looked so beautiful. Narm started to weep again. Through the tears, he saw the elf, Merith, guiding Tbrm through the tricky entrance to the smaller cavern beyond where he and Shandril had been trapped together. The smell of burned flesh was strong around them. Narm looked down at Shandril in disbelief. He had seen it, yes. How much force had it taken? How much had she held? And how in the name of all the G.o.ds could she survive it?

"The scrolls-is Elminster back yet?" he asked frantically as they stumbled forward into the now-familiar, low-ceilinged cavern. Lanseril, in his own form again, sat against a wall with lit torches on either side of him.

"I felt the mountain shake," he said. "Was it Shandril?" At Tbrm's nod, he said nothing but only shook his head. And then a thought struck him. "Bring her over here. No, not straight across-Elminster might teleport in right there- around this way."

"Good thought, but unnecessary, as it happens," came a familiar voice from the back of the cavern. "Rathan-scrolls enough for both Lanseril and Shandril."

Elminster held out the rolls of parchment to the cleric as he came forward, set aside his staff, and bent down. "I only hope the force within her did not damage her overmuch."

"Damage?" Narm asked.

"The spellfire burns inside," Elminster said gently. "It can burn out lungs, heart, and even the brain, if held overlong." He shook his head. "She seemed to be master of it at the last, but she held more than I have ever known anyone

to bear before, without bursting into flames and being entirely consumed on thespot.""Cheerful, isn't he?" Tbrm put in lightly. Narm stared at him in horror, thenburst into tears and started to tremble. Jhessail held his shudderingshoulders and looked at the thief levelly."Tbrm," she said in a cutting tone, "sometimes you are a right b.a.s.t.a.r.d."Tbrm indicated Narm with one hand. "He needed it," he said soberly.Jhessail held his gaze for a moment and then said, "You're right, Tbrrn. I'msorry. I mistook you." She enfolded Narm in her arms, and he uncontrollably sobbed out his relief into her breast."You and the rest of the world," said Tbrm mournfully. "Most of the time.""And with no cause at all," Merith added innocently. "Now shut your cleverlipsand help me spread my cloak over her."Rathan nodded that he was done as they approached and got up wearily to seeto Lanseril. "A hard day of healing?" the half-elven druid asked wryly as the cleric kneltbeside him. Rathan grunted."Hard on the knees, anyway," he agreed, rolling open the next scroll. "Nowlie there, d.a.m.n ye. It is hard enough convincing the Lady that healing anunrepentent servant of Silva.n.u.s like thyself is a devout act, without yesquirming around.""True enough," Lanseril agreed, settling himself. "How does the young ladyfare?" Rathan shrugged. "Her body is whole. She sleeps. But her mind? We shall see."Across the cavern, Nairn looked down from JhessaiPs arms at the softlybreathingform. "Why does she not awake?" he moaned. "She's healed, the priest said.Whydoes she sleep?""Her mind heals itself," Elminster said from near at hand. "Do not disturbher. Be calm, Narm ... a fine mage yell make, indeed, with all this weeping andshouting! Come away, and eat something and rest.""I'm not hungry," Narm said sullenly, as Jhessail rose and pulled him up, herslim arms surprisingly strong."Oh, aye," Elminster said in obvious disbelief, handing him a sausage andproducing a knife to saw at the hard piece of bread on his lap. Narm staredat the sausage and thought of Shandril and himself and sausages, and burst intolaughter. Tears came again as he rocked helplessly back and forth."Stable fellow, isn't he?" Elminster inquired of the world at large. "Eat,"he commanded, thrusting Narm's arm toward his mouth with a flick of his fingersand the quick saying of an unseen servant spell. The wood and string in themage'shands melted away into nothingness, and suddenly Narm was sobbing on sausage,then eating ravenous ly. Elminster, shaking his head, used the spell to convey a flask from whereit lay by Tbrm through the air to his own waiting hand. Tbrm discovered itstheft,but s.n.a.t.c.hed for it much too late.

Merith, who had been carefully examining the chamber with Florin, came overto Narm in his customary silence and touched the young mage's elbow. Narmsurfaced from his sausage slowly. "Yes? Oh, sorry.""No, lad. Don't be sorry," Merith told him. "If you would, point out to uswhere this mage your lady felled with the balhiir-globe and a rock lies now." Theelf s eyes were serious and wary.Narm blinked at him. "There, among the rocks." He pointed, but his hand moveduncertainly when he could not see Symgharyl Maruel's feet."Aye," Merith agreed soberly. "We thought so."

"She's gone?" Narm asked, astonished."She is nowhere in this chamber," Florin said quietly. "Not even among thebodies at the entrance." "Then . . . where is she?" Narm asked, his mind still on Shandril andspellfireand sausages."I'm afraid," the battle-leader told him, "we'll find out soon enough."Her jaw ached abominably. That little b.i.t.c.h had broken it, and her arm andprobably her cheek, too. The cheek was so swollen that her left eye wasalmost shut. Symgharyl Maruel was still able to hiss spells and command words,though,and it would not be long before that wench would pay. Pay dearly, too; burnoff her legs with the fire of Symgharyl Maruel's favorite wand, and then her arms,and then set to work with a knife. Oh, she'd whimper and plead-until hertonguewas cut out. Symgharyl Maruel chuckled in her throat and winced at thestabbingpain this brought to her jaw. G.o.ds spit upon the little wh.o.r.e!Symgharyl Maruel found her feet wearily and unsteadily crossed the cave that was her refuge. Too unsteadily. G.o.ds, the pain! She leaned wearily against th.e.s.h.elves which held her grimoires, arbatels, and librams. It was no use. She could not study art in this pain. Where were those thrice-d.a.m.ned potions?The chest! Of course. She clawed her way along the shelves in frantic haste,fell upon her knees by the chest, and fumbled it open with her good arm.Careful, now; the right ones ... She searched among the many vials for acertain rune. It would not do to make a mistake now. She'd never thought to needthese,carefully gathered here so long ago. But if one plays with fire, she thoughtruefully, one must expect to get burned. But a mere nothing of a girl, andwith a rock! She snarled through the blood in her mouth and winced at the result.The pain! Would it never end? Never, indeed, if she didnt drink the potions!Gather your wits, Symgharyl Maruel-who knows but one of them might follow here. Aspell-sealed cave, yes, but not to one with a tracer spell.There! That one. And that one. Carefully she drew the precious vials out and,cradling them firmly against her breast, wormed her way across the floor to aheap of cushions where she was wont to lie and study. At last!The liquid tasted clear and icy on her tongue, with a tang of iron and an odd,faint scent. Symgharyl Maruel lay back and felt the potion's gentle balmspreading down in a tingling, delicious, slow wave through her breast andshoulders and arms. The stabbing, sickening pain in her arm sank to a dullthrobbing. Ah, good. Now the second one. Her long-ago mentor was asentimental fool, but he knew a few tricks. It had been he who had insisted she cachethese potions-potions not used until now.Well, even if he came to Rauglothgor's lair and stood against her, he could save neither the little thief, nor the powerless lacklore of a dweomercraefter whohad tried to protect her. There'd been another in the cavern-a druid, by hisgarb-when she had come to her senses, and the two of them gone, with thestench of burned flesh at the cave's mouth.- Doubtless Rauglothgor had cooked someof the reckless adventurers who'd attacked him. Perhaps the wench was dead, too,but not likely. She'd interested Rauglothgor. Well, too bad, Symgharyl Maruelthought savagely. The dracolich could be interested in her corpse.

