Текст книги "Albrek's Tomb"

Автор книги: Mark Forman

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

“Then I am grateful for your help,” said Alex. “I will give you back your rest, but I must act quickly.”

“There is one more guardian you must face before you will find the dark one,” said the dwarf. “A golem made of stone. It is bound to guard the entrance to the dark one’s prison.”

“Prison?” Alex questioned.

“Nethrom is not the evil,” answered the dwarf. “He is only a foolish dwarf who did not know what he had found until it was too late. He is controlled by a greater darkness. He has nearly escaped in the past, but the evil needs Nethrom’s form to have power in this world. The evil fears what will happen if Nethrom ever escapes.”

“I understand,” said Alex, considering the dwarf’s words. “Is there anything I can do for you—apart from destroying this evil?”

“If you will,” the dwarf said slowly. “In life, I was named Set, lord and defender of the dwarf realm of Thraxon. My heir, Thorgood, now rules Thraxon, but he rules without my crown. My crown was broken when I died in this place, binding the evil to these caves, but I have the pieces still. Will you take my broken crown to my heir? Give it to him so that all will know he is the true king.”

“You would trust me with your crown?” Alex asked.

“You were foretold,” Set replied. “Take my crown to Thorgood, but you must ask what promise he has made for its return before you show it to him.”

“I will do as you ask,” said Alex, bowing.

“You honor me,” said Set as he returned the bow. “You will find the crown waiting for you in the first chamber as you leave. Remember to ask Thorgood about his promise. Farewell, and may fortune smile on you always.”

The rest of the dwarfs parted to make a path for Alex to follow, murmuring words of thanks to him as he passed. Alex looked at their faces as he went, allowing himself to feel their sorrows and their hopes.

At the far side of the cavern, Alex found yet another cave opening. This time, though, there were torches in the cave, and the brightness of them dazzled Alex’s eyes. He rubbed his eyes as he stepped forward, trying to remain as quiet as he could. The dwarfs in the great cavern may have blocked the sound of his spell from reaching Nethrom, but Alex feared Nethrom would be searching for him just the same.

As the cave walls extended back into yet another chamber, Alex saw the stone golem standing in the center of the cavern, facing the cave mouth. It began moving as soon as Alex stepped into the chamber. The golem was a slow-moving creature, and it looked as if it took great effort to move its huge stone legs.

Alex thought he could easily avoid the golem and find the path to Nethrom, but even as slow as it was, the golem was relentless. Alex went to the far end of the chamber as he looked for the path, and the golem followed. When Alex moved to another part of the chamber, the golem moved with him. It seemed the stone creature’s only task was to attack anyone who entered the chamber.

The golem almost caught him once, but Alex was able to slip under its outstretched arms before it could grab him. The golem was quickly becoming a nuisance, preventing Alex from finding the path that led to Nethrom, a path obviously hidden somewhere in the chamber. With the golem continually following him wherever he moved, however, Alex had no time to look closely at the walls and find the hidden path.

“Fine,” Alex said as he tried to think of some way to destroy, or at least disable, the golem.

For the first time, Alex looked closely at the stone creature that was following him. Its face—or at least the features where a face should be—was roughly carved. The golem’s body was massive and appeared to be made from a single, solid stone. There were no cracks or marks on the stone body, and the rock seemed to bend whenever the golem moved its arms or legs.

Alex worked his magic quickly, encasing the monster in ice. He thought freezing the creature in place would be the simplest solution, allowing him to move past it and on to the necromancer. For a second, he thought his plan had worked, but the golem was much stronger than he’d anticipated. As the golem continued to try to move toward him, the massive block of ice started to crack, and in less than a minute it had shattered and the golem was free.

The shattering ice gave Alex another idea. He sent a bolt of frost from his staff into the golem’s body. The monster slowed, its movements becoming even stiffer than before, but it still didn’t stop. Knowing that the stone body was now much colder than any ice, Alex charged forward and struck the golem with his staff, hoping to shatter the stone the way he had shattered the bats. A few bits of rock broke away where the staff hit, and the golem seemed to vibrate, but that was all.

Cold would not work, and fire was out of the question in the confined, underground battlefield. Alex tried to think of something else, something that wouldn’t alert the necromancer to his presence. He considered changing the golem into something else, but that was too dangerous. The monster was made of stone and magic, and not knowing how the magic worked meant that any change Alex might try could turn the golem into something even more deadly.

