do what I say and drop your damned elf-sword to the ground, I’m going to let the panther have you.”
That explains much, Geran decided. The panther trailed them, and it must have gone to summon the Verunas when they entered the barrow. The swordmage took one more look around and grimaced. “You can have the book, then,” he said. He let his rucksack slip from his shoulder, knelt, and rummaged through it for the Infiernadex, one eye on the spectral panther. In a moment he stood back up with the ancient tome in his left hand, the sword in his right. He felt Hamil shift uncomfortably, all too aware that the necromancer’s book was their only bargaining chip, but the halfling said nothing. He whispered to the halfling, “Watch yourself.”
Make your move, Hamil answered.
Geran lowered his voice and muttered a spell: “Arvan sannoghan,” he hissed, and all at once bright blue- white flames sprang into existence all along his sword. He raised it over the heavy tome he held in his other hand and shouted, “Not a single move, or I will destroy the book!”
The Veruna swordsmen surged forward in anger, but a single sharp command from Urdinger stopped them in their tracks. “Hold!” the Veruna captain shouted at his men. Geran risked a glance behind him and saw the spectral panther crouch and hiss, but it did not spring at them. Urdinger’s good humor-such as it was-fell away, and the mercenary glared at Geran. “You fool,” he spat. “If you harm that book, there’ll be no reason to let you leave this place!”
“I can’t see a reason why you’d let us go, whether you get your hands on the book or not,” Geran retorted. “If you intend to kill me no matter what, I might as well burn this musty old collection of hexes just to spite you before I die.”
“I can have my bowmen shoot you down right now.”
“Are you that certain of their aim? Miss by just a little, and I’ll burn the Infiernadex to ash with my last breath.” Geran paused, measuring the effect of his words on the Veruna captain, and added, “I’ll trade the book for our lives. But you won’t have both, I can promise you that.”
The mercenary captain scowled. “All right, then. Make a suggestion.”
Hamil glanced up at Geran, then back to the Veruna men surrounding them. “Yes, make a suggestion, Geran,” he said.
“Give us two horses,” Geran said to Urdinger. “Then draw back outside of bowshot. I’ll leave the book here, and we’ll ride off.”
“What’s to keep you from riding off with the book once we draw back? Or destroying it once we’re too far away to interfere, for that matter?”
“What’s to keep you from pursuing us once you’ve got the book?” Geran answered. “The only way this works is for both of us to do what we say we’re going to do and believe that the other fellow means it. As for destroying the Infiernadex, well, I have it in my power to do that right now, so what would change?”
Urdinger frowned and turned away to mutter something to the mercenaries next to him. But he never said whatever he intended to say next, for abruptly the wind died, the night grew bitterly cold, and white hoarfrost appeared on the heather. Geran’s breath steamed before him, and even the flickering blue flames of the fiery aura on his sword dimmed and wavered. The Veruna men shifted nervously and looked around, and the two companions did likewise.
The chill voices are back, Hamil said. Something is coming.
“I feel it too,” Geran said. “What else can go wrong?” He glanced back at Umbryl, but the spectral panther had disappeared. He swore under his breath and tried to watch in all directions at once. That’s what I get for asking, he told himself. Now I have to wonder if the damned panther is sneaking up behind me.
Suddenly a column of dark, cold flames erupted from the ground not far from where Geran and Hamil stood, and a figure of nightmare stepped forth. It was a skeleton, dressed in the old, tattered remnants of regal robes. A heavy golden band served as its crown, and it carried a tall, twisted staff of dead gray wood in its bony talons. Geran heard metal rasping on metal as the thing emerged from the black flames. The skeleton’s bones were riveted together by bands of rune-inscribed copper, green and dull with age. Its eyes were burning points of phosphorescent emerald fire, keen and malevolent.