The pain was almost gone. She could think again, and plan. She rolled up fromthe cushions and found her feet, noting her torn robes as she did so.Breeches and boots, yes, and a half-cloak. She'd be dragonriding, if all went well.Wands, rings, and potions too. Adventurers were trouble unless you broughtart enough to overmaster their every attack. They'd give her no second chance.Symgharyl Maruel began the complicated ritual of pa.s.sing the magical andmonstrous guardians of her main cache of art. Blood would spill, indeed.Far away, in a high cavern within a mountain, another dracolich sat upon muchgold, and before it knelt three men in armor. Its voice was a vast hiss thatheld the echo of hammers upon metal and the whistle of high winds throughgreatleathery wings. It regarded the men before it through eyes that glowedchillingwhite as they floated in dark eyesockets. Otherwise, it appeared as agiganticblue dragon, vast and terrible, its scales gleaming in the guttering light ofthe torches the men had brought with them."Treasure, yesss, good treasure," it said. "As alwaysss. But I can only playwith treasure ssso much. Pile it here, pile it there ... as with all, I growbored. Bored beyond waiting. You never entertain me! What newsss in the worldwithout?" "A dracolich's lair is despoiled!" rang out a new voice. "The cult needs yourgreat strength, O Aghazstamn!"The dragon reared its spike-crested head with a great hiss. "Who comesss?" itenquired. Swords flashed as the cultists before it scrambled to their feetand turned to search out the intruder. They had not far to look. Upon a coach of iron with chased gold and ivorypanels, half-buried in a sea of gold coins, stood a woman in black andpurple.She stood beautiful, proud, and alone, for all the world as if she hadappearedthere out of thin air. Of course, she had.Nonetheless, the warriors of the Cult of the Dragon came toward her to slay,gold coins slithering under their feet. She raised a hand, and before themflashed the image of the* * dracolich Rauglothgor, its huge skeletal wings spread from wall to wall ofthe cavern. Aghazstamn hissed involuntarily, and spread its own wings with amightyclap of air that scattered treasure like drops of rain and startled onewarrior into a fall among the deeply sloped piles of coins. The image spoke in adeep,booming voice. "The Shadowsil, mage of the Cult of the Dragon, stands before youand would serve you. She seeks aid for one who is not used to asking for it;I,Rauglothgor, of the Thunder Peaks. I am beset by thieves, and they have loosed a balhiir that confounds my spells. Will you aid me? Half my h.o.a.rd is yours,Aghazstamn, if you come speedily! Let the lady ride you. You can trust her."And then the image slowly faded away.Symgharyl Maruel stood calmly silent, arms crossed upon her breast. Her arthad shaped the image that her ring of dragons had called into being. She knew nothow Rauglothgor would take losing half his treasure, nor did she care, solongas the wench died. The cult warriors had halted, awed, at the image's speech, and now looked tothe dracolich for direction, swords glittering in the torchlight. Aghazstamn'swingslowered slowly; its head sank, snakelike gaze remaining fixed upon the mage."That wa.s.ss not real," it said finally, "and yet I know thee, sssmall andcruel one. You came to me before, not long ago. Did you not?""Aye, great Aghazstamn. I brought you treasure fourteen winters past. One of myfirst duties in the cult." Symgharyl Maruel's crossed hands both rested uponthe ends of the wands she wore sheathed on her hips. Her eyes darted continuouslyfrom the warriors to the dracolich and back, but her voice and manner wererelaxed and at ease. Symgharyl Maruel had come a long way to stand where shedid in the cult and had risen far and fast; fear and timidity were luxuries sheseldom had time for. She waited, now, because it was the best thing to do."Ssso." The dracolich put its great head to one side and regarded her,considering. It had been proud and great in life, and very curious. It hadthought much on the intricacies of the art, and on death, and so had acceptedthe cult's offer to die and become undead.

Aghazstamn had accepted young and missed many years of high flying anddealingdeath upon lesser creatures, of battling other wyrms in the clear air, and ofmating in roaring silence, gliding together in the chill upper air. Itregrettedthe losses. Now here was a call to war. Tb leave its safe lair and its rich h.o.a.rd, to face enemies . . . enemies, hah! Puny humans, even as these at itsfeet were, waving their tiny steel fangs and making much outcry andcommotion. Tb ride the high winds again, to see the lands spread out below, feel thecold bite of the air about as lesser creatures fled in terror, far below . . .

