There remained one cultist the baelnorn hadn’t destroyed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kya Mordrayn’s eyes blazed with hatred. Protected by the Mythal’s aura, she had survived the baelnorn’s cleansing fire unscathed. The archmage lifted her long reptilian arm and pointed a talon at Kestrel’s heart. “Think you that I will allow one scrawny chit to undo a plan decades in the formation?”
A thin green ray shot out from Mordrayn’s talon and raced straight at Kestrel. The thief instinctively ducked behind the stone pillar. The ray struck the pillar and instantly reduced it to dust.
Kestrel swallowed hard. Though Mordrayn wore only a flowing black cape and a red leather bodysuit split to the navel, it was the rogue who felt unprotected. Gods, but she hated wizards!
Before she had time to react, Mordrayn unleashed a second ray—this one red—from her mutated fingertip. Kestrel rolled out of its path, but the ray altered its course to stay on target.
When it struck, she felt a mild vibration, nothing more. Thank Mystra for those mantle rings.
The archmage sneered. “Your paltry protections cannot spare you forever.” She spat the words out of her mouth.
Kestrel stared at Mordrayn, still dumbstruck in the presence of the sorceress. She realized that Mordrayn was actually speaking—not using her mind’s voice, as they’d witnessed previously. Was this a sign that her connection with the Mythal was indeed broken?
Have faith. Anorrweyn’s gentle voice entered Kestrel’s thoughts. Even now, I am one with the Mythal and work to turn its power against our enemies.
That’s all very well, Kestrel wanted to answer, but what do I do in the meantime? As if in response, she heard her companions hurrying toward the ledge from the back of the underground chamber.
Mordrayn lifted her claw once more, this time pointing it into the cavern. “We’ll see if your friends are so well protected.” She aimed her hand at Athan, who led the advance. “Back for more of my attentions, Athan? Some men just can’t get enough.” A bolt of lightning raced from her talons to strike him. The vigorous fighter staggered under its force but did not fall.
The bolt did not stop there. It arced to Corran, then Durwyn, catching all three men in a chain of electricity. When it reached Ghleanna, however, her spellstaff absorbed the charge. Ghleanna tapped the staff twice on the ground to send the bolt streaking back to Mordrayn herself. The electrical charge left a hideous burn on the cult leader’s scantily clad chest.
The archmage screeched in outrage. “I’ll pry that staff out of your dead hand!” She threw her head back and shouted in a voice that echoed off the stone walls. “Pelendralaar!”
Kestrel finally shook off her fear. Three of her companions were injured because she’d stood here like a halfwit and let Mordrayn get the upper hand. With passing regret for her lost magical dagger, she drew her twin blades from her boots. Their familiar hilts felt comfortable in her palms. She hurled the blades at the archmage.
They bounced off an invisible shield and fell harmlessly to the ground. She uttered a stream of curses—would nothing go right for her? Two more weapons gone and all she’d managed to do was capture Mordrayn’s unwanted attention once more.
The archmage turned her baleful gaze on Kestrel. “What an annoying little gnat you are.” She raised her dragon claw again. Kestrel prayed her mantle rings could withstand the continual assault.
Ghleanna’s spell, however, was faster. The half-elf passed her arm in an arc, then pointed at Mordrayn. A blast of swirling ice crystals sprung from her hand. The frigid air formed a cone that enveloped the cult leader. Mordrayn let fly a string of foul epithets as she shook with cold.
“Not dressed for the weather, Kya?” Athan goaded. The knight’s hair yet stood on end from the shock of Mordrayn’s lightning bolt. He neared Kestrel’s rope—somehow spared by the Protector’s holy fire—and a moment later was lost to Kestrel’s view. The rope grew taut. He was ascending. Corran followed close behind.
“Perhaps this will warm her.” Faeril opened her palm to loose a searing ray of light. The beam sped straight toward the archmage. A mere foot away from her, however, it sputtered out.
Mordrayn laughed, a spine-tingling cackle devoid of cheer. “A child’s spell!” She swept her dragon arm broadly. “Let me show you how grown-ups play.”
A cloud of greenish-yellow gas formed in front of her, rapidly growing until it reached some thirty feet in width and brushed the recess ceiling. The fog’s noxious odor left Kestrel nauseated by its proximity—she dreaded its effect on anyone who breathed it directly. Mordrayn curled her red lips into a perfect O and, with a small puff of air, sent the cloud drifting off the ledge toward Kestrel’s companions.
Before the gas reached him, Durwyn released an arrow. It was a blind shot, as he couldn’t possibly see the archmage clearly with the cloud between them, but it whistled through the air directly at Mordrayn. Like Kestrel’s daggers, it struck an unseen barrier before it reached the archmage.
Kestrel again cursed the cult fighter who’d destroyed Loren’s Blade. Mundane weapons could not so much as scratch Mordrayn with that barrier in place. She scanned the ledge for something—a sliver of the shattered sapphire, perhaps—some makeshift weapon with a little magic in it that she could use to attack the sorceress.
The memory of another blue shard stirred her thoughts. Borea’s Blood. She’d all but forgotten the ice knife from the frozen Rohnglyn in the dwarven dungeons. She withdrew Borea from her beltpouch.
Coughing spasms seized her friends as the foul cloud reached them. Athan’s bark came from nearby—he must be close to the top of the rope. Unfortunately, Kestrel wasn’t the only one to notice his proximity. Another green ray shot from Mordrayn’s talon, disintegrating the rope. Moments later, the clatter of armor sounded below.
Mordrayn chortled. Her glee vanished, however, when Ghleanna’s voice rang clearly through the virulent mist. Ozama’s boots had spared her from the poisonous fumes.
The archmage cocked her head, listening to the words of the half-elf’s spell. “What’s this?” she mumbled, frowning in concentration.
Kestrel clutched Borea’s Blood, afraid it would slide right out of her sweating palm. If she could penetrate whatever invisible barrier blocked their missiles, the archmage’s revealing attire left numerous critical areas vulnerable to attack. Its only useful feature was the stiff leather collar around Mordrayn’s neck. Her chest, her stomach, her upper back—all lay exposed. And those heels! Kestrel hoped the woman would trip over them.
Mordrayn apparently recognized Ghleanna’s incantation and commenced a counterspell. Kestrel took a deep breath. It was now or never.
She made a running leap at the archmage, knocking her to the ground as she plunged Borea’s Blood into her stomach. Mordrayn’s eyes widened in shock. Black blood welled out of the wound until the ice knife glowed white, freezing the blood and surrounding tissue. Kestrel yanked the weapon out and prepared to strike again.
Mordrayn, though, recovered more quickly than Kestrel expected. With an inhuman shriek, the archmage raked her enormous dragon claw down Kestrel’s face.
Searing pain ripped through the rogue’s cheek and neck. Kestrel rolled away, somehow maintaining her grip on Borea’s Blood. Within moments, the fire gave way to an icy numbness. She couldn’t feel her face. She couldn’t lift her hand.
She couldn’t move at all.
Mordrayn rose. Kestrel lay helpless as the towering archmage wordlessly drove her stiletto heel through the thief’s right palm. As she heard bones crack and saw the heel pierce her hand from front to back, she found herself grateful for the paralysis. At least she couldn’t feel Mordrayn’s torture.
A sound arrested the cult leader’s attention. From what Kestrel could see, the cloud had evaporated. If her ears judged aright, both Athan and Corran now scaled the wall, still trying to gain the ledge.