“Huh. I guess there was a fish in the fishbowl after all,” Harp said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
3 Flamerule, the Year of the Ageless One
(1479 DR)
Chult
The guardian slithered out of the shadows, driving them back onto the red floor and blocking the only exit out of the chamber.
“Loyal servants?” Harp said, gaping up at the serpent guardian. who was so large that his head nearly touched the ceiling. Once he crawled out of the shadows, he seemed to expand to fill the anteroom from wall to wall. He was everywhere at once; his serpentine body coiled around itself in constant motion like a wall of flesh, blocking the entrance.
“I am Shristisanti, Guardian of the Atrocity. I have been waiting, not asleep, not awake but in a constant state of watching. You’ve brought me to my end.”
“Is that a good thing?” Harp asked Boult.
“I have no idea,” Liel replied. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”
“Bring forth the blood, and I will destroy the Atrocity.”
With wide-eyed horror, Boult whirled around and stared at Verran, who gave a little whimper.
“You didn’t,” Boult exclaimed. “Please tell me that you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” Harp asked, alarmed at the dwarf’s expression.
“Steal the Captive’s elixir from the urn in the Spirit Vault.”
Verran looked terrified, and he pressed his hand against his chest where the vial hung from a leather strap around his neck.
“Majida told me about it,” Boult said hurriedly. “It was very strange. She must have sensed something about Verran and wanted me to know about it.”
“The Atrocity must be destroyed.” The guardian slithered onto the glass floor and forced them to back farther into the chamber. “Give me the blood of the Captive.”
“What Atrocity is he talking about?” Harp asked.
“The Torque,” Kitto said quietly.
“What?” Harp glanced sharply at the black-haired boy, who was staring up at the guardian without fear.
“It’s a link from the Captive’s shackles,” Kitto explained. “In my dream I saw it fall to the ground just before he was hit with the blast that killed him. The Torque is from a piece of his chains.”
Shristisanti swung his head toward Kitto. “Are you the bearer of the blood?”
“No …”
“Then why are you tainted with it!” Shristisanti hissed, splaying his fingers out and holding his palm level with the floor. Under his hand, the red glass rippled like water. As Harp gaped at the fluid floor, a pulse of energy swelled beneath their feet. A wave of liquefied glass rose like a tidal wave out of the ground and flowed toward Kitto. The boy dived to the side, but it caught him below the knees, spinning him around and hurling him across the room. Kitto’s back slammed into the chamber wall, and he fell forward onto his hands and knees. Kitto struggled to his feet as the rest of them drew their weapons.
“We just healed him,” Harp growled, pulling out his sword. “There’s no way you’re hurting him again.”
“Servant, step forward with the blood,” Shristisanti commanded as a line of glowing spikes rose at the edge of the floor and surged toward them. “Or I will kill you and search your mutilated bodies.”
“Get ready!” Harp shouted.
But Verran stepped forward. “I have the blood.”
“What is your name, servant?” Shristisanti asked Verran. As the spikes dissolved back into the floor, a pulse of energy vibrated through the soles of their boots.
“I didn’t know what I was bringing to you,” Verran explained. “I thought it might be worth something in the city.”
The guardian made a sound that seemed like a cross between a hiss and a laugh. “Worth something! As if you could ever comprehend the wellspring of power that flows from the Captive’s essence. Give it to me.”
“Don’t even think about it, Verran,” Boult warned. “Nothing he can offer you is worth it.”
“Shut up, dwarf!” Verran shouted, spinning around to face Boult. “You hated me before I did anything wrong!”
“Nobody hates you,” Harp assured him. “Boult’s just a bastard. We all think so.”
“And you think you’re going to be able to help me by getting me a tutor?” Verran cried. “I’m corrupted already. They’ve got their claws dug into me, and I can’t make them let go.”
“We’ll find a way to help you,” Harp promised.
“You should have seen what I was like before I met Harp,” Kitto said vehemently. “I was a walking corpse until he helped me.”
“You saved Kitto,” Boult said gruffly to Verran. “You can turn it around.”
“It’s too late for me,” Verran insisted. “If you could see the things in my head, you’d kill me yourself.” He turned back to Shristisanti. “What will you give me?”
The guardian’s forked tongue flicked out of his mouth. “You will have a place of honor in the new regime.”
“That’s it?”
“I could kill you, eat your flesh, and take the blood for myself.”
“I’ll take the place of honor, then,” Verran agreed.
While Shristisanti was distracted talking to Verran, Kitto backed to the pedestal where the Torque sat. With Liel blocking the line of sight between him and the guardian, Kitto reached behind his back and grabbed the twisted span of metal. But as he touched the Torque, he yanked his hand back in pain as the metal blistered his fingertips.
“The barrier that protects the palace also protects the Atrocity,” the Guardian roared. “It will not come down lightly.”
On either side of Kitto, waist-high walls of molten glass rose out of the floor and rippled toward the center of the room where Kitto stood. Just before they reached him, Kitto jumped straight into the air and pushed one foot off the top of the pedestal to boost himself higher. As the ridges of energy slammed against one another, the wooden pedestal completely disintegrated. The Torque tumbled to the floor as the waves of energy dispersed, followed by Kitto, who crashed onto the ground beside the Torque. He didn’t move, and Liel hurried over to his body.
“I told you! Kitto’s had enough abuse for one day,” Harp shouted. He charged at Shristisanti, but Verran grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
“I’ll give it to you,” Verran said, reaching into his shirt and pulling out the vial of blood-elixir. Behind them, Liel was helping Kitto to his feet. The boy’s nose was bleeding. Kitto wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing blood across it.
As Shristisanti slid forward to Verran with his arm outstretched, Boult charged from the side, ramming his sword deep into the guardian’s unprotected back. The sword plunged deep into his body. It should have been a serious blow, but the guardian’s flesh pushed out the sword, healing itself despite the deadly wound. Shristisani picked up the blade and hurled it away.
Shristisanti whipped his tail against Boult, who reeled back across the chamber. Harp shook off Verran’s grip and sprinted at the guardian. He managed to cut the creature’s arm, but the blood didn’t have time to seep from the skin before the wound closed. Liel pulled out her bow, but she was forced to drop to the ground and roll to one side to avoid getting hit by an arc of energy that erupted from the floor.
Verran stood in the middle of the fray as if in the eye of a storm.
“You can’t hurt him,” Verran told them. “He’s invulnerable.”
“Don’t give it to him, Verran,” Harp urged.
A water-like geyser of molten glass erupted from the floor, forcing the rest of the group to scramble deeper into the chamber and farther away from Verran and the guardian. Glassy red drops splattered against their clothes, leaving little holes in the cloth. The boiling floor that separated them from Verran seeped like lava toward their feet.