Ingryl Ambelter grinned like a wolf as his shield did its work, thrusting aside all of the Embra's fury into!-the Baron Phelinndar.
Orlin Andamus Phelinndar's eyes snapped open. He stared despairingly into the Spellmaster's cruelly smiling gaze for one last, dying moment ere baronial eyeballs popped into sizzling ruin, fire raged around inside that skull, and armor surged and buckled from the force of the bubbling, smoking fury beneath. And then the bones that had been Baron Phelinndar slid in a tumbled, smoking heap down the wall, trailing blackened armor, and Ingryl Ambelter spun around to face Embra with the Dwaer in his hands!-and struck back.
In a chamber of gleaming tables and castle candelabras in distant Ragalar, Hulgor Delcamper blinked, growled, and stiffened, feeling a sharpness in the air and an echo of power bursting and surging, as all sight of oily Orlin Downdaggers was swept away, probably forever. The old noble brought his flagon up ready like a mace in one hand and snatched out his belt-knife with the other, tensing for a battle that… did not come, as the air fell silent, and breath after ragged, anxious breath passed.
The Spellmaster had no hope of blasting the lass down, Dwaer to Dwaer!-not with her alert and angry, and all her armed and ready friends close around her, but his lance of magic was ready, and all he had to do was… this.
Into the ragged fire of her Dwaer the fury of his own Stone crashed, and as the opposing powers of the Dwaerindim clawed and roiled, his lance leaped over, and through-and struck home.
"No!" Embra howled, recognizing him even as she wrestled his attack aside. "Ambelter, you snake, get you gone from my mind."
In a fury she threw him out, and fought to shape the fire of her Dwaer into a blade to strike back at him!-but his own Dwaer was already flashing, whirling the Spellmaster away in a vanishing that left a singing, shimmering Dwaer-maze in his wake.
"Longfingers!" Hawkril roared, as he hacked down another Melted and all the rest suddenly froze where they stood like so many statues. "What magic's that?"
Craer found his feet, disgust on his face as the baubles he'd been snatching up crumbled into dust between his fingers, and said sourly, "A wildfield, or some such: it banishes you anywhere if you enter. I'd say that whatever mage just escaped us left it behind him so that we can't use a spell to trace him, even with a Dwaer."
He turned his head, and saw Tshamarra writhing in soundless agony, tendrils of smoke streaming from her. Embra Silvertree was on her knees not far away, clutching a wand and a flickering Dwaer to her breast as if they were wounded children. Her face was wet with tears, and she was trembling.
The armaragor and the procurer sprinted across the cavern like men possessed.
"Embra!" Craer howled, long before he reached his stricken lady. "I need your healing here!"
Lady Silvertree did not reply. Hawkril fell to his knees as he skidded to a halt, and put his arms around her as gently as a feather seeking the earth. "Lass," he rumbled, "how fare you?"
"He… touched my mind," the Lady of Jewels whispered. "Trying to enslave me through the old enchantments. Ingryl Ambelter, the Spellmaster of Silvertree Castle, lives yet!-and he's stronger than ever."
Arkle Huldaerus came awake out of a vengeful dream as magic thrummed through him, washing over him with only a hint of its full fury. He blinked up into a young, beautiful, and unfamiliar face bent close to his, and thus lit dearly in the spark-shot glow of the magic she was hurling at his chains, and shook his head. Surely he was still asleep, and dreaming?
No, Master of Bats, this is no dream.
The mind-voice was so strong and cold and cruel that Huldaerus was stunned, too awed to even breathe.
A chain parted, and he fell a few feet down the wall, fetching up at the end of the remaining chain with a jerk. Manacled and swaying helplessly, he dared not even cower. How could one so young have such power? Such fell wisdom?
Oh, of course, how foolish of him. 'Twas a spellspun disguise, it must be. Long, raven-dark hair falling in smooth splendor over a clinging black gown. Slender hips, great dark eyes-a semblance that would make more than one man swallow at the sight of her.
The Master of Bats swallowed now, as the last chain was severed in a burst of calmly wielded magical fire, and he fell to the floor of his prison cell. The landing was hard, but bats fluttered up from his boots and sleeves as he bounced and winced, and he smiled up at them.
The young sorceress waved a casual hand, and unseen magic snatched Huldaerus briskly to his feet, steadying him when his long-unused legs wobbled. He clung to the wall, drawing in deep, shuddering breaths, and when he trusted himself to stand, turned to face his unknown rescuer and gave her a smile. She'd freed him, and still stood here, so it followed that she wanted something of him.
"Arkle Huldaerus, at your service, Lady," he said, his voice starting out rough but sounding pleasant enough after a few words. "And you are-?"
The sorceress smiled, something dancing in her eyes that made the heart of the Master of Bats, lonely recluse that he was, leap in sudden hope. Wisps of magic stirred about her, cloaking her in a soft halo of spell-glow, and he dared to let his smile widen, and his hand extend in friendsh-
Magic slammed him back against the wall so hard that one shoulder shattered audibly, and a rib gave way below it. Huldaerus writhed, pinned helplessly, as that same thrusting force casually crushed one of his bats after another, as a bored vintner might squash grapes, plucking each out of the dark air and whisking it to within a handlength of his nose before slaying it.
As the small, brittle, and very dead lumps pattered wetly to the stones, each weakening and sickening him with its fall, he became aware through tears of pain that the darkly beautiful face looking into his had changed.
Framed by that long, magnificent hair now was a human skull, grinning at him with eyes that were two glittering lights of old and mighty mockery. They were the last thing to remain, as the lithe body and then the bone-face melted away from around them-and then one of them winked, and they vanished, too.
Arkle Huldaerus leaned against the wall in utter darkness, spitting blood onto the unseen stones at his feet, and felt his manacle-free wrists in slow disbelief. Any moment now he'd awaken properly, and find himself back on that cold and endlessly patient wall…
But when at last he stumbled away from where he'd been chained, letting his fingers trail along the stones, and felt his way to the cold, unseen metal of the cell door, the Master of Bats knew the visitation and his freeing had truly happened.
An unknown, deadly beauty of a sorceress had freed him, made it clear she could casually slay him whenever she pleased, and departed. Someone who'd found him here, alone and enfeebled, and so could find him again whenever she desired.
Arkle Huldaerus shuddered, suddenly feeling the cold, and leaned against the door. He had to get far away from Aglirta, and stay there this time.
If he was even going to be allowed a "this time."
Tshamarra Talasorn drew in a sudden, shuddering breath. Her hands quivered as if she'd been about to snatch them away from Embra and the icy healing mists of the Dwaer. Yet she bit her lip, tears streaming down her cheeks, and kept on holding her hands out-just as steadfastly as Craer was holding her, his arms wrapped around her shoulders comfortingly, his cheek against hers. Her breath caught again, and Embra glanced up from her work.
"Almost done," the Lady of Jewels murmured. "Can you move them?"
Tshamarra wriggled her fingers cautiously, and nodded, trying to smile.
"How do they feel?"
"Tight-as if the skin doesn't fit. They're… Forgive me, Em, but they're too long and thin and graceful-like yours. I'm shorter, see?"