Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [135]
She shook her head and climbed on, emerging in a high hallway that led to the next tower of the fortress. She followed it to a high-vaulted room where beholders floated down out of the darkness to hurl futile magic against her. Shandril sent them spinning in flames, They one by one shattered against the walls of their chamber and fell, eyestalks writhing feebly. From there she followed the stink of burning flesh down a passage-and found herself again in Spell Court.
Frightened citizens of the fortress-city were staring in awe at the devastation there, So many of the cruel men who'd lorded it over them lay dead and broken, so suddenly laid low. Carrion birds were already wheeling watchfully in the sky high above.
Shandril surveyed the death she had wrought, then pointed at a few men who were going through the clothing of the sprawled Zhentilar archers.
"You," she said. They looked up, blanched, and fell on their knees, crying for mercy, "I don't want to kill you," she said wearily, "I want your service." She pointed into Wizards' Watch Tower and said,
"Inside that place, you'll find three women, a young man, and an older, stouter man who are not clad as Zhentarim. You'll also find the wizard Sarhthor, he's dead. Bring all of them out to me, as carefully as you can-your lives depend on it." She watched them scramble up eagerly, "Oh-and take nothing from their pockets,"
This was done, Mirt and company removed well away from the Tower, Then Shandril raised her hands-and blasted Wizards' Watch Tower, Her fire roared into the open doors of the fore hall and burst out of a hundred windows, The tower shook. Cracks appeared here and there, widening with frightening speed as smoke spewed out of them.
There were small green and pink explosions of flame in upper windows as the flames reached magic items there. And then the tower came apart.
The stone spire shifted, flung aside huge pieces of the upper floors, and hurled itself clown into the courtyard below. The rolling sound was like angry thunder. Men in windows around the court stared open-mouthed at the tumbling stone. Most of them were too tired to scream. Others seemed to take some satisfaction in seeing the tower fall. The last of its walls toppled into ruin, and dust rose up as the tortured stones of the courtyard heaved one last time.
Shandril looked around the court, spellflames dancing in her hair, breast heaving, Another turret toppled, It shattered on impact and sent stones bouncing and rolling almost to her feet.
Once the dust settled, she stood back, satisfied-and then frowned, Wizards' Watch Tower had been only one in a forest of gray fortress towers, most of which still stood. She raised her hands to bring the whole lot tumbling down… and then paused: a frightened dunwing was flying past her, calling to a mate it could not find.
Shandril watched it go, sighed, and shook her head. Life went on, towers rose and fell-and who noticed? What difference did it all make? She spread her hands and saw the spellfire rippling along her skin, What good was all this power to hurt and kill and compel? It was empty, Well, at least she could also heal.
Shandril turned to where her companions lay, and spellfire flared in her hands again, Narm's body was still, his lips twisted in a snarl of agony. Shandril looked down at him, and the face of Delg came into her mind.
Her eves blurred with sudden tears, She knelt and kissed those twisted lips gently, and felt them move under hers as spellfire slid slowly out of her. Carefully she held its flow in check, pressing herself against the body of her man, willing his hurts to fade away, Spellfire rushed through