to chop them to pieces. Fire might work, but without being able to use his magic there was no way to make it.
Or was there?
‘Tyrion! Get Sunfang. That will hurt them.’ Teclis wished he was sure of that, but it seemed like their best chance of getting out of this hellish place alive.
Tyrion seemed to have worked this out for himself. He was already in motion towards Aenarion’s time-lost blade.
CHAPTER SIX
Tyrion leapt at the walking dead man with the burning sword. He knocked aside the clumsy stroke of Sunfang and struck Argentes’s corpse in the face with the pommel of his blade.
Argentes clutched Aenarion’s sword in the unbreakable grip of his dead fingers. Tyrion grappled with him, determined to get his hands on the weapon he had sought for so long.
But the animated corpse was incredibly strong and his many companions surged towards Tyrion, keen to rend his flesh. The elf prince grasped Argentes’s hand and broke his wrist with a twist. White bone jabbed out through dry flesh. Still Argentes would not let go of the sword. He grabbed Tyrion’s throat with his good hand and squeezed. Tyrion made his neck muscles rigid to resist being choked but iron-hard nails bit into his flesh, drawing blood.
Tyrion twisted Argentes’s sword hand, smashing the last of the bone and tearing the strip of flesh and the tendons that still attached it to the arm. Sunfang dropped free and he caught it.
It felt like a living thing in his hand. The blade burst into tiny flames. Tyrion could feel the blazing heat coming from the sword but the flames did not seem to do the metal any damage. It did not soften or become malleable.
He lashed out at Argentes with the sword he had carried for so long.
The smell of seared flesh filled Tyrion’s nostrils when the blade bit home. A hideous shriek emerged from dry lips. A grey tongue flickered forth as if imitating the action of a serpent. In a moment the bone-dry corpse was in flames. It reeled away from Tyrion, tumbling backwards into the ranks of its own undead companions, setting the clothing of some of them alight as well.
‘For Emeraldsea and the Phoenix King!’ Tyrion shouted his battle cry and leapt among the attackers, striking right and left, setting fire to animated corpses, searing their flesh, burning their bones black as they fell. The magic of the blade made it much more deadly to these creatures than it would be to the living.
Teclis saw the effectiveness of Tyrion’s blade against the undead. He could work similar fiery magic, just not within the protected confines of the inner sanctum. He needed to lure the monsters outside their circle of protection before he could destroy them.
Inside the sanctum the humans had panicked and were fighting desperately, simply trying to stay alive. No one was paying very much attention to him. It was going to cost them their lives.
Why should he care? He could save himself and Tyrion. The others were only humans. He had no reason to care whether they lived or died.
By elven standards they were going to die soon anyway, so what difference would a few more years make? Chances were they would be carried off by disease or disaster within months if they made it back to their homelands anyway.
And yet he did care. He felt responsible for them. He had brought them here. They had followed him into this danger. And though their lives were short, they were the only lives they had, and if he did not do something they would be lost.
Most elves would not have given him a chance of living a few years when he had been but a sickly child. He found that he had a certain sympathy for humans that most other elves lacked. He could share their perspective. He could see himself in them. They were poorly made and despised by his kindred as well.
‘Everybody out of the chamber,’ Teclis shouted. ‘Now!’
‘They’ll just follow us,’ Tyrion responded.
‘That’s what I want!’
Tyrion shrugged. ‘Come on, lads,’ he bellowed in his best battle-ground voice. ‘Get out of there. My brother has a plan.’
His voice carried effortlessly above the din of battle. More importantly it had that note in it that commanded obedience.
Leiber and the other humans almost jumped to obey. They raced and scrambled for the doorway, tearing themselves from the grip of ravening undead, twisting and writhing and scrambling over and through the moving corpses until they reached the exit.