Stormlight - Ed Greenwood [87]
Storm raised an eyebrow. "To what?" she asked tartly From somewhere beyond the ruined door at the guard's back, she heard Erlandar Summerstar laugh.
"It's her," the boldshield and the senior war wizard told the guard in unison, and he scowled and lowered his weapon.
"The way she came running up here…"
"You'd do more than run, man," Thalance Summerstar told him crisply, "if you were trying to make it through all those blasts and falls of stone!"
Broglan stepped forward a pace ahead of Ergluth Rowanmantle. "Are you-well? Did you meet with the foe?"
"I'm fine," Storm said, stretching. "Just a little weary-I'd grown unused to doing things without Mystra's power. No, I didn't see him, but I watched him bring down an entire turret, and it wouldn't surprise me if he didn't stop with just one, eith-"
She broke off and spun around. Someone was running toward them in the darkness, someone panting and not young and fit to begin with. Storm took two quick steps and put her hand on the guard's ready halberd, forcing its point down to the floor.
"What're you-" he snarled at her, straining with all his brawn to wrestle his weapon up again, and finding it as immobile as stone.
"Stand easy," Ergluth ordered gently, putting a hand on the Purple Dragon's shoulder.
Storm raised a hand. Everyone there fell suddenly silent as they saw a lone silver flame rise slowly from it. She held her palm up by her shoulder as if she held something she could hurl, and asked the darkness, “Who comes in such haste?”
The running steps halted, staggered, and then came on ore slowly. “Insprin Turnstone, lady,” a breathless voice called back.
“The dragon watches!” Broglan snapped.
"And never smiles," a reply came wearily out of the darkness. The speaker came forward into their torch light. The senior war wizard relaxed; Insprin had obviously given the correct password to his challenge.
The older mage came up to them, still gasping for breath. He was covered with dust, and his sparse hair was in a wild twist of disarray.
"Are you all right?" Broglan demanded. "Did you see Corathar? Or Lady Shayna Summerstar?"
Insprin shrugged. "Corathar's out there somewhere-we'd best look for him if we want to find him before the foe does."
He looked down at his hand, and held up what was still clenched in his fingers. Erlandar made a wordless sound as he recognized the tatters of Shayna's gown.
"I got this close to her," the old wizard said directly to the two Summerstar men. The guards around them drew back silently, watching the blood drain out of the nobles' faces. Insprin added quietly, "She tried to lure me into the Haunted Tower-but when we got there, she started to howl and bark like a dog, and then ran off-to him. I tried to hold her back, but…" He shrugged. "I dared not follow; if I fell with none of you knowing her fate, or that she belongs to the foe…
"No," Erlandar whispered hoarsely. "No." Then he spread his hands slowly, and turned around, gazing at all the grim men gathered there.
"If any hand must slay Shayna Summerstar," he said slowly, "let it be mine. None other must take her-not even you, Thalance. If you get out of this, it must not be with blood-guilt riding your shoulders for the rest of your days. Let it be bad old Uncle Erlandar."
To Storm he said, "Lady, I never thought to beg any woman for anything… but if you can bring our Shayna out of this-the Shayna we know-anything you ask shall be yours. The vale, the keep, all of it, if you want!"
Storm shook her head slightly. "I'll restore Shayna to you all, if I can. If, I said; Harpers don't make promises they cannot keep." She turned to the guard whose halberd she still held. "Bring all the torches."
Then she set off into the darkness.
"Storm-what're y-" Broglan began, and she turned around.
"How else do you expect to rescue our strayed ones?" she asked simply. "Come with me, all who will. Those who remain behind, be free in your choice and without shame."
Then she turned her head to lock eyes with Erlandar, and said, "One more thing, lord-if my hand does save Shayna, there will