The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [107]
Slowly Embra extended her hand, the Dwaer in it, out and down to the pool of flesh… as if offering it. The incantations continued unbroken as the Stone spun very slowly in a grasp that gave it no such encouragement.
As the armaragor and procurer watched with wary eyes and half-drawn blades, the flesh seemed to shudder, and then bulge upward toward the Dwaer. Like an eyeless worm it rose, wriggling, and grew fingers, thinning itself into a human hand… and reaching forth to touch the Dwaer.
The Stone flashed, the pool of flesh seemed to shiver and clench into a wild, whirling variety of shapes… and then the hand led down into an arm, attached to a body with a familiar face… and Ezendor Blackgult was blinking at them, eyes like two coals in a shaking, sweat-drenched body that was his own. Human once more, he groaned, bent his head as the tears came, and collapsed onto his face, exhausted.
"Get up," Craer snapped, picking up the nearest piece of Blackgult's armor and tapping the sprawled, naked man with an air of disgust. "I don't see why you're weary-I'm the one who's been doing all the work!"
14
Riding Through Blood
Sparks raced around her, riding a surging power that left Maelra Bowdragon awed. Rushing magic swept her into its coils, whirling away the dark and narrow storeroom of magics that Uncle Multhas had always thought was his own little secret, in a torrent of air and crackling lightning that left her breathless.
When the chaos fell away, Maelra became aware that she was no longer crouching in the gloom of that hidden Bowdragon storeroom. She was somewhere dim that smelled of damp earth, somewhere she'd never stood before-but that was, yes, familiar. A place she'd visited as a sending: the abode of the Spellmaster of Aglirta… and there he was, standing in the shadows watching her.
Shivering with excitement, Maelra met the cold and knowing eyes of Ingryl Ambelter. She'd seen such soft smiles from men before-smiles that lingered on the sleek curves of her body, but always fled when they learned her heritage. She'd never seen one surmounted by such a deadly gaze, though.
Swallowing, she held out her armful of enchanted Bowdragon things- the mirrors and coffers and daggers she'd obediently stolen for this man a moment ago. One slid in her cradling grasp, and she shifted her arms hastily to avoid dropping it. This was real. She was truly here, somewhere underground near the river in Aglirta, far from home… and two short strides away from more power than she'd ever felt before. Her skin crawled at its awakened, pulsing presence.
"Come," the Spellmaster said with that same softly dangerous smile, holding out a beckoning hand and cradling the glowing Dwaer-Stone with the other. "There's much to do."
"Ah, aren't you going to… uh, yes. Of course," Maelra replied, hearing the faint scrape of a booted foot on stone behind her, and casting a quick glance over her shoulder.
Baron Phelinndar stood regarding her calmly, his armor gleaming and his sword raised-poised to plunge into her back! Yet already he was lowering it, and a Dwaer-Stone was glowing in his other hand.
Maelra whirled back to face Ambelter, to see if these men really possessed two Dwaerindim-but the Spellmaster's hand was now empty. Trying to keep her face expressionless but knowing Ambelter had seen her eyes narrow, she swallowed again and said, "Yes, we've much to do."
"My father and all of our horses are just fine,' Embra said sharply. "Or so the Dwaer showed me, Craer-and believe me, it lets you feel as well as see."
The procurer held up a hand. "Pillory me not, Lady; I was merely pointing out that our mounts all appear… ah, restive."
Tshamarra sighed. "Well, wouldn't you be, Craer, if you were a horse?" She waved one slim hand. "Look around us!"
The choice view of Glarond they were enjoying at that moment included at least six clusters of carrion-crows, vultures, and worse. What was left of a corpse presumably lay at the heart