The Dream Spheres - Elaine Cunningham [152]
The mage again began to change form, this time to a giant hedgehog. The long, thick quills pierced the magical prison, sending shards flying like droplets of rain from a wind-shaken tree.
A howl of rage burst from the mage-a howl that lifted into a wolf's mournful cry and ended in the shriek of a hunting owl. The mage's body followed suit, shifting from one form to another in a spate of uncontrolled magic. Not all the transformations were uniform. The evershifting result was horrific, turning the wizard into a mirror reflecting the creatures that inhabited a thousand nightmares.
Arilyn finally made her way to the moonblade and stooped to pick it up. Her fingers closed around the hilt-and went through it. Her head fell forward in a gesture of resignation. The battle was over for her. There was nothing to do but wait and watch the spectacular spell battle rage between her love and the crazed wizard. It was the hardest moment of her life. Fitting, she thought fleetingly, that it should be her last.
She raised one ghostly hand to shield her still-sensitive eyes from the brilliant barrage of light. Danilo was throwing every fireball and lightning bolt spell in his memory at the mage.
No, not at the mage, she realized-at the Mhaorkiira.
Panic swept through her, and she tried to shout at him to stop, to flee. Such magic was dangerous at the best of times. In the presence of the dark gem, it could turn deadly.
The Mhaorkiira absorbed each of his magical attacks, growing brighter with each one. Suddenly it exploded, sending shards and sparkles of light into every corner of the cavern. There was no sound, there was no rumble or shudder or tremor. But the forces of the explosion tore through Arilyn's insubstantial form, sending her to her knees.
Never had she faced a foe to equal this one. A soundless, psychic maelstrom whirled through the cavern, made up of memories, magical spells, dreams, and nightmares. A lifetime of them-a hundred lifetimes! The force of it threatened to tear her away.
Amid the soundless howl, she heard a familiar voice and felt a familiar, golden presence. Danilo was equally adrift, equally buffeted. A moment's touch, and he, too, would be gone.
She felt the familiar clasp of his hand, as surely in her mind as she had ever felt it in life. With all her fading will she clung to that, lending to it her own stubborn courage. The storm raged about them, but together they found they could stand.
When at last the crimson storm faded, Arilyn slowly eased her grip on Danilo's hand. She rose to her feet and jolted with surprise when she noted that he was at least twenty paces away from her.
"Look," he said, nodding toward her elven sword.
The moonblade glowed with faint blue light. The elf-shadows were gone, but each of the eight runes glowed with serene power.
Danilo crossed over to Elaith and motioned Arilyn to his side. She heard the reassuring click of her boots on the stone, knew that her time as elfshadow was not yet come. A quick glance, however, told her that Elaith might not be so fortunate. His injuries were severe.
Oth Eltorchul was in considerably worse shape. The mage huddled at the base of the wall, his eyes as blank as a newborn babe's. At his feet lay the Mhaorkiira Hadryad. The light of life and memory was gone from it, leaving it a common gem. Arilyn picked it up and felt no trace of its malevolent magic. The kiira was as empty as the mage whose mind it had destroyed.
Epilogue
Two days passed before Danilo went to the Thann villa for what he suspected would be the last time.
There was much to do before he said his farewells to the life he had known. He had handed the Lord's Helm to Piergeiron and exacted from the First Lord a pledge to find a replacement who would champion the needs of Waterdeep's elven People. He had paid the keepers of Mystra's Arms for the care of Oth Eltorchul, whose mind seemed irrevocably destroyed with the Mhaorkiira. The dream spheres were also dead, their stored magic released by the final maelstrom of the spell battle. For years to come, small boys and