The swordmage’s heart froze in his chest at the mere sight of the thing, and he took a step back without even realizing it-an unseen mantle of dread and despair seemed to flow before the apparition, as if its mere presence cast some grievous shadow on the souls of the living. Several of the Veruna men actually fell and buried their faces against the ground, unable to endure its presence at all. Part of Geran’s mind noted that the apparition’s appearance had provided the best distraction they were likely to get if they were to attempt a break for the barrow, but he was unable to wrench his eyes away from the dreadful king.
The grim figure fixed its burning green eyes on Geran. It was all that he could do to stand without quailing in front of it. Then it spoke: “Five centuries have I waited for that book to be brought out of the Lathanderian wards. I will not permit you to damage it now, young fool.”
Geran was frozen in the icy grip of the skeleton’s gaze. “You are Aesperus,” he said in a weak voice. He’d heard enough tales whispered by firelight in Griffonwatch when he was young to recognize the dreadful lich who had stalked the Highfells for centuries-a mighty wizard dead for hundreds of years, yet preserved by dark and potent necromancy. Geran had always wondered why he was called the King in Copper; now he knew. The lich’s bones were fairly held together by it.
“King Aesperus to you,” the lich hissed. He glared at Geran, and his eyes flamed brighter with the intensity of his scrutiny. “Hmmm. You are a Hulmaster; I know the smell of your blood. Isolmar is dead now, so you must be Bernov’s son Geran. Of you I have heard little.”
Geran said nothing for a long moment; it was terribly hard to form a thought, let alone speak, while Aesperus held his gaze. Finally he managed to say, “I’ll barter the Infiernadex for our lives, King Aesperus.”
The lich laughed coldly. “What care I for your lives?” he said. He stretched out his clawlike hand and made a small gesture, and the Infiernadex was wrenched out of Geran’s grasp by some unseen force, savagely strong. The book soared to the lich’s hand, and Aesperus twisted what remained of his face into a horrible smile. “Good-bye, Geran Hulmaster. I expect that you and I will speak again soon, when you have been laid under stone as your forefathers were.”
Aesperus turned away from Geran, and the swordmage felt strength and volition returning to his limbs. The lich looked at Anfel Urdinger, who averted his eyes and stared at the ground between his feet. “Tell your mistress that I hold her part of our bargain accomplished. Disturb no more barrows, Captain. You have no more reason to plunder my realm.” Then Aesperus took an old amulet of verdigris-covered copper from his rotting robes, and put it in Urdinger’s hand. “He who wears this token may call on my minions, and they will answer and do his bidding. Now I have upheld my own part, too.”
“Yes, mighty king,” Urdinger mumbled. He took the copper amulet and slipped it into a pouch at his belt. “I’ll tell Lady Darsi what you have said.”
“Tell her this too: Do not use my gift in the bright hours of day, and do not try to send my minions far from the amulet. She should choose the time and place carefully, for my servants will answer but grudgingly.” Tucking the tome under his bony arm, the lich strode off into the night. On the third stride he simply melted into a black mist that dissipated as the wind quickly arose again. The white hoarfrost covering the heather vanished as well, and Geran took a deep breath.
They were still surrounded by a score of Veruna guardsmen. And he no longer had the book to bargain with.
Urdinger looked back up and shook himself. Then he fixed his eyes on Geran with a wide, predatory smile. “It seems that you’ve lost your bargaining chip, Lord Geran. Your previous offer was the Infiernadex in exchange for your life. Have you got anything else to add at this time?”
This does not look good, Hamil observed. Try for the barrow?
Agreed, Geran answered. Follow me when I move. Then he quickly called out a spell: “Theillalagh na drendir!”
The violet ripples of his dragon-scale spell shimmered brightly around him, and Geran hurled himself into motion. He darted off to his right, heading for the nearest bowman he could see. Arrows thrummed and hissed as they flew at him, but he’d judged his moment well; most of the Veruna men had lowered their weapons when the lich had made his appearance, so they hastily raised and drew while he was already in motion. One arrow was deflected by his silver-steel veil, another struck his dragon-scale spell and rebounded as if it had hit thick plate armor, several more hissed by him, but one well-aimed arrow found its way through his spell-shields and buried its
