Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [1]
He tried to roar, or scream, or-but all he managed was a gurgle. Something smooth and sharp and icy slid into his spine, and on into his vitals, to burst forth
from his chest dark and wet with his own blood… He
stared in disbelief at the slim sword-was that all? An instant and he'd be… dead?
The young Lord Summerstar sagged as the chill became a sudden fire that seemed to burn away all the strength he had left, and… Firm hands held him up.
The white fire blazed up and into his brain. He looked into the two dark, watching eyes of his murderer. Then the white fire told him things, and he wanted to
scream.
He struggled to cry out, choking and heaving and… drifting away on the flowing white fire. It was too late for young Athlan. Too late…
The lantern fell from failing hands. It burst on the stones with a brief roiling of flame.
"Athlan Summerstar," a voice murmured in the sudden darkness that followed. "Head of a minor noble house. Harper, knight and dreamer, like all of them. Perfect."
The body of the young noble seemed to shrivel Trickles of ash fell from where eyeballs had once been.
The calm voice Athlan could no longer hear continued, "Almost worth spending a day as a floating book for. Almost." The flames brought the speaker childish memories of beautiful women and riding in the vale and so-so sword skills, and… complete, room-by-room knowledge of Firefall Keep.
"So there are ghosts," the voice said into the darkness, in tones of surprise-as a light husk of a body slumped to the floor. "And I guess I'm one of them."
* * * *
The snake-woman screamed, a shriek of rage that echoed through the temple.
Storm Silverhand turned her head toward the sound. With a vicious backhand slash of her blade, she struck aside the cruel, long-eared face of the cambion she fought.
She saw Maxer's blade cut down on the snake-woman. A spurt of black blood caught fire. One of the marilith's shapely arms, still clutching its sword, flew away, spinning in the air amid flaming gore.
Storm whimpered as she turned back to strike away the cambion blade that sought her own throat.
"No!" she cried, knowing what was coming. "No!"
But she was spared nothing. With dreadful slowness, as she snarled in desperation and kicked away the last foe in her path, beginning her charge too late and too far back, she saw the marilith's snakelike tail rise into view… Behind him. Behind her beloved. He fought on, unaware. Sparks flew around him as, with powerful swings of his sword, he beat back her three thrusting blades.
Storm slashed out behind her, felt her blade strike something, heard the same squalling scream that always sped her on her vain charge, and wept aloud as she leapt and ran and leapt again, knowing she would be too late.
She was always too late.
With almost loving gentleness, the snakelike tail curved, its tip twitching-and then struck. Maxer rose for a moment, eyes bulging in alarm as he fought to turn and hack at this new peril. The snaking bulk quivered, swayed fully upright, and surged powerfully.
"No!" Storm cried, running for all she was worth.
Before her horrified gaze, as the beat of her own heart pounded in her ears and the clangor of battle died away all around them, the marilith tore Maxer's head from his shoulders. The head leapt through the air, tongue lolling, and trailed a plume of dark blood down into the fray. Beyond it, the marilith grinned exultantly and shook the headless, convulsing body in celebration.
Storm's vain rush carried her closer. She wept in helpless rage and grief as the marilith's grin shifted to her and became gloating laughter. The whirling sparks and mists of the spell that would whisk it away were already rising in the air around it.
Storm raised her blade too late, knowing cambions were leaping after her, hungry for her own death.
Something rolled by her feet, across the bloody flag, stones of the temple: Maxer's head. His mouth was open in a final cry that had been