"Kneel to me, Ssshadowsil, and pledge to turn not against me nor aidRauglothgorin altering the ssstated bargain. Do that, and I will accept."Symgharyl Maruel knelt among the coins, on the ornate top of a coach that hadonce carried young princes of Cor-myr to hunt in the high country, before some forgotten wyrm had seized it, horses, royal blood, and all, and flown off.Hiding her smile in a low bow over the coins, she was rewarded by the greatvoice sounding again. "Mount, then. Warriorsss of the cult! Attend! Guardwell my h.o.a.rd in my absssence, and let not one coin be missssing when I return, nor any of you gone, or all will answer for it! Bow and pledge your obedience inthisss!" The cult warriors, with frightened looks at Symgharyl Maruel, did so, and shewasted a flight spell in bravado (or rather, she told herself, began it alittle early; she intended to have its protection about her when on Aghazstamn'sback,in case of a fall in aerial battle or treachery on the part of the greatdracolich). She flew past them, skimming over the heaped coins, trade-bars,gems, and inlaid armor to reach Aghazstamn. She paused before the dracolich'sbroad head and bowed again, eyes lowered-for it is not safe to meet the wiseold eyes of a dragon, even if one is a great mage. Even less safe is it to peerinto the awful floating, flickering orbs of a dracolich. She flew slowly up andaround in a smooth arc to settle lightly upon a bone of its spine, betweenthe wings."My thanks, great one," Symgharyl Maruel said, as she drew gauntlets from herbelt, settled the wands on her thighs for rapid drawing, and nestled herself in behind a fin she could grasponce her gloves were on."Nay, little one," came the hissing reply. "My thanksss." The great wingsgathered above them as the dracolich leaped upward in a great bound into thedarkness. The shaft from its lair twisted and bent back upon itself to entrapand discourage flying intruders, but Aghazstamn knew it well. The great wingsbeat twice, precisely in the rare s.p.a.ces where they could spread. Suddenlythere was daylight, and they burst out into it in a great roaring glide that curved upand became a climb. The great dracolich let out a roar that echoed back fromthe surrounding peaks, and it wheeled out over the Desertsedge and back againthrough the Desertsmouth Mountains, where of old had been the realm ofAnauria before the Great Sand Sea swept its greatness away, and gained the nameAnauroch. "Where is thisss lair we ssseek? In the Thunder Peaksss?" the great voicehissed back at Symgharyl Maruel. She did not try to shout into the wind ripping pasther ears, but used instead her cult ring to speak to Aghazstamn's mind: Yes,great one. On the eastern flanks of the range, above Lake Sember."Ah, yesss! Fried Elf Water! I know it."The Shadowsil winced but managed to stifle her giggle. 'Fried Elf Water? Nodoubt. And there had been an elf among the adventurers who had attacked whenshe'd been questioning the wench before Rauglothgor. Well, who knows what thefuture holds and the G.o.ds see?

Upon the back of the mighty blue dracolich, she rode back toward the lair ofRauglothgor, to deal death upon them all. Die, all, and let The Shadowsilrise up on your bones!She did not realize she had cried that aloud until she heard Aghazstamnchuckle. O Macb Maj/heraA woman, or a man, may come to hold many treasures in life. Gold, gems, agoodname, lovers, good friends, influence, high rank-all of these are of value.All of these most covet. Butof them all the most valuable, I tell ye, are friendsgood and true. Have these, and ye will scarce notice the lack if ye never winaught else.The adventuress Sharanralee Ballads And Lore of One Dusty RoadYear of the Wandering Maiden"Treasure! Aye, treasure for all, and to spare!" Rathan's voice rolledheartilyout over the newly daylit crater where many of the knights stooped andgatheredtreasure. "More even then ye can carry, Tbrm Greedyfingers!""Hah," came Tbrm's reply from beneath a pile of rubble. "Change your tone,faithful of Tymora?" The thief rose up in his dusty gray, and in his hands was a gleaming disc of polished electrum. Six handwidths across."For love of the Lady!" Rathan gasped delightedly. "Good Tbrm, may I h-"" 'Good Tbrm,' now, is it?" the thief answered mockingly. "Good TbrmGreedyfingers, perhaps?""Shut your yapping maw, Good Tbrm Greedyfingers," Merith said from behindhim. "Or else some good dale farmer will mistake thee for a nimble shrew and marryyou.""Some nimble dale shrew did marry you," Tbrm told him in return, "and lookwhaaa-!" His words ended in the roar of a crock full of gold coins being dumped over his head.Narm watched in amazement as the air suddenly filled with small pieces oftreasure, as it was pitched about from knight to knight with enthusiasm."They're like children!" he exclaimed at last in astonishment."Sir Evoker," Jhessail said to him with a gentle smile, "they are children.""But they are the famous Knights of Myth Drannor!" Narm protested mildly,matching her smile."We are all in the hands of children," she answered. "Who else would rideinto danger with enthusiasm and swing swords against fearsome enemies far fromhome and saner pursuits?""And yet you are a knight," Narm pointed out. The lady mage spread emptyhands. "Did I say I was not a child?" she answered mildly. "Dear me." She rose in ashifting of skirts and threw a set of knuckle-claws of wrought bra.s.s set withsmall carbuncles hard and accurately at Term's back. She favored Narm with animpish grin as she sat down demurely and turned to check Shandril. Behindthem both, Elminster chuckled, as Torm let out a roar of pain and spun about,seekinghis foe. Amid the tumult, Nairn's lady lay motionless, eyes still closed, breathing shallowly. She looked peaceful and young and very beautiful, and Nairn'sheart ached anew. "Will she-?" he asked helplessly. Jhessail patted his arm."It's in the hands of the G.o.ds," she said simply. "We will do all we can."Elminster nodded and took the pipe out of his mouth. Coils of greenish smokeand small sparks continued to drift from its bowl."She held and handled more power than I have ever seen come out of abalhiir,"the old sage said. "More, I think, than this creature had in it." Jhessailand Narm both turned to stare at him in surprise."What, then?" Jhessail asked, but Elminster shook her question aside with hishead. "Too soon," he told them both. "Too soon for aught but idle chatter ... andidle chatter will help no one and could well upset our young friend."Narm fixed eyes upon him and said, "With all respect, Lord Elminster, I am upset already. What do you fear?"But Elminster was lost in chuckles. "I fear most, boy, being called 'LordElminster' Now grip thy temper and thy grief and master them. There are goodreasons not to talk on this now. If it makes ye feel better, I am amazed andawed at what thy Shandril has done.""Oh?" Narm urged him on, trying to speak calmly."Aye. The most common way to destroy a balhiir requires at least three mages,and at best, five or more. They must hold the balhiir between them by forceof art, opposing their telekinesis to offset its wild movements and struggles.Theythen tear it apart, each absorbing what he or she can of it. It is aspectacularprocess to watch-and," he added dryly, "it kills a lot of mages.""Yet you sent Shandril alone up against the thing?" Narm protested, hisfrustration changing suddenly to rage. Elmin-ster's gently sad gaze stilledhis tongue against further, more bitter comments."I had not five mages," the sage said simply. "We still faced a dracolich andcould not turn away from that even if we wanted, lest we and all our friendsperish. If ye had tried to stand as one of those mages, Narm, ye would bedead now. Hold thy peace, I bid thee, for thy lady's sake. High words will nothelpher now." "Are you always right?" Narm asked, but his tone was weary, not angry. "Isthe good and true way always so clear before you?"Jhessail shook her head warningly, but Elminster was chuckling again."Ah, slay me, but thy tongue is as sharp and as busy as Tbrm's!" The magesucked upon his pipe once and turned within the smoky haze it produced to regardNarm gravely. "In tavern-tales the hero is always high and shining and his foesdark and dastardly," Elminster said with a smile. "It would be simpler if life were like that, each one knowing if he were good or evil, and what each should doand could expect to achieve before his part in the Great Play ends. But think onhow boring it would be to the G.o.ds-everyone a known force, events and deedspreordained or at the least easily predictable-and so things are not so.

