Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [56]
Stones raked from the cavern ceiling by his horns fell in a shower about him, and his great claws convulsed.
He raised bony wings and writhed, until finally the great undead dragon sank down, bones blazing with white, blue, and purple flames.
So passed Rauglothgor, Night Dragon of the Thunder Peaks; His bones blackened, split, and burst asunder. All that remained crumbled as the flames died.
Shandril stumbled into the darkness, fire still raging within her. The cavern beyond was dark and large, and there were torches flickering below her, glimmering and dancing on drawn swords. More cultists, just come, scrambled to meet her, blades raised-easy prey stumbling blindly, undoubtedly fleeing the great Rauglothgor beyond.
Easy prey, indeed. Shandril opened her mouth and screamed as they came, and flames gushed forth. She raised her hands and smote them with spellfire, hurling blasts again and again, until none stood against her. Shandril stumbled on, exulting, fire still blazing within her. Less, now- she could see and hear that the knights followed her.
"Shandril!" Narm's anguished voice broke through the roar of her fire.
She shook her head and motioned him back. Fire from her hands fell harmlessly against Elminster's ready barrier of force, and Narm stayed silent as Shandril ran on. Still the fires raged within her, and she feared to bury herself and them all by blasting at the rocks around her. So she ran across the cavern and up its far slope, seeking the outside- and any more cultists who might lie ahead.
She found them, laden with treasure; though they soon enough dropped it to find their blades when she blasted the first of them. Some raised arms to hurl spells, but magic missiles curled past her and struck them down before the art could be unleashed. It was too late for them to run or fight. In the face of her spellfire, they only had time to die. As Shandril climbed past them, she thought that they did that very well. More cultists met her in the cavern above, and more died.
Shandril climbed up through the tunnels to the keep, and daylight. As she moved up the crumbling steps, blue flames licking the old stone where her boots touched it, Shandril saw the mountain slopes below.
No cultists were upon them, and the sky was clear and cloudless. She turned, flames blazing around her swirling hair, and screamed, "Get back!" And the knights fell back. Elminster, his barrier still up, restrained Narm. Shandril turned to the sky and stones about her and spread her hands.
She threw back her head and screamed her pain and exultation, loud and long, and flames rolled forth.
Stones cracked and fell around her, the shards cutting her, and she laughed. Daylight grew as the walls fell and stone crumbled. She backed down the stairs of the shattered keep as it fell away around her.
"Back! Back!" she cried to the knights behind her, and hurled spellfire forth again. Pillars of broken wall stood like huge teeth against the sky before they too toppled. The keep was gone, completely fallen, and still the fires raged.
Oh Tymora, release me! Will this never end? And yet, look, you gods! Such power! Nothing stands against me-not the dracolich, not his worshippers, not the stones themselves-not even this mountain!
Shandril laughed. Her blazing fingers found the throat of her tunic and ripped it open. From her bared breast poured out spellfire as she backed down the tunnel. Rock cracked and burst into fragments.
The fires were less now. Shandril could feel herself shaking as the energy raced through her, pouring out of her breast and mouth. She was on her knees again, amid the scattered gold of the dracolich's treasure.
Above her the ceiling of the great cavern was breaking away and falling. Spellfire crackled and spat.
Suddenly Shandril felt very tired, and she swayed on her knees. Her gaze fell to her hands. The ring and armlet of electrum and sapphires still gleamed and sparkled. She managed to bring her arms up before