The Wizardwar - Elaine Cunningham [123]
The song seemed to splinter like light caught in a prism. It darted throughout the room, echoed and colored by a hundred different voices. The light in the crimson gem intensified with the power of the gathering magic.
Matteo brought his focus to bear upon the shadowy web. He reached out with his thoughts and plucked at one of the knots. It gave way, and two threads sprang apart. He reached for another and slowly, laboriously began to untie Akhlaur's dark magic.
The effort was draining, more exhausting than any battle he had known.
Matteo's breath came in labored gasps, and the room reeled around him. Even worse was the loss of clarity. More than once he slipped away, only to be brought back by the stern force of his will. Each time, he felt like a man awakened from a dream, uncertain for a moment of where he was or his purpose for being here.
Yet he pressed on. One more knot, he told himself. Only one. Now another, and so on, until the task is done.
Suddenly the web gave way. Light flared like an exploding star, and the artifact shattered.
Matteo instinctively dived at Tzigone, who in turn leaped to protect the queen. They went down together, and Matteo shielded them both from the bits of crystal hurtling through the room.
To his surprised, he felt no sting from the flying shards. Cautiously he lifted his head.
The room was still filled with rosy light. Moving through the light were crystalline forms, similar to that borne by Andris. All were elven but for an elderly human man who held a strong resemblance to Farrah Noor. The ghostly human bowed deeply to them and disappeared.
The elves milled about, embracing each other and rejoicing in their freedom. Tzigone watched with tear-misted eyes.
A light, tentative hand touched her arm. "Ria?" asked a tentative voice.
Memory flooded back, the one thing Tzigone had sought for so long-her name, the name her mother used to call her. "It's me," she managed.
Keturah's eyes, enormous in her white-painted face, searched her daughter's face. "So beautiful," she said wistfully, "but no longer a child."
For the first time in her life at an utter loss for words, Tzigone handed her mother the talisman. Keturah's fingers closed around it, and her face went hard.
"Kiva is near, and with her comes a great and ancient evil." She reached out and touched Tzigone's cheek. "Our task is not quite finished-they must both be destroyed."
She set off with certainty down a series of tunnels. Tzigone glanced at the jordain, and did an astonished double-take at the sight before her. Andris was fully restored, and looked much as he had before the battle in Akhlaur's Swamp.
Matteo nodded to her. "We follow," he said simply.
Tzigone raced after the avenging queen and prepared to face Akhlaur-and Kiva.
Chapter Twenty
Two armies faced each other across the dueling field. It was as Kiva expected-as it always had been. The warring factions of Halruaan ambition gathered to fight a common foe. Wizards and warriors, private armies and the remnants of Halarahh's militia, they all stood shoulder to shoulder, nearly as pale as the hideous foes they faced.
Akhlaur's undead minions stood ready. Skeletal forms showed through watery flesh that reeked of the swamp. All waited for some signal to begin.
Suddenly Zalathorm appeared, standing before Halruaa's army. He flung out one hand, and fine powder exploded toward the undead army. A wind caught the powder, sending it swirling as a dust devil rose in size and power. The pale tornado raced toward the undead and burst into a shower of flying crystal.
The lich commander shouted an order, and many of the warriors fell to one knee, covering themselves with large rattan shields. The salt storm, though, struck many of the undead warriors, and all it touched melted like salted slugs.
Their skeletons merely shrugged off their oozing flesh and advanced.
Their bony hands unlatched small leather bags hung about their necks, removed vials glowing with sickly yellowish light. The skeletal warriors