The answer came to him in a flash, and Alex almost smiled at the idea. Long ago, when the company had first entered Thraxon, he had seen trees clinging to the steep sides of the mountains, their roots digging into the solid stone. He sent his magic searching, and it didn’t take long for him to find what he needed. The land around the necromancer’s cave was a wasteland, but there were still roots of living things hidden underground. It only took seconds before the far wall of the cave began to crack and fall apart like clay, and the noise and motion distracted the golem.

For a moment, the golem just stood there, as if frozen to the spot. Living roots wriggled out of the stone wall, slithered across the floor, and wrapped around the golem’s feet. The monster tried to move away, but the vinelike roots were too fast. Larger, stronger roots were already wrapping themselves around the golem’s body. As Alex watched, the creature of magic and stone was dragged toward to the crumbling wall and slowly pulled into the darkness beyond.

It was time to face the necromancer. Alex moved to the far end of the chamber, and now that he had time to look, he easily found the door hidden in the stone wall. The door was barred from the outside, and Alex felt sure that meant that Set had been right. Nethrom was still fighting the darkness, still fighting the evil he’d unknowingly set free.

Removing the iron bar from across the door, Alex put his hand on the handle and stopped. He stood motionless, remembering the advice Whalen had given him: Defend yourself, and try to turn the necromancer’s own powers against him. Attack only when you must.He thought about what he was about to face, but after a moment of hesitation, he shook his head. He had come this far and to hesitate now would be both foolish and deadly. Without waiting any longer to think or worry about what might happen, he threw open the door to the hiding place of the necromancer.

“Ah, you’ve come at last,” said an ancient-looking dwarf sitting at a table.

“Silence!” a second voice screamed.

Nethrom’s body went rigid, every muscle suddenly contracting. It looked as if the old dwarf had stopped breathing, and his face was pale. Alex looked around the room, searching for the source of the second voice, but there was no one else he could see. Slowly, Nethrom started to breathe, but each breath was clearly a struggle to draw in and force out.

“I should have realized that you would be in the one place I never thought to look,” the second voice said from Nethrom’s mouth.

“I think it best to be where I’m not expected,” said Alex calmly.

“Cursed crystal—I should have known it would show me nothing of value,” Nethrom said as he pushed his chair away from the table and slowly stood up. It seemed like he was trying to remember how to breathe, to remember how his body moved. “Still, it has some powers that are useful.”

Alex glanced at the crystal on the desk, realizing that it was the same as the crystal he had once recovered for the Oracle of the White Tower.

“The crystal will not willingly work for evil.”

“Most things won’t, but I manage just the same.”

“You admit you’re evil, then,” said Alex, surprised by the simple confession.

“Why not? I have lived too long to deceive myself, and I care not what others think,” said Nethrom.

“Then you know why I have come,” said Alex, moving a little farther into the room.

“To test your strength against me, of course,” answered Nethrom, laughing slyly. “To call me to account for what I have done.”

“And to free those you have enslaved with your power,” Alex added.

“Noble tasks, though foolish,” said Nethrom. “And all for nothing, really. What need have we to fight—two great powers in a land of small people? Surely we can settle any disputes without resorting to violence.”

“Are you willing to give up your evil?”

“Are you willing to give up your life?”

“We give up when we are dead, and even then the struggle will often go on,” Alex answered.

“You speak of Set and his miners. They are a small matter. One I could easily do without,” said Nethrom carelessly. “My powers do not rely on my servants, and they do not bend simply because wizards wish them to.”

“Have you strayed so far from wisdom, Nethrom?” Alex questioned.

“That is not my name,” shouted the dwarf, a pained look crossing his face. “Nethrom was nothing—a fool caught up in his learning. I am Mog, the ancient one, the destroyer of souls.”

“I see,” said Alex. “And yet you have not been able to destroy Nethrom. He still fights against you. Why else would you lock yourself in this dungeon?”

“His efforts are meaningless,” Mog answered angrily, picking up a short staff made of black stone. “I have taken his body and his power. All he can now do is play the fly, buzzing in circles but having no sting.”

“Yet you fear him,” said Alex as he took another step forward.

“Fear is for the weak,” Mog spat back. “I fear nothing in this world, least of all a half-witted dwarf.”

“Then I must destroy you,” said Alex, raising his staff.

“You can try, but you will fail, as others have failed.”

Before Alex could move, he felt himself swept away from the dark chamber where he faced the necromancer. He blinked to clear his eyes of the dark mist that seemed to flow around him, and he looked up at the imposing figure of Mog.

“Behold, boy, my true form,” Mog called loudly.

