Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [73]
"What a cheery fellow," Mirt observed in the fluting, jolly tones of an effete courtier. Shandril stifled a laugh. As the merchant strode forward, twilight laid deepening gloom on the meadow. Night came down swiftly on the Stonelands; before Delg had returned to them, it was fully dark. "A fire?" he asked, stumping up to Mirt. "You know better than I how dangerous that is here."
The old merchant adventurer shrugged. "In the cave, well need light and can have it. Out here-well, it could be seen a long way." He rummaged in his magical sack for a moment and drew forth a stout, iron-caged lantern. Opening one of its glass panes, he sniffed, pronounced it "full" with a satisfied air, and extended it to Delg with a grand flourish.
The dwarf sighed, took it, and extended his other hand. "Another?" he snapped, looking from Mirt to his empty palm.
It was Mirt's turn to sigh. He rummaged in his bag for a long time and finally held up-another lamp, identical to the first. It came to Delg accompanied by Mirt's triumphant smile.
The dwarf merely snorted, thrust both lanterns into Narm's grasp with a terse, "Here-hold these. No dropping," and extended his empty hands again. "Flint and steel?"
Mirt raised an eyebrow. "Of course-but what happened to yer own, eh?"
Delg chuckled. "Just testing," he replied, hands going to his belt. As he took one lamp from Narm and lit it, and Mirt did the same with the other, Shandril put her hands on her hips and demanded, "Are the two of you going to play these games all the way to Silverymoon?"
"Of course not," a menacing voice purred out of the darkness near at hand. "They'd both have to stay alive to do that."
Mirt spun around with an oath-in time to meet winged death swooping down on him from the night sky. He ducked aside, grabbing for his blades, and stony claws tore at him. The fat merchant turned and smashed the lantern to flaming ruin on a grotesque, leering horned face -and stony wings beat as the thing fled aloft, squalling.
"Patience," Gathlarue said in that same purring voice. The rings on her fingers glowed with a faint blue light. "We’ll strike only when my winged ones get them really dancing."
Mairara stared into the eyes of her mistress and saw a tight in them that made her shiver. She looked hastily away, down over the edge of the cliff, to the battle below. "The soldiers, Lady?"
Gathlarue nodded. "Those with Tespril stay up here with us; send the others down. They're getting restless; best give them some blood." She laughed aloud.
Mairara shivered again as she hastened to pass on the orders.
"Gargoyles!" Delg shouted. "Only magic can harm them. Narm, ge-" The rest of his words were lost in the jarring impact of another winged form. The dwarf's lantern fell to the grass, smoked-and then its flames caught dead weeds, and flared.
In the sudden, flickering blaze, Shandril and Narm saw Mirt turning toward them, glowing dagger in one hand and sword in the other. Above and behind him, the gargoyle that had attacked him was turning in the air, wings beating raggedly. Norm coolly raised his hands and blasted it with a bolt of force. The stony monster screamed thinly as it spun end over end away from them, clawing vainly at the air. Then it leveled, banked, and flew heavily on; Narm muttered a soft curse. He had no more such spells.
The other gargoyle was clawing at Delg, who rolled in the grass, cursing. Shandril lashed out at it with spellfire-a thin tongue of cutting blue-white flame that laid open the nearest shoulder and flank of the gargoyle, and sent it over on its back with a scream of pain.
Mirt was on it an instant later, bounding in with flailing blade and heavy knees, pinning it. The glowing dagger stabbed down, rose, and thrust again. viciously. Squalling, the thing convulsed.
Behind Mirt, the other gargoyle was diving in savage haste. Shandril stepped forward, trembling with sudden anger and-could it be-pleasure? She shuddered at the thought, but poured out spellfire in a huge ball of destroying flame. Small