Tallis had no time to raise a defense as the thing launched itself in the air. Teeth clamped down on his arm, and its body weight-more than twice his own, easily-threw him to the ground. His sleeve ripped apart under its jaws, and Tallis could feel the sharp edges of its slavering, unwholesome teeth worrying at his flesh. The magic vambraces he’d borrowed from Verdax did their job, preventing the yowler from snapping through to the bone.
Beyond the thing’s body, Tallis glimpsed both Aegis and Soneste swiping at it with their blades, but it was still taking too long. The yowler’s jaw was strong, and those teeth were bound to get through eventually.
He heard Soneste call out in a quavering voice, “Audsh! Nerzhaat hak irezh!”
The yowler paused for only a second, its stubby, hairless ears perking up at the sound of her voice and the peculiar words she’d used.
Tallis used the moment to wriggle his left hand up to its head, where he put all of his strength into maneuvering the magic rod into its mouth. He felt his hand gummed by the creature’s saliva as it slid along the length of its tongue, but he pushed again, harder and harder. The yowler made a gagging sound, and Tallis pressed the activating button, locking it in space.
The beast attempted to let out its cry again, but it was impeded by the metal wedged in its throat that would not move. The wheeze was painful to hear but not half as frightening. In a panic, it tried to jerk its head this way and that, hoping to break loose, hoping to vomit the offending object. Freed from its attention, Tallis slid himself away. He rose and joined Soneste and Aegis as they pushed their weapons again and again into its body.
Blood spurted from empty space while the perceived body of the creature puckered into wounds too fast for it to mend in full. When the yowler’s muscles started to slacken, Aegis stepped over to its head and drove Haedrun’s blade into its neck repeatedly until it cut through it completely.
“You speak-what was that, Orc?” Tallis retrieved his magic rod from the yowler’s head, which allowed the beast’s head drop to the ground.
“No.” Soneste smiled and tapped her forehead. “I just have a good memory.” In truth, she was embarrassed at the fear that had taken hold of her when the creature had loosed its wail.
The Karrn shrugged. “Disgusting,” he said, trying to scrape the beast’s vile saliva off his arm even as he returned the magic rod to his belt. He had his share of the yowler’s blood caked onto his body as well. “If I live through today, I think I’m going to be very sick later.”
The trio approached the porch. Soneste looked up at the statue perched atop the dry fountain in front of it. The vulture-headed demon had not moved-in her imagination, it was a golem, ready to spring to life-but Soneste felt naked under its glass-eyed gaze. They still glowed with a soft, hellish red.
“We need to hurry,” she said softly, following Tallis to the front door.
The Karrn examined the entrance for signs of a trap. He didn’t bother picking at the lock. He lifted his hammer and brought down the head against the doorknob. Whether the weapon was magical or the metal it was forged from was something uncannily strong, the lock broke apart on the first swing.
Aegis gazed out at the street. “It’s snowing,” he said.
Soneste looked out into the darkness. She caught the tiny specks glistening in the air. Under other circumstances, she might have appreciated it. It never snowed in Sharn.
Charoth was not bothered by the young woman’s screams. He’d worked under more clamorous conditions. Master Rhazan was strong enough to hold her still until the table did its work. Her strength would ebb soon enough. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should have insisted on choosing the other subject-one male’s life energy for another’s-but Mova had made her choice already and they’d come to an agreement. Today was not a day for changing plans. They’d been too long set into motion. The girl would do.
It didn’t really matter. Both had the blood of Galifar flowing through their veins, a lineage that reached farther back in human history than any he’d researched. Mova had explained that the purer the blood, the stronger its memory, the more conducive it was to both arcane and divine magic. His initial experiments supported this claim.
He was counting on it.
Charoth continued his work until a galvanic pulse in his mind halted him again. A moment’s concentration revealed the sensory information that awaited him. He saw three figures rendered in the gray shades of darkvision pass below in the courtyard of his estate.
Tallis, blood-stained and flushed from a fight, was the first.
From the start, Charoth had wanted to channel the major’s wonderful resourcefulness into something more tangible than foolish nationalism. The half-elf wasted his efforts trying to rid the nation of its own vices-a lost cause. Tallis should not have come this far. His presence at Charoth’s estate troubled the wizard severely.
A willowy figure followed the half-elf. Soneste, that damnable arriviste. What have you done with Gan? he asked her silently. What did he dare to tell you?
A third, bulkier figure moved at the edge of the statue’s vision, but Charoth couldn’t refine it. The scrying eyes had its limitations.
At least there were only three of them. They were fugitives of the law, so they would have no help, and who would believe them?
His factory was impregnable tonight. Charoth had layered its entrances with wards of his own, and his magewrights had reinforced the doors. Even if the court wizards turned their magic upon his factory, it would take time to get in.
He wrenched his mind free from the vision and turned to look across the table. Mova worked quietly, smoothing down the young woman’s arms with a sanitizing solution.
“Lady,” Charoth said, addressing her after long minutes of silence between them. “There are intruders at my estate. And they have killed your pet, Master Rhazan.”
The bugbear snarled from his post. “Let me go, my lord,” he said with a rattle of his chain.
“You are needed here,” Charoth said
“The construct, then,” Mova offered nonchalantly.
“No.” He would not explain his reasons again.
“I will go there myself,” she suggested, “to put your mind at ease. My work, for the time being, is finished.”
Charoth considered this. If Tallis found and killed Mova, he should be able to finish tonight’s work alone, but the final steps would be more difficult without her. She had already suffused the throne with divine spells. Whether this power originated from Mova, the apocryphal Vol herself, or some ambiguous spiritual “inner spark” Seekers always raved about, Charoth didn’t care, so long as it did its job.
Still, he could trust no one else in this. “Thank you, Lady. It is imperative that they do not discover the-”
“I am well aware, Lord Charoth. I will return swiftly.”
As they searched the estate, Soneste’s thoughts roiled. Had she the time, she could send word by speaking stone back to Thuranne about their suspicion, but what if she was wrong? A clear threat to the peace of the Five Nations would have the King’s Citadel dispatching its best agents, including the Dark Lanterns. Would they get here in time, and what would happen to her if it was all a false alarm? After all, their strongest evidence was the testimony of a dreamlily addict.
In less than a quarter hour, they’d searched most of the house. Adornments and other trappings of a wealthy man aside, the estate was disconcertingly empty. No servants, no traps. And no more monsters. A burglar’s dream. It was as though Charoth and his entire staff had vacated the house without selling it or its luxuries first.