"We are here to amuse and entertain the G.o.ds, who walk among us. They watchand enjoy and sometimes even thrust a hand or quiet words into daily life, justto see the result. From this comes miracles, disasters, religious strife, andmuch else we could do without." Narm met his eyes for the s.p.a.ce of a breath and then nodded soberly. "You dothink and care, then. I had feared you swaggered about serenely blasting withyour art all who opposed you.""That's just what he does do." Tbrm's voice broke in as he approached, armsfull of gold. "Wizards! Wherever one sees battle in this world, there's some foolof a dweomercraefter jabbering and waving his hands. Honest swordswingers falldoomed-slain by a man who would be too craven to stand an instant againstthem,could they but reach him! Less art about would please me well! Then the braveand strong would rule, not sneaking old graybeards and reckless young foolswho play for sport with the forces that give light and life to us all!""Aye" said Elminster with a smile. "But rule what? A battlefield coveredshoulder-deep with the rotting dead, the survivors dying of hunger anddisease. There would be none left to help the sick, or to harvest, or sow seeds. It is a grand king, indeed, who rules a graveyard." He drew on his pipe. "Besides,'tis no good complaining about what is and cannot be changed. Art we have. Makethe best of it." "Oh, I intend to," Tbrm replied with a wolfish grin."Areyou finished, Tbrm?" Jhessail asked sweetly. "Or have you something elseupon your tongue that needs spewing forth?""Ifes," replied the thief, irrepressibly. "Look you, old-""Enough talk!" Florin snapped from behind them. "Heads around, all! A dragoncomes!" "They sssee usss, little one!" the great voice boomed back at her. "Why sssoamazed?" From the dracolich's back, Symgharyl Maruel gazed upon the blastedmountaintopin shock. The keep! she thought wildly at Aghazstamn. Gone! The whole peakhas been shat* *

tered and thrown down! We must turn away! We cannot face power enough to dothat! She shook her head in disbelief, but the vast crater below remained, asthe dracolich wheeled about it. "Flee? Nay!" its voice roared at her, and the great neck arched around,nearlytumbling the Shadowsil off. She clung to the bony fin before her grimly andshouted aloud, "But the entire top of the mountain is gone! We cannot prevailagainst-""Ssseee to your wandsss, little coward! I fly free, to fight and ssslay afterall these yearsss! And you want me to turn tail and abandon the gold andthisss challenge? Think again, weaver of weak art!" Aghazstamn roared and wheeledwide,climbing so as to turn and dive.As the wind ripped around her ears, Maruel drew forth a wand and held itfirmlyacross her breast. Peering down, she could see one in armor, an elf, andothers below. There was no sign of Rauglothgor. Perhaps the old terror had destroyedhimself somehow and wrought all this devastation. This handful of dare-allslooked incapable of such destruction.Wfell, what did it matter? Slay, and wonder later. Aghazstamn had alreadyturned and was plummeting down, ever faster, the wind beginning to whistle past herears. The Shadowsil bent low and narrowed her eyes to slits so as not to beblinded. Carefully she aimed at the hastily scattering warriors below, andsaid clearly, "Maerzaef And fire blossomed from the wand in a tiny ball that spunaway, trailing sparks, to burst with a roar in orange-red flames below.One man was hurled into the air, blazing, and fell among the rocks. Others were thrown too, but she could not see their fates. Already she was aiming againcoolly at those below. Such battles were never as tales had them; magestradingspells formally, one after the other. He who struck first and hardest usuallyprevailed.The wind whistled around her as Aghazstamn roared in triumph as it plummetedout of the sky, wings drawn up and bent back over its vast scaled bulk. From itsmaw, lightning spat in a long, blue-white bolt that crackled to the ground. Atiny figure jerked and staggered, outlined briefly in the blue-white fire. The Shadowsil unleashed her second fireball at two in robes who still stood on the right,It blossomed into flames before it reached them, however, spreading outagainstsome sort of invisible wall. Symgharyl Maruel hissed in anger as thedracolich beneath her swept down. Fast, indeed, by Mystra! Still, they couldn't strikeback at her without sacrificing that wall. . . .With a roar and a clap of its mighty wings, Aghazstamn levelled off justshort of the tumbled rock where its victims scrambled and shouted. It swooped low,reaching with long cruel claws for two who stood with swords raised like tinyneedles against it.Symgharyl Maruel felt the jolt as the dracolich struck and then clapped itswings to rise in haste from the rocks where sharp steel slashed and thrust at.i.t. The mage looked back over her shoulder in time to lock eyes with thedruid who had been lying wounded in the cave earlier. His hands and lips weremoving,coolly calling a spell down upon her.Before she could do anything, Aghazstamn was turning away and rising. TheShadowsil slid the wand back into its sheath as they rose and turned to lookback, tossing her hair out of her eyes. Steady, I pray you, Great One, shethought through her ring. I would cast a spell and need a breath or two ofstable flight from you. A thunderous snort was her reply, but Aghazstamnspreadits vast wings spread out a level glide and the roaring winds lessened.Symgharyl Maruel rose up as far as she dared and turned to face the knights.Below, the two swordsmen still stood; the tall one in armor and the elf.

