The subcommander swallowed hard and motioned to the archers, pointing out different targets—Palin Majere, Gilthanas, Ulin, Feril, and the burliest of the prisoners. In that instant, Dhamon rushed forward. Gilthanas joined his mad charge, even as the sorcerer had begun an enchantment.
Feril, stunned by Dhamon’s arrival, quickly came to her senses. There’d be time for an explanation later—if they lived. She reached inside her pouch and tugged free a sea shell. Ulin was behind her also, mumbling the words of a spell.
Palin had settled on an incantation just as Dhamon arrived. The astonishing return of the former knight threw him, and he had to concentrate to keep from tripping over the words to the enchantment. As he recited the arcane syllables, an arrow streaked by him, piercing the throat of one of the prisoners. Another streaked by, and he heard Ulin groan behind him.
“Son?” Palin whispered as the spell finished and tiny fragments of gold and silver, of ruby, emerald, and jacinth filled the air. The dying light of the sun touched the objects, and as the pieces spun about, they reflected a kaleidoscope of blinding color. Some of the knights threw their arms up to shield their eyes. But too late, Palin’s spell had blinded them—and practically all of the prisoners as well.
The sorcerer glanced behind him. Ulin was on the ground near the dying campfire, an arrow protruding from his back. “Ulin!”
Gilthanas darted toward his intended target, the Knight of the Thorn, but his path was quickly blocked by a knight wielding a two-handed blade. The elf barely stepped aside as the sword arced down, whistling through the still air.
Dhamon was near the Qualinesti, swinging the glaive in wide, sweeping motions. He was unaccustomed to the weapon, used to fighting with swords. At first this weapon seemed unwieldy, then it seemed amazing.
The glaive glowed faintly blue as it struck the raised long sword of a charging knight and cut the blade cleanly in half. The glaive continued its arc, slicing through the black mail of the knight as if the armor were thin cloth. It easily parted the man’s flesh beneath, blood spurting out to cover Dhamon’s chest and face. The Knight of Takhisis was dead before he struck the ground.
Dhamon spun about, blinking to clear his eyes, and found himself facing a pair of advancing knights. Holding firmly to the lower part of the glaive’s haft, he swung the weapon at waist height. Again it sliced through weapons and armor and two more men fell.
Subcommands Gistere saw his archers aim at Dhamon, and yelled to them to redirect their arrows, **At Palin Majere!” he shouted. “This one’s mine.”
Dhamon cut down three more knights as Gistere took a step forward, then halted in a defensive stance, with his long sword in one hand and a buckler shield in the other.
Dhamon whirled, dropping two more knights. Though he was practically covered in blood, none of it was his own. He eyed the subcommander. “Call your men off!” Dhamon cried. “There doesn’t have to be any more killing.”
Gistere shook his head and raised his long sword. Perhaps if he could wound the man just enough to make him drop that cursed weapon…. He glanced at his four archers, and noted with relief that they all still lived. Two were peppering the prisoners and the third had struck the younger sorcerer in the back and the Qualinesti in the shoulder. The fourth was sighting the Kagonesti. “His shoulder, his legs!”—the sub-commander shouted to the fourth archer, pointing to Dhamon—“nothing else!”
The archer complied and sank two arrows into Dhamon’s right thigh, just enough to hobble him. The subcommander stepped forward and adjusted the hold on his sword so he could swing with the flat of his blade. Alive, Malystryx hissed a warning inside his head. And I want his weapon.
Meanwhile, the Knight of the Thorn crouched behind a fellow knight, protecting herself from Gilthanas. The sorceress pointed a long-nailed finger at the Qualinesti, who had been slowed by an arrow lodged deep in his shoulder. The sorceress smiled at the elf’s pain and uttered a string of words indecipherable to those around her.
But Gilthanas knew what the woman was saying. A spell-caster himself, though he often relied more on a sword, the elf gritted his teeth, thrust forward with the cutlass, and waited for the inevitable. A streak of orange-red light extended from the Knight of the Thorn’s finger to the elf’s chest. Prepared for it, Gilthanas was better able to take the electrifying pain. He thrust forward again, this time slipping past the mailed knight’s defenses. Rig’s cutlass carved deep into the man’s belly, and he fell to the ground.
The magical beam continued to pulse from her finger as Gilthanas tugged free the sword with a considerable amount of effort. The elf glared at the black-robed woman and dropped to his knees, the pain starting to overcome him and paralyze his limbs. Gilthanas tried to lift the blade, and cursed when another jolt rushed through him. His fingers trembled uncontrollably, and the cutlass slipped from his hand.
“Die, Qualinesti,” the Knight of the Thorn commanded. It was all Gilthanas could do to keep from crying out. He fell forward on his hands, his entire body quivering. “Die, elf!”
“No!” Feril shouted. The Kagonesti had completed her own enchantment and hurled the sea shell at the Knight of the Thorn. The shell stopped in midair above the woman’s head, and a heartbeat later the air surrounding her shimmered blue-green. Beads of water stood out against her black robes and spread like a sheen of sweat across her face.
The sorceress gasped and drew her hands to her chest, ending the spell that had tormented Gilthanas. More sea-scented water collected on her skin and garments. The Knight of the Thorn whimpered and fell, foam flecking about her wide nostrils and mouth. Even Gilthanas was impressed by the unusual magic. Feril had turned the air to sea water in the atmosphere immediately surrounding the sorceress and had drowned her.
The Qualinesti struggled to his feet and wrenched free the arrow that was stuck in his shoulder. “My thanks” he nodded to Feril, as he snatched up the cutlass and looked about. His shoulder throbbed and his arm was growing numb, but he shoved the pain to the back of his mind. Feril was occupied with directing the trees and vines in the area to join the struggle. They were snaking forward to bind the men.
When a knight rushed up to check on the fallen sorceress, Gilthanas hurried forward to meet him. Their blades clashed, and both drew back to raise their swords again. The Qualinesti dropped to the ground, rolled forward under the knight’s next swing, and drove Rig’s cutlass into the man’s stomach.
Gilthanas heard startled cries from somewhere behind him. Feril’s plants had entangled several of the knights, and they were panicked by what was happening. The elf charged at another knight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dhamon slice through two more, then pause to tug the arrows out of his leg. The ground was red with blood, and the wild-looking fighter had to be careful not to stumble over so many fallen bodies.
Palin Majere glanced over his shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief. His son still lived. Ulin had pushed himself into a sitting position. Palin returned his attention to the scintillating lights that still filled the air of half of the clearing. Focusing, he increased the potency of the spell. The gem shards and bits of gold and silver glowed brighter—like sparks from a fire— and spun toward the knights, burning the faces and hands of those who were not entwined by the foliage.
Ulin added to the threat. The younger sorcerer was directing all of his waning energy at the embers in the campfire. The pieces of wood, hot as coals, rose under his command and streaked toward the men. His fingers pointed out targets, and the coals unerringly obeyed. Ulin could barely maintain consciousness. He knew he was losing a considerable amount of blood.
Feril crouched as two arrows cut through the air only a few inches above her head. She reached into the pouch at her side, dropped to all fours, then rolled as another barrage of arrows shot by. She sprang to her feet and stumbled toward Dhamon in time to see him carve through another knight and take a step closer to the subcommander.