Fury overtaking him, Falstoch snarled, “No more of your pathetic tricks.”
The sorcerer shrieked. He stumbled back wildly. As he did, something so bright that it forced Golgren to shield his eyes burst through the Titan’s chest from behind.
It was a familiar, five-sided crystal.
Black ichor poured out of Falstoch where the crystal had emerged. The sorcerer continued to shriek. His entire body shook, and as his ingers scraped at the horrific wound, he turned to the side, revealing the true cause of his torment.
“Get … moving … Grand Khan!” Tyranos blurted, the wizard appearing to be suffering nearly as much as his victim. Sweat covered him and his eyes bulged with strain. Tyranos was surrounded by the same glow that emanated from the crystal.
Golgren turned to go then shook his head. “No, wizard, we go together.”
“A fine-a fine time-to turn noble!”
Falstoch clamped his mouth shut. Black, burning tears coursed down his cheeks, the unearthly handsomeness of the Titan completely leaving. He gripped the crystal with both hands and frantically began singing in Dauroth’s magical tongue.
Tyranos shrieked. However, the powerfully built mage did not slow his own attack. Like Falstoch, Tyranos clamped his mouth tightly shut and forced his pain into his attack. Energy flowed from his chest into his arms then into the crystal.
Glancing from one to the other, Golgren threw himself at the Titan. The same forces encompassing the two spellcasters surrounded him. Even as searing pain coursed through him, he used his strength and leverage to twist one of Falstoch’s hands free.
The effect was immediate. Falstoch’s spell faltered. The Titan screamed again. He flung Golgren aside then fell to his knees.
The wizard fell with him. As Golgren stopped his fall, the half-breed witnessed not one, but two fantastic transformations.
Of the two, the most grotesque, most terrifying, was that of Falstoch. The Titan first began to shrink. At the same time, his body started to lose cohesion. Parts of Falstoch dripped onto the floor.
With a roar, Tyranos threw more effort into his spell. His own shape had become broader and more animalistic in form. His face stretched forward, as if seeking to leave his skull.
Yet that was still nothing in comparison to the sorcerer’s fate. There remained in him little resembling a Titan. Falstoch was an amorphous mass that exuded a nauseating odor like that of a bloated carcass. His fine raiment had faded. The Titan’s cry had been reduced to a pathetic, bubbling sound.
Even then, Tyranos pressed on. Unlike Falstoch, his robe had filled out with the changes in his body. Course, dark brown fur covered any visible skin, including his face. The brow ridge had grown thick; the nose and mouth formed a sleek muzzle. Two long ears thrust out of his hood. The wizard was still roughly the same height as before but even more muscular.
And although Tyranos lacked a pair of horns, Golgren could not mistake the realization, which would have been clear to anyone who witnessed the transformation, that the wizard was an Uruv Suurt … a minotaur.
A terrifying final hiss arose from the blob that had been Falstoch. What remained of the Titan stank even worse than earlier. The flesh had a horrendous green tint to it. As Golgren approached, the last of Falstoch melted to liquid, which spread over the once-immaculate floor and even under the half-breed’s very feet.
But Golgren no longer cared about Falstoch. Instead, he stepped over to the mage, who held the dimly lit staff to his own chest. Tyranos’s breathing was ragged, but he still managed to look up at Golgren with defiance. The hood slid back slightly, and only then was it revealed that where there should have been a fine pair of yard-long horns thrusting up, only two cauterized nubs remained.
That was the sign of a minotaur marked for dishonorable crimes among his people.
“So now you know the truth,” Tyranos rumbled, the timbre of his voice exactly the same as always. “Now you know what I am.”
“This was no secret to me for some time.”
The Uruv Suurt snorted. “No, of course not! You’re Golgren! You know everything and whatever you don’t know, you figure out! Of course, you knew what I was all the time.”
Golgren shrugged. “What you are does not matter. What use you provide does.”
Tyranos finally began to catch his breath. He used that breath to laugh harshly. “And that truly is the Golgren I’ve come to know so very well.” The minotaur grimaced from pain. He gazed at the staff. “I think … I think I can manage to restore it now.”
The crystal glowed slightly brighter. The glow gradually spread to Tyranos, enveloping him.
Once again, his shape began to change. He reverted to the human form so familiar to Golgren.
The effort left Tyranos gasping again. “Hard enough … hard enough to use so much power to get back here … without having to … to do all this!”
Golgren assisted him with standing. “There was no need to use more precious magic to change to this illusion.”
The wizard glared. “Yes. There was. There always will be. Now you know one of the main reasons I want the Fire Rose so badly. I refuse to remain what I was born, not if I can help it. Better to die pretending to be human than live as something I curse each day.”
The half-breed did not respond except to ask, “Can you take us from this place?”
That question stirred a brief and sardonic grin from Tyranos. “Changed your mind about leaping into the fire with Safrag?”
“No more than you.”
The smile faded. “You’re right there. I think I need a moment more, but then I should-”
Both were suddenly struck by a fearsome force. Tyranos was slammed against the far wall. He crumpled like a rag doll; whether unconscious or dead, it was impossible to say. Golgren, who at the last moment sensed danger, received less of a blow. However, it was still enough to send him rolling across the chamber.
Through tearing eyes, he saw that the attack had not been instigated by some resurrected Falstoch, but rather another familiar figure.
Atolgus peered through the gap, his expression akin to a mad beast. There was both fury and pleasure in his expression. He wielded Golgren’s former sword, only its blade was surrounded by an aura. The warlord’s other hand glowed with a similar illumination.
The transformation to whatever variant of Titan Safrag expected of Atolgus was all but complete.
“You taint her chamber!” the sorcerer’s puppet declared. “For that alone you should die! I’ll bring your head to her! She’ll reward me for this!”
He stepped inside. Only then was a second figure revealed standing behind him, one known even better to the half-breed.
Wargroch brandished his own weapon. His look grim, he rumbled, “It is a good time to die, oh Grand Khan, a good time to die.”
XVI
Idaria opened her eyes only to see darkness so intense that at first the elf believed she had gone blind. Then the darkness grew just a bit fainter, enough for her to tell that she stood in some corridor. That was all, though.
That she could see no better even with her elf-sharp vision instantly told the slave that the darkness was born of Titan sorcery. Idaria turned, seeking Stefan. However, there was no sign of the Solamnic.
She finally dared whisper his name. Her voice did not even echo. Idaria waited, hoping for some reply.
Instead of Stefan, she heard the slight clink of metal from farther down the black corridor. Even though it was only for the briefest of moments, Idaria had no trouble identifying the source:
Chains.
Steeling herself, Idaria followed the sound. Although she did not hear it again, she felt certain she followed the correct trail. Besides, to turn anywhere else in the black abyss would be foolish. The slight sound gave her the only concrete clue she had as to what had happened to her people.