A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [71]
"Agreed," Ornentar said tersely, and pointed with his sword down a garden path he knew. "That way-and keep together."
"That way" led to Griffonguard Door, a side way much mutilated by Faerod Silvertree because of its resemblance to the badge of his hated foe Blackgult, and hence little used. Loushoond and Tarlagar nodded. For once in this armed rush to seize the Throne, prudence was advisable.
When blue flame burst into being in the sky above the docks, the armaragors did not wait for orders to duck down and begin running through the gardens-and the three barons did not tarry to discuss tactics further.
"Embra!" Sarasper called, hurrying through the maze of moving Melted with a grim Glarsimber and a frightened Raulin in his wake. "Are you well? Need you healing?"
Craer turned a pale, trembling face towards them-and Sarasper saw the procurer's eyes suddenly blaze with blue fire.
Then that same rathance came into the faces of the Melted, too, and they ceased their stumblings and turned in smooth unison to face the south wall of the throne chamber. Sarasper cast a quick look in that direction, but could see nothing but the wall that had always been there, unchanged.
He could hear something, though. Something hissing or roaring, distant but drawing swiftly nearer… more than one something, of the same sort. Three or four identical snarling, crackling noises, like wind-driven fire racing through dry trees…
And then blue fire was flaming behind the doors on the south side of the throne chamber, and those doors burst open, booming back against the walls in an instant where usually three men had to strain to slowly shift them.
Blue fires raced along the passages beyond those doors, drawing nearer. Spells, leaping blue lightnings of magic, and riding them-as if those crackling bolts of magical fire were steeds-four women.
Dark-gowned, furious, and similar in looks. Sorceresses all, sweeping the room with their frowns and dismissing all as unimportant except the throne-where their blue lightnings clawed and snarled around one weeping, writhing woman.
One Talasorn sorceress smiled unpleasantly-and all four of them roared towards the River Throne on plumes of angry blue fire, raising their hands like claws to slay.
Chapter Twelve
To Spit upon a King
A pale fire flowed in the darkness. The Spellmaster gasped in relief as the pain started to ebb, flowing away from him into the glow. Ahhh…
Lying in the open casket, sprawled awkwardly atop Gadaster Mulkyn's grinning skeleton, Ingryl Ambelter growled softly as the tension that had governed him, keeping his limbs obeying him through stabbing agony, faded at last.
He'd been a fool to try spells against someone with two Dwaerindim. Gods, but the Worldstones were strong! Blackgult, too, had been a surprise. Oh, the smiling cunning any could see, and all of those intrigues and back-bedchamber doings take swift wits and boldness as well as low guile-but the man could work magic, too. His mind was as sharp as a sword, even before he seized on the power of the Dwaer. It would be wise not to strive spell to spell with him again…
The glow around Ambelter was growing dim, and his pain was almost gone. Old Gadaster was losing strength even faster than he was; 'twould be best to rise now, before the bones of his onetime mentor crumbled away entirely.
Abruptly the glow brightened, and the solid stone walls rippled. Three Above, what sort of magic could do that'?
The palace around him seemed to gasp, too, and he could feel magics surging through it, storming through ancient bindings. Somewhere stones fell with a clatter, and ages-old dust swirled in the air around him.
Gods forfend, this had happened the last time he'd had to crawl here, too, and-
In gasping haste Ingryl clambered down off the casket, staggering as he found his own feet and his weakened legs groaned their own complaint. Great magics were surging overhead, now, contesting and grappling in the palace above.
He had to get gone from this place! At any moment the ceiling might smash down, or bolts of ravaging