Bodies lay sprawled among the rocks, but the two mages in robes still stood beyond.Well, they might escape, but all of their comrades would perish. CarefullySymgharyl Maruel cast a meteor swarm down upon them all.Done, she told the dracolich in satisfaction as she sat down and watchedeightb.a.l.l.s of flame roll forth. Aghazstamn hissed acknowledgement, and the greatwings began to beat again. The sudden heat and rolling, roaring sound warnedSymgharyl to reach for her wand.Involuntarily she turned to see, just as the air exploded in flames. Somehowthose below had turned her great spell* *

against her. Only one mistake . ."See to Rathan," said Elminster. "And Tbrm, too. Here! Hurry!" From under hisrobes he drew two metal vials and thrust them into Jhessail's hands. "But, master," she protested. "The dragon! Wha-""I can yet speak spells," the old mage told her with some severity. "Now go."His eyes remained on the blackened body of the wyrm that had begun to fallfrom above, trailing flames. Odd, that a single such spell could slay so quickly.Dragons usually died slowly and noisily, with much-unless this was no dragon,but- "Another dracolich!" the old mage said aloud. Narm turned anxious eyes uponhim. "What now?" the young apprentice asked. Elminster turned a hawkish eye uponhim. "Go and help Jhessail," he commanded. "There is nothing ye can safely dohere." His eyes were on the dracolich again, the great wings rolling it over and over as it fell. On its back he could see The Shadowsil, struggling weakly. Healmost lifted his hands to pluck her away with telekinesis, but she bore a wandreadyin one hand. Even as he considered it, he knew it would be too late to saveher. The sage watched expressionlessly as Aghazstamn crashed to earth.The dracolich's body struck head and neck first, with a horrible splinteringsound. It rolled forward onto one shoulder, and over until the great backcrashed to the ground. It rolled, once, spilling the slim figure of TheShadowsil from its back, and halted in a smoking heap against a broken rockwhere Shandril's blasting had ended."Get her!" Lanseril shouted from behind him. Before Elminster could speakFlorin and Merith had leaped past him, blades flashing. The elf s armor was torn andtwisted crazily at one shoulder where a dragon claw had earlier caught it.Had not Merith jumped desperately upward into its closing grip to strike with hisblade, the body below the armor would have been torn apart as well.Elminster knew they could not hear him. He hissed words hastily, exerted hiswill, then vanished.

Florin could see The Shadowsil, struggling feebly on one elbow to rollherself over. The wand was still in her hand. She was snarling through the long hair.He raised his sword as he ran, in desperate haste. He did not hold with slayingwomen, but this foe could be the death of them all, were he not fast enough.Merith crashed along behind him, slipping and staggering among the scattered rocks and treasure. Suddenly Elminster was before them, barring their path. "Stay back!" hecommanded. "No more butchery is necessary." Wildly waving their swords, theyskidded to a halt only feet from the old mage. They cast quick glances backto ensure that this was not some illusion of their enemy's. "Put the steelaway,"the old mage said wearily and went to his knees beside Symgharyl Maruel. "Thetime for all that is past." As he spoke, she collapsed on her face with a groan,the wand clattering away on the rocks.Gently he took the broken body under the shoulders and turned it until TheShadowsil lay face-up in his lap. Florin and Merith watched in astonishment,the elf s blade still wavering uneasily in his hand.Florin drew off his gauntlets as he squatted, facing Elminster across thebodyof the foe who had sought to slay them all but a breath or two ago."Elminster;'he asked gravely, "what are you about?"Symgharyl Maruel opened her eyes at the sound of Florin's voice and stareddullyup at them, as one who has traveled a very long way. She spat blood weakly,and her eyes found Elminster. "Master," she hissed, blood bubbling horribly inher throat. "I-hurt." The last word was almost a sob. "Little flower," Elminsterwhispered gently as she drew a shuddering breath, "I am here." At his words,she coughed blood and began to cry weakly, the tears running down her cheeks asthe knights gathered about in astonished silence. "If ye lie quiet," the sagemurmured, "I shall see if I can find art enough yet in my tower to healthee." He clasped her hand gently and began to slide out from beneath her. Onefeeble hand plucked at his sleeve, and the mage the knights had all hated or fearedmastered her tears. "No," she told him firmly, eyes burning upon his, "promise me you shall notbring me back ... I am too set to change now. I cannot learn this 'good' you stand for." The Shadow sil's eyes closed;her head fell back wearily. Then her eyes flickered. "Promise," she hissed,hands trembling on his."Aye, Symgharyl Maruel, I promise thee," Elminster told her gravely, strokingher shoulder almost absently with one old hand. Symgharyl Maruel smiled."Good, then," she said, voice trailing away. '"Ware my belt ... it has apoisoned buckle. One more thing," she added, voice a hissing ruin now.Elminster leaned close to the b.l.o.o.d.y lips to hear, and the failing hands gripped hisrobes until they grew as white as The Shadowsil's face.The mage raised herself, her body shaking with the effort. Dark eyes shonedefiantly once at them all, and then her head reached Elminster's shoulder.She clung there, shaking like a leaf in a gale, and then leaned forward to kisshis cheek, softly and yet fiercely. "I love you. I wish I could have had you."And The Shadowsil turned her head against his chest, smiled, then died.

