"What can we do?" asked Jenna desperately, whirling to confront the Master.
But he was no longer there.
Coryn pushed and pushed, but the viselike pressure resisted her puny strength. The gap in the floor was like a wound closing, shaping itself according to Kalrakin's wishes. The White Robe was caught in a brief slit that felt disturbingly like a coffin, just long and wide enough to accommodate her body. As soon as she had fallen in, it had begun to squeeze shut.
Watching her, Kalrakin smiled and held up his hand; the stone gap immediately stopped closing. Coryn was tightly trapped-she couldn't so much as wriggle-but at least she was able to draw breath.
"What a pretty little rabbit I have snared," declared the sorcerer. To Coryn, from her position lodged beneath the floor, he seemed like a giant covered with smudges of dirty cloud, which trailed off his craggy visage.
"You thought you were pretty clever, I suspect… when you tricked us into letting you live. That is not a mistake I shall make again. Not that your death will be overly speedy, of course. These things take time!"
"No-I wasn't being clever," Coryn said. She searched for words, ideas, anything that would distract Kalrakin and give her a chance to stay alive.
"I was foolish," she said quickly. "Now I am curious. I came here to learn about this place-and it took me a while to understand that you have become the master. I am in awe of your power-I wanted to learn from you!"
"Master… yes. I am Master here. I didn't think you appreciated that."
"Oh, it's obvious," Coryn said. "I should have known it right away. And I'm sorry about taking your food. That was an honest mistake."
"Hah! My food? I have no need of food! This tower is my sustenance." As he spoke he flipped the white stone in his hand, and Coryn found her eyes drawn inexorably to that pearly artifact. It was terribly bright, and created a hypnotic flash of light when he alternately covered it up and revealed it.
Kalrakin looked down at her, clearly enjoying himself. He grinned at her and twisted his hands, drawing the vise of stone just a bit tighter around the White Robe. Coryn strained to breathe, but her elbows were now trapped against her sides, and the pressure was crushing her lungs.
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and apparently the sorcerer did, too. Kalrakin whirled around, white lights flashing all around him, and he shouted.
"I destroyed you once-you have no right to be here!"
Wild sorcery flashed and the floor shook against both of her shoulders, squeezing Coryn even harder. She saw a Black Robe flash past the wall, a haggard old wizard she had never seen before. She blinked, and the wizard's robe had turned to white.
And now it was the face of Par-Salian she saw, looking down at her with a kindly expression. The Master of the Tower nodded once, surprisingly calm in the face of Kalrakin's frenzied cries. Then he vanished in a convulsion of wild magic.
Coryn found herself lying on a bed, alone in a room. She heard an echo of Kalrakin's disbelieving scream, but that faded almost immediately into blessed silence. The wild-magic sorcerer was not here, however, and could not possibly know where she was. For one thing, she didn't know herself.
She sat up and looked around, crying out as her back and hips creaked in pain. Gingerly she moved a bit, realizing with some relief and surprise that she didn't seem to have any broken bones. But where was she?
This room looked vaguely familiar; she guessed she was still in the Tower of High Sorcery. This was a simple sleeping chamber, with a table, desk, wardrobe, and this comfortable bed. And there was a door, with a big lock, secured with a key from the inside.
Of course! This was the room she had slept in on her first visit, the night before she had taken the Test of Magic. But that seemed too easy. She stood up on shaky legs and walked across to the desk. There was nothing on it, nor on the table, which was just as before. Of course, she had thrown a few of her belongings in the wardrobe, things she hadn't taken with her when she had left the Tower rather precipitously. It contained nothing that would help her. She pulled open the wardrobe: There was her water skin, her bedroll, and a few extra pieces of clothing. And then she saw something else, which she had left here and all but forgotten.
It was her stout hunting bow. Beside it rested her plain, but serviceable, quiver of arrows.
The wizards circled through the air outside the Tower. Many of them had vanished, by now, having attacked one of Kalrakin's locked doors and simply disappeared. There was no way to know the fate of those comrades, but Adramis and his sister were rapidly despairing.
"I can't fly much longer," Aenell warned her brother. "My spell is fading."
"Down to the ground, then?" he asked dismally. He would be able to stay in the air for only a few more minutes at the most.
"No, not to the ground," his sister demurred. "We've seen these trapped doors work their magic. But so far no one has followed up after one of our number has vanished. What if the trap is good for but a single use?"
"Interesting…" Before he could say anything else, she dipped away, swooping toward the balcony where Willim the Black had disappeared. She came to rest on the flagstones just outside the door. Adramis hastened after, landing next to her on the balcony, which was about halfway up the north tower.
"Be careful!" he advised "I'll be careful, but you have to admit we don't have many options left."
"Yes. But I will not let you risk your life-stand back, and see what happens to me."
Nodding at his gallantry, Aenell stepped out of the way. She knew better than to try to argue with her brother, and anyway, she would be close by, ready to help him or follow him to death, if necessary.
"Now you be careful!" was all she could say as she fidgeted anxiously, spells of attack and defense tingling in her fingertips. She watched her brother approach the door. He reached out slowly, gingerly put a finger to the wooden surface.
And the portal exploded inward with his touch, vanishing in a shocking display of violence. The force of the blast apparently sucked Adramis inside, for the elf vanished from his sister's view instantaneously, pulled just like the others to some unknown fate inside the Tower.
So she was wrong, Aenell thought bitterly, preparing to follow.
Chapter 27
Grieving of Gods
Kalrakin stared disbelievingly at the empty space where Coryn had been caught in a vise, just moments before. He kicked and swore and frothed at the mouth. Where had she gone? How had she escaped him?
"Bah!" He stalked across the room, calling out, "Luthar!"
"Y-yes, Master?" The other sorcerer nervously appeared.
"I was mistaken to let you talk me into sparing the wench. She continues to taunt me, and I do not intend to tolerate this insolence!"
"Surely you have terrified her to the point where she will never return here!" Luthar argued. "If she has vanished, she had doubtless gone back to her own land, her home. She was a simple child-we should forget her!"
Kalrakin snorted contemptuously. He planted his hands on his hips, the Irda Stone still gleaming brightly in the clasp of his right hand. "Luthar, you give me a very good idea. There are two ways to make sure she never comes back here," the sorcerer declared in a supremely pleased tone. "The first, of course, is to kill her, which I surely will do, when I catch up to the bitch. And the second is to make sure that this place ceases to exist."
He lifted his hands over his head and spread them apart, a gesture that sent ripples of wild magic convulsing through the air. The chandelier, a crystal-and-silver masterpiece that had lasted more than a thousand years, broke free from the ceiling and fell to the floor, smashing into a million glittering shards. Great chunks of stone broke from the ceiling, and the top of one wall collapsed in a loud explosion, smashing half of the banquet table.