“Father!” cried Seila. She ran up to embrace the old lord. “How did you get here?”
“Seila, my lass!” Norwood swept Seila into his arms and hugged her close. “I feared that something terrible had happened to you!”
“It almost did,” Seila answered. “Balathorp tried to spirit me away before your army arrived, but Jack here-and his friend, Narm-tracked him down and rescued me.”
Norwood’s eyebrows rose. He looked at Jack, and after a long moment gave him a grudging nod of respect. “Well done, Jack. I am once again in your debt.”
Jack nodded back. There was no particular reason to mention the Sarkonagael business if it had momentarily slipped Norwood’s mind, he decided. “What happened here?” he asked. “We left Elana and her company at the gatehouse when we set out after Balathorp.”
“We broke the drow lines when we finally pushed them out of the tunnel and into the open cavern,” Norwood replied. “They fell back on the castle, but Elana and her warriors held the gate open just long enough for my soldiers to storm the place on the heels of the remaining dark elves. We have them, I think.”
“You must have half the army here,” said Seila.
“Six companies of it,” the old lord replied. “That was the most I could persuade the Noble Council to release, given the possibility that there might be other enemies like Balathorp ready to move if we stripped our defenses. However, I also have armsmen of six or seven noble houses here, too. It’s time to put an end to this.” He glanced at the soldiers securing the castle. “I am sorry that it took us so long. It took a couple of hours to gather the troops, and it was a half-day’s march through the tunnels to find our way to this cavern.”
“Where are Elana and the others?” Jack asked.
“They pursued a small party of dark elves who escaped the castle when our assault began.” Norwood pointed toward the flickering green column of eldritch energy. “The drow fled into the old ruined city, and that started up soon afterward. Do you know what it is?”
“The wild mythal of their ancient city,” Jack replied. “I think Dresimil means to turn its power against you. Send all of the soldiers you can spare-we can’t let her have it to herself.” Jack clapped Narm on his arm. “Come, friend Narm, and let’s see if we can find our companions again. They might have need of us.”
The half-orc shrugged. “As long as you realize that someone must pay for all this.”
“Wait,” said Seila. “I am coming, as well.”
“Absolutely not,” Norwood said. “Seila, stay with me. You will be safer with our soldiers around you.”
“Please, do as your father says,” Jack said. “I will feel better knowing that you are as safe as you can be in this place.”
Seila bridled and started to protest, but reluctantly she nodded. “Very well. But be careful yourself, Jack.”
Norwood clasped Jack’s hand firmly, and then Jack and Narm hurried back out of the castle. They turned right, and Jack led the way as they struck out across the cavern floor, making their way in a roundabout direction toward the excavations by the lakeshore. Jack led the way with more haste than caution; Dresimil’s warriors were busy, and he thought that patrols in Chumavhraele’s cavern were likely to be few and far between at the moment. In a quarter-hour, the faint outlines of the rambling walls and mud-filled towers of the long-drowned drow city loomed ahead in the gloom. No slaves were at work in the ruins; Jack guessed that the dark elves had most of the workers locked in their pens while so many of their soldiers were busy fighting elsewhere. They slowed their pace and quietly groped their way through the maze of muddy streets and crumbling buildings.
Even without the flickering shaft of emerald light to guide them, Jack could have picked out the wild mythal’s bearing and set a straight course for the stone. He trotted as swiftly as he dared through the ancient streets, Narm at his side. They passed through the broken archway of an old city gate, crossed a square of fluted columns arranged in different heights and numbers, and came to a broad boulevard leading straight toward the plaza at the heart of the city. In silence they stole forward, until Jack spied the ruined shell of a palace or temple that would let them reach the plaza unobserved. He slipped inside through a gloomy doorway and made his way closer until he could peer through a hole in the outer wall at the old mythal.
Dozens of drow soldiers stood guard around the plaza, protecting Jaeren and Jezzryd Chumavh as they chanted and wove their arms before the mythal stone, seeming to shape and conduct the blazing font of magical power in front of them. Dresimil stood a short distance behind her brothers, observing the proceedings.
“To the right,” Narm said in a low voice. He nodded at the shell of a building across the street; there, Jack glimpsed Jelan, Kilarnan, Kurzen, Wulfrad, and Halamar likewise sheltering out of sight of the dark elves guarding the plaza. Crossing directly over to the other building would entail darting across a street with nothing to conceal them … but Jack had no intention of letting the drow know he was nearby.
“Hold still,” he whispered, and took Narm by the arm. With a small invocation he worked his spell of shadow-teleporting, and whisked the two of them to the same building sheltering the others. In the blink of an eye they stood beside Jelan and the mercenaries.
Jelan, Kurzen, and the rest swore and leaped back, raising weapons and beginning spells before they recognized Jack and Narm. “Moradin’s beard, Jack,” Kurzen snarled. “I was ready to split your skull! A word of warning next time, if you value your life.”
“My apologies,” Jack said. “It seemed safer than trying to sneak up on you.”
“What are the drow mages doing?” Narm asked, watching the dark elves through the ruined wall.
Jack peered through the gap, trying to sense the fluctuations in the mythal’s magic. After a moment he said, “They are altering its enchantments. I have the sense that Jezzryd is preparing a barrier of some sort, while Jaeren is concentrating destructive energy.”
“Nothing that we should permit them to finish, then,” Jelan said.
Kilarnan looked at Jack in surprise. “You can discern the spells they are shaping?” he asked.
“I have a connection with the mythal. It’s the source of the magic I was born with.”
“What could they do with the mythal’s powers?” Arlith asked.
Jack shrugged. “I am afraid I have little insight to offer. The device has been inert for most of my life, and I have no idea what it is capable of.”
Kilarnan frowned. “Mythals create magical effects in a wide area. A barrier might take the form of a wall of energy that physically blocks enemies from entering or a mystic obstacle that impedes hostile magic. The destructive energy of the mythal might be capable of smiting every non-drow in this cavern with a bolt of arcane lightning, or razing Raven’s Bluff to the ground with a storm of fire, or opening up a gate to the Abyss for demons to pour into our world. There is almost nothing that they could not do.”
Jack grimaced; those were unappealing notions, to say the least. “As Elana said, nothing we should permit them to finish.”
“We are somewhat outnumbered,” Halamar pointed out.
“We have the advantage of surprise,” Jelan said. The swordswoman studied the plaza for a moment, and nodded to herself. “Halamar and Kilarnan, employ your spells on the drow warriors. Do what you can to scatter and confuse them. I will deal with Dresimil. Jack, the mythal is your task. You and the Blue Wyverns must stop the sorcerers. Agreed?”