The air thickened and grew dark. In the gloom, the outside of the cup began to glow with a pale, sickly luminescence like rotting fungus, its inside enclosing a black, bottomless pit from which issued a hideous stench. The air was chill with a cold from beyond the very grave, and reeked of rot and putrefaction. Then something stjrred in the depths of the chalice and a shadow, like a drift of black, oily smoke, poured over the rim. A single red eye burned steadily within the moiling, churning vapors as the specter expanded and coalesced. Forral shrank away as its deadly light fell upon him. A freezing wave of malevolence filled the room, striking the swordsman to his knees as the creature drifted slowly in his direction. He screamed once, horribly, his face contorted.
“Miathan—no!” The Archmage turned at the sound of Aurian’s shriek, to see her struggling to rise from the couch, her eyes fixed in horror on the abomination that he had summoned. Then she turned to him, and the agony on her face struck straight to his heart. “Take it back!” she cried. “Please,
Miathan, spare him! I’ll do anything—I swear it! I beg you, take it back!”
For a moment, the Archmage hesitated—and his creature paused, hovering. He already owed Aurian a blood debt for the murder of her father, and in his own, grasping way, he truly loved her. Anything, she had said—and he had her oath on it. Having won her gratitude for sparing Forral, surely he would win back her heart?
He turned, fully intending to call the creature back—until he saw the swordsman trapped in his corner. All at once, the memory of his humiliation at Forral’s hands that morning returned in force. This—this filthy upstart Mortal was Aurian’s lover! He had laid hands on her body, had filled her with his seed—and now she carried his monstrous brat! Enough! The Archmage’s mind was utterly consumed by the searing flames of jealousy—and his one chance to redeem himself from evil was utterly lost.
Aurian saw Miathan turn to the abomination—and saw his face contort into a hideous mask of hatred. “Take him!” he shrieked. Forral huddled flat against the wall, staring wild-eyed at the Thing that stalked him. Although he was utterly fearless in the face of any human foe, this \w^s more than even Forral could face. Aurian gasped, her body breaking out into an icy sweat. Never had she seen anything like this! It took all her courage not to break and run, to flee in mindless panic from this manifestation of evil that was_advancing on her love with deadly intent.
It was like a wisp of dark cloud—a smoky wraith that writhed and undulated with a sickening pulsation, twisting and recombining in a series of leering, malevolent demon faces that flickered and shimmered in a way that tortured and wrenched both the eye and the gut. It was impossible to look at it; impossible to look away. Aurian felt her head beginning to throb. The Thing was surrounded by a swirling vortex of cold evil that sucked at her, leeching the warmth and strength from her body, and she suddenly knew she had little time in which to act.
With the strength of desperation, she wrenched herself to her feet and leapt across^the room, hurling herself in front of the swordsman and snapping her magical shield into place to protect them both. The Thing kept advancing, slow and inexorable. Aurian bit back a scream as it hit her shield—and passed straight through as though nothing were there! Forcing down her panic, she backed toward Forral, snatching the sword from his nerveless fingers.
The blade thrummed, flaring into fiery light as Aurian infused it with the force of her Fire-magic. She went for the abomination with a great, two-handed swipe, cleaving it straight through the middle. Her blade met no resistance, as though it had passed through smoke. The specter gave a deep, chilling chuckle—and the two halves rejoined, flowing effortlessly back together. Shock exploded through her, as her blade went dark and dead. Aurian staggered back weakly, dropping the sword, her hands and arms numb with a pervasive chill that was quickly spreading. The abomination advanced, seeming to grow in size, blotting out the room with its massive, shadowy form. Passing over her as she lay helpless, it swooped upon the swordsman, engulfing him in its reeking darkness. Forral gave one last, strangled cry—her name—as the dark mass flowed over him. Then there was silence. Slowly, the abomination lifted.
Forral lay, white and still, as Aurian had seen him so long ago, in a dread vision. “Forral!” she shrieked, a cry wrenched with anguish from the depths of her soul, as, heedless of her own danger, she flung hesself upon him. But it was too late. Forral’s body beneath her was lifeless, an icy husk, his breathing stilled, his great, generous, loving heart stopped forever,
Anvar reached the doorway in time to see Forral fall. He saw Aurian, oblivious in her grief to her own danger, hurl herself across his body, weeping as she tried to revive him, seeking desperately with her Healer’s senses for one last spark of life to which she could cling. With a jarring whine, the dark, roiling monstrosity swooped down toward her, its black maw gaping. “No!” Miathan screamed. “Not her, you fool!” The Thing ignored him. Strengthened by the life-force of its victim, it was now beyond his control. With an inarticulate cry, Anvar leapt forward, only to be shouldered aside by the tall, lanky form of Finbarr, bearing his staff. He lifted it, feeing the monster, and cried out some words in a strong, ringing voice.
The abomination gave a startled flicker, suddenly finding itself enclosed by a misty blue aura. Then it stopped, frozen, hanging helplessly in midair scant inches away from Aurian’s face, taken completely out of time by Finbarr’s preserving spell. Miathan recoiled with a vile curse, and lifting his hands, uttered a spell of his own. More dark shapes, more and more, began to pour over the rim of the chalice. Finbarr countered them with his own spell, freezing each Wraith as it emerged, his damp face contorted with strain. “Nihilim!” he shouted. “The Death Wraiths of the Caldron! Anvar—get Aurian out of here!” Meiriel, in her corner, was shrieking.
Anvar needed no second telling. He dashed across to Aurian, ducking around the frozen form of the hideous monstrosity that loomed over her. She clutched frantically at Forral, as Anvar tugged at her arm. “Aurian, come on,” he yelled, “Please—there’s nothing you can do for him!” His own face was flooded with tears,
Aurian looked up at him, and her eyes suddenly cleared, as though she recognized him for the first time. She dragged a sleeve across her tearstained face and nodded, then turned back to Forral, touching his face with a gentle hand, in farewell, “Safe journey, love,” she whispered, “until we meet again.” Then, with a sob, she tore herself away, leaning heavily on Anvar’s arm as they staggered toward the door.
Finbarr was still fighting the Arcjimage’s endless succession of Wraiths. He was staggering with weakness now, Vannor stood at the door, paralyzed with horror, his face deathly white. Anvar thrust Aurian into his arms.
“Help her,” he yelled. “Hurry!” He ran ahead of them down the stairs and ducked into Aurian’s room, snatching up her bundle of discarded warrior’s clothing and her sword. There was no time for more. He caught up with Vannor and Aurian at the bottom of the stairs and helped the distraught Mage mount one of the horses, Vannor mounted the other, and Anvar passed his bundle to the merchant before leaping up behind Aurian and snatching up the reins.
“To my house!” Vannor shouted, and spurred toward the gates, trampling the fallen bodies of the guards in his haste.
??? swordsman and snapping her magical shield into place to protect them both. The Thing kept advancing, slow and inexorable. Aurian bit back a scream as it hit her shield—and passed straight through as though nothing were there! Forcing down her panic, she backed toward Forral, snatching the sword from his nerveless fingers.