The Kingless Land - Ed Greenwood [124]
"A deadly sort of revel," Sarasper murmured aloud, as that thought struck him, and Embra jostled him hard into a shelf.
"Old man, how can I loose a spell if you're-" she hissed, and then spun around with a little scream of alarm.
The tentacles that slapped and tore at her midriff were flailing the air in front of the healer's face by then, and he swore and backhanded them away from his throat, feeling the numbness of life-seeking magic where they touched his skin.
Beyond the tentacles that coiled and glided in search of their deaths stood their source: a tousle-haired young man in wizards' robes, the badge of Ornentar on his shoulder and excitement flaming in his snapping brown eyes. From his extended hand, surrounded by a roiling glow of fresh magic, the writing tentacles ran. He laughed softly as the tentacles came at Sarasper and Embra in a flailing forest and said, "Die, whoever you are-die!"
A tentacle slapped around one of Embra's wrists, and she shrieked and tried to pull away. Sarasper saw another of the rubbery things reaching for her face or throat and lifted his dagger to stab awkwardly at it, wishing he…
A head lolled over the edge of a bookshelf, followed by a limp, dangling arm. Blood dripped from its fingertips as it swung gently, back and forth-and that grisly movement had barely caught Embra's eyes when a swift shadow sprang out of the darkness above the corpse, a familiar, hurtling silhouette that plunged feet-first into the aisle, kicking the tentacle-mage's head sideways into a shelf.
Bones cracked, blood flew, and the mage's stare became glassy before he slid down the shelves, his head leaving a dark and bloody trail in its wake. Craer landed, plucked something like a cluster of fused gems from the man's belt-a cluster in whose depths small lights were winking, ever-faster-and peered at it.
"Aleglarma," he read aloud, and those inner lights burst into flames, racing to meet each other in the lambent depths. The procurer straightened and threw the egg of gems in one smooth movement, hurling it over the heads of Hawkril and his two foes into the central, open area.
"No! You fool!" Embra screamed. "It'll…"
The fury of the sun seemed to burst momentarily at the base of the six light shafts, and the entire building rocked and boomed around them as the Four were flung off their feet. The two armored warriors tumbled helplessly down the aisle, through their midst.
When the shaking and shuddering stopped, Hawkril was on his back amid the drifting dust, with a warrior atop him. Embra rushed forward with a scream, tearing at the man's helm with her bare hands, but Craer was swifter. He drove a dagger to the hilt into the man's neck, and then peeled him away from the armaragor, grunting with the effort.
He needn't have bothered. The man hung heavy and limp, and dark liquids rushed out of him as they lifted him a little off Hawkril's chest-enough to see that the entire length of their friend's war sword was buried in the man's belly, where an armor plate had fallen away, and must have run up inside his body to his throat.
"Hawkril?" Embra asked, her voice not entirely steady. "Are you-"
"Hurt?" the armaragor growled. "Don't think so. The blast impaled the bastard on my blade… wrist still numb…"
There was a steely sound behind them, and the procurer and the sorceress whirled around-in time to see Sarasper calmly drive his knife hilt-deep through one eyehole of the helmed warrior who lay in a dazed and helpless heap beside the healer.
A vast silence fell in the library then… a stillness broken only by the grunts and scrapings of Hawkril finding his feet again and feeling gingerly along his ribs. Embra took one hesitant step toward the center of the library, and then another.
"Wonders of the Three!" she breathed in delighted awe. Where she'd expected to