All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [43]
Fflar clung to the man, panting, unable to catch his breath-and from the ruined keep behind him came a slow series of smaller crashes.
They listened together, and then the officer shook Fflar by the shoulders. "Well?"
An old soldier came into view out of the same rent in the wall Fflar had used. It was one of the veterans who'd stayed in the passage. He was walking slowly and stiffly, ignoring the occasional falls of small stones from above, and the officer strode toward him with a snarl, dragging Fflar along.
"What befell?" he snapped, eyeing the old man's gray whiskers.
The old warrior looked up at him and said, "Don't bluster, lad… ye're an officer, remember?"
The swordcaptain roared out his anger and snatched at his sword-and Fflar hit him in the side of his neck with one mailed fist, as hard as he'd ever hit anyone in his life. He got in two more good blows before the body reached the ground-and stayed there.
"Easy, lad… ye've broken his neck, there's no need to dance on his bones," the veteran muttered, bending over Fflar. "Now ye'd best get away from him and practice looking innocent, afore the next officer happens along."
"Too late," a deep, grave voice said above them both. Fflar and the veteran looked up into the cold, tired eyes of Swordlord Amglar. "But by the sounds of things, I've just lost too many blades to waste two more because cruel, spoiled nobles' sons make bad officers. Consider this-accident-forgotten, and so long as you have no more, scout, I'll continue to forget it. Now tell me in truth what's befallen in there,"
Fflarast and the veteran looked at each other, and then Fflar spoke. "The spellmaster cast a spell to open a door behind the throne, and-I think-set off some sort of magical trap. The whole ceiling came down at once… but I think I saw him vanish before the stones hit. I ran, then… that's all I saw. Before that, though, my unit-Pelaeron's Mace-and a lot of others I heard die, but didn't see, were crushed in rockfall traps… the keep's bulging with them."
The swordlord nodded soberly. "The spellmaster's magic brought him safely out to us here," he said, his lips twisting bitterly, "and dearly though I'd love to put him to death for this blunder, we need him in the battle tomorrow." He leaned in close to them, and his next words came in a whisper.
"Don't raise a hand to him this night, whatever the provocation… but if either of you survives the coming battle, and he's still breathing at the end of it, I want either or both of you to slay him. He may have contingencies, mind-try to dismember the body and then burn it." He looked from Fflar to the veteran, and then back to Fflar. "Understood?"
"I understand and will obey," the old soldier whispered, and Fflar echoed his words. The swordlord nodded. "Good." He looked at the veteran. "So the ceiling fell… what did you see after that?"
"The floor an' all went down into-cellars, I'd guess- below, breaking off and sliding slowly; in bits, ye know. Then the balconies broke off and fell in on top of it all, one by one. I saw spell flashes before each fall… the whole thing's one huge trap, sir, if ye ask me. I'd sooner sleep in the hot heart of an enemy campfire tonight than go back in there, sir." He jerked his head to indicate the ruined castle behind him.
The swordlord nodded grimly. "We've been duped by a clever foe-and an arrogant, careless wizard." He sighed and added, "Gods curse all wizards. If things in Faerun were all decided by the strength of a sword arm and not sneaking spells, we'd all be a lot better off!"
Rising with another sigh, their commander pointed toward a campfire. "Go and report to Shieldmaster Tesker; you're part of my own mace now, both of you." He turned away, and as they stammered their thanks, he turned back and added, "Oh, and tell him from me that you're both swords now. If we've any armor so blazoned that fits, you're to wear it tomorrow."
"May the gods thank you more than we can, sir!" the old veteran gasped.