"Waste… of… time." It was Melegaunt who gasped this. He grabbed Galaeron and pulled him close. "Promise me-"
A flurry of splashing near Takari interrupted the archwizard. She cried out and began to hack blindly at the pool. "Where is it, Galaeron?" she yelled. "Which way?" 'To your-"
"Elf!" Melegaunt boomed, jerking Galaeron to him with a strength born of his dying magic.
"Don't worry, Melegaunt," Galaeron said, trying to rise. "I remember: 'Hear me now, People of Shade-
"No!" Melegaunt gasped, now loosing his strength. "You must leave it… to the princes, or you'll be… lost."
Galaeron started to promise, but stopped when the sour clang of a breaking sword sounded from the far wall. Takari cried out-no longer calling for him, just shrieking-and he turned to find her slashing at the pool with a broken sword, Jhingleshod and Wulgreth rolling across the surface in front of her.
Vala started across the pool. "Move left, Takari!" she yelled. "And don't panic. I'm coming."
"Malik!" Galaeron started toward the battle. "Hold Melegaunt" "Galaeron!" Melegaunt demanded. "No more spells." "Yes, I promise."
Seeing Malik approach, Galaeron started to push Melegaunt over-until the archwizard's fingers dug deep into his arm, drawing blood and pouring a dark river of anguish into him. Galaeron's knees buckled, and he slipped beneath the surface, swallowing a mouthful of silvery liquid. Swirling shadows filled his mind, then he began to feel weightless and weak, and his last conscious thought was that Melegaunt had finally betrayed him, that the archwizard had used his shadow magic to switch bodies.
Then Malik was pounding him on the back, yelling in his ear. "Cough it out, stupid elf!"
A heavy blow landed on Galaeron's back, then he opened his eyes to find Melegaunt floating in front of him, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. He had no memory after his mind began to fill with swirling shadows, no idea how long he had been beneath the surface with Melegaunt-or of what had happened there. His mind felt heavy and clouded with darkness, his head ached as though it would split, and his lungs were burning for air. He had to have been under for a good long while.
Another blow landed on Galaeron's back, and he realized the little man was holding him up by the collar, trying to hide behind the Karsestone while Jhingleshod continued to wrestle with Wulgreth. Vala stood pressed against the wall, one hand ineptly flailing at the lich with her sword, the other holding Takari's broken and bloodied body above the surface.
"What happened?" Galaeron gasped. He could not help wondering just what Melegaunt had done to him-but now was hardly the time to puzzle it out, not with Takari wounded and the phaerimm on the way The last time he saw Takari, she was blind but still healthy. "What happened to my scout?"
"What do you think happened?" Malik released him. "Wulgreth struck her while you were doing your pool dance with Melegaunt's corpse."
"Pool dance?" Galaeron gasped. "Never mind! Keep a watch on the phaerimm."
Galaeron shoved Malik toward the tunnel, then pushed off the Karsestone-and that was when he understood why they had not been able to find Wulgreth's phylactery Liches always stored their life-forces in something of great worth, something hard to destroy and harder to find.
Jhingleshod went limp and vanished beneath the surface. Wulgreth spun toward Galaeron, tiny forks of green lightning dancing on the fingertips of his one remaining arm. For an instant-for more than an instant-Galaeron thought the lich had finally destroyed its ancient servant. The elf thought he would be next.
Then Jhingleshod came up beneath Wulgreth, lifting him out of the pool. The lich twisted his one arm around behind his back, fingers spraying his life-stealing magic into Jhingleshod's iron breastplate. A loud, watery knelling echoed off the cavern walls, and Jhingleshod wailed in unearthly pain. Had the magic been powerful enough to destroy him, Galaeron knew, the lifeless knight would gladly have endured the suffering. As it was, it only melted a hole in his armor and filled the air with a forgelike stench. Galaeron sloshed forward and plunged his magic sword into the lich's fiery eye socket.
Wulgreth howled in rage, and the elven steel began to melt and sag. Galaeron started to blast the lich with his magic bolts, then remembered his promise to Melegaunt and drew his dagger, flinging it into the other eye in one smooth motion.
The blade sank deep-then vanished in a flash of blue flame. "Galaeron!"
Galaeron glanced toward the voice and saw Vala's black sword spinning toward him. The pool swirled around his legs as Wulgreth kicked at him. He dodged sideways, caught the black hilt and winced in pain-it was still as cold as a night hag's kiss-then brought the dark blade across the lich's neck.
Wulgreth's head toppled into the pool, then bobbed to the surface and spun toward Galaeron, eyes still burning with hatred. It shrieked, "You won't destroy-" And Galaeron brought the darksword down again, cleaving the head in two, then forced himself to hold the flesh-freezing hilt and hack at the lich's body until all of the pieces sank out of sight Then, when no counterattack came and he began to believe none would, something bumped his back. He turned to find the two halves of the skull still surging toward him. He cried out and backed away, raising the darksword to strike yet again.
"What are you doing?" Jhingleshod snatched the halves of the skull out of the pool. "Well need those!"
Galaeron stared at the iron knight in uncomprehending shock, then slowly began to understand that it was over, that Wulgreth had been hacked and blasted into so many pieces that it would take him the better part of a tenday to draw himself together again.
Galaeron lowered the sword. "That's right," he said, realizing that Jhingleshod believed they would destroy this Wulgreth in the same way they had the demilich. "Hold onto those pieces until we find the phylactery."
Even had he the heart, Galaeron knew better than to tell the iron knight what he had surmised about the Karsestone. His heart feeling almost as cold and numb as the hand that held the darksword, he waded over to the wall and returned Vala's blade, then laid his icy hand on Takari's mangled shoulder.
"This will slow the bleeding," he said. "And don't worry. We'll be back in Rheitheillaethor before you know it."
Takari opened her eyes and pushed his hand away. "No, Galaeron. You made your choice." amp; €› •(c)• •(c)••‹§›•
Another death scream rolled across the brown water, muted by the gossamer curtain of steam, yet still accusatory in its anguish. Laeral ducked beneath the surface and swam toward the voice, using her magic to move almost as fast underwater as she could have through the cold dawn air.
After her garbled sending to Elminster (she still had no idea if he had understood her), she had taken an escort often warriors and ten war mages through the new gate to Roc-nest-and promptly been ambushed by a half dozen phaerimm. Though they were prepared for that possibility-even expected it-all of their magic protections were dispelled before they cast a single spell.
At that point, Laeral should probably have ordered her small company to teleport back to Waterdeep. Instead, desperate to discover what had become of Khelben and hoping to recapture the gate, she moved her group to the rim of the basin. Four of the phaerimm rushed to press the attack, driving her company into the Marsh of Chelimber before they had time to regroup. In the confusion that followed, the small force became separated, and the phaerimm began to pick them off one at a time. She managed to slay two of the creatures during the long night, but those losses had been more than replaced by reinforcements from Evereska.
The thornbacks were using their magic to heat the marsh. Having raised the temperature to a simmer already, they no doubt intended to either force their prey out of hiding or boil it alive. Neither possibility frightened Laeral, for she could easily teleport back to Waterdeep before either grew necessary-but she was loathe to abandon those who could not.