Horses clattered into the small yard before the mercenaries’ quarters. Terrano turned, peering through the doorway. “Here’s Hex and Del. Where’s Donell?”
Tagrin thumped his chest and belched. “Gone to buy bread to soak up the stew.” He stirred the cook pot with a massive ladle, shielding his fingers with his thick sleeve. He grinned at Breia. “And Jem-Jem Juice, if you’d care to join me…”
Breia grimaced and shook her head. “No thanks, Tag. That stuff’s dangerous. A girl could wake up anywhere.” Tagrin clutched his heart and staggered, his broad face contorting into a grieved expression. Breia grinned and ignored him.
Terrano’s jaw twitched. He pushed himself to his feet and left the bunkhouse without another word. Tagrin pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. “Was it something I said?”
“Shut up, Tag,” Breia muttered, suddenly aware of how things had changed between the three of them.
The Diamond Dogs ate, drank, and swapped dreams and plans for their extravagant futures. Hex and Del, dark-skinned brothers from the south coast, cleaned up after the meal. When the sun sank below the town’s western skyline, it was time to meet with their employer.
Before they left the quarters, Terrano addressed them all. “No more drinking.” His serious gaze swept the band. Tagrin belched. Hex chuckled and elbowed his brother. Terrano frowned. “There will be much gold to watch over this night, and I would have you clearheaded enough to do so. We will sleep in shifts-three to stay awake at all times. Agreed? Come on, then. Let’s go get rich.” He stood aside, and the band hustled into the yard.
The helter-skelter loomed tall and silent over the quiet street. Early twilight gleamed pale pink on the metallic chute that embraced the tower. The Diamond Dogs approached the open door at its base. Stacked against the outside wall were sections of the giant spiral staircase that would take would-be sliders to the small door at the top of the chute. Lamplight glowed within the tower, and the sound of voices came from within. Terrano stepped up to the doorway and knocked.
“Come in, all of you,” called the familiar rasp of the Necromancer. Peering around Terrano’s shoulder, Breia saw the mage standing alone on the circular stone floor. Beside him sat a large wooden chest. Terrano scanned the inside of the tower.
“Who were you talking to?” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe.
The Necromancer blinked. “Myself. And my…guide, of course.”
“Your guide.” Terrano straightened.
“Not of this world, my dear Terrano, and not something that need concern you.”
Breia’s skin goose-bumped. The mage’s indigo robes swished when he bent to the chest and opened the lid. Breia’s eyes widened. Gold coin filled the chest to the brim, and a soft yellow glow haloed the fortune. The Necromancer’s features smoothed. He tucked his hands into his sleeves. “You distrust me, I see.” He sighed. “My art is one feared by many. I do not hold your suspicions against you.” He indicated the gold with a pale hand. “Here is what I promised you, and more besides. I have been well pleased with you.” He smiled, a mere stretching of lips over teeth. “You have helped me achieve a vast work. Take your reward.”
Terrano sought Tagrin over his shoulder. His brows lifted. “There’s no one about,” Tagrin said in answer to the unspoken question.
Terrano nodded. “Be quick, all of you.” The band filed into the tower. Tagrin closed the lid of the chest and grasped one of its rope handles, testing its weight. It barely moved. Terrano gestured to Hex and Keenan. Del and Donell took the third side, and Terrano and Breia, the fourth. They heaved together, but the chest did not move. The movement of the door caught Breia’s eye too late.
“Tee!” Her eyes met his just as the door closed with a solid whump. Tagrin ran for the exit, his massive shoulder connecting with the wood in an impact that should have shattered the planking.
Terrano whirled toward the Necromancer, but the mage no longer stood on the stone circle. He floated the height of two men above them, and continued to rise toward the topmost door, his features set in a serene smile.
Keenan gazed up at the escaping mage. “The slide! He’s running out on us!”
