Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [115]
Forgive me, Oghma, my god, Tyveris said inwardly. Forgive me, Tali, my sister. This is something I must do.
Tyveris let out a roar of fury as he leaped forward and grabbed the young woman's fallen sword. Tyveris swung the blade with lightning-quick skill. The Zhent's grin faded as he slipped off the blade and into a pool of his own blood.
Tyveris stared at the corpse dully, but he did not drop the sword. There was no more time for prayers or regrets. Now was the time to fight.
He reached down a powerful hand to help the young woman to her feet. Her eyes were filled with gratitude.
“Here, you're going to need this." He pushed the blade back into her hand. She nodded fiercely. Tyveris bent down and pried the saber from the guard's fingers.
"What's your name?" he asked the young woman.
"Erisa, sire,"
"All right, Erisa, I want you to stay by me," Tyveris rumbled. With his bare hand, Tyveris ripped the livery-the azure river and silver tower with Ravendas's crimson moon above-from the fallen guard's jerkin. He hastily tied the piece of cloth onto the end of a broken spear he found nearby, fashioning a makeshift standard. "May Oghma and all the gods grant us strength this night," Tyveris said solemnly. As Erisa watched in wonderment, the symbol of the crimson moon suddenly burst into flame, flared brightly, and then went dark. At the same time the outlines of the river and the tower, the traditional symbols of Iriaebor, began to glow with an unearthly silvery light.
"You're going to be my standard-bearer, Erisa," Tyveris said, handing the stunned young woman the banner. "Hold it high for all to see. And do not let the standard fall, not at any cost"
Erisa stared at the glowing banner for a moment, then nodded, lifting the standard high. "I won't fail you, sire!"
"Then I'll try to do the same," Tyveris said gruffly. He joined the throng making for the flight of dark stone stairs that led up toward the tower and freedom. He swung his sword with easy, practiced strokes, cutting a swath through the Zhentarim. Erisa followed close on his heels, holding the gleaming standard high in one hand, and protecting Tyveris's back with the sword he had given her in the other.
“To me! To me!" Tyveris bellowed in his enormous voice. Despite the din, all around him the cityfolk looked up to see him striding through the battle, his sword flashing under the magical illumination of the banner. Hope ignited in their eyes. Heartened anew, the prisoners hacked at the Zhentarim ferociously, fighting to make their way to the lore-master.
A fierce grin spread across Tyveris's face as he swung his sword tirelessly. Zhent after Zhent fell beneath his blade. 'To me!" he cried again. 'To the stairway! To freedom!"
Whatever the outcome, he was determined to make this a battle the gods would never forget.
Twenty-one
Ravendas snatched the pipes from Kellen and tucked them into the sash of her gown. "Out of my way, child," she snarled. "I have need of you no longer." She struck Kellen sharply across the cheek. The boy cried out in pain and tumbled backward, rolling down the steps of the dais.
"You will pay for that," Caledan swore, clenching his hands into fists behind his back.
"I pay for nothing," Ravendas replied, her cheeks flushed. "I take what I want."
"Talembar said that only one with the shadow magic can take up the Nightstone," Mari called out desperately. "You must not touch it!"
"And why, by all the gods, would I believe you, Harper?" Ravendas spat. Without any further hesitation she bent down and closed her fingers around the dark stone. With an exultant smile Ravendas lifted the Nightstone above her head. "You see?" she cried. "You are wrong! The power of the Nightstone is mine. With it, I shall rule the greatest empire Toril has ever known!”
"Now kneel before me," Ravendas declared, her voice ringing in the subterranean chamber. "Kneel and pay homage to your new queen. Kneel and perhaps I shall-"
Ravendas winced, faltering as a momentary spasm of pain crossed her features, but she quickly regained