are all dead . . . even your precious noble!”
“I told you to keep quiet,” barked the captain, shoving Chane forward.
“Duchess!” Wynn called. “Tell him to give me the staff. Not even the Stonewalkers can face this.”
The pair of Weardas charged her. One grabbed her soaked tunic’s shoulder and shoved her on. Before she turned, she looked to Chane and flicked a quick glance toward the staff in the captain’s hand.
Chane nodded once.
CHAPTER 18
Sau’ilahk had no time to ponder how the second Stonewalker came out of a cavern wall. The thunderclap raised by the younger, red- haired one had to be an alarm. He needed to end this and slip away before being forced to flee. And he needed life to feed on.
He rushed the second Stonewalker, as it slashed at him with a wide dagger. Gray-blond hair hung wildly about the elder dwarf’s bony face. The blade swept through unimpeded, and his expression shifted to surprise.
Sau’ilahk sank his incorporeal hand through the dwarf’s black-scaled hauberk. Elation rose at the tingle of life as the dwarf’s mouth gaped.
The old one tried to back away, and Sau’ilahk paced him, wanting to leach as much life as possible. He had not had enough time to memorize this cavern. If exhaustion forced him into dormancy, he would rise in the last place he had awakened.
The elder Stonewalker backed against—into—the wall.
The tingle of life vanished, and Sau’ilahk froze, staring into his victim’s face, which was half-submerged in glistening stone.
The stone’s texture and phosphorescence flowed over the elder dwarf’s features. It began covering his form, armor, hair, and eyes. He became a likeness seemingly carved from the rock.
Sau’ilahk’s hand began to harden, as if solidified against his will, trapped inside the stone.
Nothing could hide its life from his touch. Nothing could grip a spirit, especially one such as him. Stunned and horrified, he willed his hand to return to its spiritual state and jerked free, retreating in a rush. He whirled at the sound of grating boots, and the red-haired young one closed quickly.
Sau’ilahk could not help recoiling as another dagger slashed through him.
The young one’s eyes widened when the blade did not even ruffle the black cloak. Sau’ilahk swiped at him in turn, hoping to consume this one’s life. The dwarf slapped his free hand against a stalactite.
Sau’ilahk’s black-wrapped fingers passed straight through his red hair and his face. The young one did not flinch, and Sau’ilahk did not even feel a brief tingle.
“Meâkesagh, yaittrâg vuddidí maks! Chleu’intag chregh; chleu’intag hìm!”
He twisted at the elder’s deep voice, catching the meaning of those barked commands too late.
Ore-Locks, block the far exit! Keep to stone; keep to me!
The gray-blond elder stepped forward, his still-carved face pushing from calcified rock. Glistening stone flowed from his features, until he stood fully distinguished from the cavern wall. A rush of booted feet made Sau’ilahk whip the other way.
The red- haired one dodged between half- lit columns and deep shadows, always keeping one hand upon a stalagmite or stalactite. He regained the far opening where he had first appeared.
Sau’ilahk turned fear-fed anger on the bony-featured elder.
. . . keep to stone . . . keep to me.
He hissed, and his cloak began to rise. Even if he blinked across the cavern by line of sight, he could not feed on the young one. The elder was the key to Sau’ilahk’s failure. That one somehow protected himself and the other through contact with stone. And there was stone here everywhere.
Sau’ilahk had to force one of them to lose contact between flesh and stone.
If the elder died, the younger would be helpless, but turning fully corporeal to fight them would deplete Sau’ilahk’s energy. He would not last long. Even if he killed one, to do so quickly would not feed him enough.
He surged rearward, rushing back through three calcified columns.
“Bulwark?” the young one called.
“Hold!” the elder shouted, swerving around a lumpy column.
Sau’ilahk spread his arms wide.
His servitors could do little against enemies who became one with stone. A pure conjury was too slow, and a base summoning was the only choice. He arched his arms forward as the elder Stonewalker rounded another stalagmite. Sigils and shapes formed in Sau’ilahk’s sight, but not fixed upon his assailant.
He held them within the vacant space between his arms, and the cavern’s air began to shift.
Wind raced in through openings as if the cavern sucked it in. It built into a whirling core within the half circle of Sau’ilahk’s arms. The elder dwarf faltered, slapping at