Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [48]
Narm was running toward Shandril. "My lady! Are you all right? Shandril?" At his words, the sorceress drew a shuddering breath and fixed one glaring eye on Shandril through the blood now running down her face. Symgharyl Maruel's hands began to move.
"Oh, gods!" the young man moaned in fear. Shandril stood frozen an instant. But with The Shadowsil caught up in spellcasting, Shandril seized a rock and smashed it again into the sorceress's face. The rock struck with a horrid, wet thud, and Shandril drove it down again.
"Leave us alone, you bitch!" Shandril screamed at the sorceress, as the rock rose and fell yet again.
The Shadowsil struggled to block Shandril's attack.
She fell backward until she lay full-length on the rocks, bloody and unmoving.
"Shandril?" Narm whispered anxiously, as he clambered over the Jagged rocks to reach her.
Shandril stared down, the rock falling from bloody fingers, and she burst into tears.
Narm held her with a fierce tenderness and stared down at the sorceress. Neither her spell nor his cantrip had taken effect. Perhaps Shandril had spoiled The Shadowsil's spell with her rock attack, but Narm doubted it. Certainly nothing had spoiled his casting. A twinkling cloud of light around Narm was all that let him see the fallen sorceress in the darkness. Symgharyl Maruel lay still and silent. Was it that easy to kill so strong a wielder of the art?
Shandril mastered her sobs and held tight to Narm.
As they stood together they heard the distinct scrape and tumble of rocks beyond the rockfall. Hope leaped in them both.
Shandril looked up through the twinkling mist. "Do we shout to tell them we're here?"
Narm frowned and shook his head. "I think not. We may not want to meet the diggers. Let's shout only if they stop digging."
"Well enough," Shandril said, "if you stay with me."
Narm held her tight. "Think you, fair lady, that I am a rake?" he asked in mock anger.
"A lady cannot be too careful," she quoted the maxim back at him.
He grinned. "Please make known to me, Lady, when this carefulness of yours begins."
Shandril wrinkled her nose and blushed with embarrassment. Then her attention was caught by the twinkling cloud surrounding Narm.
"What's that?"
"I don't know." The young man tried to dust the glowing mist away from him, but it clung close.
"Strange…" he said, but then the rocks grated again.
They stood and watched warily for the rocks they could see to move. Once there was a louder, rumbling clatter, and a surprised male voiced a cry.
Suddenly, a glimmer of yellow light appeared, flickering between two rocks. The light grew as more rocks were lifted away.
"We should hide!" Shandril whispered, drawing Narm down into a crouch among the stones.
Torchlight blazed at them before they could move.
"Narm?" a voice came from the darkness. "Lady?"
"Florin?" Narm replied eagerly, rising and drawing Shandril to his side.
"Well met!" came the glad reply, as the man scaled the rocks toward them. Shandril recognized him as the kingly warrior who had walked with Elminster in the mists between the company and the mysterious men who guarded the mules. "I heard screaming," he said. "Is all well with you?"
"We're fine," Narm replied, "but she who screamed-the sorceress-is not. She will work her art no more."
"Aye? So it is," Florin's face was impassI’ve.
"Danger sought, danger found. You did well. Our foe lies buried, but may yet live." He stopped for a moment to squint at Narm. "Hold, what's that?" he asked. "A balhiir!" he exclaimed, drawing back in alarm. But he was too late.
The swirling, sparkling cloud around Narm boiled up like the plume of a campfire when wind draws it into long flames. The cloud struck at the ranger's blade.
"A balhiir!"