The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [75]
"I believe," Blackgult shouted, as they ran down the passage together, "I was going to have some words with you about destroying castles, daughter mine. Now I believe I'll need some time to craft new words in that regard!" "Claws of the Dark One!" Hawkril shouted. "The roof!" Tshamarra looked up, stumbling and almost sprawling headlong in doing so, and saw cracks-dozens of cracks-racing overhead, blocks of stone already falling from between them. "Embra!"
'Just… get… yon door… open," the Lady of Jewels gasped, as they neared the end of the passage. "I moved the shield… to be a roof above us… but…"
Hawkril threw the procurer forward. Craer landed running like the wind, clawed open the door, and then stood beside it like a servant, gesturing each of his fellow overdukes through with a flourish. Embra tarried until last, holding up the shield-and then gave him a friendly swat to make him move when he started making silent "No, after dice" gestures. As she plunged through, the last of the ceiling came down with a crash.
Panting, the overdukes turned and stared at the cloud of dust and tumbling stones beyond the doorway.
"In answer to your question," Embra said briskly, dusting her hands on her hips and smiling at Tshamarra, "yes, I do believe he did cast a second sphere!"
The Lady Talasorn laughed a little wildly, and then broke off suddenly. "I-I'm not used to this much fury from you four. You're changing." Four overdukes looked her way, and she added in a low voice, "And I'm changing, too."
"Later, lass," Blackgult told her gently. "Now is the time to do and be. If we're very good, this next little while, we may win ourselves time to judge and hone philosophies."
Craer looked up. "Warn me when you get to then, and I'll go fetch wine, hey?" Then he turned his head. "Forgive me, Embra, but why can't we use the Dwaer to trace the priests running around this keep?"
Embra sighed. "In the countryside and most towns and villages, of course we could, but in any Vale castle there're so many enchantments, old and new, laid atop each other, that tracing all but a particular spell you've seen cast and hooked talons onto right then, is well-nigh impossible. Add to that the echoes of all the magic unleashed here this night, and…"
The procurer nodded. "So we're back to sidling along with our blades out, trying not to be seen. Right; sidle where?"
"We must keep moving, even if we just blunder around and around the castle," Blackgult put in. "If we take a stand in one spot, or allow ourselves to get cornered, the Storn folk can close in around us as they please. Standing still dooms us."
"Now that last sentence," Craer said thoughdiilly, "would make a court saying many a king might be proud of."
Tshamarra rolled her eyes. "Craer! We're in a hostile castle, surrounded by foes trying to slay us, and-"
"Enough," Hawkril rumbled, in a voice that made them all fall silent and look at him-whereupon he gave them a little smile, and started down the tower stairs. "We go down a level, along to the next stairs, and back up to the battlements, aye?"
"I care not, so long as we get out of Stornbridge," Tshamarra snapped, "so I can find more of this fun in the next village, and the next!" She glared at Blackgult. "Why exactly did you make me an overduke, again?"
"I needed someone to hold Craer's reins," the Golden Griffon replied unsmilingly, "and you seemed willing. Now hush and trot like a good lass." The Lady Talasorn gave Blackgult a look that promised she'd remember this-and not fondly-but did as he'd suggested.
When they opened the door on the first landing below, they saw only darkness. Embra frowned and did something with the Dwaer. "Magical murk, this, and newly cast… with many foes beyond, waiting for us." Craer grinned. "So what're we waiting for, exactly?" Embra found herself grinning back at him. She strode forward, her fellow overdukes with her.
Light promptly