As the Pit-master recovered, the Questor smelled the acrid scent of ammonia, and smiled again as he saw a dark patch spreading across the front of Keller's buff-coloured trousers.
'I'll do it; I'll do it!' the hapless, soiled man bleated. 'Look!'
He drew a small, grey implement from his pocket and ran his trembling fingers across a number of coloured keys on its surface.
'It's done, I swear; they're all off!' Keller screamed, his eyes wide and terrified. 'Let me go! I had no choice in this-they made me do it!' he jabbered, drooling in panic.
'All in good time, Keller.' Guy-Numal began to appreciate the disconcerting effect his involuntary, dull monotone seemed to have on the worthless little man. 'You just wait here while I check.
'K'zaat'az'er!'
He lifted the grey pad from the frozen Keller's nerveless fingers and walked out of the Pit. As he entered the bushes, he saw his own body, lying pale and still, and he turned to the battered General Quelgrum.
'How am I?' he barked.
'He's… you're all right, I think.' The General bent to check the supine body.
'You're still breathing, and he… you seem relaxed now, if unconscious. Whatever you've done, it seems to have worked.
'Now, where's Questor Grimm?'
Guy-Numal spread his borrowed hands. 'I have no idea, old man. The Pit was all but empty when I went in. I think he's a lost cause. I just want a little more friendly discourse with our good friend, Keller. I recommend we move on then.'
Quelgrum rose to his full height, and Guy realised just how threatening the old man's presence could be.
'. recommend we don't,' the General said, his voice blurred by his swollen mouth. 'This time, I'm coming with you, and I want to know that Baron Grimm's dead before I abandon him. Is that all right with you… old man?
'Remember, you'll need Numal to return you to your own body. Perhaps he'll prefer to stay where he is if I don't prevail upon him to do the right thing, and, right now, I might be persuaded to advise him to remain where he is. Without my advice, I doubt he'll change his mind-would you, in his circumstances?'
Guy-Numal shot a sharp look at the soldier, unsure if the old man was bluffing or not.
'All right, Quelgrum. Just don't slow me down too much; I want to have a little fun with that skinny bastard. I've got his funny little device in my hand, so I don't think he can do much more. He was scared out of his wits when I last saw him, and I froze him in place. I don't think he'll be any trouble.'
'You don't think?' Quelgrum expostulated. 'These people seem to shake off Questor mind-control spells like other people shake off flies! What makes you think he's under this spell?'
Guy-Numal smiled. 'My body says he is.'
'What about Questor Grimm? Keller may be relying on your bloody egocentrism! He may be laughing at you now, just waiting to send a bunch of Pit fighters against us!'
'All right, old man; keep your hair on. We'll check,' Numal said's mouth. 'He's dead, whatever happens.'
Grimm had dropped Redeemer in his fall, and he called for the staff as the insectoid mass of writhing fighters began to pull him in. The obedient, reliable baton flew into his hand as ever, but his panic swamped any kind of cohesive response. For the first time since his Outbreak, he miscast a spell, spewing purposeless energy into the air in a blue mist.
Not them; me! The inner voice was imperative, and he did not wait to consider the alternatives.
'Utch'katch!'
With this impulsive spell, born of sheer panic, he burst from his opponents' grip and cannoned into the far wall of the Pit. Light and pain bloomed in his head, and Grimm knew he was losing his hold on consciousness. Redeemer slipped from his fingers and he could not seem to call it to hand. Multi-coloured lights played around the inside of his cranium, and his thoughts drifted. Darkness began to descend over his eyes, and a buzzing sound filled his brain.
As if from far away, he heard the admonishing voice of Magemaster Crohn in his head: 'You used far more energy than was required in that spell, Afelnor, as usual. I see we need to work upon your powers of control once more. We all know you have power; the trick is to use the least amount necessary for the desired result to be achieved.'
He staggered to his feet as if drunken, his legs devoid of control or strength, to see a wide wall of bodies surging towards him.
As his stunned, befuddled mind sought solutions, the human mass stopped in its headlong, fanatical rush. Grimm shook his head, as if he could shake some sense into his impact-addled brain, and tried to ready himself for the next assault. It did not come.
One fighter stood over him, bafflement filling his face. Still wary, Grimm picked up Redeemer and held it before him in trembling, ineffectual hands, as he tried to control his rambling thoughts.
At last, the warrior spoke. 'Who are you?'
'I am Grimm Afelnor, called the Dragonblaster. Who are you?' Grimm remained wary. Could this muscular assassin be playing with him, before the end?
'Why am I fighting you?' the huge man rumbled, his expression bemused and unsure. 'I'm…'
To Grimm's surprise, and even horror, the titanic fighter burst into tears, and the mage felt wetness at the corners of his own eyes. A distant part of his mind registered that Redeemer had once more slipped from his fingers, but he felt too stunned to care.
'I don't know,' he said, giving vent to the pent emotions within him as he laughed. 'I have no quarrel with you.' Nothing seemed right, and the mage had lost all sense of self-preservation. His head rang, and he had had enough; all he wanted was to lie down, and never to wake again.
As the other warriors began to stand and shake their heads, Grimm saw Tordun surge forward, and he tried to move. He could not do so.
The white warrior swept the mage up in his arms. As if in a dream, Grimm heard him say 'Our true enemy, Keller, awaits us; he must not be allowed to live!'
At last, the Questor let go of the reins of consciousness; he allowed the blackness to descend, as an echoing tumult filled his head.
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Chapter 35: Retribution
After drifting for a while in a strange, disjointed reverie, Grimm awoke and opened his eyes. His head throbbed, and several moments passed before his vision cleared. He was lying on a comfortable, white bed, and Tordun and another, older man were standing over him.
'I'm still alive!' he croaked. 'What's happening?'
'I'm Dr. Hubin, the Pit physician,' Tordun's grey-bearded companion said. 'You've been unconscious for a few minutes, since you cannoned head-first into the Pit wall. It's a wonder you didn't cave your skull in, youngster.'
'Keller's influence over us seems to have gone,' the pale swordsman said. 'Most of the other fighters have gone looking for Keller, but I wanted to stay here until I knew you were all right. Questor Grimm… I'm sorry I-'
'Don't worry about it, Tordun.' Grimm cut off the albino with a wave of his hand. 'I can't begin to imagine what that bastard, Keller, did to you, but you still tried to resist.'
He levered himself upright, and felt his head swim.
'Take it easy, boy.' Hubin put a firm but fatherly hand on his shoulder. 'Rest a while.'
'I can't, Doctor; Crest and Harvel need medical attention, and I need to get to Keller before the fighters kill him!'