There was silence for the s.p.a.ce of many breaths while the old mage satmotionless, cradling the still body in his arms. The slim hands loosenedtheir hold on him, but Elminster held her. No one moved or spoke. All stoodwaiting.From Elminster there came no sound. After a time, the sage looked up, laid his burden gently upon the stonesbeneath, and slowly rose to his feet. Symgharyl Maruel's bone-white face wa.s.still smiling, but it was wet with the old man's tears. Elminster steppedback and waved the knights and Narm away from him, gesturing at them to draw farback. He then started to sing. The old mage's voice began scratchy and hollowfrom disuse, but gained in strength as he sang the leavetaking, until thelast lines rolled out deep and clear.The sun comes up and the sun goes down Winters pa.s.s swiftly and leaves turnbrown Watching each day and at last it has found Another dream to lay underthe groundAnother name lost to the wind Wailing away north past ears offlind And allshe has been crumbles away Of all that great spirit, can nothing stay?Mystra, Mother, take your own Skill and power now dust on bone Good or bad,what matters now? Her song is done, her last bowMother of art, I pray now to thee, Take back her truename in mercy And as her body is lost to flame Greet your own Lansharra again.Elminster's hands moved, he spoke a few quiet words, and fire burst from hishands to strike the still form of The Shadowsil. Flames burst straight upwardin a many-hued pillar. Narm watched the old man, who stood staring into thegreedyflames. Hesitantly, the evoker approached. When he stood behind Elminster'sshoulder, he spoke."She called you 'Master." The flames roared and crackled before them."Aye," said Elminster. He smiled slowly, and there were tears in his eyesagain.He turned and looked out over the waters of the Sember, far below, but hedidn't see them. He saw things long ago and in another place."You knew her?" Narm asked quietly."I once trained her and rode with her." The mage's lips moved roughly, almostreluctantly. Then his white beard jutted defiantly. "I was much younger then."Narm felt a rush of sympathy and turned to look at Shan-dril, lying so stillupon his cloak. His heart nearly broke. "Does one often see friends die if one is a mage of power?""Aye," Elminster replied, almost whispering. Then he seemed to rouse himselfand caught Nairn's eye in a gruff, more familiar look. "That is why even one'senemies are to be honored. If it falls within thy power, no creature must diealone." Narm stared at him for a long breath, lips white, and then nodded slowly.Then he rushed forward and caught the old wizard in a fierce embrace, and tears came. A startled Elminster held him awkwardly and patted his head and said gruffly, "There, there, boy. Shandril lives. It's not so bad asO all that." The sobs under the young apprentice's encircling arms died slowlyand the strong young grip lessened. The m.u.f.fled voice, when it came, was hesitant."Lansharra . . . did you love her very much?""Yes" the sage said simply. "She was like a daughter. Had I been severallifetimes younger and she not quite so quick to cruelty . . ." His voicetrailed away and, abruptly, he spun about and stood facing the dying pyre. His voicerolled out, rich and imperious. "Look all of ye!"He raised his hands and gestured. It seemed that above the thinning smokethat rose there a form came slowly into being-the form of a young and slim woman,with long glossy hair and almost chalk-white skin. She was very beautiful andwore a simple robe of white and gold bound with a blue sash. She lookedaround at them with joy and wonder.All the hardened veterans of the knights stood and watched in silence, theflames flickering in ruddy reflections upon their armor and ready swords.In utter silence the image of a youthful Symgharyl Maruel worked a bluefingercantrip before them all. When the blue radiance sparkled into being at herfingertips, she laughed in sheer delight and held it up in one hand to showit. She then tossed her hair back to see it the better, waved at them, and was gone.Elminster stood looking into the last of the flames, his old faceexpressionless."*bu did that, did you not?" Tbrm asked, awed. "That wasn't... her/'"Aye, I did it, though not alone, and aye, it was her. So she was one summerbefore any of ye here but Merith was born. Her spirit lingered. I shaped anillusion, and she came into it to bid me-all of you-good-bye." The mageturned to Rathan. "Thy holy water, good brother?"Rathan nodded and stepped forward, unclasping a flask from his beltreverently.A scorched smell from The Sha-dowsil's fireball hung about his clothing andhe moved with the careful stiffness of the newly healed. At the mage's gesture,the flames of the pyre sank and died, and Ratnan doused the charred bones fromhead to foot. Gray smoke rose and slowly drifted away.Then Elminster removed his cloak, and Florin and Lan seril stepped forward to lay the bones upon it as soon as they were cool.Jhessail joined her voice with the old mage's in a prayer to Mystra. When it was done, Elminster caught his cloak up in a bundle and said, "All well, friends?Rathan? Torm? Ye took it the worst, if memory serves.""Well enough," the cleric replied, and Ibrm agreed with a terse, "Yes."Elminster nodded. "Well, get thy treasure and let us see to Shandril. I would be gone from here as soon as she can safely travel-wyrms who are not as dead as they should be seem to have a distressing habit of showing up here to visit." With that, the oldmage rose with his bundle and went over to Shandril, puffing on his pipethoughtfully. "I wonder just who shall call upon us next?" he said aloud, looked down at the bundle be bore, and shook his head suddenly.Outside, the afternoon sun was bright upon the towers and parapets of ZhentilKeep. Within the Tbwer High of Manshoon, lord of that city, all was dark savefor a circle of gla.s.s-globed candles in a corner of the high-paneled feastinghall. No grand company had feasted there for twenty winters.Beneath the tinted, flickering light was a small circular table and about itthe high lords of the Keep sat in council. Lord Kalthas, general of the armies ofZhentil Keep north of the Moonsea, spoke at ease, purring from beneath hissandymoustache, flagon of amber wine comfortably by his hand."Defending the empty wastes of Thar is not the problem," he said smugly, "nowthat the lich Arkhigoul is no more. The Citadel is strong, and I see no needto weaken our forces by placing small garrisons here and there on various frozenrocks in the east. If something comes over the mountains from Vaasa, let itcome. We can move in strength when any such foe has committed itself to alongjourney and a particular target, and crush any invasion at our leisure. Theriders of Melvaunt can slow down any major a.s.sault long enough for us tomuster patrols in from all Daggerdale and the Teshen lands. Why defend a week's coldride of barren rocks and snow? Any fool . . ." The deep boom of a bell echoed somewhere in the darkness above them. There was a sudden squeal of wood as the dark-robed figure of Manshoon, firstLord of the Keep, who had been sitting in languid boredom on one side of thetable, rose suddenly. Table, papers, ink and quills, crystal decanters, andornate metal flagons all crashed together to the floor. More than one n.o.blelord, chair and all, went to the flagstones with them."My Lord!" gasped Lord Kalthas in protest, wiping wine from his fur-trimmeddoublet. His words fell into tense silence and died away as their speakerrealized his peril. "What means this?"But Manshoon was not even looking at him. White-faced, he stared into theair,his voice quavered. "Symgharyl Maruel," he whispered, blinking away a tear.Lord Chess gasped aloud; more prudent n.o.bles gaped in silence. None had everbefore seen Manshoon cry or show any sign of weakness (or as one lord had once put.i.t,"humanity").Then the moment pa.s.sed, and a coldly furious Manshoon snapped,"Zellathora.s.s!" At his command, a globe of crystal swooped into view on the stairs, dancedsideways in the air like a questing bat, and darted over to spin in the airbefore him. Manshoon seized it and peered into its depths, where a lightkindled and grew.He was silent for a moment, and his handsome face grew as cold and hard asdrawn steel as he saw something that the other lords could only guess at. Then hereleased the globe, which began to spin slowly, said "Alvathair" softly, andwatched it vanish back the way it had come. His mouth tightened.He turned to face them all. "Sirs" he said curtly, "this meeting is at anend. For your safety, leave at once." He crooked a finger, and horribly grinninggargoyles, hitherto motionless on stone b.u.t.tresses overhead, flexed theirslate-gray wings. The high lords of Zhentil Keep hastened to find their feet, and then their cloaks and swords and plumed hats, babbled and stammered theirthanks and good-byes all together, and found the exit with comical haste. Apatient golem closed the door they left standing open.Manshoon then spoke to the gargoyles in a harsh hissing and croaking tongue, and they began to glide about the tower on theirleatherywings, watching in terrible silence for intruders. Their lord stood in thedark hail and spoke. The candles sank and died. They had scarce guttered intoacrid smoke before he spoke again, and at his words this time a stone golem as tall as six men strode ponderously toward him from one corner of the hall. It waitedthere in the darkness to greet any visitors foolish enough to enterunannounced in his absence. Manshoon looked about and then raced up the stairs in thedarkness. His ragged shout of rage and loss echoed back down the stairsbehind him." Shadow-sil!" As he stepped out into the chill air atop the Tower High, he spoke a certainword. There came a stirring, and part of the tower beneath him moved. A greatbulge of stone shifted and humped. Vast wings opened out over the courtyardof the tower and the minarets of the walls. A great neck arched out andglimmeringeyes regarded Manshoon with eagerness and quickening interest, and fear.The ma.s.sive bulk rose up the tower wall as huge claws caught and pulled.Somewhere a stone broke loose and clattered, unseen, far below. Then thewingsbeat in a lazy clap that echoed back from the rooftops of the city.Frightenedfaces appeared in the windows of temple spires and n.o.blemen's towers, andvanished again in haste. Manshoon smiled without mirth at the sight andcoldlylocked eyes with the huge black dragon he had freed. Cold eyes looked back athim. Few men, indeed, can retain sanity and will in the face of the full gaze of adragon. The wyrm regarded him with vast age, and knowledge, and amus.e.m.e.nt.Manshoon merely smiled and held its eyes with his own deep gaze. The fear inthe dragon's eyes grew. Then Manshoon hissed in the tongue of black dragons, "Up,Orlgaun. I have need of you." The great neck arched over the parapet for himto mount. With a bound and flurry of beating wings the black dragon soared aloft fromthe city of cold stone and ready swords. Manshoon came with fire and fury todestroythe slayer of his beloved. Many have done so before, in more worlds thanFaerun,and will again in days to come.Tbe Battle Ne'eR Done The worst trouble with most mages is that they think they can change theworld. The worst mistake the G.o.ds make is to let a few of them get away with it.Nelve Harssad of TsurlagolMy Journeys Around the Sea of Fallen StarsYear of the Sword and Stars "I wonder," Tbrm said slowly, coins of silver and gold clattering through his fingers, "just how long this bone dragon had been gathering this stuff." Helooked across a glittering sea of gleaming metal."Ask Elminster," Rathan said. "He probably recalls the day of Rauglothgor'sarrival, what-or who-he ate at the time, and all." The cleric wasmethodicallyscrutinizing handfuls of coins, plucking out only the platinum pieces, andadding them to an already bulging purse. Nearby, Merith was shifting coinscarefully with his feet, looking for more unusual treasure amid the coinage."Is this what we go through all the blood and battle for?" Jhessail said,comingup to him with her hands full of sparkling gems."Yes. Depressing, isn't it?" Lanseril replied from where he knelt with Narmbeside Shandril. The onetime thief of the Company of the Bright Spear laystill and white, for all the world as if dead. Elminster puffed on his pipethoughtfully as he stood looking down at her, but he said nothing.Lanseril gave Narm a shove. "Enough brooding, mage. Get up and find some gemsand platinum coins and the like while it's still lying about for the taking." At Nann's dark look, he said more gently, "Go on. We'll watch her, never fear. You'll need the gold, you know,if you plan to learn enough art to see you both past all the enemies you've madethese past days."Narm looked at him again, doubtfully. Thoughtful eyes met for a time. The youngman nodded slowly. "You may be right. But... Shandril..." He looked at herhelplessly again. The druid laid a hand on his arm."I know it's hard. You do the best for her, and for yourself, though, if yougetup and go on with your duties. The plans of G.o.ds and men unfold even while yousleep, as the saying goes. You can do nothing for Shandril sitting here. Go,lad, and play among the coins. You'll see few enough of them before you die, as it is." Lanseril pushed him again. "I'll keep your spot warm, here by hershoulder. I even promise to call you if she should awaken and want to kisssomeone, or the like." He grinned at Narm's expression. "Go on."Narm rose on painfully stiff legs and looked down at Shandril again for amoment. He traded quick glances with Lanseril and Elminster, noddedwordlessly,and hurried away. Lanseril sighed. "These younglings ... their love burnsso." He looked up suddenly as he realized Elminster was grinning at him."Aye, indeed, old one," the mage said gravely, leaning on his staff. The twofriends looked at each other for a moment in silence and then spoke as one,the druid who had not yet seen thirty winters and the mage who had seen some fivehundred. "Well, when you get to be my age," they quoted the old saying together andbroke into chuckles. Around them the knights were striding back and forth withsmall,clinking bundles, gathering Rauglothgor's h.o.a.rd at a great rate. They could see Narm in the distance, peering curiously at a ruby in his palm. A fistful ofgoldcoins was beginning to creep between the fingers of his other hand."Not much magic-d.a.m.nation upon that baihiir," Torm said to Jhessail, a dozen bra.s.s rings spilling from his hand as he brought them within range of herdetect magic spell. They did not glow with the radiance that betokens magic.

