of hot air and the acrid smell of burning stone, and Farideh leaped from the middle of nothing, pulling Dahl behind her to land lightly on his feet.
“Gods, devils and demons,” Dahl swore. “What is that thing?”
Farideh didn’t answer him, but pointed the infernal rod at the mummy. “Adaestuo.” The powers of the Hells surged through her, racing black as soot along the veins of her arms before bursting out the end of the rod in a searing ball of sickly, violet energy. It broke over the mummy, clinging to his dry form in embers here and there. Tarchamus looked up from his grisly meal.
But now his full attention was on Farideh.
Dahl drew his sword, but Farideh laid a hand on his arm. “No. Don’t get close. Get Tam fixed.” She swept her arms together and with another infernal shout, sent a gust of burning air toward the arcanist as the strange green light gathered around him.
Dahl started to protest, but the arcanist’s light burned brighter, gathering in his gaping mouth. The mummy’s jaw opened like a yawn and Dahl leaped aside. Another crack and Farideh vanished and reappeared a dozen feet to the arcanist’s left, just as the green light streamed out of the mummy, charring a streak through the litter of bones. Dahl’s sword clattered on the bones and he dropped to Tam’s side.
Time seemed to drag to an unbearable crawl as Dahl looked over Tam’s injuries, the bursts of fire and green light flashing just out of sight and throwing shadows of their casters across the room.
“Hurry!” Tam tried to say.
“Right,” Dahl said. “This is going to … be horrible.” Tam hardly knew what was happening until another explosion of pain shattered his shock, and he realized Dahl had planted a foot to one side of his crotch, grabbed hold of the ankle of his broken leg, and pulled. The grind of bone sliding on bone made Tam clutch at the air as much as the pain did, and again he was dimly aware that he was screaming.
And still the arcanist roared and still the smell of brimstone was thick enough to make a man gag.
Now Dahl was binding his legs, one to the other with a solid piece of wood on either side of the broken bone … Tam looked down-not wood, some other poor soul’s thighbone. He started to retch.
“You’re losing blood,” Dahl said, pressing gently on the broken leg. “The vessels … even though nothing’s broken the skin, they’re going to bleed. You need healing.”
“I’ll …” Tam started to reach for the symbol of Selune he wore as a pin.
Dahl caught hold of his hand and pulled it away. “Wait for Brin. You need all your strength.”
The smack of a rope hitting the floor beside him. The roar of the arcanist. The smell of bitter brimstone so sharp it burned the back of his throat. Mira landed beside him, her face suddenly hovering over him, pale and drawn.
I’m sorry, he wanted to say. I don’t know what happened.
“Pernika?” she asked.
“Don’t look,” Dahl advised.
Mira said not another word, but tied the rope into a harness and-with Dahl’s help-bound it around Tam. The flash of flames and ancient magic continued, just out of sight.
Then suddenly, there was a sickening thud. Dahl shouted and pulled his sword again. Mira went stiff.
“Haul!” she shouted. The rope jerked. He lifted his head and looked out across the tomb.
Farideh lay sprawled on the floor. The arcanist, still trailing bits of intestine and sinew, had stopped casting, was making his way over. Dahl ran across the bone field, blade out, but gods, no, Tam thought, he’ll die. She’ll die. No blade can stop that thing. No one can stop that thing.
Farideh pulled herself up, and stumbled.
No, he thought. You can stop it. You have to stop it. He clutched at the pin. And opened himself wide to Selune.
The blessings of the moon swelled, so intense he could feel them in his teeth. Even here, so far from the night sky, so far from the Moonmaiden’s fair face, the undeniable power of her poured into her servant, like water into a vessel. With all his strength, Tam pulled the pin from his collar and thrust it out toward the arcanist.
He cried out Selune’s name, and a silvery radiance exploded outward from the symbol. The light overwhelmed Tam’s eyes, the spell sapped his strength. But he heard the arcanist scream and the sound of the mummy’s body crashing against the farther wall.
“Gods damn it! Pull him up!” Mira shouted. The ropes around him tightened. He spun in the air as he was hauled upward, the roar of the arcanist suddenly splitting the air.
No, he thought, struggling to stay conscious. No, no, no. Arms pulled him out of the air. He landed on another hard floor.
“Karshoj,” he heard Havilar swear and swear and swear. Her voice echoed strangely in his ears as his vision closed. “Do something …”
There was a ringing sound, like a sword on a whetstone, and a woman’s voice, singing softly. The pain in his leg multiplied, doubled, and tripled, and he was screaming again. The light, so bright he might have held the moon to his eye …
He sat up panting hard and nearly fell over. His leg was still in agony, his head still spun, but he no longer felt as if he were going to die. Brin, looking ashen, stood over him. Maspero held the rope, slung over a fallen shelf, hauling mightily against the weight of someone down below. Havilar pulled behind him, her feet sliding on the polished floor …
“Get this off me,” Tam ordered, reaching for the splint of bones.
“Not until someone sees to you,” Brin said. “I don’t know if it’s fixed.”
Tam ignored him and tried to come to his feet, and stumbled, dizzy and sick. Brin caught him, like he was an invalid-damn it-and eased him down. “Don’t move. I think it’s still broken.”
Down below the arcanist screamed again, and Tam pushed Brin away. Mira scrambled up the rope. The bookshelf the rope hung over splintered under their weight.
“Hurry, gods blast you,” Maspero shouted down at her.
She wouldn’t be quick enough. Tam took his pin in hand and filled his heart and mind with the distant powers of the Moonmaiden. A cool wave of intense magic rushed through him, along with the sound of faint singing. His thighbone knitted together with a cracking and snapping that he never got used to.
The bookshelf cracked and snapped along with him. The wood splintered. Mira reached the top of the rope and started swinging for the ledge. He pulled the chain from his belt.
“No!” Havilar screamed. The bookshelf broke-Tam’s chain lashed out and tangled around the rope. He hauled hard against it, keeping Mira from dropping any farther. Arms shaking, she scaled the rope to the edge of the chain and caught Brin’s reaching hand. She half fell, half leaped the distance, and Brin grabbed hold of her as she did, helping her scramble over the side. She fell forward onto her hands and knees.