The three images of Falrinth glowed brightly, as did the shimmering globe of energy, which was no surprise to Shanhaevel. The illusionary spell of the basilisk also glowed, which the elven wizard had almost forgotten. He had expected to see all of those emanations of magic. However, flanking the flaming fountain were two forms that also radiated magic, though they were unmoving. Shanhaevel, taken aback at their presence, studied them for a moment. They were vague in shape, not exactly human in form, and they stood motionless, as though waiting for some instructions of some sort. Puzzled but sensing that they were not immediate threats, Shanhaevel continued his sweep of the area.
Ahleage in statue form glowed, as did a handful of weapons and items in the possession of the various companions. That left only two more sources, one that he expected to find and one he did not. The first, of course, was the elven assassin. She was moving up the hall toward them, having managed to get past Elmo. She seemed to be coming toward the two of them, which suited Shanhaevel just fine. The final magical radiance came from a small creature sitting high on one wall of the wide passageway, near the door where the wizard had entered.
It appeared to be a centipede, about a foot long, and it rested in a crack in the wall, watching everything taking place below. This puzzled Shanhaevel, but he did not have time to dwell on it, for the woman was almost upon them.
“Keep your voice low, and pretend we’re watching the wizard,” Shanhaevel told Shirral. “She’s close. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” the druid whispered. “Tell me where.”
When the assassin had closed so that she was slightly to the side and behind Shirral, Shanhaevel tensed. When he saw the woman draw her weapon back, ready to stab at the druid, he swung around, blocking the blow with his staff as the woman became visible. Surprised at Shanhaevel’s quick reaction, the woman blinked. Shanhaevel took advantage of the situation to hit her hard, right in the midsection, with the other end of his staff.
Shirral turned and pointed to the woman, shouting a single word and summoning magic of the earth. Immediately, a faint purplish glow sprang up around the woman, who had stepped away from Shanhaevel’s attack and was straightening up once more. Shirral had her scimitar out and was advancing on the elven assassin, who smiled and deftly stepped to one side. When Shirral turned to face her, the other woman’s smile turned to a frown, and she backed away, confusion plain on her face.
Elmo, having seen the commotion by the two spellcasters, hurried to join them, and he closed with the woman, who now had a panicked look on her face, realizing she was no longer invisible.
Shanhaevel turned to see what was happening with the others. What he saw shocked and dismayed him. Draga had taken a stand between Govin and the wizard, who was now down to one image. Draga was defending against the knight’s attacks. Govin, refusing to strike his own companion, repeatedly tried to move around the hairy bowman, but Draga would not allow it.
He’s been charmed in some way, Shanhaevel realized. The bastard is using Draga against us.
Shanhaevel moved forward, ready to strike the man down, when Govin stopped pressing his attack and giggled. Shanhaevel faltered in midstep, wondering what the knight could possibly find funny in the midst of a desperate battle. Govin was rooted to the spot though, and his giggle turned to a frill laugh. Dropping his sword and shield, the knight grabbed his sides, doubling over and guffawing, hardly able to breathe.
More magic, Shanhaevel realized. I’m going to get my hands on this bastard’s spellbooks for certain. But first…
Shanhaevel closed with the other wizard again, then stopped, realizing that the spell he had cast to detect magic emanations had reached its limit and winked out, leaving his sight normal again. However, the giant centipede in its niche was still quite visible, though well camouflaged. Shanhaevel suddenly had a very good idea what the horrid insect was.
Quickly, the elf cast. He had only a couple of spells left, but the one he was about to invoke might still prove useful. Summoning the supernatural energies once more, he flung his hand out in the direction of the centipede, which, upon seeing the elf’s gestures, had turned and was trying to retreat into the wall. But it was not fast enough.
In a flash, a long glowing arrow streaked forward, trailing a stream of liquid as it went. The magic arrow struck true, embedding itself in the giant insect and spraying the liquid over it. The centipede writhed in agony and fell free of the niche, dropping to the stone floor below and transforming as it did so. Distantly, Shanhaevel heard the other wizard shriek, and he knew his assumption had been correct.
When the creature hit the floor, it lay still, but it was no longer a centipede. Shanhaevel did not recognize it precisely, but he had no doubt that it was an imp of some type, summoned from the lower planes. Its flesh smoked and sizzled as the liquid, which was a potent acid, soaked and burned it.
“Thank you, Melf,” Shanhaevel muttered, acknowledging the creator of the magic arrow of acid he had just used to slay the imp.
By this time, Govin had ceased his laughing, and Draga was his own self again. Both of them were advancing on Falrinth, whose face looked slightly burned, as if from acid, and who was desperately trying to cast one more spell.
“Get him!” Shanhaevel yelled. “Don’t let him cast again!”
The two warriors were not quick enough. Behind Falrinth, a glowing portal appeared, a doorway framed in strange light, and the mage backed through it, avoiding the oncoming warriors. As soon as he was through, the doorway winked out of existence.
18
“Damn!” Govin growled, flinging his sword through the space where the doorway had been a moment before. “Damn that wizard to the hells!”
The knight spun around, looking for something, anything, to attack. When he saw that there were no enemies, he sighed loudly, and his shoulder sagged.
“If I ever track that wizard down…” he swore, leaving the vow unfinished. “Shanhaevel, I don’t know if you know the spell he used on me, but don’t you ever make me cackle like that. Ever.”
Shanhaevel suppressed a smile. He could only imagine the indignation the knight must feel at having to endure such an ignoble thing. “I would never do that to you,” the elf said, his smile leaking through. “I promise.”
Govin glared at the wizard for a moment, then nodded curtly and pointed behind Shanhaevel. “What in the hells is that?”
Shanhaevel turned and saw that the knight was pointing to the dead imp.
“Exactly,” he answered. “It’s a thing from the hells themselves—an imp of some sort, perhaps a quasit. It was the wizard’s familiar, as Ormiel is mine. I discovered it watching us, and when I killed it, the wizard suffered accordingly. There is a strong bond between mage and familiar. When one suffers, the other suffers also.”
“That’s why he seemed suddenly in agony?” Govin asked. “Why his face seemed burned?”
Shanhaevel nodded. “I would suffer great injury, too, should anything happen to Ormiel.”
“Hmm, well, I guess I know how to get even then, should you ever cast that infernal laughing spell upon me.”
Shanhaevel raised one eyebrow, but the twinkle in Govin’s eye made it clear the knight was merely teasing.
“Let’s see how the others fared,” the knight said.
Shanhaevel turned to see Shirral and Elmo examining the body of the elf woman. Shirral pulled something off the woman’s face and suddenly straightened and stepped back, flinging the item away in disgust.
Govin stepped closer, and Shanhaevel and Draga followed. “What is it?” the bowman asked.
“She’s no elf,” Shirral replied, glaring at the body.
“What do you mean?” Govin asked.
“She was only disguised as an elf,” Elmo explained, his face grave.