The mountain warrior looked for shadows, but the flares above the floor were dying out, his magic leaking power. A bank of clouds seemed to extinguish them, and Kamahl saw the illusion of rain sweeping across the hall. He tried to detect the frog's energy but the orb's spell still shrilled behind him. Fighting the mer champion was not his goal, and he moved into a corridor toward the source of the magic and Kirtar.
A barrage of metal plates rang against the sides of the corridor. They skipped off the floor and glanced off his wounded leg. He sent fireballs arcing up the corridor in response.
"Dinnerware," he snorted, the amusement breaking his concentration, as pain had not. More projectiles flew, and he knelt, holding his sword before him. Kamahl created an intense shield of flame to devour the iron plates that might be launched against him. Instead he smelled charred fish, and a stream of bodies vaporized in his protection. He looked to the side. A sea creature with long limbs flopped on the floor. The flying fish expired as the shield's heat dried it out.
"Find Kirtar," Kamahl growled to himself. The shield broke into shards, and he sent them flowing up the corridor slowly, blocking the amphibian's advance. The barbarian hurried, remembering the orb and listening to the spell's strength. He reached a cross- corridor and at last spotted the lieutenant.
Kirtar looked nearly dead, his pale skin somehow appearing transparent. The bird warrior was being carried by other aven, and his eyes swept over the barbarian without recognition. His hands cupped the prize. Kirtar, once so arrogant and proud, was dying before the barbarian's eyes.
"It's still spreading!" called a soldier looking back the way they had come. "We need to get out the postern gate before it cuts us off!"
The soldiers started forward again, carrying the warrior's destiny away.
"Kirtar!" Kamahl bellowed. A door opened onto a stairway, and a gaggle of servants surged into the corridor. The leaders screamed as the barbarian thundered forward, forcing him to slow lest he crush the innocents in his rage. A circle of lightning flared, stopping him in his tracks.
The servants stood frozen. In the corridor beyond, Turg flickered back into sight, the frog laughing at Kamahl through the screen of dead civilians. He vanished from sight as illusion surged over him, and the servants collapsed to the floor.
"The frog must have raced past under the cover of the fish," Kamahl swore. He drew power, grounding it to his sword. The steel danced with flame, and he prepared to send it streaking up the corridor to flush the amphibian out.
"Murderer!" came the cry from behind him. Members of the Order stood, fury evident as they looked at the barbarian and the circle of dead innocents. All were armored, and Kamahl could hear more soldiers crowding behind them. The front rank raised maces, their heads wrapped in deadly golden light.
The barbarian threw an exploding pellet of flame, the concussion echoing off the walls and sending him tumbling back. The narrow corridor acted to concentrate the blast toward him. His ears ringing, he got to his feet. The explosion had spun him around, and he could see Turg bent over in amusement, his wide mouth a gigantic smile. A shaft of flame sped toward the amphibian only to shatter in mid-air. A wave of magic seeping through the wall had already cut off the corridor. It resonated with the orb's magical signature, and Kamahl knew he had found the source of the magical call swamping his senses.
The frog blew him a kiss and vanished from sight. Shards of fire impacted uselessly against the magic as the mountain mage realized himself cut off from the amphibian and Lieutenant Kirtar. Trapped, he turned to the coming soldiers. They were not dazed by his concussions. Completely armored in light, they only shouted with derision at his explosions. He could not hear them, but he could see their faces and knew they were beyond reason.
Pillars of fire rose up to char the plaster, cutting off his sight of the Order knights. He turned to the crystal wall, wondering if he might somehow tunnel through. A shoe had come off one of the dead servants, and he kicked it toward the barrier. It struck the border and stuck there, becoming frozen even as he watched.
He could feel his spells dying, and he saw the enhanced swords and maces smashing through the curtain of fire. Contempt was in every figure stepping into the hall, and he acknowledged his defeat. He must kill and escape the Citadel before being slain by the massed opposition of the Order.
Kamahl lifted his sword and once again the brilliant fire that could devour iron shimmered off the blade. But instead of attacking the knights, he sent the pulse of flame into the walls. Rock ran like water, and wood vanished in explosions of gas as fire gutted the Citadel's structure. Supporting walls were cut, and timbers burnt away leaving nothing to support the walls and ceiling over the men coming to kill Kamahl.
Rubble cascaded over the soldiers, burying them in a sea of dust and stone. The barbarian held his cloak over his face, unable to retreat because of the crystal wall at his back. The dust started to clear, and Kamahl could see a sloping ramp of rock leading to the upper floors. He started forward only to be caught short as his cloak held him in place. The tattered train of his garment was already frozen in the crystal wall. He cut himself free with a knife, leaving the cloak to be preserved in the crystal. He scrambled up the ramp, the stones settling as he neared the upper floors. Suddenly reality quivered, and Kamahl froze. The orb, its echo familiar to the barbarian, was active, but its ambiance had changed. The new tone set his teeth on edge. The orb was different, and Kamahl started up the ramp again, determined to find out what had happened.
CHAPTER 17
Laquatus fell screaming through the portal, the icy water ending his cry as his body shiv-ered through its transformation. Turg swam forward-due to the merman's subconscious demand or of his own free will, the ambas-sador had no idea. The shock of the water cleared his mind. He thought of the orb in Kirtar's hands. The lieutenant had been weak, barely able to stand. The Order fought among themselves, and the town was bursting with refugees. This was the moment of maximum chaos. Should he attack in force?
A look at his soldiers revealed this to be an impossibility.
The transport mage was present and a few tresias, but Captain Satas and his squads of fighters were nowhere. They must still be travelling the last few miles. There was no time! He must act before the prize was destroyed or transferred to a more powerful person.
"Open the way to the surface," Laquatus ordered the transport mage. "Just inside the castle walls would be best." He began to concentrate, building on his link with Turg.
"I cannot, your Excellency," came the reply behind him. The merman spun, his composure broken as he bore down on the mage.
"Why not!" Laquatus grabbed the amphibian's whiskers, knowing them to transmit pain, and pulled them viciously. The mage hissed in agony until the ambassador loosened his grip.
"The spell that you fled touched the portal and drained my power," the mage said, pulling its whiskers through the merman's fingers. "It will be some time before I may cast another spell."
Laquatus wondered if the universe itself was against him.
"There must be another way to the surface," the merman raged, twisting in the water wildly, trying to think of a way through the rock above him. He felt trapped, dependent as he was on another to cast the spell.
"We created a permanent opening outside of the city," the mage said as its shivers of pain stopped. The blind cave dweller backed away as if to deny the ambassador further opportunity for violence. "Captain Satas ordered a permanent pool to be opened in the rough country to ease the placement of spies and travel of messengers."