Jhessail spread her hands. "It is the way of balhiirs," she said simply. Thenshe smiled, eyes twinkling. "Poor Tbrm," she said in mock sorrow andcommiseration. "You'll have to settle for mere gold, gems, and platinum . . .and so little, too!" She waved at the scattered riches that lay all aroundthe knights.Tbrm grinned. "Scant compensation, good lady," he said in courtly tones, "forthe discomfort and danger attendant upon almost my every breath, these days.What good are coins to a dead man?""Precisely the thought that prevents most sane beings from taking upthievery,"Jhessail replied mildly. Torm chuckled and bowed to her in acknowledgement of a point well made.Lanseril looked beyond them to the broken ridge of rock that marked the edgeof the devastation Shandril's spellfire had wrought. Florin stood there,watchful,bearing a special shield Elminster had brought back with the healing potions.The ranger's blade was in his hands. He was silent and alert, eyes flickinghere and there over the cold gray peaks above and the tree-clad land below.Elminster, too, was silent and intent, but his eyes were upon Shandril. Even as Lanseril looked down at her, she moved slightly and frowned, murmuringsomethingso faint they could not hear it. Lanseril leaned forward to reach for her,and the long, k.n.o.bbly end of Elminster's staff came down before him, warningly.The druid looked up its length at he who bore it and asked, "Do we tell Narm?"Elminster smiled. "No need." A crashing noise, growing swiftly louder,heralded Narm's progress through the coins toward them. "Shandril!" he cried, and thenmet their gently silent gazes. "Is she-""She stirs, no more," said the sage. "If ye must shake her, do it gently, andonly once or twice."Narm threw him a frightened look and then fell to his knees beside hischosen's unmoving form, scattering coins in all directions. "Shandril!" he pleaded ather ear, laying a timid hand upon her shoulder. "Shandril! Can you hear?" Heshook her gently. Beneath his hand, his lady moaned and moved one hand. "Shandril!"he said with sudden urgency, and shook her. "Sh-" and he broke off as Elminster's staff tapped him firmly on the shoulder. "And how is she to heal her wits if ye awaken her with shakings and othersuch violence?" the sage asked gently. "Leave be for a time, and see how she does on her own." Lanseril nodded, but it was Elminster's face Narm was staring upat, throat tight and eyes very full, when Florin shouted. FJminster's headsnappedup, his eyes lighting like lamps as he looked to where the ranger's bladepointed. '"Ware, all!" came Florin's voice, and all about them knights drewweapons, and looked.Far off in the sky to the north a dark winged shape moved, drawing nearer. Itwas large and serpentine."Dragon!" Florin and Elminster said together, and the knights began to move."G.o.ds' laughter/' Tbrm muttered as he ran past, jingling and bulging withloot,"will this never end?" The adventurers scattered, seeking the cover of thelarger boulders. Merith and Florin arrived on the run to where Narm andLanseril sat by Shandril. Elminster stood over them, apparently unconcerned but.w.a.tchingthe sky. Then he put his staff in the crook of his arm and quietly began towork a spell.Narm looked up to him for guidance, but it was Florin who spoke. "We must move your lady," he said, and jerked his head toward a spur of rock far off to theright. "There, I hold that place best for protection. Stay with her there,unless you have spells up sleeves and down boots that we dont know about."His tone, for all its gentleness, was a command, and Narm made no protest as theygently lifted Shandril together and bore her in stumbling haste across thescattered rock and treasure. Jhessail and Elminster were both casting spells. Rathan was quaffing hastilyfrom a skin Torm was holding. The cleric held his mace ready in his hand."This is not a good time for us to fight a dragon," Narm said in helplessfrustration, as they laid Shandril down gently in the lee of the rocks."Lad," Florin told him with rare humor, "it's never a good time to fight adragon." The knights turned away from the young spellcaster quickly, Lanseril squeezing his shoulder for a moment, andwere gone across the open rubble-pit, weapons flashing as they were drawn. Afaint belch echoed in their wake. Tbrm turned once to wave and grin as thedragon roared down upon them.

