Ridmark had no doubt that they could fight their way through the dvargir.
The basilisk might be much harder.
For all its bulk, the creature was deadly quick, and moved with serpentine agility. Its fury turned on the dvargir, who had no doubt tormented it. It raked its claws across the face of the nearest dvargir warrior, the black talons parting gray flesh. The dvargir screamed and collapsed, yellow foam bubbling from his mouth and nose.
The basilisk’s claws were poisoned, and Ridmark suspected that the stinger upon its tail also carried a deadly venom. Yet the basilisk had not turned anyone else to stone, not after its power had failed against Calliande’s ward. Maybe the basilisk needed a few moments to recover its power before employing it again.
Ridmark parried a sword blow on the haft of his axe, twisted, and swung his weapon, his heavy axe biting through the armor in the dvargir’s lower back. The dvargir snarled and slashed at him, and Ridmark ducked, pulled his axe free, and finished off the dvargir with a heavy blow to the head.
For a moment, just a moment, he considered commanding the others to flee and letting the basilisk deal with the dvargir. Perhaps they could escape and reach the mines before the basilisk finished with the dvargir, and then the basilisk would lie in wait for the Traveler or Mournacht or whoever else arrived here at first. Ridmark dismissed the idea. There was always a chance the dvargir could get the basilisk back under control, and Ridmark and the others might not survive that.
Which meant they had to kill the basilisk.
“Arandar, Gavin!” said Ridmark. He parried a sword thrust and jumped back, wounding the dvargir warrior on the arm. “Attack the basilisk! Try to take it down!”
He wasn’t sure if either Swordbearer had heard him. The dvargir pressed hard around them, swords and axes falling. If not for Arandar’s armor and the dark elven armor Gavin had taken from the Warden’s armory, it was entirely possible the skillful dvargir would have killed them both. As it was, the Swordbearers were holding their own against the dvargir, but barely.
Two more dvargir charged at Ridmark, and he retreated, wishing for the longer reach of his staff. Ridmark dodged an axe’s swing, feinted, and then reversed the momentum of his blow. His axe tore through a dvargir’s neck, killing the warrior, but the second dvargir struck again. Ridmark’s dark elven armor deflected the edge of the dvargir’s sword, but the strength of the blow knocked him back a step. He got his axe up in time to block the next thrust, and a third dvargir took the place of the one he had killed, attacking with vigor. Every step pushed Ridmark further away from the basilisk, which continued picking off dvargir one by one with its poisoned claws and tail. Again the basilisk’s yellow eyes flashed with harsh light, and two more dvargir turned to stone, frozen forever as they charged the creature.
Blue light flickered behind one of the dvargir attacking Ridmark, and Mara appeared, her short sword angled to thrust. The blade plunged into the dvargir’s back, and the warrior staggered with a grunt, his void-filled eyes going wide. Ridmark sprang into the opening, his axe cleaving into the dvargir’s chest, and the warrior fell as Mara tugged her sword free and vanished. The remaining dvargir warrior spun, seeking for Mara, but for an instant Ridmark was free to act.
He dashed forward as the basilisk bit off a dvargir warrior’s head. The huge lizard shook its head back and forth, and Ridmark raised his axe to strike at the creature’s head. At the last instant the basilisk reared back with serpentine grace, its entire spine coiling like a rope caught in a wind. Ridmark realized the danger and dodged as the basilisk coiled over its own back, striking at him like a snake. He dodged again and swung the axe, the edge of the blade opening a shallow cut on the basilisk’s side. The cut leaked yellowish slime, and the basilisk sprang back with a hiss of fury, forked tongue darting over its bloody fangs.
The yellow light from its eyes washed over Ridmark. The creature’s power crackled against Calliande’s ward, and again the basilisk let out an enraged hiss.
Then it abandoned its power and came at him with fang and claw and stinger.
Ridmark fought for his life. The basilisk had all the quick maneuverability of a snake and the speed of a running lizard. It struck like a snake, its body coiling and uncoiling, while it raked with its claws and tried to skewer him with its stinger. Ridmark dodged and ducked, at one point deflecting a stab of the stinger with a sweep of his axe, and the basilisk could never quite close with him. Yet neither could he land a telling blow upon the creature. He nicked it a few times with the keen edge of the dwarven axe, drawing more of the yellowish slime that served as its blood, but that only enraged the basilisk further.
