The spirit’s burning eyes flashed. “Would that I could exert my will so directly upon the world of the living,” he hissed. “But my incorporeal form allows it not. You must deal with the Hunter yourselves.” With that, the spectral knight blurred into a swirl of dark mist, vanishing on the keening wind.
“Well, he’s a big help,” Ferret noted acidly.
“Let’s get moving,” Mari said with urgency. “We have only a few minutes to find a place to confront K’shar.”
“At least we have the advantage of surprise,” Ferret said hopefully.
“It may be our only advantage,” Mari replied grimly. “K’shar has been known to single-handedly lay waste to legions of Zhentarim and Red Wizards.”
As quickly as they dared, they guided their mounts across the remaining span of the bridge. As they stepped off onto solid ground, Mari noticed a third crystal embedded in the surface of the bridge. An idea struck her.
“All right, I have a plan,” she told the others. “It may not be a good one, but I don’t think we have a lot of options.”
Scant minutes later, the four were hiding behind the gigantic foot of one of the stone colossi. Mari peered cautiously over the statue’s clawed toe. Very soon, on the opposite side of the bridge, a tall figure appeared out of the mist. The Hunter was a striking man, his form-fitting black leathers a suitable match for his deep-bronze skin and golden eyes, and a vivid contrast to his close-cropped white hair. Swiftly K’shar started across the span, moving with little thought for his own safety. When he reached the center of the onyx bridge, Mari leapt from behind the statue. She stood at the end of the bridge and raised her short sword high. The blade glowed with brilliant purple magic.
“Greetings, Hunter!” she shouted, her voice ringing out clearly in the cold air.
K’shar halted at the center of the bridge, instantly crouching into a wary stance, a cat ready to pounce. A faint smile touched his lips.
“Greetings, Al’maren,” he said in a formal tone, transforming his crouch into a fluid bow. He straightened with a curious expression. “I must thank you, Renegade.”
Mari was taken aback by this. “Thank me, Hunter? For what?”
“For providing me with a most excellent chase,” the half-elf replied smoothly. “Never before have I had such a worthy opponent. You have given my life new meaning, Al’maren, and for that I will always be in your debt.”
Mari laughed harshly. “I don’t suppose that means you’ve decided not to kill me.”
“I think you know the answer to that, Renegade.” K’shar’s smile became a feral grin. “What is the chase without the kill?”
“A pleasant walk in the countryside?” Mari offered with mock ingenuousness.
K’shar shook his head. “It is nothing. I know you understand this, Al’maren. You have your duty, even as I have mine.” The half-elf tensed, ready to spring across the bridge.
“I wouldn’t make a move if I were you,” Mari said. “You see this crystal?” Mari gestured with the blade to the nearest of the three clear stones embedded in the bridge. “It’s a magical keystone. Without it, the bridge will collapse. My friend is a mage, and he has cast an interesting enchantment on my sword—an enchantment of magical dispelling. Mages can be so terribly handy, can’t they? If I strike the keystone with this blade, the crystal will shatter. And I think you’re intelligent enough to guess what would happen next, Hunter.”
Slow, deliberate applause rang out over the chasm. K’shar was clapping. “I salute you, Renegade,” the half-elf said in admiration. “You are more worthy than I had even guessed. Truly, you have given me the chase of a lifetime. And you have given me a new experience as well.”
“And what experience is that?” Mari asked, curious despite herself.
“Losing,” K’shar replied with a rueful smile. “For it is clear that you have won, Al’maren. I congratulate you.”
K’shar’s reaction unnerved Mari. Strangely, she felt almost sorry to have to kill the half-elf. In a way she rather liked him. She was surprised to find herself saying so. “You know, I think in a different time and place, we might have been friends, Hunter.”
“You may be right, Renegade. However, at present our duties contrive to make enemies of us. We will have to save friendship for another lifetime.”
All of a sudden, K’shar lunged into motion. As he did, Mari brought the glowing sword down against the keystone with all her might. Purple magic flashed brilliantly, followed by a sound like breaking glass. The crystal shattered into a thousand glittering shards.
Mari stumbled backward. With a sound like thunder, the graceful arch of the bridge lurched violently. K’shar fell sprawling, sliding across the onyx surface and halfway over the edge. His hands scrabbled against slick stone, searching vainly for purchase. When the other two keystones exploded in sprays of shining splinters, the bridge shuddered. K’shar slid farther over the edge, feet dangling above the chasm. For a moment he looked up, his eyes meeting Mari’s. He opened his mouth, but whether to bid her farewell or to curse her to the Abyss, she would never know. The bridge gave one final twitch. Then with a deafening crack! the span disintegrated. The stone arch collapsed into a rain of dark rubble, plummeting into the gorge and carrying the half-elf with it.
Mari dashed to the edge, but by the time she looked down, the remains of the bridge were already out of sight in the vast depths below. Footsteps sounded behind her.
“Your plan worked, Mari,” Morhion said softly.
She nodded slowly but did not answer. Instead she bowed her head, whispering a brief prayer for the dead. After a moment she turned and faced the others. “Let’s get going,” she said hoarsely.
The four mounted their horses and rode between the stone colossi into the kingdom of Ebenfar.
While the High Moor had been desolate, it had still displayed small signs of life as well as a kind of raw-edged beauty. In contrast, the realm they passed through now was utterly barren. The broken landscape was a tortuous labyrinth littered with piles of dark slag and pits half-filled with foul water. Except for the steady hoofbeats of the four horses, all was preternaturally silent. There were no birds, nor any other living creature. Even the wind had stopped. The air hung perfectly still under the dour sky, cold and breathless as a winter tomb. If ever there was a land that was truly dead, Ebenfar was one.
“Cheery place,” Ferret noted dryly. “I’ll be sure to come here for my next vacation.” The thief’s words seemed uncomfortably loud against the brittle silence. He shivered in his cloak and refrained from making any further comments.
The cold was a hungry, maleficent thing. Mari moved to warm her hands under her jacket, but she could hardly unclench her fingers from the reins. It felt as if the chill had turned her flesh to pale ice. She turned to make certain Kellen was warm enough and saw that the boy rode with Morhion now. He sat in the saddle before the mage, wrapped in a blanket in addition to his cloak. Morhion had tied Flash’s reins to Tenebrous’s saddle, and the pony followed behind.
Such was the tomblike nature of this land that Mari was only somewhat surprised when they rounded a large slag heap and found themselves facing a ghost.
At first she thought it must be Serafi, but a moment later she knew it was not so. The spectral knight was a dark being with eyes like flames. This ghost was as gray as the leaden sky, so pale his outlines blurred into the surrounding landscape. He was clad in misty, flowing robes, like those of a wizard … or perhaps a king. His visage was proud and noble, and with a start Mari realized that she recognized the man’s face. She had seen it once before, carved into the lid of an onyx sarcophagus far below the city of Iriaebor. In the crypt of the Shadowking. She opened her mouth, but Morhion beat her to the words.