For a moment Alex couldn’t breathe. Nethrom’s body grew into a giant and his head turned into something insectlike. His eyes glowed an evil green, and long, dripping fangs extended from his mouth. He was more terrible than Alex had thought possible, yet there was something inside Alex that made him feel pity rather than fear.

“Let me show you the power you face now,” Mog growled. “Let me give you a sample of what I am and what I can do.”

Flames leaped up around as Alex as far as he could see. The entire world seemed to be engulfed in a giant ball of flame, and for a moment Alex was afraid he would burn with it, but, strangely, the flames had no effect on him. He could feel the flames around him, but they were simply warm and felt like a summer breeze.

“You hide your pain well, boy,” Mog called, looking down at Alex. “I know the pain of the flames. There is no need for you to hold your tongue.”

Alex did not answer the creature, but watched as the necromancer began to move through the flames. Alex realized that the flames and the entire world around him was nothing more than an illusion created by Mog.

“Perhaps something else will pain you even more,” Mog sneered.

The flames vanished as he spoke, replaced by thousands of lightning bolts which shattered the rocky ground where they struck. Alex felt several of the bolts strike him, but there was no power in them. He knew then that nothing Mog did in the pretend world could possibly harm him.

“You cast an interesting illusion,” said Alex, catching one of the lightning bolts in his hand. “For a moment, I almost thought it was real.”

“Real enough,” said Mog, still sneering at Alex. “Whatever I create here, I can create in the world. Whatever pain you feel here will be nothing compared to the unending pain you will feel when I am through with you.”

“Then why show me this foolishness?” Alex questioned, carelessly tossing the lightning bolt aside. “If you are so mighty, why waste my time with mere illusion?”

“To give you a chance, boy,” answered Mog, his voice shaking with anger. “I am not cruel, and I do not destroy without a reason. Join me and share my power. Together we could do so much.”

“You would do only evil,” said Alex, waving his staff. Mog’s imagined world vanished. “You can’t create anything new; you can only call back what once was.”

“You are a fool,” said Mog from Nethrom’s body. “A brave fool, perhaps, but a fool just the same.”

“I will give you one chance to depart. Leave Nethrom and return to the darkness from whence you came,” said Alex, lifting his staff.

Mog roared in reply, raising his own staff in a sweeping motion and spreading fire over the floor around Alex. Alex felt the heat of the flames and knew that this time the fire was real, yet he did not move nor did he try to counter the spell.

“Feel the heat of dragon fire, boy!” Mog laughed. “Begin to feel the pain that I will inflict upon you.”

Reaching out, Alex took hold of the fire. It seemed almost alive in his hand. Mog had cast a spell of dragon fire, but he did not know that Alex was both a dragon lord and part dragon. The fire would obey him,not Mog. Alex pulled the fire together in his hand and swung it at Mog like a whip.

Mog screamed in surprise and pain as the flames struck him, throwing him back against the far wall of the chamber.

Alex coiled the flames for a second strike, but Mog spun away before he could land another blow.

“I see you’ve mastered fire,” Mog said. “An impressive feat for any wizard, I’ll not deny it. But I have other weapons—other, more deadly, ways of dealing with you.”

Mog spun his staff quickly and an ice-cold blast of air hit Alex, pushing him back toward the wall. The cold tore at him, burning his bare hands and face as the air rushed over him. He felt strangely tired, and for a moment all he could think about was sleep. Shaking his head, Alex cleared his thoughts, and, raising his own staff, he turned away Mog’s spell. One wall of the chamber went white with ice as the spell hit it. Mog raised his staff once more.

Alex was quicker this time, and he cast a spell of his own, a binding spell that would keep Mog from moving. He needed time to think, to warm his cold, numb hands, and to clear his mind. Fighting off Mog’s spells was slowly draining his power, and he wondered how long he could keep it up.

Mog struggled against Alex’s spell, but he was unable to break it. After several seconds he stood still, and Alex knew that Mog was gathering his own power to break the binding. Focusing his thoughts on the spell, Alex struggled to keep the binding in place, and for a brief moment he thought he’d succeeded, but then with a loud snapping sound, Mog broke free. The creature staggered slightly and leaned against the table, catching his breath.

Alex leaned against his staff, breathing hard after his effort to keep the binding spell in place. In the back of his mind, the wild, reckless feelings that he had been trying to understand for the last few months began to stir.

Mog moved suddenly, sending a blast of bloodred light at Alex.

