The Vacant Throne - Ed Greenwood [65]
"May the Three take all mages," a warrior whispered, "bebolten soon!"
"Before sundown," Mararr agreed fervently, as the many-headed snake disappeared over a distant rock fence. He shivered then-and he wasn't the only one.
She set her teeth and shivered, knowing what she must do. Now!Now, while they were still gloating!
Embra abruptly dropped her furious wrestling with her father through the Dwaerindim, and shivered again, knowing the pain that would come.
Even as the ravening fire of his Dwaer-Stone stabbed at her, the Lady of Jewels lashed out with the roiling energies of her own to twist the green fire behind her-forcing it into Sarasper in a cooling, healing flood, so that it was a barrier no more. Then she whirled the fire of her Stone around in a great, ragged shield to parry the flood sent by her father's fury.
She almost managed it, deflecting much of the howling tempest aside to claw along the walls. The rest of it thrust through her like a dozen ice-cold swordblades, shocking a scream out of her that made her father and his wizard both wince.
Then she was hurtling away, arched over backwards and rigid, turning slowly in the air as she went so that her thighs struck the wall first with teeth-chattering force, and she slid down it onto the floor, face-first, with her mind awhirl, power roiling numbingly through her. The pain, oh gods, the pain!
As her trembling, convulsing body fell on its side in the dirty straw, Embra tugged at the flows of force and hurled them at her father and his mage, seeing them both stagger back with something akin to alarm mingled with dawning respect on their faces.
There were startled shouts from her father's armsmen, and through swimming eyes Embra saw the huddled form of Sarasper boiling up into the furry, spiderlike bulk of a longfangs, Craer and Hawkril taking up stances before the healer to shield him during the transformation.
The Baron Silvertree knew what the healer's changed shape was in an instant. "Sword it!" he ordered his men, pointing at the trembling bulk, and then turned to the Master of Bats with a snarled, "Wizard!"
The sorcerer Huldaerus gave the baron a tight smile and spread first his hands, and then his cloak. From its inky depths welled up a great flood of chittering, flapping darkness: a cloud of bats, sweeping up to the ceiling like impatient smoke seeking a chimney. "It shall not climb out of reach," he remarked almost casually. "Nor will these two bladesmen last long with their eyes torn out by my little ones!"
Embra tried to crawl to her feet, but the wellhouse whirled crazily around her. She sank back into the straw with a helpless gasp, clawing at her breast to try to touch her Stone and draw on it. Her father's warriors were charging forward in a grinning wave, blades glittering, so many that Hawkril could not help but be overwhelmed-and once he was gone, they'd all be swept away, the Band of Four gone forever…
"Gut them with your blades," the Baron Silvertree said with a cold smile. "Let their deaths be slow and painful. We'll let my daughter watch; perhaps, at last, she'll learn something."
The man who ran into tiny Dlaenriprel was gasping and staggering, groaning too hard in his fight to breathe to form words at first. He clutched at the sleeve of an astonished carter and gasped something wordless but urgent as he sank to his knees.
"What, man?" the carter snapped, staring into the man's panting face. "What news?"
"Behind me," the man gasped at last. "Coming… here soon. Monster!"
The carter's eyes narrowed. "What sort of beast?"
"Crab claws… huge crab-thing! Move… your cattle! Eats cows!"
The carter stared into the man's face for a moment that banished all disbelief, and then whirled, letting the gasping man fall, and ran for the horn by the well, to rouse Dlaenriprel.
And to think some folk liked to rouse trouble. Flowfoam was like an anthill kicked open by a farmer's boot.
King Kelgrael Snowsar leaned back on the River Throne and tried to hide a sigh. A moment