Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [141]
With that, Vasha flung back her sword arm-incidentally sending Liriel tumbling once again-as she prepared to deal a whole new level of death to the presumptuous Skulls. Her sword slashed forward and reduced all three of the floating heads to dust and fragments. Pieces of bone sprinkled the stone floor with a brittle clatter and a shower of rapidly fading pink sparks. Then, just as quickly, the fragments flew back into the air and reassembled into a single large skull. The apparition hung there for a moment, glowing with intense, furious crimson light, and then winked out of sight.
Liriel hauled herself to her feet, her face livid with fear and rage. "Damn and blast it, Vasha, you can't go smashing everything in your path!" she shrieked.
"I don't see why not."
"Oh, you will," the drow muttered, noting the faint glow dawning in the void left by the departed Skulls. She dived for safety just as the glimmer exploded into an enormous whirlwind of rainbow-colored light.
Out of this magic tunnel stepped a wizard-a long-bearded male garbed in the pointed hat and flowing robes of an age long past. Tavern rumors suggested that all wizshades resembled a certain sage currently residing in faraway Shadowdale. As to that, Liriel could not attest, but she could not help noticing that this wraith-wizard's hair, robes, and skin were all of the same vivid emerald shade.
Vasha the Red, meet wizshade. The green.
This bit of executioner's humor flashed into Liriel's mind and was gone just as quickly. Frantically, she reviewed her current magical arsenal, but the power of the wizshades was reputed to far exceed those of most mortal wizards, and Liriel doubted that any of her ready spells would have much effect.
Vasha, naturally, took a more direct approach. The warrior slashed with deadly intent at the green wizard's neck. Her sword whistled through the wizshade without achieving the desired decapitation. Again, on the back-swing, the broadsword passed right through the seemingly solid wizard. Neither blow cut so much as a hair of his verdant beard.
The barbarian fell back a step and shot an inquiring glare in Liriel's direction. The drow, however, was just as puzzled. According to tavern lore, magical weapons could inflict real damage upon wizshades. But Vasha's broadsword, which until now had sliced through magic like a knife through butter, had drawn not a single drop of green blood. Worse, the wizshade's emerald-colored fingers had begun an ominous, spellcasting dance.
Suddenly Liriel understood what hadn't happened, and why. The broadsword had been warded to destroy magical attacks; it had no magical powers of its own. Strictly speaking, it wasn't a magic weapon. But she had weapons that might serve-strange devices steeped in the unique radiation magic of the Underdark. ~ '
Liriel snatched a spider-shaped object from a bag at her belt and hurled it at the spell-casting wraith. Her throwing spider whirled between the gesticulating green hands, and its barbed legs bit deep into the wizard's gut. The apparition shrieked, tore the weapon free and flung it aside, and then dived back into the vortex. The whirl of multicolored light sucked in upon itself and disappeared.
Vasha tucked away her sword and regarded Liriel with approval. "You see? Magic cannot stand before honest steel." She stooped to retrieve and examine the throwing spider. "Even when the steel is in so strange a shape," she mused.
The drow decided not to waste time with explanations. She reclaimed her magic weapon from the woman and returned it to her bag. "Let's go," she urged, knowing that the Skulls' orders could not long be ignored. "Either we find your runecaster and get you out of the city by day's end, or you'll be grooming bats for the rest of your natural life!"
"I'd rather bed a satyr," muttered Vasha darkly.
"Well, sure. Who wouldn't?" agreed the drow as she pushed the barbarian firmly along the tunnel.
The swordwoman, who was becoming accustomed to