Coryn gasped aloud as she beheld a scarred, eyeless face, surrounded by a thin patch of scraggly beard. A wide gash of a mouth gaped in a leering grin, and as that horrid face looked her over, up and down, she drew her robes more tightly about her breasts, and took a step backward.
"A young one, huh?" wheezed the dwarf with a harsh, breathy bark-a sound that Coryn only recognized as a laugh after several seconds. "Dalamar knows I sure likes 'em young! So where is that dark elf scoundrel?" The dwarf's sightless sockets swept across the courtyard. Clearly he could not "see" anything, yet he grinned in satisfaction when his "gaze" fell in Dalamar's direction. "Ah, there he is!"
The dwarf shuffled into the courtyard, toward the blank-face of the foretower. He stopped and turned to face Coryn, enacting an elaborate bow.
"Willim the Black, at yer service," he said with the same hacking chuckle, lewdly emphasizing the last word. Coryn watched, speechless, as he limped toward the foretower.
By this time, Jenna was warmly hugging another newcomer, a red-robed woman, smaller and much older than the Red Lady of Palanthas.
"Rasilyss, my old teacher," Coryn's companion murmured. "May Lunitari be blessed-I never thought to see you again!"
"Bah, girl-you know I never sleep on the Night of the Eye. Yet it has been many years since those moons gave me a thrill such as this one past. I had no choice but to come."
"I know, dear. And thank you," Jenna said before reluctantly breaking the embrace. "Do you remember another of your students, Scharon, of the Icereach?"
"Of course," Rasilyss replied as her eyes fell upon Coryn. "I see a resemblance before me that quite takes my breath away."
"She is my grandmother," Coryn said with a stab of worry. "At least, she was. I have not seen her for many months. I fear her health is failing."
"Have faith, girl. We old grandmothers can be stronger than you know."
"Thank you for the kind words," Coryn said. "And welcome back to the Tower of Sorcery."
There were many more of them coming, now, representatives of all three robes. Most were humans, and the great majority of these were aged, appearing to be considerably older than Jenna. Those who were not old were surprisingly young, in their early twenties or teens, and they gawked around them in wide-eyed wonder as they filed through the gates and bowed to the two robed wizards who met them.
"Ah, these youngsters are the legacy of the previous Head of the White Robes, Palin Majere," Jenna explained. "Many are the students who passed through his academy in Solace- before it was destroyed in the darker hours of the age."
Coryn glanced with interest at some of these fresh-faced students, all of whom met her inspection with expressions approaching awe. A young man, with a red peach-fuzz beard, hastened to kneel at her feet and take her hand, thanking her for the summons. A stout woman in an oversized white robe bowed formally to Coryn, and she batted away the tears in her eyes-tears of gratitude, Cory knew. She was a young person, but twenty years of age or so-old enough to make the White Robe feel acutely aware of her youth in the presence of all of these more experienced magic users.
Two elves came up to her, a surprisingly youthful-looking male and female bearing more than a passing resemblance to each other. "I am Adramis, and this is my sister Aenell. We heard your summons, Mistress, and it has brought us more joy than we have known in four decades."
"Thank you, and welcome," Coryn replied.
"Solinari, in his wisdom has chosen well," offered Aenell, holding her brother's hand in one hand as she reached out the other to clasp Coryn's. "Bless you!"
All the arrivals looked at the Tower with horrified expressions, and soft comments of disapproval and distress could be heard. The wizards in the courtyard spread out to look upon the Tower from all angles. They were growing angry, Coryn realized, and their numbers made her feel much more hopeful.
Here came another dwarf, also a Black Robe, who was followed by several more elves in a small band, a mixture of red and white. Now they were appearing in droves, shuffling by and murmuring their gratitude.
"The Tower has suffered terribly," said one elder White Robe, a tall and slender man who introduced himself as Galarant. "Even in comparison to the suffering inflicted upon the whole of Ansalon, this is blasphemy and desecration. Bless Solinari and all the gods, that we may take this place back."
"Yes, Grandfather," Coryn said. "With his help, we will prevail."
Just then, something exploded in the courtyard. Coryn heard shouts of alarm and saw a residue of dust floating in the air, marking the spot of a violent impact. Two wizards, a White and Red Robe, lay near that place. The Red Robe was twitching and groaning; the White Robe, her garment stained with blood, lay still.
"Damn him-not the slightest warning. A blast of wild magic came from up there," said Galarant, pointing toward a lofty parapet. "I saw the sorcerer for a moment; then he cast the spell. Then he disappeared."
"Spread out!" someone called-Coryn thought it was Jenna-and the wizards were already instinctively obeying.
"There!" cried one of the elf twins, pointing toward a different parapet. Kalrakin stood there, glaring down at them from perhaps halfway up the tower. Several wizards were taking to the air, spells of flying lifting them quickly skyward. Others cast quick spells of attack: lightning bolts, magic missiles, and other violent magical onslaughts, which surged upward.
The wild sorcerer laughed aloud. He held up his right hand, where the Irda Stone glowed brightly. One lightning bolt, lancing through the shadows of twilight, blasted into Kalrakin and simply vanished, causing the stone to pulse briefly brighter. The other spells slammed home and each one disappeared, sucked into the powerful enchantment of the ancient artifact. With each attack the stone shimmered and glowed even stronger until, after the volley had faded away, the object gleamed furiously in the sorcerer's hand.
By this time several of the flying wizards had closed in. A Red Robe was in the lead, a man who lunged for the sorcerer with his hands outstretched. Kalrakin laughed loud again, and his wild magic pulsed; a stab of brilliant light flashed out, tearing through the flying wizard's flesh with brutal violence. Immediately the man fell backward, smoke and flames trailing from his ruined robes. Coryn hoped the poor mage was already dead before he violently struck the unforgiving paving stones.
Other brave flyers veered away. One White Robe-Cory recognized old Bernardus-cast a series of potent missiles that vanished, one after the other, into the artifact. The attack served one purpose, at least, in that the rest of those wizards who had taken to the air were able to dive and swerve out of the sorcerer's line of sight. Bernardus pressed home his onslaught, but then Coryn moaned with horror as a well- aimed bolt of wild magic ripped into his frail body. He, too, tumbled, smoking and charred, out of the sky.
"Fall back!" cried Coryn. "Back to the gates!"
Kalrakin disappeared in a blink. Coryn looked around wildly, expecting him to appear somewhere in the courtyard. Apparently he had retreated back into the Tower, however, for there was no sign of him on the ground.
One by one the wizards drew back from the area just below the Tower walls. Some were limping and several-old friends of those who had been slain-were sobbing quietly. Others glared in fury and hatred at the now vacant balcony from which the sorcerer had launched his vile attacks. Slowly they gathered around the gates, still within the courtyard but, they hoped, out of range of their enemy's attacks. Even if they were in danger here, none were willing to leave the courtyard. After coming this close to their hallowed hall of learning, they were unwilling to quit and retreat.
By now it was almost full night, and the black spires loomed like ghastly tombstones. Black and White and Red Robes mingled within the gossamer gates, muttering and cursing. "How can we fight this?" someone asked.