What remained of the old Ard Patrinell formed the right arm and face. Both were intact and the distinctive features of the Captain of the Home Guard were instantly recognizable. His metal-capped head was set into a tall collar. It was impossible to tell if his head was still connected to some portion of his body, although even at a distance and in the dim light of the ventilation shaft, Quentin could see color in the strong features and movement in the dark eyes. But there was no question about the connection of the right arm, the flesh and bone of which were capped and cabled in metal at the shoulder and attached in the same manner as the other limbs by a metal ball and socket.
Red and green lights blinked like tiny glass eyes all over the creature’s gleaming torso, and numbers set in windows clicked and whirred, counting out functions that Quentin could only guess at. Pads cushioned the skeletal metal pieces of the feet so that when the creature walked it made thumping sounds and did not clank as it otherwise surely would. The human right hand held a broadsword in its powerful grip, ready to strike. The metal left hand held a long knife and was bound and warded by an oval shield that ran from wrist to elbow.
When it saw them-and it did see them, they could tell from the movement of the eyes and shift of the body-it started for them at once, weapons raised to strike.
For just an instant the members of the little company stood their ground, more out of an inability to respond than out of courage. Then Tamis shouted, “No! Get out of here!”
They began to back away, slowly at first, then more quickly as the advancing monster picked up speed. It was heavy, but its movements were smooth and effortless, as if a part of Ard Patrinell’s agility had been captured in his new form. Finally, the Elves, the Dwarf, and the Highlander broke into a run, propelled by fear and horror, but by something else, as well. They did not want to face a thing that was made out of pieces of someone they had known and admired. Ard Patrinell had been their friend, and they did not want to do battle with his shade.
But what they might have wanted did not count for much. They retreated down the corridor the way they had come, yelling encouragement to one another, Tamis shouting to them to get back outside where they had more room to maneuver. And to where the Rindge might give them aid, Quentin thought without saying so. Kian and Wye, toughened and well conditioned, quickly outdistanced the other three. Tamis deliberately hung back, intent on warding the obviously struggling Panax. Quentin might have kept up with the speedy Elves, but the Dwarf was stocky and slow and not built for speed. He was laboring in minutes, and the tireless metal monster that gave chase was closing the gap between them.
At the first split in the passageway, Quentin rounded on their pursuer, shouting at the others to go on. Braced in the center of the corridor, the Sword of Leah raised before him, he confronted the thing that had been Ard Patrinell. It came at him without slowing, all size and weight, metal parts gleaming in the flameless lamplight. For an instant Quentin thought he was a dead man, that he had misjudged what he could manage altogether and was wholly inadequate to the task. But then the magic flared to life, running up and down the blade of his talisman, and he was crying out, “Leah! Leah!”
He closed with his attacker in a shocking clash of metal blades, and the impact of the collision nearly threw him off his feet. Forced backwards by superior weight and size, he kept his blade between them, struggling to find purchase on the smooth metal floor. He seized the other’s metal arm to keep the long knife at bay, but quickly discovered he lacked the strength to do more than slow its advance. Wrenching free, he spun away, the current of the sword’s magic flooding through him like a swollen river, rough and unyielding in its passage. All thoughts of anything but defending himself fled, and he came around with a blow aimed at taking off Ard Patrinell’s head. To his astonishment, the blow failed. Partially deflected by the other’s sword, it was stopped completely by some invisible shield that warded the metal-capped head.