The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [74]
Pheldane sobbed in pain and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, making the Sign of the Three with trembling fingers. But no healing stirred within him, nor shining cortahars appeared to deliver him from his foes. It seemed the gods were as hard of hearing as always.
10
A Night of Destroying Castles
Hawkril Anharu twisted his blade again. The man transfixed on it sobbed, choked, and then stared over the armaragor's shoulder at Tshamarra and Embra, seizing the chance to gaze on beauty one last time.
They stared coldly back at Onskur Pheldane as his gaze became fixed, his jaw fell slack, and his sword slipped from failing fingers.
Hawkril tugged out his blade and let the body fall. It crashed heavily down the wall to sprawl beside the groaning procurer.
"Bones broken," the armaragor snapped, looking from Craer up at the two sorceresses.
"No doubt. Did he damage the door?" Tshamarra asked wryly, as she and Embra hastened forward. Hawkril and Blackgult stood watchful guard as the Dwaer shone and spun again, and Craer came wincing back to his feet, muttering, "I've got to get me my own magic Stone, really I do!"
"Later," the Golden Griffon told him with a grim smile-as shouts arose from the passage behind them. The overdukes whirled around.
Dozens of Stornbridge cortahars, bright blades gleaming in their hands, were advancing toward them, a Serpent-robed man snapping orders at their rear. Craer eyed the foremost knights and observed, 'Just now, Lady Silvertree, would be a very good time to do something destructive."
"Indeed," Embra replied with dignity. "I'll turn this shielding into something deadly, if our friendly priest yonder doesn't-"
It seemed the Lady of Jewels was fated never to comfortably end a sentence during this early morning excursion through Stornbridge Castle. Fire roared up into a thundering sphere at the far end of the passage, a shouted command made all the cortahars scatter and crouch by the walls… and the passage shook as the ball of flames started to roll forward.
Embra smiled. "He's bound to send at least one more firesphere, right behind the first. We must await just the right moment…"
"Mages always say that," Craer complained, "and then never say what the right moment is, or why. 'Tis all part of acting too mysterious for their own good, or ours, I say…"
Embra gave him a withering look and did something that made her Dwaer-shield twinkle with tiny dancing motes of light-as the firesphere roared up to them.
It thundered against the shield, intense heat licking overduchal faces- and then rebounded away, back down the passage, rolling considerably faster than before.
"So did he cast a second sphere?" Tshamarra murmured. Embra gave her a wolfish smile. "Touch the Dwaer here, and help me steady the shield. We're going to need-"
The blast that smote their ears then made the stone floor leap upward, spilling them all onto hands and knees. Pieces of armored cortahar were flung through the air like rags, tongues of flame stabbed in all directions, flagstones burst into deadly hurtling shards-and everything struck the unseen Dwaer-shield with a force that drove Embra and Tshamarra back up to their feet, up and bowed over backwards as if unseen and brutally raging men were shoving at their breasts and shoulders… and then fell away from that barrier, leaving the overdukes and their end of the passage unharmed.
Obviously, there had been a second sphere. Dust, flames, and smoke roiled in an impenetrable cloud in front of them. Then, amid shrieks of grinding, rending stone, the floor above gave way with a great, gathering roar-and crashed down into the passage.
"Back!" Embra screamed, turning to run. "I can't stop rolling sto-" Craer stared openmouDied at the sight of riven chambers from the floor above slowly tilting and spilling their contents-furniture, tapestries, silver bowls, and portraits-toward him, but Hawkril closed a numbing grip on a leather-clad shoulder, plucked the procurer bodily off his feet, and ran him back along the passage scant instants before