Ridmark needed one decisive, solid blow, but he could not get close enough to inflict one.
###
“I can do nothing useful,” said Antenora, a small ball of flame spinning above the end of her staff. “They are too close together, and if I try to burn the dvargir, I shall likely kill our companions.”
Morigna nodded, her staff flaring with purple fire as she called upon the earth magic to fuel her spells. Next to her Calliande stood motionless, her hands extended and shining with white light as she maintained the ward. It was clear the effort taxed the Magistria, her lips pressed into a hard, colorless line, but the gentle white light around Ridmark and the others never wavered.
Yet Morigna could see that Ridmark was losing his fight with the basilisk. The creature moved like quicksilver, its terrible eyes shining like yellow lamps in its fanged skull, and came at Ridmark with claw and fang and stinger. He barely stayed ahead of the creature’s poisoned blows. Sooner or later he would stumble, and then the basilisk would have him.
The others could not help him. The bulk of the dvargir warriors strove against Arandar and Gavin. With their soulblades’ power protecting them from the basilisk’s gaze, neither Swordbearer could move with the superhuman speed and power they could otherwise. Kharlacht and Caius and Mara and Jager held their own against the dvargir, the faint glow of Calliande’s power surrounding them, but there were simply too many dvargir.
Morigna cast another spell, sending her will through the stone floor. This far beneath the surface, she could not summon roots to entangle her enemies. She could, however, knock them off balance, and a ripple went through the ground, throwing a half-dozen dvargir from their feet. Arandar and Gavin took the opportunity to strike, killing three of the dark-armored warriors before they recovered.
Then, for just a moment, Morigna had a clear shot at Ridmark. He spun and dodged in front of one of the blast furnaces, the basilisk twisting and snarling. Morigna thrust her staff, summoning all the magic she could muster, and conjured a tight ball of white mist that rolled up the basilisk’s spine. Even over the din of the battle, Morigna heard the sizzling hiss as the acid chewed into the basilisk’s scales, and the basilisk let out a furious shriek of rage and pain. Ridmark darted forward, dwarven axe in both hands, and buried the blade in the basilisk’s side. Again the basilisk shrieked in fury, and its head twisted to bite at Ridmark. Ridmark ducked, but the edge of the basilisk’s head clipped his chest and sent him tumbling, and he rolled to a stop against the base of the blast furnace. Morigna cursed and called power for another spell, intending to distract the basilisk before it could attack Ridmark.
But the basilisk wasn’t staring at Ridmark.
The glowing yellow eyes glared at her. Somehow the basilisk knew that she had cast a spell at it. Morigna had no idea how smart the basilisk was, but apparently it was clever enough to realize that she was the one who had hurt it.
The basilisk shot forward, its yellow eyes fixed on Morigna. The dvargir in its path threw themselves to the side, and with a burst of alarm Morigna realized that the creature was coming right at her.
She had no spell strong enough to stop it. Calliande had no power left to aid her. Antenora could not help her without blasting half of their companions to cinders. For that matter, Calliande could not ward herself or Antenora or Morigna against the basilisk’s gaze, not with all her power focused upon the others.
“Morigna!” shouted Calliande. “Watch…”
Morigna had exactly one option left.
She ran.
The basilisk bowled over the remaining dvargir in its path, and Caius took the opportunity to bash in a dvargir warrior’s skull. Morigna sprinted for the gap between two of the blast furnaces, hoping to lose the basilisk in the gloom there. The streams of lava against the distant walls threw off some light, but hopefully Morigna could conceal herself in the shadows. The poor light would not hinder her altered eyes, and perhaps she could lose the basilisk, or even strike a deadly blow from the shadows.
She cut a meandering path, ducking around the squat domes of the blast furnaces and jumping over fallen carts of ore and coal. A wolf would have had a difficult time following the tangled trail she laid down.
It did not fool the basilisk for a second.
