“The creature’s name is Grypht,” Finder explained finally. “He’s been looking for Dragonbait, but he was unable to locate him magically.”
“ ’Cause Dragonbait’s with Alias, and they’re both hidden by her shield of magical misdirection,” Olive said.
“No doubt,” Finder said, nodding. “Grypht knows you’re a friend of Dragonbait’s, so he’s come looking for you, hoping you can tell him where to find his friend. Grypht teleported into the tower directly from his native dimension, but apparently someone here took him for an enemy and attacked him. He’s put up a wall of ice in the corridor to keep anyone from following him.”
“Then let’s take him to Dragonbait before the ice melts,” Olive suggested.
“No hurry,” Finder said. “I can explain to the guards that he means no harm.”
“Suppose they don’t believe you?” Olive asked anxiously.
Finder waved impatiently for Olive to remain silent as he resumed his “conversation” with the saurial Grypht.
Olive huffed and slumped back against the wall, wishing fervently that this strange friend of Dragonbait’s could talk Finder into leaving, and leaving soon. She was growing increasingly more nervous, though she couldn’t say exactly why. Just to be on the safe side, she pushed the door closed and relocked it with her lockpick. If she was unable to escape, she was going to make it just as difficult as possible for anyone or anything else to get in.
Following the trail of blood drops from Grypht’s wounds, Kyre nearly ran into the wall of ice that the creature had cast to block the corridor. She was especially susceptible to injury from cold—something that, unfortunately, Grypht knew only too well. She backed away from the ice carefully, shivering uncontrollably.
The half-elf didn’t know precisely what had brought Grypht to the Tower of Ashaba, but it was doubtful he’d come here looking for her. He’d seemed as surprised to see her as she’d been to see him. She had to capture or destroy him before it was too late.
After a minute, Kyre had warmed sufficiently to think clearly and control her movements. She replaced her sword in its scabbard and pulled a magical scroll from one of the pockets of her tunic. She’d meant to use the scroll to break the Nameless Bard out of his cell, but dealing with Grypht had a higher priority. She unrolled the scroll and held it out to read from it. At that moment, Lord Mourngrym and three armed guards came running up behind her. All four fighters had their swords drawn.
“What’s going on?” Mourngrym demanded. “I heard something roaring!”
“It’s a denizen of the Nine Hells, your lordship,” Kyre said. “Somehow it teleported Elminster from the courtroom and appeared in his place.”
“That’s impossible. No monster from the lower planes can enter this tower. Elminster has it warded against such evil,” Mourngrym scoffed.
“Nothing is impossible, your lordship,” Kyre replied. “I know this monster. It is called Grypht, and it is very powerful, a master of lies. It works for the Zhentarim. It attacked Breck; Morala is tending him in the courtroom. I chased the monster down this corridor. It has sealed itself behind this wall of ice.”
“Caitlin, go make sure Morala and Breck are all right,” Mourngrym ordered one of the guards.
The guard ran down the corridor toward the courtroom.
“Is there another passage leading to the corridor beyond?” Kyre asked.
“No,” Mourngrym replied. “This hallway comes to a dead end. That’s why Elminster put the Nameless Bard in the room at the far—” Suddenly his face went white. “Nameless! He’s locked up in there … defenseless!” his lordship gasped. “We have to get through this wall of ice! Thurbal, fetch a mage. Sar, get torches and axes!” Mourngrym demanded.
As the two guards hurried to obey their lord, Kyre held out her magic scroll. “You must get through as quickly as you can, your lordship,” the half-elf said, “but I cannot wait. I must use a magical door to get myself to the other side of the wall.”
“You can’t go alone,” Mourngrym argued.
“I must,” the half-elf insisted. “Someone must protect the Nameless Bard from that creature.”
Lord Mourngrym nodded. There was no other choice. His lordship watched as Kyre chanted aloud the words on the magical scroll she held in her hands. She read quickly, but it took her a full minute to complete the spell. The instant she had finished reading it, the scroll burst into flames, and Kyre was swallowed up by a dimensional door and disappeared.
His lordship pulled out his dagger and began chipping away at the wall of ice, unwilling to waste time waiting for an axe while the brave half-elf faced Grypht alone.
At the front gate of the Tower of Ashaba, Alias and Akabar halted as Heth announced them. “Alias of Westgate and her friend Akabar bel Akash,” the page informed the four guards who stood at the entrance. The announcement was a mere formality. The guards all knew Alias, and they weren’t likely to challenge anyone who accompanied her. She had served in the tower guard herself the previous winter, and she was a trusted friend of Lord Mourngrym.
Just as Alias and Akabar stepped across the threshold, a balding, burly man-at-arms came racing across the entrance hall toward the gate. Alias recognized him as Captain Thurbal, the warden of the town of Shadowdale. Thurbal looked anxious and distracted, and in his haste, he ran into Heth.
“Captain,” the boy squeaked, “what’s wrong?”
“Heth! Good—you’re just the person I need!” the captain exclaimed as he grabbed the page’s shoulders. “Run to the inn and bring back any mages who may be staying there! Hurry!” He pushed the page toward the door, then turned to Alias. “Alias, it’s good you’re here. We may need you.”
Heth looked annoyed and began to protest. “But, Captain, his lordship said that today I was to page only for the trib—”
“No buts, boy!” Thurbal shouted. “This is an emergency!”
“Excuse me,” Akabar said. “I’m a mage. What’s wrong? Can I be of some assistance?”
“Thank Tymora!” the captain exclaimed. “Come with me, please.” He took the Turmishman’s arm and hustled him across the front hall toward the tower’s main staircase.
Hurrying behind them, Alias asked anxiously, “Thurbal, what’s wrong, anyway?”
Without breaking his stride, Thurbal explained, “Some fiend from a lower plane has broken into the tower.”
“That’s impossible,” Alias interrupted. “Elminster has warded the tower against—”
“So we all thought,” Thurbal said. “The Harper bard Kyre says the creature is from the Nine Hells, however, and it’s barricaded itself behind a wall of ice. The creature is in the same passage where the Nameless Bard is imprisoned. Harper Kyre transported herself beyond the wall magically to help Nameless, but the rest of us are stuck on this side of the wall. We may need a mage to take it down.”
At the mention of Nameless, Alias looked alarmed and began to race up the staircase. Akabar and Thurbal had to take the steps two at a time to keep up with her.
“Head for the west tower room,” Thurbal huffed as they reached the third story.
Alias dashed off ahead of the two men, running past the doors to the Harpers’ courtroom. As she turned the corner of the hallway, she was forced to halt abruptly to avoid running into the wall of ice.
The thing was dismally cold; it made the corridor feel like a fen in winter. Two guards were piling burning torches at its base, but there was no indication whatsoever that the wall was melting.