"Enough of that," Azriim said, and launched a fireball from his palm at Magadon and Jak. The ball exploded in their midst, engulfing both of them in flames. When the flames dissipated, neither showed so much as a scorch mark on their clothes. Jak's wards had shielded them both from incineration.
Cale reached Riven's side and pulled him to his feet. Burns covered the assassin's face and hands. His good eye was seared shut.
"They've transformed," Riven said through his burned lips. "More powerful now."
Cale nodded and hurriedly incanted his most powerful spell of healing. Mask's power flowed through him to Riven and the assassin's burns vanished entirely.
Riven smiled his thanks, hefted his blades.
Ten paces away, Dolgan laughed. "That hurts," he said, and lifted himself to all fours.
Cale ignored him.
"I'm here for the Tap," he said to Riven. "We kill it first, then we kill them. Where's the Sojourner?"
Riven shook his head. "He said he would not see the slaadi again. He's not in the tower."
Cale nodded, relieved despite himself. Still, he thought he knew where he would find the Sojourner when the time came.
Behind them, Dolgan found his feet, still laughing. His flesh was healing the burns even as he stood.
"I've got it, Cale," Jak shouted to his back. "It's here. In an upper floor."
Cale and Riven sprinted across the room. Above them, Azriim incanted a series of arcane words and a pulse of black energy spread from the slaad in a visible ring across the entire room. It could not be avoided.
When it hit Cale, he felt a preternatural cold seize him, but a ward that Jak had cast flared and chimed. Cale recognized it as a death ward. The spell might have killed him but for Jak's protective spell.
The slaadi had indeed transformed into something more powerful.
Similar chimes and flares sounded from the wards on Magadon and Jak. Unprotected, Riven gasped and stumbled. Cale shrouded him in shadows and kept him moving.
"Are you all right?" he asked Riven.
Riven waved and nodded. They reached Jak and Magadon near the stairs.
"Up," he ordered. "Keep the divination active, little man. The Sojourner is not here so we move fast."
He turned around to look at the slaadi. Azriim's spell appeared to have done no harm to Dolgan. Azriim floated down to the floor to stand beside the bigger slaad.
"Come back," Azriim taunted. "Things are only now getting interesting."
Cale ignored the taunt and ushered his friends up the stairs. He delayed a moment behind them and incanted a spell that summoned a wall of stone at the base of the stairs. The magic of the spell caused the edges of the wall to meld with the stone of the tower, blocking access.
It would only delay the slaadi, he knew.
"We should stand and fight," Riven said, seemingly recovered from the death spell.
"We will," Cale said. "But the Tap is first. The only way to stop the Sojourner is to kill it. This is bigger than our personal grudges."
"That's right," Jak said.
"Nothing is bigger than the personal, Cale," Riven said, but did not argue further.
Cale stared at him a moment, turned to Jak. "Which way, little man?"
"Follow me," Jak said.
The slaadi appeared behind them at the bottom of the stairs, bronze rods in hand. They had teleported through the wall.
"Go," Cale said to them.
Azriim and Dolgan rushed up the stairs, taking three steps at a stride. They raised their hands as they raced upward and balls of energy streaked out of them.
Cale stood in the path of the fireballs, held Weaveshear before him, and intercepted both before they exploded. Shadows poured from the weapon.
"Move," Cale called again over his shoulder, and his friends went. Cale pointed Weaveshear down the stairs and released the pent-up energy directly into the slaadi. The magic slammed into the creatures' chests, knocked both of them back down the stairs, and engulfed them in fire.
Both roared, leaped to their feet, and bounded back up the stairs. Their clothing was aflame and smoke poured from both of them.
Cale turned and sprinted after his friends. With his shadow-enhanced speed, he caught up with them quickly. They crossed another broad, bare chamber and found themselves at the foot of another set of stairs.
"Up again," Jak said. "We're close."
"Here they come," Magadon said, looking behind them. He turned, dropped to one knee, and drew an arrow to his ear.
Across the large chamber, the slaadi appeared. Other than some slight charring, their bodies showed no wounds from the fireballs. Both roared.
"Trickster's toes," Jak oathed.
"Keep your concentration on the Tap," Cale ordered him. He did not want Jak trying to cast a spell against the slaadi and losing the thread of his divination.
Magadon spent more of the little mental energy he still had, charged his arrow, and let fly. The missile hit Dolgan in the hip, sank deeply into his body, and sent him spinning to the floor. Azriim leaped over him and continued his charge.
Holding his mask around Weaveshear's hilt, Cale incanted a spell. When he spoke the last word, he called into being a magical wall that spanned the width of the room. Composed of shadows and veined with viridian lines, it audibly sizzled, radiating magical energy from only one side-that facing the slaadi. Cale could barely see through it.
Azriim halted his charge and hissed, skin smoking in the presence of the magic. Behind him, Dolgan climbed to his feet, his skin also smoking. The big slaad jerked Magadon's arrow from his hip. Azriim withdrew a wand from his thigh sheath.
"Up," Cale said. "Go."
Like the wall of stone, he knew the magical wall would slow the slaadi for only a few breaths.
The four comrades raced up the stairs. They found themselves in a wide foyer. A pair of large wooden double doors bound in brass stood on the other side of the foyer.
"In there," Jak said. "That's it."
Below them, the sizzling sound from Cale's wall of energy went silent. Azriim must have countered it somehow.
The slaadi were coming.
"How are you going to kill it?" Riven asked.
"I'm not," Cale answered. "The sun is."
As they charged down the hall, Cale whispered the words to a spell that allowed him to see dweomers. The double doors glowed in his sight, the wards evident to his magic-sensing vision. The Sojourner had warded the doors well. Cale did not hesitate. Blade in hand, he threw his shoulder against them and knocked them open.
Glyphs flared and magical energy blazed out of the jambs. Weaveshear drank it all and Cale suffered no harm. Power rushed into the blade's steel and it emitted a cloud of shadows. The weapon vibrated in Cale's grasp, pregnant with the Sojourner's power. Cale whirled around, pointed the tip at the head of the stairs, and waited.
The moment the slaadi appeared, he discharged the energy.
A beam of viridian light streaked from Weaveshear's tip-the recoil drove Cale back a step-and hit Azriim in the stomach. The slaad bared his fangs and grimaced but the energy seemed to have no effect. Even Azriim looked surprised. He looked up and grinned a mouthful of sharp teeth.
"Go," Jak said to Cale. "We'll hold them off. Get the Weave Tap. Kill it."
Cale hesitated as the slaadi advanced.
"Go," Magadon said over his shoulder.
Cale nodded, turned, and ran into the room. Judging from its size and the defaced murals painted on the walls, the room once was a religious sanctum of some kind. Scorch marks marred much of the floor, as if a magical battle had been fought there.