Spellwright Part 45

Only four flamefly paragraphs remained; they hovered above Shannon, shedding a small pool of wan incandescence.

Shannon shook his head. "But how do you know that?"

"Fellwroth's words," Nicodemus answered. "The creature was terrified that Typhon was after us."

Shannon inhaled sharply as Nicodemus sat him up.

The younger man continued to explain as he draped the old man's arm over his shoulder. "Typhon knew Fellwroth would have to find me when the emerald needed replenishing. So he pretended to be Boann and sent Deirdre here. She was to bring me to the ark; that way Typhon could invest his soul into me and use me to defeat Fellwroth. But when Fellwroth caught Deirdre alone, the demon changed his plan. He tricked Fellwroth into bringing the ark up here, next to his real body, knowing that Fellwroth would bring me here."

The old wizard groaned as Nicodemus hoisted him to his feet. "But why," Shannon asked as Nicodemus wrapped his arm around the old man's waist, "did the demon want you in the same place as Fellwroth and the ark?"

Nicodemus was now half-walking, half-hauling the wizard toward the Spindle Tunnel. "The demon knew that if Fellwroth died near the ark, he could steal the creature's power. So Typhon waited for me to arrive, and then cast a spell to tear the emerald from Fellwroth's hand and give it to me. He knew I could defeat Fellwroth when the emerald completed my mind. But now he's taken the emerald back. I can't find it."

Nicodemus stumbled and nearly fell. Warmth spread across his cheeks. "All the things that've happened in the past few days, they've all been part of Typhon's plot to kill Fellwroth and recover the emerald."

A slow clapping sound echoed through the cavern. Nicodemus stopped.

In the darkness before the Spindle's entrance stood a man-seven feet tall with a silken mane of red hair and a beard to match.

Two amused all-white eyes stared down at Nicodemus. The newcomer'sobsidian skin was black and glossy, making it hard to see his narrow nose and high cheeks. The broad muscles on his torso bulged as he clapped, and out from his back spread two long wings, checkered with red and black feathers. A loincloth covered his groin but not his thick, powerful legs.

When the demon spoke, his voice rumbled. "Impressive that you managed to understand so much." His calm laughter sounded like distant thunder. "Nicodemus Weal, you've grown."

THE DEMON WORE a friendly, almost avuncular, grin. "You've gleaned my plan almost exactly, save for one thing." a friendly, almost avuncular, grin. "You've gleaned my plan almost exactly, save for one thing."

"Typhon," Nicodemus said breathlessly.

The demon nodded. "Set the old one down. I've censored him."

With a start Nicodemus realized that Shannon had gone slack in his arms. Careful not to touch the old man's skin, he laid the old linguist on the ground.

"Have you ever seen a deity before?" Typhon rumbled, his checkered wings fluttering.

Nicodemus shook his head.

The demon nodded sympathetically. "It is overwhelming for most mortals. But my boy, I want you to overcome this. I want you to think for me. Think of when Fellwroth discovered you and Deirdre in the Drum Tower. What should I have done?"

"You could have sent Deirdre into a fit," Nicodemus said automatically. "If she had given me to Fellwroth, the creature would have taken us here right away."

Typhon's crimson beard split into a smile. "Correct. After Fellwroth captured the ark, he enclosed it with a Numinous shield. I had not antic.i.p.ated this. The spell almost completely blocked my control over Deirdre. That's why she continued to execute my previous instructions-which were to seduce you and bring you to Gray's Crossing."

The demon paused. "Nicodemus, it is the shame of the world we had to meet this way. I am your creator. I brought your parents together, and I ensured that you would end up as a Starhaven cacographer."

The demon's black lips grimaced. "It hasn't been the best home, I realize. For one of your talents, being a cacographer must have been difficult. But the alternative was to watch an Alliance a.s.sa.s.sin take you from me." He shivered. "And I couldn't watch another of my Imperial boys die."

Nicodemus blinked.

The demon was studying him. "Fellwroth told you of the Alliance of Heretics, yes? About the clandestine human deities also trying to breed a Language Prime spellwright? They have been murdering your cousins forcenturies. And they will kill you in a heartbeat. That is why you must let me protect you."

Nicodemus stood paralyzed by shock. The demon's tone was one of genuine concern.

Typhon took a step closer. "We are so close to our goal now that we no longer need to hide you in wretched Starhaven. Join me now and you will help me compose a new dragon. With Fellwroth dead and the emerald restored to its full power, we will need only seven or eight years to write a new wyrm. Then you will become the first dragon lord, a new kind of being invulnerable to the attacks of the Alliance."

This last startled Nicodemus out of his paralysis. "In a dream I was your dragon. I'd rather cut my own throat than help you create such a monster."

Typhon shook his ma.s.sive head. "You were not my dragon; you were Fellwroth's dragon. That slave turned my draft into a cliched, fire-breathing lizard. Fellwroth never understood what a true dragon is. Nicodemus, they are texts more glorious than you can now imagine. I could give you the spells needed to understand how glorious dragons are and how glorious you and I shall become."

