“The warriors you just fought constituted a feint. While they kept you occupied, a larger force climbed up into the mountain from the sea caves, dividing as they progressed to invade every gallery and tunnel. Those of us who stayed inside are trying to fight them, but we’re heavily outnumbered. It’s difficult to stop them from going wherever they want and holding any position they choose to occupy.”
The dragon snarled, angry at the sea creatures for tricking him and at Diero for having been right that it was a poor idea to leave the caverns. Had the magician been physically present, the red might even have clawed him, just to rip away any smugness or sense of superiority that he might be harboring inside..
Eshcaz struggled to calm himself. It was galling that the wyrms would have to fight their way back into their own stronghold, that they’d already expended a measure of their arcane abilities, and that in the confined spaces within the mountain, their wings would prove less of advantage. But even so, surely this fiasco was only a momentary nuisance.
They were, after all, dragons, and he, the most powerful red the Sea of Fallen Stars had ever known. It was insane to imagine that lesser creatures could defeat them under any circumstances whatsoever.
“I’ll deal with it,” he said, spreading his wings.
“Wait, please!” Diero said. “Listen to me. We don’t know why the ixitxachitls attacked us or the full extent of their plans, but if they destroy the work we’ve been doing, it will set us back by months.”
Curse him! He was right again. “What needs protecting most urgently?” Eshcaz asked. “The grand pentacle?”
“Yes. A bit of chiseling at the right point, coupled with the proper counterspell, could ruin it almost beyond repair. I’m trying to head in that direction.”
“I will, too.” Eshcaz glared at the priest of Velsharoon. “Tell everyone I order them back inside to kill more intruders.” He lashed his pinions and sprang into the air.
Tu’ala’keth trembled as Eshcaz burst into the chamber. She reminded herself that she was a waveservant, and her reflexive dread subsided to a degree.
She glanced from side to side. Hunkered on the floor, crouched over their pages from the compendium of priestly magic, the ‘chitls were likely frightened, too. In some cases, their long tails lashed in agitation. But nobody tried to flee.
The red began to charge in eerie silence. That wasn’t his doing but theirs. They’d shrouded his side of the chamber in an enchantment that stifled sound to keep him from reciting incantations.
Perhaps Eshcaz realized what they’d done, for he gave them a sneer, as if to scorn the suggestion he needed sorcery to slaughter tiny creatures like themselves. Then he bounded far enough to trigger a second ward.
Whoever had originally crafted the ixitxachitls’ book, he must have been a supremely wise and able priest of the sea because he’d stored extraordinary magic in the gemstone lines. A huge wave of saltwater surged up from the dry stone floor and smashed into the dragon. Even his strength, weight, and momentum couldn’t withstand the prodigious force. The wave tumbled him all the way backward to slam against the wall before dissipating into nothingness.
The impact didn’t even stun him, though. He scrambled to his feet in an instant, cocked his head back, and spat a bright jet of flame. The flare rustled as it left the zone of quiet, then hissed explosively when it met the enchantment the invaders had emplaced to counter fire. Blocked short of its targets, Eshcaz’s breath produced a gout of steam at its terminus, as if it had struck an invisible, freestanding wall of water. In a metaphysical sense, that was precisely what had happened.
Tu’ala’keth read the final trigger phrase from one of the pages, and the entire sheet of horn shattered in her grasp. Fortunately, the magic, once unleashed, could strike anyplace, even where silence reigned, and Eshcaz thrashed, stricken.
She’d filled his lungs with water, a bane that ought to kill him, but he mastered his convulsions and retched it forth. Because of the heat in his vitals, most of it burst out in another gout of steam.
By that time, Yzil and another ‘chitl had also conjured attacks. A cloud of luminous blue-green wraiths in the form of sharks appeared with the dragon at their center. They whirled around him biting and tearing until he leaped clear of the effect.
Canny enough to know that particular magic couldn’t shift to pursue him, he paid it no further heed.
Instead he oriented on Tu’ala’keth and the ‘chitls then jerked as the next spell took hold of him. His scaly hide withered, cracking and flaking. But it blurred back to normal a heartbeat later as resilience of soul or body enabled him to withstand the curse.
Enraged, his shark bites bleeding, he hurled himself at his tormentors, and another wave arose and threw him backward. He spat more flame, and it, too, halted short of the mark in a burst of steam.
“By the Five Torments!” cried one of the ixitxachitls. “We’re doing it! We’re killing a dragon!”
Though she saw no point in contradicting itit would fight better jubilant than afraidTu’ala’keth thought its judgment was, at best, premature. For even the supremely powerful magic sealed in the book of horn hadn’t done Eshcaz any serious harm as yet. The second wave, moreover, hadn’t flung him backward as far as the first, while his second jet of flame had shot a little closer before their defense balked it. His exertions were eroding the wards, and it was impossible to guess whether they’d manage to kill him before he succeeded in breaking through.
But in essence, this was a clash between fire and water, and there was no flame Umberlee could not drown. She dragged down the sun and devoured it every night without fail, obliging Lathander, god of the dawn, to craft a new one each morning. If Tu’ala’keth could simply reflect the infinite majesty of her patron, then surely she, too, must prevail. She reached and from somewhereinside herself or Fury’s Heart, it was ultimately the same thingflowed the pure cold malice of the Queen of the Depths to steady and exalt her. She searched through the plates of horn for the spell she wanted next.
Diero peeked around the corner just as Hsalanasharanx collapsed with so many writhing, flapping ixitxachitls clinging to her that her serpentine shape was almost indistinguishable. Even so, he expected the green to heave herself to her feet again or roll and crush her attackers. She didn’t, though, and as they sucked and slurped at the wounds their fangs had inflicted, it became apparent she never would.
The magician cursed under his breath. He hadn’t liked Hsalanasharanx any more than he likedwell, any of the wyrms, to be truthful about itbut they were all important to realizing his own ambitions. Besides which, the victorious ‘chitls and their gill-men servitors were blocking yet another route to the grand pentacle.
He wondered if he and Olna, supported by the dozen other cultists who were following them around, could fight their way through this particular clump of invaders. Perhaps, but it would be a messy, time-consuming business. Better to go around if they could.
He and his comrades skulked back the way they’d come, through shadowy tunnels echoing with the muddled roar of combat. It was all but impossible to tell precisely where or how close the sounds originated, and he worried he might turn a corner and find himself instantly caught up in a melee. He knew a spell that could have conjured a phantom to scout ahead for him, and wished he’d had the foresight to prepare it at the start of the day. But who could have predicted insanity like this?
He suddenly felt the pressure of another’s gaze. He pivoted and cast about, but saw only the passageway and the murky irregular mouths of side tunnels and galleries.
“I don’t see anything,” Olna said.
“Neither do I,” he replied. “But somebody was watching us. He simply ducked out of sight when I turned around.” As both mage and soldier, he’d learned to trust his intuition.