The monster crouched. Its wolflike feet tamped down,and the muscles of its powerful haunch bunched in preparation for the spring.Mulander did not bother to dispel the magical shield. The monster retainedenough of a resemblance to his mother for him to enjoy its roar of pain as theforce field shattered upon impact.
Enjoyable, too, was the wide-eyed shock on the face ofthe young drow. She regained her composure with admirable speed and sent a pairof knives spinning into the monster's face. Mulander knew a moment's supremeelation when the blades sank into those too-familiar green eyes.
The monster shrieked with rage and anguish, raking itsface with owl-like talons in an effort to dislodge the knives. Long bloodyfurrows crisscrossed its face before the drow's knives finally clattered to thecave's floor. Blinded and enraged, the creature advanced toward the dark elfgirl, its dripping hands wildly groping the air.
The drow snatched a bola from her belt, whirled itbriefly, and let fly. The weapon spun toward the blinded creature, and wrappedtightly around its neck. Gurgling, the monster tore at the leather thongs. Asharp snap resounded through the cavern, quickly followed by a grating roar.Sniffing audibly as it sought its prey, Mulander's monster dived withoutstretched talons toward the drow girl.
But the drow rose into the air, as swift and asgraceful as a dark hummingbird, and the monster fell facedown upon the cavernfloor. It quickly rolled onto its back and leaped up onto its feet. Athunderous rush filled the cavern as its batlike wings began to beat. It roseslowly, awkwardly, and began to pursue the drow.
The young wizard tossed a giant web at the monster;the creature tore through it with ease. She bombarded it with a barrage ofdeath darts, but the weapons bounced harmlessly off the creature's plated body.
The drow summoned a bolt of glistening black lightningand hurled it like a javelin. To Mulander's dismay, the bolt slashed downwardthrough one leathery wing. Shrieking with rage, the monster traced a tightspiral to the cavern floor and landed with a stone-shaking crash.
No matter, the magical battle had taken its toll onthe drow maid as well. She sank slowly toward the cavern floor, and toward thejaws of the wounded but waiting monster.
Her golden eyes grew frantic and darted towardMulander's gloating face.
"Enough!" she shrieked. "I know whatyou need-dispel the creature, and I will give you what you want without furtherbattle. This I swear, by all that is dark and holy!"
A smile of malevolent satisfaction crossed the RedWizard's face. He trusted no oath from any drow, but he knew that her battlespells were nearly exhausted. Nor was he surprised that she had lost heart forthe battle. The girl was pathetically young-she looked to be about twelve orthirteen by the measure of humankind. Despite her fell heritage and magicalprowess, she was still a callow lass and thus no match for such as he.
"Toss the key to me," he told her.
"The monster," she pleaded.
Mulander hesitated, then shrugged. Even without themagical construct, he was more than the equal of that elf child. With a flickof one hand, he sent the monster back into whatever nightmares had spawned it.But with the other, he summoned a fireball large enough to hurl the drowagainst the far wall of the cavern and leave nothing of her but a grease spot.He saw by the fear in her eyes that she understood her position.
"Here-it's in here," the girl saidfrantically, reaching into a pouch at her waist and fumbling about.
Her efforts were hampered by her own fear. Her breathcame in exhausted little gasps and sobs, and her thin shoulders shook withterrified weeping. Finally she took out a tiny silken bag and held it high.
"The key is in here," she said. "Takeit, please, and let me go!"
The Red Wizard deftly caught the bag she tossed him,then shook a small glistening sphere into his palm. It was a protectivebubble-a bit of magic easily cast and easily dispelled-that contained adelicate vial of translucent green glass. And within that vial was the tinygolden key that promised freedom and power.
Had he glanced at the drow child, Mulander might havewondered why her eyes were dry despite her weeping, why she no longer seemedto have any difficulty maintaining her ability to levitate. Had he taken hisgaze from that longed-for key, he might have recognized the look of coldtriumph in her golden eyes. He had seen that expression once before, briefly,on the face of his own apprentice.
But pride had blinded him to treachery once before,and had lured him into a mistake that had condemned him to lifelong slavery.
When understanding finally came, Mulander knew thatthat mistake would truly be his last.
CHAPTER 7
Liriel Baenre returned to Menzoberranzan after a meretwo days, battered and bereft of a bit of her abundant white hair, but grimlytriumphant. Or so everyone assumed. Not until the ceremony was she required togive formal proof of her kill.
All of House Shobalar gathered in the throne room ofMatron Hinkutes'nat for the coming-of-age ceremony. It was required, but mostcame anyway for the vicarious pleasure to be had in witnessing the grislyrelics, and to relive the pride and pleasure of their own first kills. Suchmoments reminded all present of what it meant to be drow.
At Narbondel, the darkest hour, Liriel stepped forwardto claim her place among her people. To Xandra Shobalar, her mistress andmentor, she was required to present the ritual proof.
For a long moment, Liriel held the older wizard'sgaze, staring into Xandra's crimson orbs with golden eyes that were cold andfathomless-full of unspoken power and deadly promise. That, too, was somethingshe had learned from her dreaded father.
When at last the older wizard's gaze faltered uncertainly,Liriel bowed deeply and reached into the bag at her waist. She took from it asmall green object and held it high for all to see. There were murmurs as someof the Shobalar wizards recognized the artifact for what it was.
"You surprise me, child," Xandra saidcoldly. "You who were anticipating a 'gallant hunt,' to trap and slay yourprey with such a device."
"A child no more," Liriel corrected her.
A strange smile crossed her face, and with a quick,vicious movement, she threw the vial to the floor.
The crystal shattered, a delicate, tinkling sound thatechoed long in the stunned silence that followed-for standing before theMistress of Magic, his green eyes glowing with malevolence, was the humanwizard. He was very much alive, and in one hand he held the golden collar thathad imprisoned him to Xandra's will.
With a speed that belied his years, the human conjureda crimson sphere of light and hurled it, not at Xandra, but at the dark elfmale who stood guard at the rear door. The hapless drow shattered into bloodyshards. Before anyone could draw breath, the bits of flesh whirled into the airand began to take on new and dreadful shapes.
For many moments, everyone in the throne room was busyindeed. The Shobalar wizards and priestesses hurled spells, and the fightersbattled with arrows and swords winged creatures given birth by their drowcomrade's death.
At last, there was only Xandra and the wizard, standingnearly toe to toe and blazing with eldritch light as their spells attacked andriposted with the speed and verve of a swordmasters' dual. Every eye in thethrone room, drow and slave alike, was fixed upon the deadly battle, and allwere lit with vicious excitement as they awaited the outcome.
Finally, one of the Red Wizard's spells slipped pastXandra's defenses. A daggerlike stab of light sliced the drow's face fromcheekbone to jaw. The flesh parted in a gaping wound, deep enough to reveal thebones beneath.