Rather than answer, Nicodemus looked around for an escape or a weapon. He saw only Deirdre, frozen still as a statue.

"She can't help you yet," Typhon rumbled. "She is my avatar now and possesses most of my soul. It will take time to win her over, but you and I will win her."

When Nicodemus took a step back, Typhon flicked his hand out as if casting a spell. Nicodemus flinched, but nothing happened.

The demon frowned. "Curious," he said. "The censoring text I just cast around your mind misspelled and deconstructed. Does your cacography influence language unknown to you?"

Nicodemus's mind filled with images of the night terrors that had hidden him from Fellwroth. He took another step back.

Typhon flapped his wings once. "I do not want to restrain you. We are not enemies."

He held out a ma.s.sive obsidian hand, in the center of which sparkled the Emerald of Arahest. "When I trust you, you shall have this back. You shall survive the War of Disjunction and live with Deirdre. You two will become the first dragon lords. From your children shall come a race to replace humanity. Demonkind will reward-"

"You crippled John!" Nicodemus heard himself shout. "You crippled me! You and I shall only and ever be enemies!"

The demon sighed. "Fathers and sons, authors and texts, they often clash before reconciling. I am going to restrain you now. If you struggle-"

Typhon's next words were drowned out by an earsplitting thunderclap. A brilliant spray of Magnus flew up from the demon's back to splash against the ceiling. Someone had dashed a wartext against the malicious deity.

Nicodemus spun around and ran for the kobold caves at the back of the cavern. Behind him, Magistra Amadi Okeke's voice rang out. There was a brief silence, which was broken by a blast of sound so low and loud that it vibrated Nicodemus's chest like a drum.

He looked back. Typhon roared at a dozen sentinels as they came swarming down from the Spindle Bridge. A storm of silver and gold spells flew from the spellwrights. Typhon pulled back his wings and- Nicodemus slammed into something and suddenly was on his back. Groaning, he sat up. In front of him, he could feel a solid but invisible barrier. His cheeks burned hot. Typhon must have cast some textual wall at the cavern's end, and Nicodemus must have run straight into it.

Dazed, Nicodemus wondered how his mind had unknowingly disspelled the censoring text Typhon had cast about him when his body had smashed so painfully into this text.

The barrier must have been written in a different language. One like the Chthonic languages, that used logical spellings. His mind quickly distorted those languages with illogical spellings. That would mean that he could misspell the barrier only slowly.

But slowly was better than not at all. He pushed his hand into the barrier and felt his cacography begin to corrupt the prose.

Another roar rolled through the cavern.

Nicodemus looked back to see Typhon lunge forward and grab a sentinel by the robes. With a one-handed heave, the demon flung the man upward, crushing his head into the low ceiling.

On the cavern's other side, a sentinel lifted a silver hammer-a tundern wand-and struck it against the ground. A subterranean lightning bolt flew out of the artifact and erupted beneath Typhon's feet into a spray of jagged Magnus sentences and rock fragments.

But neither words nor stone pierced the demon's obsidian skin. With a backhanded lash, Typhon cast a blade of red light that flew across the cavern and cut the tundern wielder in two.

The surviving sentinels, Magistra Okeke at their front, were retreating into the tunnel.

Nicodemus turned to the textual barrier before him. It continued to shift under his hands but felt no weaker. This was taking too long. He'd never break through in time.

"Nicodemus," Typhon bellowed behind him. "We must get you awayfrom here. These humans will kill you. I've been imprisoned for too long, and too much of my soul is locked into Deirdre. I'm not strong enough to kill them all at once."

The five sentinels had fallen far back into the tunnel. Typhon raised a ma.s.sive hand and struck the tunnel floor. A burst of glowing red streamers erupted from the demon's fist and then blasted down. The cavern trembled as part of the Spindle's floor fell into blackness.

With cries of shock, the sentinels ran deeper into the tunnel. Typhon cast an unseen spell that knocked free another bit of the floor. Through the growing hole Nicodemus could see the moonlit forest far below.

A sentinel who had not retreated fast enough shouted as the stones beneath him gave way. There was a silver flash as he tried to textually stop his fall-then nothing.

Typhon roared.

Nicodemus's head felt light. His lips were numb. He couldn't deconstruct the barrier fast enough.

One of the sentinels threw a Numinous spell that exploded against Typhon's shoulder. The flash briefly illuminated Shannon's unmoving form. "Magister!" Nicodemus exclaimed. He could not leave Shannon behind.

But how to retrieve the old man? Without the emerald he stood no chance of injuring the demon. If only he had time to write out a subtext to hide himself, he could...

"Fiery blood!" he swore and pulled back the sleeves of his robes. "Of course." He began to pinch the Chthonic sentences tattooed on his right hand.