The basilisk bounded after her, and Morigna realized she had made a mistake. She was running through the shadows, yet the creature pursued her unerringly. Was it hunting her by scent? Could it sense the power of her magic? It had absolutely no trouble tracking her.
And Morigna had no way to shield herself from the deadly power of its gaze.
The basilisk was gaining on her. Morigna dodged to the left and stumbled, and the basilisk closed the gap. She whirled, bringing up her staff, intending to fling every bit of earth magic she could summon at the creature.
The basilisk didn’t bite. Instead the hideous yellow light of its eyes fell over her.
Morigna screamed, or would have screamed, but a peculiar cold stiffness spread through her. Some distant part of her mind noted that it was the petrification process, the beginning of her flesh’s transmutation into stone. She wondered if she would make an attractive statue, if she would stand in this gloomy darkness for the rest of time…
The shadows in her mind boiled with wrath.
Again a shell of shadows formed around her, similar to the one she had summoned the night that Antenora had startled her.
The yellow light vanished, and the basilisk jerked back, shaking its fanged head as if annoyed.
And all at once the cold pressure vanished from her limbs.
Morigna cast a spell, flinging all her strength into it. The earth magic gave her the power to influence and control the minds of animals, and the basilisk was an animal. Likely the collar of dvargirish steel around its neck inflamed its mind with permanent rage, preventing Morigna from dominating the creature entirely, just like the mzrokar they had faced in Thainkul Dural, but perhaps she could calm it down long enough to escape.
Her will reached out and touched the basilisk’s mind, and her thoughts recoiled in fear. The creature’s mind was not as twisted as the mind of an urvaalg or ursaar, but it was nonetheless strange and alien. She remembered what the Warden had said about other worlds, and Morigna was certain that the basilisk had come from some world so alien she could scarce comprehend it. There was no way Morigna could control such an alien mind. Not unless she drew on the dark magic within her…
She pushed aside that thought.
Her power could not control the basilisk, but the creature went rigid, twitching as its mind struggled against the intrusion of Morigna’s magic. Morigna considered trying to remove the dvargirish collar, but if her concentration wavered even for an instant, the basilisk would bite her, and she doubted her strange shadows would stop the venom in its fangs.
Perhaps she could distract it long enough to get away. Her eyes fell on a nearby blast furnace. The long-ago attack of the Frostborn had damaged it, tearing a hole in its side. If she crawled inside while clouding the basilisk’s mind, perhaps the creature would lose track of her location.
Morigna backed away, keeping her magic focused upon the trembling basilisk. Her concentration started to slip from the effort of confusing that alien, bestial mind. She reached the side of the blast furnace, levered herself through the small hole, and climbed into the interior. The walls and floor were blackened by generations of soot, save for the dozens of dwarven glyphs, clear and sharp as if they had been carved yesterday.
Morigna released her power with a shuddering breath and stepped back, keeping her eyes upon the hole in the wall, her staff in hand. She heard the wet slap of the basilisk’s feet against the stone floor as it moved back and forth, seeking her, and then the sound faded.
It had lost interest in her. Or, more likely, it had returned to the battle in search of easier prey. Morigna had to rejoin the others. Ridmark and the others were formidable warriors, but so were the dvargir, and Ridmark needed her help to overcome them.
She turned towards the furnace’s square entrance and froze.
The basilisk sat there, watching her.
Apparently it had not lost interest in her after all.
Before Morigna could react, the creature surged forward, jaws yawning wide.
###
Ridmark killed another dvargir and looked around, trying to find Morigna.
Kharlacht and Gavin and Arandar had all taken wounds, and Ridmark’s left shoulder burned from the impact of a dvargir mace. Yet after Morigna had lured the basilisk away, Arandar and Gavin had been able to use their soulblades’ power to make themselves stronger and faster, and they had torn into the dvargir warriors like a storm. The force of their blows drove Heartwarden and Truthseeker through black armor like hammers through paper, and together the two Swordbearers killed dvargir after dvargir. The dvargir had already been demoralized by Rzorgar’s death, the destruction of their mzrokar, and the basilisk’s rampage. The dvargir were falling back, fleeing into the darkness or cloaking themselves with shadow and withdrawing.
But Morigna was still out there, alone in the gloom.
So was the basilisk.