The light hit Alex in the chest, throwing him against the cavern wall and knocking the breath out of him. He looked up to see the effort on the creature’s face, the pain that it was costing him to keep the spell in place. Alex, however, didn’t feel any pain; the true-silver mail he was wearing under his shirt had deflected the spell from him and sent it back to Mog.

“Curse you!” Mog shouted, breaking the spell. “That spell has killed more powerful wizards than you.”

“Yet I remain,” said Alex, pushing himself away from the wall.

“Not for long.”

A blast of green light hit Alex like a hammer, driving him to his knees. There was no pain in this light, but it was full of feelings. His mind spun as memories he had thought all but forgotten returned to him. All of his darkest thoughts, his fears, and his sorrows seemed to gather around him like a mist as Mog continued to dig them out of Alex’s own past.

Alex felt himself weakening little by little, unable to resist Mog’s spell.

Mog pressed his advantage, forcing Alex’s thoughts further back in time, drawing out the worst things that had ever happened to him.

Alex fell to the ground, his body suddenly too heavy for him to hold up. Darkness filled his mind with the memories and feelings Mog was forcing out of him. Alex knew the battle was lost. He would not be able to break Mog’s spell; he would be destroyed. It was pointless to go on, pointless to resist the darkness.

Fight!a voice shouted in the back of Alex’s brain. Reach out and take the power that is waiting for you to claim it.

It was a voice Alex had heard before, a voice that had told him what he needed to know when he’d fought other evils. This was his O’Gash, his sixth sense. Alex lifted his head and tried to focus on his enemy, but something hit him like a massive fist, driving him back to the floor.

Alex’s deepest sorrow flooded into his mind. He was alone in a dimly lit room, standing in front of a coffin, a coffin that had only just been closed. Mog’s spell began to lift the lid to reveal what lay inside, but Alex already knew what he would see: the pale face of his own mother, dead when Alex was only seven years old.

His mind raced with fear and with sorrow and with a desire Alex had never felt before. His body shook as he realized that he wantedthe coffin lid to lift; he wantedto use the dark magic to call his mother back to the world of the living. More than anything, Alex wanted his mother to answer the questions that plagued him. Why had she never explained what his father had been? Why had she taken Alex to a world that held little magic? Why had she never told him about the family that should have been his?

He looked down on his mother’s coffin and rage replaced his sorrow.

It will do no good,the O’Gash said calmly. She had her own reasons, and she did what she did because she loved you. Calling back the dead is not the answer you are looking for.

“Use the magic!” Mog’s voice screamed from nowhere. “Rip the truth from those who have deceived you.”

The coffin began to shake, its lid slowly opening. Alex closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was happening, but he could still hear the creaking of the coffin lid. With all the strength he had left, Alex lifted his right hand and reached out for something that had been waiting for him all of his life.

“Do it!” Mog shouted in excitement. “Take hold of the darkness, and live forever!”

“No,” Alex growled in a voice that shook the mountain around him.

The reckless, wild power of the dragon surged through him as he fought off the despair. The flames of power rose up, filling Alex’s whole body. He got back to his feet, and Mog’s spell burned away like paper. A blast of golden light shot from Alex’s staff, throwing Mog across the room into a shelf full of books. Mog looked up, startled and afraid, as a second blast hit him in the chest. His stone staff shattered into a million pieces.

Mog fell to his hands and knees, struggling to get back to his feet.

Alex moved forward, the reckless power changing him as he walked. When he stood over the broken body of Nethrom, he looked like a man made of golden flames.

“Dragon,” said Mog in an awed whisper before collapsing to the floor.

A piercing scream filled the ancient chamber where Alex stood, and the dark shadow of Mog slowly lifted from the body of Nethrom. The shadow hovered for a moment as if trying to take shape, but Alex brushed it away with a wave of his hand, and it vanished without another sound.

Slowly, the feeling of reckless power began to slip away, and Alex found himself kneeling beside Nethrom’s body. He was cold and worn out; he felt like he had just been sick. He gulped in the cool, damp air of the cavern, wiping sweat off his face with his sleeve.

After what felt like a long time, Nethrom stirred, his eyes opening slightly to look at Alex.

“You came,” said Nethrom weakly. “You saved me from my own foolish mistake.”

“I did what I had to do,” Alex said softly.

“Thank you,” Nethrom whispered. “Thank you for freeing me and my people.”

“How did you find this place? How did you know it was here?” Alex asked.

“The order,” Nethrom managed to whisper. “The order of Malgor.”

Alex did not have time to ask anything more as Nethrom’s eyes slipped out of focus and he let out his final breath.