Dai Shan preferred to not have such a possibility hanging over his head. Better to take a small risk, and afterward, enjoy the tranquility that came with knowing he d resolved the situation. That was the path his father would have chosen.
With the gloom proving no hindrance to his sight, he prowled around the hold until he found a piece of oilcloth. Permitting himself a slight frown of distaste the half-imp, or what was left of it, was even more repulsive to the touch he bundled up the slime and bones and proceeded to the deck hatch that was farther forward.
Once on the companionway, he whispered a charm that caused the grime to fall away from his person. Next came a spell to deflect the attention of any potential observer for a critical moment. Then he climbed onto the deck and lowered the hatch behind him.
Trying to seem casual, he glanced around. As far as he could tell, no one was paying any attention to him, not even Olthe, the mannish-looking battleguard, who was practicing her axe strokes just three paces away.
Wondering if the hulking creature ever chopped the rigging, and if so, whether anyone, even Bez, had the nerve to complain about it, Dai Shan sauntered to the rail. He slipped the bundle over the side, and that was that.
He celebrated the success of his maneuver by taking a moment to enjoy the view of the frozen expanse of Lake Ashane shining red in the light of the setting sun. Though he d never traveled by skyship before, it hadn t taken him long to discover that flight was a pleasure unlike any other in his experience. He felt godlike with the whole world spread out below him, and he promised himself again that, however the House of Shan ended up disposing of the rest of the wild griffons, he d keep the blue-eyed king of the pride for himself.
Unfortunately, he couldn t just stand and enjoy the view for long; there was work to be done. He turned and made his way to the stern castle, where Bez stood at the great oaken wheel. He had underlings who knew how to steer the ship, but he seemed to enjoy taking turns at the task himself.
As Dai Shan mounted the companionway, he wondered what good it did for anyone to steer when the rudder projected not into water but rather empty air. Presumably, it was part and parcel of the same magic that allowed the Storm to fly at all.
Illustrious captain, Dai Shan said.
Greedy merchant, the sellsword replied, with a leer that indicated he was indulging his notion of humor. Where have you been lurking?
A quiet corner conducive to meditation, the Shou said, where I could stay out from underfoot as your industrious crew pursued their manifold tasks.
Bez grunted and turned the wheel a notch to starboard. The correction didn t appear to require any action from the sailors in the rigging, but those manning the windlasses controlling the folding wings immediately started cranking.
That sounds like a good place for you, the sellsword commander said. But I take it you think we need to talk.
The captain is as shrewd as he is courageous, Dai Shan said. When I meditate, I sometimes find it possible to send my spirit flying free of fleshly constraints. So it was this afternoon. I scouted ahead and witnessed the Griffon Lodge already attacking the Fortress of the Half-Demon.
Bez scowled. The Maiden of Pain take you then, you son of a sow, he said. If you hadn t insisted that I come back to Immilmar to collect you, the Storm could have gotten there first. As it stands, I guess we ll just have to hope the berserkers aren t up to the job. Then we can come flying heroically onto the scene to turn defeat into victory.
Dai Shan bowed. As always, when my shrewd ally speaks, I hear wisdom, he replied. That is indeed one possibility. But, if I may be so bold, perhaps we should take care not to discount any of our options prematurely.
TWELVE
Stop, said Aoth. Ahead, where the tunnel widened out into a spacious pentagonal vault with five other corridors leading away from it, an intricate mosaic covered the floor. Hidden in the pattern, but visible to spellscarred eyes, was a pentacle glimmering with pale green phosphorescence.
I see it, too, Jhesrhi said, more or less. I ve been speaking to the stone around us. It s sick. Poisoned by the things that have been festering inside it for all these centuries. And there s what amounts to a big chancre straight ahead. It s a powerful demon, I think.
Do we know any more about it than that? Cera asked, letting her mace dangle from its martingale so she could tuck a stray blonde curl back up under her helmet.
Apparently, no one did.
I can tell you this, Aoth said, when it pops out at us, it won t be alone. Unless I miss my guess, there are other foes lurking on the far side of those arches where we can t see them. In the side passages behind us, too. The allies had tried to check and clear such potential trouble spots as they explored, but without splitting men off from his little army again and again, there was no way to keep the tunnels cleared. They were too much of a maze. Passages hooked around and linked together in unpredictable ways.
If we know it s an ambush, said a warrior at Aoth s back, what do you say we don t walk into it? Let s find a way around.
No, said Vandar, his red spear gleaming in the glow Cera had conjured to light their way. Let s turn the trap against the trappers.
Aoth nodded. I agree, he said. It s not like we can actually avoid fighting the demon. The Nars will pull it out of its cage eventually. At least up ahead there s room for a bunch of us to fight at the same time, and since we know what to expect well, partly we can give the enemy a surprise instead of the other way around.
Should we find out what the Stag King thinks? Cera asked.
No, said Aoth. If he wanted to voice his opinions, he should have walked in front with the rest of us. Here s what we are going to do
When he had finished laying it out for them, and his orders had been whispered from man to man down the tunnel at his back, he reached out to Jet. Anything? he asked.
No, the griffon answered. If the Nars have tunnels that come up outside the castle, they aren t using them to slip away. Not as far as I can see.
Good, because we re about to release a demon. It wouldn t be a particularly clever thing to do if the real enemy were already long gone.
It likely isn t a clever thing to do, anyway. But that never stopped you before.
The word came back up the tunnel that everyone knew what he was supposed to do. Aoth and his companions prowled onward. The soft, muffled sound of footfalls, clicking hooves, and creaking leather, and of the occasional murmur or growl of a spirit animal, attested to the line of allies moving up behind them.
As the leaders prowled into the crypt, Aoth noticed that not only was it large, but also the vaulted ceiling was high enough to accommodate even a true giant. Wonderful. As he steeled himself to deliberately step on the outermost line of the pentacle, Vandar brushed past him.
Fine, Aoth thought, you do it. And the berserker did, nearly stamping on that part of the mosaic.
The demon exploded into view and roared a word of power at the same time. It was every bit as huge as Aoth had feared it might be, with horns, a lupine head, a shaggy red-black pelt, and disproportionately large crab-like pincers at the end of each long, burly arm. The charge of force the word carried knocked Aoth and his comrades staggering.
He found his footing, shouted his own word of command, and hurled a thunderbolt at the demon s torso. Jhesrhi matched him with a fan-shaped flare of fire; and Cera, with a scorching shaft of Amaunator s light. Seemingly startled by the speed of their response, the glabrezu flailed its claws and stumbled a step.