Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [41]
Forcibly, Morhion willed away the fear and loathing that clouded his mind. "I cannot imagine that you care," he said flatly.
"Oh, but I do care." Serafi's hollow voice oozed mock sympathy. "Have you forgotten our bargain already, Morhion? How like a mortal!" The ghostly knight floated closer still. "Allow me to remind you, then. Your body belongs to me now. I am concerned what happens to it. I want to be certain it comes to me in the same excellent condition in which it stands now."
Morhion felt his head being tilted back. He resisted, the cords of his neck standing out with the strain, but it was no use. Icy, invisible hands tangled through his long golden hair, then moved to stroke the warm flesh of his throat. Suddenly the bodiless fingers tightened. Morhion choked, unable to breathe. His hands scrabbled at his neck, but they found no purchase against the incorporeal grip that strangled him. A roaring noise filled his ears. Everything grew dim…
"No, not yet," Serafi whispered.
The freezing hands released Morhion's throat. He staggered backward, drawing in shuddering breaths while brilliant sparks of light exploded before his eyes.
Serafi's voice reverberated with menace. "Do not think that you can escape your vow through death, Morhion. Your body is my property, and I will be watching over it."
Morhion wanted to shout, to hurl some curse at the spectral knight, but Serafi melted into the air and was gone.
Mari arrived a short while later. She stepped through the tower's door along with a flood of late afternoon sunlight. It was time to begin their search for Caledan and the Shadowstar.
When she saw Morhion, concern lit Mari's eyes. "Are you all right, Morhion? Your neck… it's been bruised."
Hastily, Morhion turned up the collar of his purple vest, concealing the livid marks. "It is of no importance," he said, more sharply than he intended. But she had caught him off guard.
Mari looked unconvinced, but when she opened her mouth to ask another question, a slight figure stepped from behind her.
"Hello, Morhion."
Mari looked surprised, but amusement flickered across Morhion's usually impassive visage. This was unexpected… or had it been prearranged?
"Hello, Kellen," the mage said.
"Kellen, what are you doing here?" Mari asked sternly. "You should be back at the inn with Estah."
Though the halfling healer had wanted to join the search for Caledan, Morhion and Mari had convinced her that someone needed to stay at the Dreaming Dragon in case Caledan returned. Reluctantly, Estah had agreed to remain behind, though she was not pleased about it.
"It's all right," Kellen said gravely. "I left her a note so she wouldn't wonder where I went."
Morhion gave the boy a speculative look. "And just where is it that you are going, Kellen?"
"With you, of course. You're going to need someone with the shadow magic on your journey."
Morhion glanced at Mari. "The boy is right, you know."
"I don't care if he's right," Mari countered crossly. "Right has absolutely nothing to do with it. He's only eleven years old, and he's not coming with us."
Morhion made a decision. "Listen to me, Mari," he urged quietly. "You know as well as I do that Caledan's power over shadows has become chaotic and dangerous. We may have to face shadow creatures like those in the Zhentarim lair. And if we do, we may indeed need Kellen's shadow magic."
Mari wasn't budging. "I packed supplies for only the two of us. And we don't have a horse for him."
"I'm small," Kellen offered. "I could ride with you or Morhion. And I don't eat much."
Mari let out a resigned sigh. She knelt and gripped Kellen's shoulders. "All right, Kellen. This is going to be a hard journey, and a dangerous one. Once we've left, there can be no complaining or begging to turn back. And you must do everything that I or Morhion ask you to do, quickly and without question. Do you promise?"
He nodded earnestly.