Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [62]
She fell down an endless well, tumbling. Bodies with eyes and mouths aflame rose past her. Grinning things changed shape around her, and the dragon's great eye looked endlessly down on her from the top of the shaft Why a dragon?
Suddenly Storm stood in the Summerstar family crypt, lit by flames that floated without torches to feed them. All around her. the bodies of the long-dead fallen were thrusting aside their coffin lids and rising stiffly out of their shrouds. Ignoring her, they walked to the walls and punched through them, every blow of skeletal fists making the room tremble and boom as if thunder had rumbled
The space beyond the walls was a room she knew: the great hall of Firefall Keep. Storm stepped out through a hole made by a tall, broken-skulled skeleton She found herself standing in the open area between the wings of the long table, during a feast. All the places at table were occupied by sneering Summerstars and disapproving war wizards. The staggering corpses disappeared like smoke, leaving her alone with the laughter of the diners, who pointed at her and howled with mirth.
Looking down, she saw that she wore only black tentacles… tentacles that rose up, twining around her limbs, until they reached her throat and began to squeeze. She choked, fought in vain against the glistening constriction, and then everything she saw was rimmed with green and gold, wavering until the watery world went away, and all she could stare at was the dragons lone, watching eye.
"Why a dragon?" she snarled in bewilderment and awoke. She sat bolt upright, drenched with sweat.
Ergluth and four Purple Dragons were calling anxiously to her from around the bed, the drawn swords in their hands flashing and splitting back sparks from her wards.
What-what befalls?” she asked in weary puzzlement.
The eaglelike eyes of the boldshield peered into hers. His face was graven with lines of concern. “This barrier-is it yours?”
“Yes, of course,” Storm snapped. “Why did you wake me by thrusting steel into it?”
“We heard you call something about dragons,” he replied. “Several time, you cried out-once at full bellow. When we came in, someone was standing by the bed, holding a dagger. He was shrouded in spell mists, with laughing skulls flying all around him like birds. We couldn't see who it was, but he was trying to get past your wards. When he saw us, he sent mists, skulls, and all at us. Things've only just cleared, now… there must be a hidden way into and out of this room."
"I've found several," Storm said, yawning, "but I thank you for trying to guard me, just the same" She fell back onto the pillows, waves of weariness rolling over her, and managed to say, "I was too sleepy to think of this before… Ilgreth was the first to die and not be burned. Keep him safe, and the dagger that slew him, too, until both can be examined with spells to tell us who might have killed him."
"I thought of that," Ergluth Rowanmantle said grimly, "and left him in the care of two of my most trusted guards while I sent for Broglan. When he got to the steward's room, one of the guards was dead on the floor-burned to a husk-and Drimmer, dagger and all, was gone. It seems one of my trusted guards was… someone else."
"We've got to stop him," Storm murmured, falling back into welcoming drowsiness, "before he slaughters half your command."
"Lady," Ergluth told her grimly, "I've lost eleven men since sunset, all slain at their posts… to say nothing of the two who'll be months coughing the smoke out of their lungs from fighting the fire. You'll get no argument from me…"
He fell silent then, and shook his head. A gentle snore told him she was no longer hearing his words. Well, let her sleep. Without her, Firefall Keep would be a house of ghosts right now, every last one of them naught but ashes. He looked from armsman to armsman,