Harryn paused, his eyes clouded.
"I fought monsters and minions. I seized the Orb of Olarune. I made my way to the ancient mountain fortress, but I could not find his tower of shadows. And that is the last thing I remember… standing in a field of statues, knowing the moons would soon rise."
He shook his head.
"At least the horror was contained. Even at the cost of thousands of lives. At least Galifar survives."
Thorn had been drawn in by the story, and she found herself at a loss for words. She could sense Harryn's pain. But this was not the time to try to explain the Last War. And there was something else…
"Wait," she said. "Did you say six moons?"
Harryn's answer was cut short by snarls.
Thorn and Harryn were in a wide alleyway, bordered on either side by piles of shattered statues. Now dark shapes emerged on either side of them, light flooding the area as the Aundairian sorceress threw a glowing sphere into the air. A massive gray wolf stood alongside the woman, and four wererats stared at Thorn with hungry eyes. On the other side, three wolves were spread around a truly terrifying figure. Once, it had been a giant troll-fearsome enough, possessing tremendous strength. But its features were blended with the worst aspects of the bear. Ursine eyes glared out of sunken sockets. Its snout bristled with yellowed fangs, and its long and twisted fingers were tipped with vicious claws. He roared, and his breath was thick with the scent of blood and flesh.
"I don't know who you are," the woman said. The dragonhawk crest gleamed on her breast, and energy crackled around her fingers. "But your answer to my next question will determine just how long it takes for you to die. Where is the Queen of Stone?"
CHAPTER THIRTY — ONE
The Ossuary Droaam Eyre 20, 998 YK
You will have no answer from me," Harryn said. "I know you for what you are, and I pity you."
So much for talking our way out of it, Thorn thought.
The woman laughed. "Bold," she said. "I like you. If there were more time, I should like to keep you. I think you'd sing a different tune after I'd had a taste of you. But the moons grow closer with each moment, and there is much to do. Kurlun, take them. The rest of you, keep them bound in this place."
The wolves and rats spread apart, forming living walls to seal off the alleyway. Any doubts as to Kurlun's identity were dispelled as the trollbear lunged toward them. It moved with terrifying speed, and sparks flew from the stone as Thorn leaped over its blow. She brought the myrnaxe spear down on the troll's hand, hoping to pin the beast to the ground. But to her surprise and dismay, the flesh beneath the trollbear's ragged fur was as hard as iron, and her strike slipped aside. Surprised, she was unprepared when the beast lashed out with the back of its hand. Its strength was astonishing, and even this glancing blow sent Thorn staggering into the heaped statues.
Stormblade fared better. "For Galifar!" he cried, and lightning flared around his blade. Thorn didn't see the stroke, but she heard the impact and the troll's hiss of pain. She knew the legends of that sword, the blade that struck with the force of a thunderbolt and shattered all lesser weapons. Hope soared as the tales flashed through her mind, and she pushed herself back to her feet, searching to land the perfect blow. Then the troll turned, slashing at Harryn, and Thorn saw that the wound he had inflicted was almost completely healed.
For a moment she considered fleeing. Using her magic, she could easily vault over the piled statues and disappear into the darkness. The thought struggled to take hold, and then it was gone. Thorn had been sent to claim the Stormblade. She was too close to victory to surrender, and if something had happened to Beren, she intended to salvage her mission. She leaped at the troll, landing a solid blow where its kidneys should be, but once again she was unable to pierce its hide. The best she could do was scratch it, and scratches healed instantly.
Stormblade was holding his own, but it couldn't last. The sorceress laughed as the troll's claws tore Harryn's tabard from his chest and left deep gouges in his armor. The blows that missed sent scattered fragments of stone goblin flying across the hall and seemed to shake the floor. The trollbear dug its claws into Harryn's armor, grabbing the knight and pulling him close. Stormblade had no room to bring his sword to bear, and the troll set its jaws against either side of Harryn's skull.
Thorn didn't try to fight the troll any more-she couldn't hurt it. Instead, she studied the sorceress and listened to the vibrations in the rock and the sounds in the hall. The Aundairian smiled at her.
"You've seen reason," she said. "You have a choice. Tell me where to find Queen Sheshka, or watch Kurlun crack your friend's head between his teeth."
"It's not Sheshka you need to worry about," Thorn said. She smiled, and it was all she could do to keep from laughing.
"Then what should I be concerned about?" The sorceress flexed her fingers again, tracing patterns of fire in the air. "You can't beat Kurlun."
"That's what the hydra is for." Sheshka's voice rang out from behind the sorceress. She stood on the back of the great beast, which was stone no longer. Eight heads snapped forward, and gouts of steaming acid burst from the hydra's many mouths, engulfing the trollbear. The creature howled in agony, releasing Harryn from its jaws, and the knight slammed both feet into the troll's chest, rolling free from its grip.
The sorceress was stunned. The hydra was huge, and it had left a trail of shattered stone in its wake, but distracted by the battle with the troll, no one had seen or heard the black-scaled hydra approaching in the shadows. As she watched the troll collapsing, whimpering in agony as its flesh melted away, the Aundairian was even more surprised when Thorn's spear passed through her throat. Thorn hadn't been idle-she had turned her attention to the wizard, recognizing the tell-tale signs of shielding magic and anticipating the sorceress's next move. The Aundairian never had a chance to release a spell; she crumpled to the ground as Thorn pulled the spear free.
The rest was chaos. The healing powers of the troll were no match for the acidic bile of the hydra, and soon bones were all that remained of Kurlun. Rat and wolf howled and snarled, and Thorn carved a path through the storm of claw and tooth. A clap of thunder echoed as Harryn's blade struck the dire wolf. Then the hydra was upon the unfortunate creature, two separate heads tearing it apart and swallowing the pieces.
It was over within moments. The corpses were still shifting as the hungry hydra devoured them. Sheshka slid down from the creature's back, keeping her eyes closed. She ran a hand along the hydra's nearest neck, murmuring in a language Thorn didn't speak.
"Now I'm embarrassed," Thorn said. "I leave you alone for a few minutes and you come back with a hydra. The best we could do was a wretched troll."
"There was nothing wretched about that troll," Sheshka said. Her serpents seemed limp, her movements sluggish. "That was a war troll of the Great Crag, one of the personal host of Sora Maenya. I'm certain you noticed the skin of steel, and the speed at which it healed."
"I've never been an expert on trolls."
Sheshka staggered, falling against the side of the hydra, and Thorn took a step forward.
"What's wrong?"
"I'll be fine," Sheshka stammered, though her voice quavered as she spoke. "Used more… energy… than I anticipated."