All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [86]
"How did you plan to find this 'better place'?"
Rethuld looked around helplessly, sweating, and said, "S-Search, until we came upon one to our liking."
"And what sort of place would be to your liking?"
"A stout keep or defensible manor." The words came out of Rethuld reluctantly, as if he were fighting hard not to utter them.
"Such places are seldom deserted," Storm said mildly. "I can think of only four that stand empty at present, and those are isolated ruins infested by monsters-extremely primitive and dangerous accommodations. How were you planning to take possession of a suitable place?"
"I-I…" Rethuld looked trapped, his eyes darting wildly from side to side, his lips trembling. When he spoke again, his voice was low and despairing. "Ah- seize it by force of arms."
There was a sigh of resignation from the men all around, and swords grated out, but Storm sat still in her saddle and said calmly, "I thought so. Tell me; was the idea your own?"
"Ah, no, Lady," Rethuld said, his voice rising to a sudden, desperate squeal, " 'twas brought to me by another."
"And the name of-?"
Rethuld sobbed suddenly; a blade that seemed to be made of bone protruded from his chest. He shook, mouth working, looked down at the bloody point in horror, and slumped over. The bone slid out of him from behind.
"I thought so," Storm said calmly, ignoring the blades that were slashing through her. "Malaugrym."
The man behind Rethuld suddenly writhed and dwindled-and a falcon sprang into the air, leaving an empty saddle behind. The bird darted south.
The blades were passing through the B.ard of Shadowdale as if her body was made of smoke. She said to the men wielding them, "Submit to the others who patrol with me, and you shall have peace," but the fearful hacking continued unabated as the stone she wore between her breasts flashed with sudden blue fire. She rose from her own saddle and flew after the falcon, still in her own form.
"Gods," Belkram said as they ranged their mounts across the road to meet the oncoming mercenaries, "how can she take so many wounds?"
"She wears a gorget that protects her with ironguard magic," Sylune replied. "Metal weapons pass through her as if she were… as insubstantial as I."
Lightnings blazed out from her, and mercenaries cried out, reeling in the shadows and dropping their weapons.
"You heard the Bard of Shadowdale," Sharantyr cried, standing up in her saddle. "Turn back to Essembra, in peace!"
As they stared at her, the ghostly head of Sylune drifted forward, its pale glow reflected back from swords and armor all around. She added briskly, "Bat-tledale holds manors in plenty left empty by the Zhents. I'm sure their rightful owners would be happy
to sell them to you. Those who are adamant in their determination to press on will, before this day is put, find themselves sharing a grave with me."
That was all the Sembian band needed to see and hear. They wheeled their mounts in hasty terror and fled from the ghostly female head that flew toward them trailing long, silvery hair. They galloped south as fast as they could, leaving their wagons behind.
Belkram laughed aloud. "That was the easiest fight I've ever been in!"
Sylune turned. "Be not so quick to laugh; your work is just beginning."
"It is?"
"These wagons must be taken up the Stone, turned around there, and driven back to their owners, wherever they may flee to. I'll fly ahead to Essembra to get us enough drovers."
"Flying around like that? They'll flee just like all these hardened warriors here did!" Itharr protested.
"Not the Harpers," Sylune replied without turning. "The wagons, gentlesirs," She flew away down the road like an arrow shot from a bow.
Belkram sighed. "Why do we always get the sweat work, eh?"
"You're Harpers," Sharantyr reminded him sweetly. "Such unpleasantness provides