moaning.
Then Craig turned back to Wiz. Inexorably he closed in with one arm
outstretched and his claws gaping. Wiz backed away, trying to dodge behind
furniture. Craig kicked one piece after another out of his path as he
herded Wiz back into a corner.
“Die, Wizard!”
In a single motion Glandurg kicked the grille free and sprang from the
vent, screaming his war cry and brandishing Blind Fury. The enchanted
sword hummed through the air in a mighty blow aimed straight at Wiz’s
neck. At the last minute the blade twisted and struck Craig’s battle
armor, slicing through the armor plate just above the knee joint.
Craig stopped and looked down in wonder at the oil and fluids gushing out
of the cut. Slowly and almost gently the leg collapsed under him and he
sank to one knee. Wiz just stared open-mouthed.
Undaunted, Glandurg drew back and struck at Wiz two-handed. Again the
sword twisted, this time upward to catch Craig in his massively armored
chest. Again the sword bit deep, cleaving through magically enhanced armor
and what lay beneath it.
The suit’s speakers amplified Craig’s scream to a deafening level. Sparks
and fluids poured out of the gaping wound in his chest. He rose on his
good leg and tried to stagger back. The suit’s gyros moaned as they worked
to hold him upright, then screeched as the bearings failed for lack of
lubricant. Craig rocked backward, caught himself, overcorrected and fell
forward just as Glandurg brought Blind Fury down in a mighty overhead chop
to cleave Wiz in half.
Instead the enchanted sword connected with the back of the battle armor’s
domed head. Blind Fury went deep and came out with the tip stained with a
wash of crimson. The battle armor jerked convulsively and then lay still.
Glandurg looked down at the fallen metal giant, over at Wiz and up at his
bloodstained blade.
“Shit,” he said.
Then he looked down at his feet. A gray, egg-shaped object had rolled
clear of the armor’s lax hand. Now it lay on the floor between the dwarf
and his quarry hissing quietly.
The dwarves didn’t know what the thing was, but their magic told them it
was dangerous. Very dangerous.
“Run away!” Glandurg yelled to his men. It was wasted breath. The dwarves
had turned as one and jumped for the air vent. There was a mad scramble as
dwarves bounced off each other in mid-air, pushed one another out of the
way and tried to squeeze three dwarves through an opening that wasn’t big
enough for two. Glandurg wasn’t the first through the vent, but he wasn’t
the last either.
Wiz and the others pressed themselves flat behind the console as the
grenade hissed evilly. Then the hissing stopped. Wiz jammed his fingers in
his ears and squinched his eyes tightly shut waiting for the explosion.
At last he opened his eyes, took his fingers out of his ears and
cautiously peered around the corner of the console.
The deadly gray egg still lay in the middle of the room, rocking gently.
As Wiz watched, the fuse protruding from one end slowly unscrewed itself
and fell to the floor. A tiny head poked out of the fuse hole and peered
about, enormous ears flapping.
The gremlin pulled itself out of the grenade and grinned widely at Wiz.
“Wheee,” it squeaked.
Forty-six: MIKEY
Wiz leaned against the wall, one hand on his chest, and enjoyed the luxury
of breathing deeply.
Jerry came over and knelt by the battle armor.
“Is he . . . ?” Wiz asked.
Jerry stood up. “Yeah,” he said flatly. “He is.”
He turned to Mick Gilligan. “Are you all right?”
“Just burns,” Gilligan panted. “Not too bad, but it hurts.” He looked down
at his flight suit. “Good old Nomex.”
“We’ll get a healer to you as fast as we can,” Wiz said. “Meanwhile, we’ve
got one other thing to do.”
Jerry raised an eyebrow.
“Mikey,” Wiz said grimly.
“Someone call me?”
Mikey strolled through the broken door as casually as if it was still his
castle. He was cradling a dark, misshapen thing in both hands. Wiz
recognized it and sucked in his breath.