"I did," the deep, dry, unfamiliar voice coming from the lips of his apprentice drawled, sidestepping the ravening destruction. "You should try it sometime. Now, for instance."
The lances of silver-blue magic that raced from his fingertips then were so many and so swift that the Doom of Galath barely had time to curse.
Behold Rod Everlar, writer of fantasies. Strolling around this vast citadel fashionably dressed in… a helmet. Ave Caesar, morituri te salutant.
Rod grinned wryly at the mirror he'd found, was probably magical, but it was much too small to step through as some sort of gate, and he didn't know what it was for or how to call on its powers, whatever they were, so he continued on with looking for swords and daggers. And if he couldn't find pants of some sort, at least a goddamn belt would do to carry them all with!
He probably needed every combat-useful shard of magic he could find. After all, if he might have to fight all of Arlaghaun's beasts and magical suits of armor or other toys, lorn, Dark Helms and apprentices-to say nothing of the Doom of Galath himself-he needed all the help he could get.
That he could carry, at least. There were a dozen helms back in that first room with the curtain, and a chair that glowed interestingly, too, but he couldn't carry everything.
Shaking his head at the appearance he'd presented in the mirror, Rod went to the next room, and peered in.
A whimpering woman stared fearfully back at him. She wore only chains, and manacles at her wrists and ankles secured her upright in a huge "X" in midair.
It was Taeauna.
The second stone from the left-hand end of the row of tell-stones flared into sudden, starry light.
The slender, darkly handsome wizard turned to regard it, and calmly watched it shatter, hiss, and melt away.
"Well, now," Malraun murmured. "Something is very amiss at Ult Tower."
He spun gracefully around to ready his most powerful scrying-crystal, and added mockingly, "That's so sad."
The crystal started to glow and then burst with a shriek, hurling shards in all directions. If his personal wardings hadn't been up and active, one of them would almost certainly have beheaded him.
As it was, still in possession of his head, Malraun smiled, shook his head, and strolled into another room with a calmer demeanor than he truly felt, to awaken three lesser scrying-crystals.
It seemed like the Falcon itself was breaking loose at Ult Tower, and he intended to watch every moment of it.
"L-lord Rod?" Tears were already streaming down Taeauna's face, but they seemed to flood forth even faster, dripping off her chin, thence to her breasts, and on to the floor.
"Tay!" Rod said eagerly, going to her. He raised a hand to her cheek, and tried to kiss her, but she shook her head and wept.
"Lord, I'm so s-sorry! I-"
"Taeauna, it wasn't you who threw me in a cell and tortured me. Now, let's get you free of these; do you know if any of these magical gewgaws I'm carrying can cut through chain? Without frying you, too?"
Taeauna shook her head again, as Ult Tower shook again, around them, in a thunderous rolling booming that numbed Rod's bare feet.
Rod tried to put a comforting arm around her, but his shoulder came to just under her armpit, so he went on tiptoe to kiss her, and say urgently, "Taeauna of the Aumrarr, I blame you for nothing. Nothing. But help me now. Tell me how to free you."
Her tears stopped suddenly and her head jerked up, eyes glowing like two lamps. She turned her head, as if startled and seeing him for the first time, and said softly, "Shaper of Falconfar, only the tears of Arlaghaun can part these chains. His tears, freely given. I need you to-"
"Swallow your lies, creature of Arlaghaun," said a mocking voice from behind Rod. "Listen to her not, Dark Lord. The real Taeauna is imprisoned inside her, somewhere; see those glowing eyes? That's Arlaghaun trying to lure you within reach."
Rod turned, selected the most powerful-looking sword from the bundle in his hands, hefted it, and said to the short, sleek, darkly handsome man he found himself facing, "And who are you?"
"I am Malraun. Also a wizard of Falconfar, but nothing at all to do with the Doom of Galath or his cruelties. I mean you no harm, nor this Aumrarr. Put your sword down; I have no quarrel with you."
"And if I do step aside, what do you plan to do?"
"Cut those chains and free her. You don't need anyone's tears-"
"Listen to him not, lord! This man is evil; he will carry me off and turn me into a monster!"
Malraun rolled his eyes, and said to Rod, "That's not your Taeauna talking. That's Arlaghaun, and he's desperate."
"He hasn't seemed all that desperate to me, thus far," Rod replied, keeping his sword up and in Malraun's way.
"He wasn't fighting just to keep hold of his life, then," Malraun replied. "He is now. He's awakened Lorontar from beyond the grave, as minstrels like to say, and much of yonder end of Ult Tower is vanishing as we speak, as they hurl spells at each other and Arlaghaun rapidly comes to the grim realization that he's far more of an overconfident idiot than he thought he was."
"I don't trust you," Rod muttered.
"Very wise of you, Dark Lord. I don't trust any wizard, and neither should any sane person. Yet consider: I translocated myself here, right behind you, and could very easily have blasted you to dust, and yet I attacked you not. I could have just melted the chains of your Taeauna with a spell, without any warning, but have not. I'm perfectly willing to melt her chains right now, with you holding that impressive sword to my throat. What say you?"
Rod looked at Taeauna, who hissed, "No! Lord Rod, listen to him not!"
"Watch her eyes, Rod," Malraun said calmly. "See that glow? That's Arlaghaun, inside her head, working her lips."
"No! Rod, don't let him!"
Malraun looked at Rod, shrugged and spread his hands. "I can free her; do you think the real Taeauna wants to be chained here, nude and helpless? And remember who put her there."
Rod swallowed, looking from Taeauna's pleading face to Malraun's, and back. Then he said roughly, "Do it. Free her."
The wizard nodded and started forward.
The air in front of him cracked apart, purple fire leaking around the edges of a great night-black slash that sent the air in the room into a whistling, rushing roiling-and Arlaghaun was suddenly standing in Malraun's way.
"Oh, no, you don't," he snarled, "hedge-wizard!"
Malraun merely rolled his eyes and unleashed lightning from his hands. Four bolts streaked past the Doom of Galath on either side, parting Taeauna's chains in a welter of sparks.
As she fell to the floor, Rod made a dash for her, sword up to ward off anything Arlaghaun might do.
The Doom of Galath sneered, raised a hand that was suddenly ablaze like a bonfire, and hurled flame at Malraun.
Who stood, smile unchanged, as the burst of flame washed over nothingness just in front of him, and slid away, fading as it writhed and lashed the floor.
Rod ducked away from Arlaghaun to prevent the mage making a grab for him on his way to Taeauna, who was rolling around and sobbing, but Arlaghaun turned and spat, "You should have stayed where you belonged, Shaper!"
And the ceiling opened up in a shower of falling fangs.
Rod shouted and hurled himself forward, knowing it was in vain. He and Taeauna were both going to be impaled on the scores of plunging blades…
The air sang bright and blue, Rod was nearly deafened by the sudden sound of hundreds of blades clanging and clashing-and Arlaghaun disappeared into a bloody pulp amid a column of edged steel slamming down deep into the floor, so thickly clustered that they were almost edge to edge.
"Who-?" Malraun snapped, staring at Rod as he skidded into a dazed and suddenly silent Taeauna. "Did you…?"