The masked witches

The only way they could possibly accomplish such a thing was if several of them were working in concert. Employing a trick of perception he d mastered mille

The rest of the world fell silent, and he did indeed hear the witches incantation. He d expected them to be working behind the protection afforded by their massed warriors, and so they were. They were also on the far side of a doorway on the left, out of the lethal chaos of the central corridor.

The Stag King allowed his hearing to revert to normal, and the noise of the battle exploded at him. He chopped with the antler-axe and sent a blast of pure force down the passage, smashing some of the ghouls and zombies off their feet and jolting others backward. Then he plunged forward, and some of his offspring, spirit animals that were still strong and obedient to his will, and a couple of screaming berserkers drove forward along with him.

Once he and his servants and the undead jammed together, the Stag King gained ground with every chop, jab, and shuffling half step until the arch was just ahead. He struck again and again till he cut and smashed the final clawing, stabbing, decaying obstacles out of his way. Then he lunged into the side passage.

There were six masked witches gathered in a circle around a little blue fire on the floor. The smoke from the blaze made an eye-stinging haze in the air, and the malignant power of the ritual made grimacing faces take shape and melt away in the sandstone walls. Some were crying tears of blood, which remained even after the sources had dissolved.

The durthans pointed their wands and staves at the Stag King. He raised his power once again, chopped, and cast another burst of force. It staggered the witches and scattered the scraps of bone and desiccated flesh that fueled the fire.

It was a good start. But so far, none of the Stag King s minions had managed to follow him through the arch. He was on his own, and that meant he didn t dare give any of the renegade wise women a chance to recover. He started after them, but saw other robed figures flow into visibility and solidity all around him. He belatedly realized that the haze was made not only of smoke but also of mist, and the one had concealed the presence of the other.

He roared and flailed with all of his strength. But several vampire women were clinging to him, and some of them managed to hold on.

One of them crooned in his ear. Do you know me? she said. And he did. He just had time to recognize the voice of Nyevarra, who d fought so cu

Aoth s aborted spell discharged its power in a crackling shower of sparks. He pivoted in the direction of Cera s scream, but couldn t quite see her. She was all but lost in the middle of a slashing whirl of shadow demons, and evidently couldn t produce a blaze of light bright enough to destroy or repel them. The demons were somehow making the glow that emanated from her flicker and dim. If it went out altogether, the attackers would have nothing but a few torches and luminous crystals to pierce the ambient murk.

Leaving the glabrezu to Jhesrhi, Vandar, and its other berserker assailants for the time being, Aoth aimed his spear and hurled darts of light at the shadows. It was far from the most powerful attack spell in his arsenal, but he didn t dare cast any of the deadliest ones for fear of hitting Cera as well.

Two dark forms with ragged black wings and long horns curling up from their heads spun out of the whirl in his direction. He charged his spear with the seething essence of chaos and struck at one of the shadows. It dodged, and at the same moment, something jolted him, although the shock was psychic, not physical. His body abruptly felt numb as his spirit began to separate from it.

Aoth snarled a word of defense, invoked the magic bound in a tattoo, and flesh and soul locked together once more. But his instant of clumsiness allowed the demon he d struck at to tear the spear from his grip and toss it away. Both shadows rushed in raking with their claws.

Covering up with his shield, trying to keep either of the demons from getting behind him, Aoth scrambled backward, bumping into someone, and struggling to retain his balance. He snatched out his sword and charged it with a shimmer of destructive power. He feinted a cut at one of the demons, before spi

That shadow was lunging at him, and it impaled itself. The magic in the blade frayed it into wisps of darkness.

Aoth pivoted back in the opposite direction. The other shadow demon wasn t there anymore.

Suspecting that it had shifted behind him, he kept turning, just barely in time to block a claw slash with his targe, and then slice the demon across the belly. His foe broke apart into tatters of murk, which then dissolved entirely.

He turned back toward Cera and found he was farther away and could barely see her. The vault was crowded with berserkers and stag warriors rushing to engage one foe or another, or else tottering back from the battle line with streaming wounds. Still, no one could have missed the flash when she finally succeeded in cha

Aoth weaved and shoved his way to Cera. Are you all right? he asked.

Yes, she panted, the Keeper protected me.

I saw, he said, wanting to embrace her but knowing he didn t have time. He looked around and decided that, although Vandar and his lodge brothers had done a fair job of carving up its lower body, and Jhesrhi, of burning the fur off patches of its upper parts, the glabrezu remained the greatest threat in view. He cast about, found his spear, and picked it up. We need

A blast of dirty red flame hurled back the Rashemi fighting in one of the doorways. Into the breach charged a blaspheme, a hulking monstrosity made of pieces from many different corpses. One green eye and one brown one, the former a finger-width higher than the latter, glared from beneath the rim of the creature s helmet. The ugly face was lumpy, mottled, and crisscrossed with scars.

The patchwork creature wore a suit of plate articulated differently than any that Aoth had ever seen. But he was more concerned about the brute s weapon than its armor. To his eyes, the greatsword fairly sweated destructive power, and when the blaspheme slashed one of Vandar s brothers with it, the berserker s flesh withered even as his knees buckled underneath him.

Beside the blaspheme advanced the skull lord from the roof of the keep, hacking with a falchion. And behind them, a wedge of howling goblin-kin and bellowing ice trolls surged forth. Aoth realized that, once again, the glabrezu would have to wait.

The Stag King felt cold and dazed. Through his muddled thoughts whispered the promise that if he d only flop down on the floor and submit, the chill would turn to ecstasy.

Bellowing, he dropped his antler-axe so that he could grab hold of Nyevarra, rip her fangs out of his throat, and fling her away. It was only after he did so that he realized a second vampire was clinging to him and sucking at a bite in his forearm. He tore her loose and threw her down the corridor as well.

Unharmed, both durthans rolled back onto their feet. Meanwhile, he was still numb and weak. He shouted for help with both his voice and his mind. Some of his offspring would surely hear the former, and every spirit animal he d brought under his sway should register the latter. He just had to hold out until help reached him. He stooped to grab his axe, but it wasn t there.