At first the sentences were recalcitrant and kept inscribing themselves back into his skin. But with a fury of yanking, he managed to disengage the spell.

The Chthonic ghost had warned him that Wrixlan and Pithan sentences would score his skin. But even so, Nicodemus was shocked by the searing agony that consumed his arms as the sentences unwound.

Once free of his arm, the purple language spun itself into Garkex, the firetroll.

Previously the construct had been no bigger than a child. Now the three-horned spell stood six feet tall and possessed arms so muscular they bulged like flour sacks stuffed with river stones.

Initially Garkex wore a grumpy why-did-you-wake-me expression, but the instant the troll's eyes fell upon Typhon they bulged with fear. With a snort, the construct scooped up Nicodemus and began to tear the other Wrixlan constructs from his skin.

Every inch of Nicodemus's arms and forearms burned with pain as the purple prose was ripped from him. He fought the urge to cry out as Garkex rolled him over and over and peeled off more fantasies.

After what felt like an infinity of agony, the troll set Nicodemus down.

All of the night terrors now stood around them: Fael the lycanthrope, Tamelkan the eyeless dragon, Uro the nightmare insect, and many others. Because the constructs had absorbed some of Nicodemus's strength by storing themselves on his skin, each one had grown.

In the next instant the fantasies scooped up Nicodemus, placed him on Tamelkan's back, and surrounded him with their concealing dark blue skin.

Typhon tossed a last spell at the sentinels. The Spindle had not fallen, but for fifty feet the tunnel's bottom had been ripped out.

"Nicodemus, they are far enough back," the demon called. "They can't hurt you now. Nicodemus?" He had turned and was peering into the cavern.

"Magister Shannon," Nicodemus whispered to Garkex. "The body there. We need to retrieve the body and escape."

The troll nodded.

"Nicodemus, this is not the time to hide," Typhon rumbled. "Wizards are finicky authors." The demon began searching the cavern's northern edge.

The huddle of night terrors-Nicodemus suspended in the middle-crept away in the opposite direction.

"The wizards believe in a false prophecy and think you are the Petrel," Typhon said. "They'll censor and kill you."

The pack of invisible monsters approached Deirdre. Most of her body was still frozen, but she had managed to drop her sword. Her head hung forward and her chest heaved.

A sudden volley of Magnus spells filled the cave and smashed against Typhon's side. The sentinels hadn't given up. Roaring furiously, the demon ran to the cavern's mouth to return the attack.

Seizing the chance, Garkex darted out to grab Shannon and slung the old man over his shoulder. With the troll gone, Nicodemus's left shoulder had become visible. Typhon was still preoccupied by the sentinels, but Deirdre-standing not five feet away-turned her eyes on him.

Panic flashed hot in Nicodemus's mind. How complete was Typhon's control over her? For a moment he considered attacking her to keep her from raising the alarm. But the idea died almost as soon as it formed. Instead he pleaded with his eyes and brought a finger up to his lips. Garkex returned with Shannon and plopped the old man onto Tamelkan's back.

Slowly Deirdre's chest filled with air as if she might scream.

Nicodemus shook his head vehemently.

Her chest contracted. "Please," she croaked, "kill me."

"PLEASE," DEIRDRE WHISPERED. "I hold most of his soul."

Nicodemus felt his blood go cold. "I can't-"

"You must," she hissed. "If I die, so will he."

The cavern shook again with Typhon's roar. A red glow grew around the demon and then flashed. All was silent for a moment and then a distant sentinel screamed.

"Nicodemus," Typhon called in an anxious voice. "More wizards will come soon." The demon had turned around and was striding into the cavern. "We must..." his voice died as he looked down to where Shannon had once lain. "The old one," he rumbled.

"Please!" Deirdre whispered.

Suddenly Nicodemus had to look away from an intense white blaze. It was Typhon. The demon had held up his right hand to cast a spell that shed pure physical light. It glared brighter than sunshine.

All around Nicodemus the constructs screamed. Physical light deconstructed Wrixlan and Pithan, and each of the night terrors was written in purple prose.

Typhon turned toward Nicodemus. In the piercing blaze, the night terrors had become visible. The demon's all-white eyes opened wide.

Realizing that they could hide no longer, Garkex spouted flame from his horns and charged Typhon.

The other night terrors followed, shrieking out a caterwauling war cry.

Nicodemus grabbed hold of Shannon, just barely pulling the old man off Tamelkan before the eyeless dragon charged into battle.

Typhon meet Garkex with a blast of red light that deconstructed the construct's left arm. But with a brutal right-handed slash, the troll raked his claws across Typhon's cheek and knocked the demon's head to one side. The rest of the nightmares rushed forward in a tide of scales, tentacles, and talons. They bowled into the demon and knocked him onto his back.

"Kill me!" Deirdre cried. "His control over me lessens." Her arms had gone slack. She looked at Nicodemus with wide, pleading eyes.