Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [74]
The gods seemed to have heard. A breath later, the beleaguered travelers saw dark, armored forms charging out of the night Dark forms armed with swords.
Mirt's face twisted into a savage smile, and he gave a satisfied hiss as his blades swept up to meet the foremost Zhentilar.
The rumble that came from Delg as he bounded past Narm and Shandril also sounded satisfied. "Watch behind us, lad!" he called back, as he rolled under the blade of a Zhentilar, and felled the man with a smashing blow- to the side of his knee.
Something small and dark spun out of the night at Narm, and Shandril blasted it into flying dust with a little shriek of anger. The flash of her spellfire showed her the dark helms of half a dozen or more warriors approaching across the meadow. Lips tightening, she hurled a handful of destroying spellfire.
If she wasn't quick, the next dart or arrow or stone might get to her beloved.
Narm gave her a quiet smile of thanks before he turned and pointed into the night beyond Delg. Green fire crackled from his hand, and Shandril saw three men in dark armor convulsed in the grip of Narm’s magic before it faded. Their screams faded a tittle more slowly.
"Gods above, Mistress!" Tespril was frightened, her eyes large and dark. "They've destroyed the gargoyles already. Shouldn't we throw spells now, before our soldiers are gone, too?"
Gathlarue was kneeling, nursing fingers that still smoked from where the rings she'd worn had flared and burned awry. She looked up and hissed in anger and pain, "Do you command here, Miss?"
Tespril shook her head frantically. "No, no, Mistress," she said, almost pleading in anxious haste. "Yet look! Our best chance slips away"
Leaning over the edge of the rocky height where they crouched, she pointed at the trampled grass below. The meadow was lit up as spellfire lashed out again, and more Zhentilar died.
Gathlarue reached out and caught hold of Tespril's arm and breast with cruel fingers, digging them in bruisingly deep. Tespril hissed in pain, but the sorceress clawed her way up her younger apprentice until she stood upright again. Swaying slightly, Gathlarue stared down at the ruin of her force.
Freed, Tespril sobbed in pain and shrank away. Then Mairara felt the cold eyes of her mistress turn on her. "The mistake is mine," Gathlarue said in a soft voice. "I was too impatient to get my hands on spellfre." Site turned to look at the battle below once more, and spellfire flashed again. "Now, Mairara, is your chance to prove yourself. Use the power you planned to betray me with – show me how good your killing sorcery has become!"
Mairara stiffened, met the cold eyes of her mistress for a long, chilling moment, and then whispered,
"I'll make you proud of me, Lady."
Gathlarue raised a hand. "Do nothing yet to draw their attention to us up here."
Mairara had already raised her clawed hands to work a spell that would blast the fray below with lightning. At her mistress's words, she lowered them, frowned, and then nodded suddenly in decision.
Flicking hair back over her shoulder with one hand, she gestured with the other, muttering.
The sprawled form of the gargoyle Mirt had slain now moved, wriggled, slithered, and seemed to flow, unseen amid the tumult of clashing blades and lumbering Zhenti-lar. It rose slowly and split. twisting and flowing into sudden sharp definition-becoming the alert, deadly-looking forms of two smaller, unharmed gargoyles.
Mairara made a growling sound deep in her throat, and spread her hands. Gathlarue smiled.
Somewhere in the darkness behind them, Tespril whimpered. Mairara, eyes flashing, gestured again, lips drawn back from her teeth in killing laughter.
Delg turned, bloody axe in hand. Something had moved-there! Ye gods! More gargoyles were leaping and flapping out of the night, heading for