“But the gold…” Breia stooped and opened the chest. Empty. Shock pierced her gut. “Illusion,” she breathed, and drew her throwing knives. Terrano’s knives already hissed through the air, and Breia’s followed. Before the wicked blades could reach the Necromancer’s flesh, he made a brushing gesture with his hands. The knives fell away, clattering harmlessly at their feet.
“What have you done, you stinking corpse-waker?” Tagrin’s raw bellow drew the mage’s eye. And Breia’s. He clutched his shoulder, and his arm hung at an odd angle. The door remained undamaged. Terrano reached behind his head and drew the longsword from the sheath at his back. He strode to the door and took a mighty swing at the wood. The strident ring of metal on metal filled the tower. A long diagonal slash in the wood revealed the truth. A thin skin of wood over a metal plate. Tagrin and Keenan drew swords and attacked the walls, only to discover more metal plating.
The Necromancer’s thin laughter floated down from the exit to the chute. He stood braced in the upper doorway, his face a pale moon in the cowl of his robe. “Did you think you would escape judgment for your deeds, Terrano? You and your band have sent seventy souls to the realm of the dead. Seventy! Does that number hold any significance for you, Diamond Dogs?” He paused, resting his gaze on each of them in turn. Breia’s breath came in gasps, and her heart threatened to escape her chest, so frantic was its pounding. The slight mage rubbed his chin. “Then perhaps seventy-seven will hold more meaning for you.” His tone chilled Breia’s gut.
Terrano’s face drained of color. “The arcane key,” he muttered, nursing his sword arm. Breia saw a dreadful understanding in his eyes. “We are the seven,” he grated. “He means to dispose of us here.” The whisper of drawn steel sounded around the tower. Terrano’s longknives appeared in his hands. Breia’s mouth dried. She slid her sword from its sheath and stood, shifting her weight from side to side, her gaze darting around the band.
High above them, the Necromancer muttered in a constant burble of sound, his hands outstretched. The tower’s foundations shifted beneath Breia’s feet. She backed toward the curved wall, Hex at her left and Donell at her right. Keenan and Del remained in the center, staring at the stone which writhed as stone should not. The mage’s mutterings grew louder. The foundations heaved, and a massive grinding rumble began far beneath their feet.
Opposite Breia, Terrano’s eyes widened, flew to meet hers. “The death-mark,” he called above the groaning stone. He extended an index finger, moved it in a wide pattern over the floor. “It’s here, marked into the stone!”
Oh, Carannah, save us! A dusky red line she had not noticed before curved in a sinuous design, simple yet awfully familiar. The mark they had all inscribed into their victims’ flesh. A violent crack resounded in the small space. The stone floor rent from Terrano’s side straight across to Breia.
The Necromancer’s voice rose to a thin screech. “Come, Avatar! Rise, Golem God!”
Avatar Golem! The mage had worked a summoning. Breia swallowed, gripped her sword hilt in sweating palms and stared into the riven stone. Keenan and Del stepped back, separated by the widening fissure, their swords held before them. With a sound like the first crack of overhead thunder, the floor beneath Del opened. He fell straight down. His sword skittered away when he gripped the edge of the stone, scrabbling and heaving, his face contorted with fear.
Hex leaped toward his brother. Before he could reach him, a massive hand the color of a stagnant pond reached from the rift and gripped Del around the neck. Hex swung his sword down on the green-scummed forearm. The blade impacted with a wet, sucking sound. Del ’s eyes bulged. His mouth worked soundlessly. His fingers slipped, leaving trails of blood. Hex roared and struck again. Tagrin charged toward them, but Del had gone. Keenan raised his sword against a second arm that hooked over the edge of the fissure. Before he could swing the blade down, the stone opened beneath him. He disappeared without a sound. Tagrin and Hex hacked at the emerging back and shoulders, their blows causing no obvious damage. When the hunched creature lifted its head from the depths of the stone, its mouth opened in a gurgling hiss.