Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [182]
"They rode west from here some short time ago, now.
A mage hostile to them follows them, close indeed."
"I've missed them? Then there's no time left to wait about!" the dwarf said, and hobbled back to his mule.
"Up!" he commanded it, "and ride like the wind… or she'll be in trouble again, and in need of old Delg, before we get there!"
"Will you not take a faster mount?" Gorstag asked, waving at the horse Lureene held. Delg shook his head.
"My thanks, but how fast would I travel if I fell off it at the first bend in the road? Nay, I'll stick to what I know, and make haste in my own way. Fare thee well, Gorstag. Stay by your lady. It is the greatest adventure you can have." And he grinned then, and rode away, raising his arm in a warrior's salute.
Gorstag returned it, watching him go, and Lureene stroked his arm thoughtfully and said nothing.
After a time Gorstag looked away from the road and said gruffly, "Well, you can put the animal away. We shan't be needing it."
Lureene nodded. "Of course," she said, turning,
"and there's a little matter of corpses lying about, too…"
Gorstag growled and went to put away his axe and find a shovel. He carried the letter very carefully in his hand, and looked at it again as he went.
Shargrailar the Dark circled high above the Thunder Gap, cold winds whistling through the spread, bony fingers that were all that was left of its wings.
Shargrailar was the mightiest dracolich in Faerun known to the cult, perhaps the most powerful bone dragon there had ever been. Its eyes were two white lamps in the empty sockets of a long, cruel skull. It looked down with the cold patience of a being who has passed beyond the tomb and yet can fly, and it flew lower, watching and waiting.
So a human female dared to destroy dracolichs?
Death must find her. Lucky she must have been, and her victims young fools, but still, she must die. She was headed toward Shargrailar's lair. Armed with spellfire, they said. Interesting. Shargrailar glided among the clouds like a silent shadow, peering at the tiny road men called the East Way, far below. It had been a very long time since Shargrailar had been interested in anything.
There below, on the road. Two human riders, with mules… one was female. Silently Shargrailar descended, skeletal head peering. Yes… yes… this must be her. If not, what matter? What pair of humans could hurt Shargrailar? The great dracolich dove down out of the sky like a gigantic arrow of death, for that is the way of dracolichs. As it descended, Shargrailar could see that the she-human was beautiful… it opened bony jaws to give her death, silently, patiently…
Thiszult rode hard, hauling upon the reins savagely.
He had to pass the maid and mage and get ahead of them, to have to time to call up his special magic-or find a height or their camp, to have some time with them in view to do it. It would not do to miss them now-or to get too close and warn them, without his swordsmen to chase them and bring them to a stand.
He thought furiously as he rode. He wore no insignia, and rode alone. There was nothing to say that he was a mage, nor that he wished anyone ill.
Yet, he was riding in brutal haste-dangerous, as the road climbed toward the Peaks, and a warning to anyone that all was not right-especially to a couple no doubt wary indeed, by now, of attacks He slowed his mount, cudgeling his brains for a plan. In darkness they could too easily evade him. Yet, one had to sleep, and they would halt, to camp.