The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [187]
Letting him do-this!
He gave in to the whispering urgings and grew, transforming himself, towering up over what was left of the riven temple walls, becoming serpentine and giant, a Great Serpent in truth.
Wavering higher, as tall as the highest keep he'd ever stood upon, Ingryl Ambelter gazed down the Vale, opened great fanged jaws, and roared in triumph.
His roar came out as a thunderous hiss, as he swayed back and forth, gloating. The Silverflow made its own coiling way across the land below him, the Thrael reached out like a glittering net around him, and… the Thrael!
The moment he thought of it, its fascination snared him again, and he dwindled, the gigantic serpent-body forgotten. The Great Serpent shuddered down out of sight, towering into the sky no longer.
Lost in the wonder of the Thrael, Ingryl Ambelter stood naked amid the shreds of his torn robes, his Dwaer-Stone blazing in his hand, and never noticed the surviving Serpent-priests, all around him in the ruins, going to their knees and then to their faces on the stone floor, in silent, awestruck reverence.
24
Shapechangers and Secrets
Glowing mists flickered and ebbed… and the Band of Four stood in the Throne Chamber of Flowfoam Palace, the barefoot body of Ezendor Blackgult cradled in Hawkril's hands.
Guards stiffened and reached for blades, but the Lady Silvertree sternly bade them stand back, a Dwaer-Stone flickering warningly in her hand.
They obeyed, one veteran daring to ask, "Ah, the Lord Blackgult… how is he?"
"Exhausted, no more," Embra replied curtly, knowing the truth to be very far from that. Blackgult now seemed free of the Blood Plague, but the Dwaer-clash had harmed his mind once more. Awake, he saw them sometimes and at other times did not, and his mumblings were as wildly irrelevant as a drunk crying out in his nightmares.
The Four were most of the way to the royal apartments when doors ahead of them boomed open, and palace guards in full armor strode in, strung bows in their hands.
King Raulin Castlecloaks strode along at their rear-and at the sight of the Four he pointed at them and cried furiously, "There they are! All loyal to Aglirta, slay the traitors!"
Craer promptly sprinted away, angling off to the right so that any archer missing him would be sending a shaft into the knot of guards around the throne. Embra stared at the king in disbelief-and then sent Dwaer-magic slapping at the guards and their arrows alike.
Tshamarra sprang to Embra's side, to where she could touch the Stone, and Hawkril growled and hunkered down to shield Blackgult, reaching for his warsword-as the guards let loose a hail of arrows.
Embra's magic should have frozen those shafts in midair and stilled the shouting men who'd sent them… and for a moment did just that, plunging the chamber into silence-ere something flashed at King Raulin's throat, and Embra's magic was dashed down.
Arrows sped for them once more, and Embra snarled and called on the Dwaer to boost her snatching at the Living Castle enchantments. Here in the Throne Chamber her ties were very strong-and the ceiling obeyed her will, great chunks slamming down to shatter the gleaming marble floor, and smashing arrows to the ground.
Tshamarra's first spell barely touched the king, as his Dwaer flashed again-but just for a moment, Raulin's face drooped, melting flesh falling impossibly away from his teeth, and Embra cried, "A Koglaur! A Faceless One impersonates our King!"
Two Dwaers flashed as one, and wrestled. Some guards looked back at Raulin Castlecloaks in astonishment, but others obediently charged the overdukes-and as Hawkril rose to meet them, he felt a tug at his sword-belt. Blackgult had snatched out the armaragor's best dagger and was running with him, racing to greet the foremost guards with bared steel.
Embra clenched her teeth and called on the Living Castle enchantments again. The floor rose, rippling