Several yards ahead, a white-yellow light, roughly circular, awaited her. Seconds later, the five of them blasted out into the open air. Mialee gaped as the party rode the spell up, up, up, and then down, down, down into the forest, where Ehlonna's personal protection kept the molten stone from burning her children.
"Gods," Mialee whispered, "it's beautiful."
Her concentration broke. The shield spell fizzed and died. Gravity and entropy pulled the five apart only a few feet before they crashed into the boughs of an enormous old Silath tree.
With a chorus of cracked wood, barked curses, and terrified screams, they dropped gradually through the tree to the ground.
Mialee marveled. They'd landed smack in the middle of Silatham. The undead were dead, and the elven village was alive.
Epilogue
…Mialee smiled over her glass of milk at the last remaining family in Silatham. She raised her glass to Pell's warm grin when he caught her glance. Ehlonna's newest cleric-and the reason the lot of them weren't all still lying on the ground covered with burns-clasped Zalyn's golden holy symbol and nodded, mouthing thank you. Delia and Hound-Eye played a game of hide-and-seek with little Nialma, who they all knew was under the bed in the next room. Still the halfling loudly professed that rat-girl had just disappeared. That drew excited giggles from beneath the bed, and the sound rang like music through the cozy home. The living village had saved Nialma's parents from the fire. Now, it seemed, the family might be about to grow by one growling halfling.
Mialee leaned back in her chair and stretched, yawning and considering. The music, and Ehlonna herself, had kept the mountain in check. Morsilath stewed, rumbling now and then, but had not covered the land with lava.
"Of all the damn-fool luck," Devis had said when they'd dropped with a thud amid the zombie carnage.
Silatham's survival was miraculous, but the cost to its population had been dear. Thousands now lay rotting outside, gray meat-things covered with flies. They'd cleared this house-Pell and Delia's-of the foul things, but the village needed time to rest. A long cleanup job lay ahead for the last ranger of Silatham. Favrid and Zalyn were gone, but Soveliss had sworn on the Mor-Hakar he would see the place filled again with life within his years.
"And who knows, I might reach two-thousand yet," the elf said after taking his oath.
"Check this out," Devis said, scooting into the chair next to Mialee's at the table. "Pell had a bottle of very, very old dwarf whiskey. I saw a man get killed over a bottle of this stuff in Dogmar. It's incredible."
He smacked the bottle on the table in front of her and placed a pair of shot glasses on either side. "I have milk."
"Mialee, we just saved the world. Have a drink with me." Mialee pushed her milk aside and grinned at the bard. "One drink?" he asked. "One drink," she said.