Light from the magic missile flowed through the insubstantial form, lending it the fire and brilliance of sunset clouds. The titanic image of Procopio hurled the fireball, which tore through the Mulhorandi's cloud form like a javelin. The elemental staggered back, already beginning to dissipate, the edges of its body peeling off into wisps of cloud. Procopio followed with a lightning-sword spell. His elemental's blade took on a jagged edge and a livid blue hue. Procopio willed the elemental to slash again and again at the cloudy form of his enemy and partner.
At last the gigantic image of Ameer faded away. Procopio held the spell, and for a long moment his storm elemental stood in the sky like an avenging god, holding aloft the lightning sword as if daring the other cloud forms to pass.
None of the elementals took his challenge. They dissipated as the Mulhorandi wizards retreated, putting their energies to other, less risky spells. Procopio released the cloud form and stooped to pick up the small book that fell from the empty air to land on the deck near his feet Without sparing it more than a glance, he thrust it into the enchanted bag that would send it to his library. He knew what the book was and what its return meant. This was the spellbook that Ameer Tukephremo had risked so much to win. Its return to Procopio signaled the wizard's death. Procopio sank onto a bench, exhausted by the casting, but his face wore a smile. Halruaa would not soon forget the image of a titanic Procopio, standing triumphant against all challengers. He might not have done all the things he had planned, but his triumphs might prove to be enough.
Kiva rose and clenched her fist around the emerald deeply aware of the hundred souls that cried out for release. The elf woman felt their pain as if from a very great distance. Her own pain had been lost to her long ago, her heart encased in something far harder than green stone.
The necromancer's cold fingers closed around hers, and 8 the magic she had labored over for nearly two hundred years caught them and swept them away. They flew through the liquid magic as if they had beet sucked into a rising waterspout. Up they went, caught in a vastly powerful spell that thrust them across the worlds and through the gate. Like an arrow suddenly loosed from a bow, they hurtled up through the thin and empty air. The gate slammed shut behind them with booming finality. The sheer power of the spell reverberated through Kiva's bones and exploded into white-hot pain. All light and sound and sensation simply, suddenly, stopped.
Later-Kiva had no way of knowing exactly how much later-the world slowly came back to life. She eased her eyes open, listened as the ringing in her ears faded away. As her senses slowly reawakened, she realized that the ground beneath her was soft and yielding.
She struggled into a sitting position and looked wildly around. Instead of the rocky clearing where the spring had leaked water from the almost-closed gate, she reclined or an enormous carpet that, in turn, undulated gently on a cloud.
The necromancer sat cross-legged, studying her with something approaching respect. "I did not expect so powerful a spell. You have worked hard, little elf, and grown further in Art than I had anticipated. Later, you will show me this spell."
She would deal with «later» when it came. Perhaps by then she would be able to learn what magic had gathered around the gate and thrust them so powerfully out of the watery plane.
"The battle?" Akhlaur prompted. Gathering herself, she directed him to the point of invasion. They arrived just in time to see the giant cloud forms grappling in the sky, to witness the victory of a storm elemental with close-cropped curls and a face like a hawk's.
"Ingenious," Akhlaur murmured. "I admire a man who studies the magic of his enemies."
The Mulhorandi forces still outnumbered the Halruaan fighters on the ground. A wave of dark-clad infantry swept forward, and a tremble of anticipation ran through the waiting cavalry.
"The Halruaan army will be destroyed," Kiva said.
"Not necessarily. A water elemental might stem the tide-a truly gigantic creature that could crush the cavalry underfoot."
Kiva swept a hand over the barren plain. "There is no water in sight, my lord."
"No?" He smirked. "You have forgotten your lessons, little elf. Man is made of flesh and blood-endlessly mutable flesh and blood. What is the primary component of all this flesh and blood?"
She nodded, suddenly understanding. "Water! Of course!"
Akhlaur lifted his webbed hands and began to chant. A gray cloud grew overhead, grumbling and quivering. There was a sudden explosion, and a torrent of rain rose up into the cloud.
The warriors directly under the spell cloud immediately dissolved into desiccated bone. Others fell in withered heaps of bone-wrapped skin. Like the ripples cast by an enormous stone, the wave of devastation spread. The army of the Mulhorandi fell by the hundreds, the thousands. The fluids that gave them life flowed upward into the waiting cloud.
As swiftly as thought, the cloud began to take shape. Legs as thick as a wizard's tower descended and slammed into the ground. Shards of bone flew like grapeshot as dozens of skeletons shattered from the impact. The cloud creature turned and began to stalk through the ranks of the invaders.
The Mulhorandi wizards hurled spell after spell at the water elemental. It trampled them or snatched them up and swallowed them. Drowning men swirled through the fluids of their slain comrades, frantically beating at the magical «skin» of the strange elemental.
"There you have it," Akhlaur said with satisfaction. "The elemental will finish the Mulhorandi, then turn upon the Halruaans. I will be most interested to see what Zalathorm employs against this monster."
Matteo stood at King Zalathorm's side, staring aghast at the gruesome elemental. "Who in the Nine bloody Hells summoned that?"
"No one I know can do such a thing!" the king said. "But at least it is fighting for us."
"At the moment, yes. If the tide turns, so to speak, we must be ready."
Even as he spoke, the elemental turned ponderously around and began to pace toward the Halruaan line.
Matteo swore under his breath. "What is the largest creature you could hope to summon?"
"The largest land creature is a roc," Zalathorm said, naming an eaglelike monster large enough to carry an elephant in its talons, "but the nearest dwells in the deserts of Calimshan."
The jordain thought fast. "Can you do a spell of fire permutation?"
"Of course."
"Contact every wizard in the air and on the ground. On my count have them release the largest fireball spells they know directly at the elemental. You will cast the permutation."
"The spell will transmute one fire," the king reminded him.
"One fire," Matteo agreed. "Capture the fireballs as they converge into a single flame."
The king snorted. "You have a high opinion of my powers, and my wizards' aim."
"This requires good timing," Matteo admitted, "and stray fireballs will diminish the size of the elemental."
The king nodded and touched a hand to the Globe of Elders. He gave the order, and Matteo began the count. On his mark, fireballs flashed from every skyship, from flying steeds and from wizards yet on the ground. They soared toward the elemental from every direction. When Matteo dropped his hand, the king shouted a single word.
Airborne fire converged into a flaming roc. A wave of heat swept over the valley as the firebird seized the water elemental in its talons and winged away. Both creatures diminished in a geyser of steam-a land-bound comet that flamed orange and purple against the sunset sky.
Zalathorm let out a triumphant whoop. "The fire roc's taking it away!"