Sheltering behind them, Cera hurled bursts of Amaunator s power, shafts of sunlight infused with holiness and the deity s righteous hatred of the undead. The third such attack blasted the skull lord into burning scraps of bone.
For an instant, forgetting what she d learned previously, Cera hoped that was the end of the thing. Then the charred fragments of skeleton slid and jumped back together, commencing the task of reassembling him.
No! she thought. Not again! And though the exertions, physical and otherwise, of the last few moments had left her winded and weak, she scrambled forward to smash the one skull that remained intact. Sliding like pieces on a lanceboard, her conjured protectors moved with her.
She thought she had closed the distance in time, because she reached the skull lord when his power was still putting him back together. But the arm with the gauntlet had already reassembled itself, and, via scapula and vertebrae, reconnected to the remaining fleshless head. The Nar tossed his hand and released the servant he d held in reserve.
A thing like a deformed cherub with bruised-looking purple skin burst into view, a necklace of mummified eyeballs swinging from its blubbery neck. It lashed its leathery wings, shot at Cera, and stretched out stubby hands with long black claws. Her glowing bodyguards cut at it and missed. She tried to deflect it with her buckler but failed to lift the armor quickly enough.
The demon slashed at her face as it hurtled by. Pain ripped through her head, and everything went black. She realized the tanar ri might just have torn out her eyes.
For an instant, horror threatened to drown out every other thought. Then something her deity s grace, perhaps, or the knowledge that she was fighting not only for herself but also for Aoth, or pure loathing of the skull lord impelled her to frantic calculation.
Vicious as the little demon was, its master remained the greater threat. If it wasn t already too late, she had to put an end to him before he finished restoring himself. But she couldn t, because she couldn t target him!
But no, that was panic talking. She hadn t really changed her position; she had just reeled back a step. And if he hadn t yet managed to do so, either, she knew where he was. Reaching out to the Keeper and drawing down his power, she swung her mace and hammered and scoured the floor with a searing radiance she could only feel, not see.
Wheezing, with her legs wobbling, all but giving way under the weight of her armor, Cera waited to see if someone or something would strike back at her. Nothing did.
The throbbing pain in her face eased a little, and blinking, she made out a smear of light. She swiped away the blood running down from gashes on her forehead, and she could see more. Obviously, the demon hadn t actually ripped out her eyes after all. It was venom in its talons, or some magical effect, that had extinguished her vision temporarily.
There was nothing left of the skull lord but ash and cinders, and no sign of the demon whatsoever. Either it was fighting elsewhere in the roaring frenzy of the battle, or it had fled the scene when its master died.
In any case, it wasn t flying around Cera anymore, and for that, she was grateful. She had nothing left to fight it with, either physically or magically. Still flanked by her phantom bodyguards, she retreated toward the relative safety of a section of the crypt her comrades controlled, before noticing a surging confusion in one of the doorways.
The glabrezu aimed a pair of its oversized pincers at Jhesrhi. Pulses of purple light lit the black claws from within.
She threw herself to the side. A blast of toxic force pounded the spot she d just vacated, cracking that piece of the floor and flinging bits of stone into the air.
What does it take to kill the thing? she wondered. She d already burned most of the fur off the top of it and charred the flesh underneath. A dozen of Vandar s berserkers had given their lives to help him cut its legs to ribbons. But it still wouldn t fall down.
She lifted her staff in both hands and called to the stone in the ceiling. For centuries, she told it, the demon tormented you and made you sick. Now you can take your revenge. I ll help you.
The ceiling extruded a pair of enormous hands. They clapped shut around the demon s head and squeezed.
The glabrezu thrashed and beat uselessly at the clenching, grinding trap with its claws. I ve got it! Jhesrhi thought. But suddenly the glabrezu vanished and reappeared just to the left of where it had been, which was to say, free of the hands. The fiend smashed the rocky appendages with a sweep of its arm. Still attuned to the stone, Jhesrhi heard it cry out in pain.
In need of a moment to center herself and refocus her energies, she backpedaled. As she did so, she noticed the warriors stag men, mostly pouring into the vault through the same arch that had previously admitted her and the rest of their comrades.
There was nothing inherently wrong with that. The crypt was where Aoth had wanted to make a stand, and all troops were supposed to make their way into it as expeditiously as was consistent with good order and protecting their rear. But she could tell the stag men weren t hurrying in to fight. They were fleeing, bumping into their allies, knocking them down, and trampling them in their haste, spreading alarm and disarray.
Their little army obviously didn t have much of a rearguard anymore. Something was routing it, and that same something threatened to stab into the very heart of the company just as soon as the fleeing stag men cleared the way.
Jhesrhi decided that the dismantling rearguard was an even bigger problem than the glabrezu. But what could she do about it when she was on the wrong end of the passageway?
She cast about and saw that Vandar s berserkers had successfully defended another of the doorways leading into the chamber, killing or repulsing the enemy who d attacked from that direction. There were just a couple of Rashemi there, keeping watch.
Jhesrhi reached out again to the stone around her. Upset that it had taken harm at her behest, its mind tried to tug away from her own.
I m sorry, she told it, but for something as big as you, that hurt was just a tiny scratch. I need you. Show me how that tunnel connects to the one next to it.
The stone didn t answer for a moment. Then a diagram of sorts flowed into view before her inner eye.
Thank you, she said.
So far, so good. She knew that no one soldier, even a wizard, should venture through any part of the maze alone. She looked for warriors to accompany her, but most of the berserkers were already engaged in one vital struggle or another. The only exceptions were casualties, pale and shaky from pain, blood loss, and the sickness that overtook them when their rage had run its course. Several of the least enfeebled were shouting and waving their arms in a futile attempt to bring the influx of frightened rearguarders under control.
For want of anyone better, Jhesrhi strode in the direction of the stag men. They spotted her, first one and then another, and her approach did what the Rashemi couldn t. The creatures stopped struggling to shove farther away from whatever was behind them and peered at her with brown, shining eyes.
What is it? she wondered, unsettled. What is it they think they see?
But she knew it wasn t the time to ponder the question. Hoping it would further impress them, she cloaked herself in flame.
During her time with the stag men, she d learned that although they couldn t speak, they all understood at least a bit of Elvish. So she switched to what she knew of that tongue, shouted for the stag warriors to follow her, and reinforced the command by sweeping her staff at the archway that was clear. Then she strode in that direction.
For a heartbeat, the stag warriors stayed right where they were, and she thought that, whatever the basis of their interest in her, it wasn t profound enough to overcome their fear. A moment later, their bells chiming and hooves clattering on the floor, they trotted after her, between the surprised berserker sentries, through the litter of bloody corpses, and on down the passageway.
She wanted to tell them to silence their bells but didn t know the right words to give the order. The glow of her fiery mantle would likely alert the enemy that they were coming in any case, and she wasn t willing to douse that for fear that it would undermine the confidence of her troops.
Voicing a dozen screams and snarls at once, a fiend or an undead creature at first glance, Jhesrhi couldn t tell
