Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [67]
The Summerstars might have all too little magic, but the place to find items of power in Cormyr-away from the palace, with its alert guards and war wizards-was in the hands of nobles. And the greatest concentration of nobility… moreover, the place of most danger to them, and where they might most need to imprest or coerce others… was the grand city of Suzail.
He'd best give this persistent servant of Mystra the slip and go hunting nobles. She'd dare not raise a general alarm in the kingdom, or the panic might bring on war between neighbors all over the realm. He'd have a little time while war wizards scurried here and there, trying to keep secrets. Yes…
He laughed aloud in the empty, echoing darkness and became a war hound again, padding across the cold stone with paws that still trembled from the the ravages of those searing wands. Well, that would pass soon enough.
By now, they'd suspect any beast flying over the battlements or slipping past gate-guards. The sluice gate below the kitchens, where refuse and the garderobe washouts went down a long pipe to the midden by the barns, was the wisest route.
Unseen, he found the dumping room, became a water-snake, and slid into the unpleasant would be the work of only a few moments to-
Gods! There was a sudden flare of silver fire in the sludge around him; he thrashed in helpless pain as it raged, burning away scales and flesh beneath.
He struggled on, but the flames rose up with an earnest roar, and flesh melted before them. Gasping, he turned quickly, before it was too late. Pain rode him and clawed at him as he wriggled frantically back up the pipe, out of reach of the flames.
Had the Harper bitch seen him? Or had she merely cast a spell on the pipe to wait for anyone trying to travel it?
He waited a long time, mastering the pain and rebuilding his body where it was torn and melted. He was lessened, but he could do nothing about that. Nothing save go back into the keep… and feed.
First a test had to be made. Slowly and cautiously he descended the pipe again, growing a long, slender tentacle to probe ahead. All too soon it met with the familiar flare of silver flame.
He drew back hastily and departed, becoming a hound again… a wet hound with a tentacle coiled under the dripping fur of its belly. He found the nearest window and stretched the tentacle west toward the heart of Cormyr-a tentacle that soon felt the searing kiss of flame once more. He was walled into the keep by a barrier of goddess-fire!
* * * * *
Halfway up a curving stone stair, Storm Silverhand sagged against the wall, gasping, her face a sheet of running sweat.
“Mystra preserve me!” she panted, wiping at her brow with the back of a glove.
If she was going to be battered so each time the foe tested the barrier, he might kill her just by going around the keep trying to force his way out! She mustn't let him know how thrusts against the sphere hurt her.
Clenching her teeth, Storm pushed herself away from the wall and went on, climbing the steps like an old woman. Her legs were weak and unsteady. She tried to act as if she were merely idling her way up the stair, deep in thought, but she could not hide her pale face or the sweat that still coursed down it, dripping from her nose and chin.
"Gods!" she swore under her breath; even her ears were filling up with it. Perhaps she could tell folk that sweating like a waterfall was a fashionable thing fa half-crazed bards to do…
*****
The man who was not Maxer sat alone in the dusty darkness of a disused back storeroom, old jars and salt-barrels all around him. His eyes were closed, and he hummed softly, as one of the spells he'd gained from those fools of wizards unfolded. Yes, the invisible barrier enclosed all of Firefall Keep in a great sphere… no doubt to keep him in…
Ah, but of us two, who is the hunted, and who is the hunter?
Let it be a barrier for both her and me. If I lace this spell around it, just so, and then cast that