Orlgaun came down out of the chilly heights in a long glide, great blackwingsspread stiffly. Upon its back, Lord Manshoon waved his hands and spoke grimwords of magic. Eight b.a.l.l.s of fire sprang from his fingertips, flashing pastOrlgaun's black neck like shafts from a bow, trailing flame. Down theysizzled. Orlgaun arched its giant wings like sails to slow its dive.There was a flash and a ground-shaking roar as the b.a.l.l.s of flame exploded.Fire leaped briefly toward the sky. In the inferno Manshoon saw shapes staggering,yet standing against him. He drew a wand from his belt even as Orlgauneagerlylowered its neck and spat blue-green acid. The spray sizzled as it struckdyingflames and still-hot rocks. Orlgaun hissed triumphantly as one of his enemiesfell. The dragon was turning and climbing steeply as the cold gray flank of one of the Thunder Peaks rushed up to meet it.The great wings beat once, twice, and then there was a sudden, sickeningshudder beneath Manshoon. The vast body faltered and twisted. Manshoon grabbed at a razor-sharp bony fin on the wyrm's neck to keep his seat and yelled, jugglingthe wand for a few anxious moments. Orlgaun convulsed again, and sheered offsideways in the air with breath-robbing speed, revealing their foe.In the air behind them flew a human in full coat-of-plate, shield up beforehim,long naked sword reaching again toward Orlgaun. Manshoon snarled and blastedthe fool with his wand. Magic missiles pelted the twisting man like a suddenrain,and he fell away as they swept on.Manshoon hissed a curse into the wind as he felt Orlgaun's wingbeats come more slowly, and heard the joyous battle-roars of the great dragon no more. His wyrmwas hurt already, and these people looked to be tougher than he had thought.He was readying a lightning bolt as Orlgaun swept around once more and he sawthe old bearded man standing, alone now, on the rocks below. Beyond him there was a maiden in robes. Manshoon dismissed her as nothing as he bent his gaze on the bearded one and cast his bolt. Lightning seared the air in its crackling descent, white and writhing. Itturned aside mere feet in front of the old man and crawled harmlessly away, as if ithad struck something unseen. The old man looked up calmly as he cast a spellof his own, and Manshoon recognized him with a shock: Elminster of Shadowdale.The old mage was not off on some other plane meddling, or fussing scatter-brainedamong scrolls and librams dusty and brittle with age, but here and alert andlooking completely unafraid. Of Symgharyl Maruel there was no sign. Manshoonsnarled, a little unsettled, and reached for another wand. Orlgaun would notstoop as low as last time; the great wings were lifting them already.Then a great hand loomed in the air before Manshoon, and before he could evengroan, Orlgaun's flight had swept him into it with stunning speed. The clapof their meeting was thunderous.A broken wand and a dagger spun down out of the air as the dragon screamedshrilly and thundered past above them. Merith turned in the wind of itspa.s.singand said, "Now!" almost laughing, as he disspelled the protective barriersabout the mage. Jhessail nodded, lifted a wand of her own, and breathed its word ofcommand gently over it, her eyes on the mage. Magic missiles hissed forth,twisting and turning in the air to follow the slumped mage clinging to theback of the great black dragon. The huge disembodied fist hung in the air by hisshoulder and moved with him. Elminster followed it with his eyes and frownedin concentration, but a smile was playing about a corner of his mouth.Orlgaun swept around again, and Manshoon rose in his saddle, roaring his rageand pain as he spat the necessary word and the wand spewed lightnings. Thefist struck at him again, and Manshoon was hurled back against Orlgaun's roughscales by the blow. He had a brief glimpse of the foe in armor flying up and at him,again, that long sword swinging . . .Orlgaun saved him, striking out in fear with one wing at the darting creature that had so hurt it before. The point ofFlorin's blade skittered harmlessly across the dragon's scales. It struck athim and then, with a flapping of wings, rolled swiftly away.Far below, Jhessail said the last words of a spell of flight as she touchedher husband's forehead. Merith kissed her before he sprang aloft, blade flashing,to join the fray.As he knelt by the moaning forms of Torm and Rathan, Lanseril was calmlyusinghis own art to summon insects to attack the enemy mage. Ten paces away, Narmstared at him helplessly as the battle raged overhead. The great dragonslashed at Florin with its claws, cartwheeling across the sky with mighty beats ofits wings. Merith Strongbow was flying after it as fast as he could, while theuncanny fist struck again in midair and their beleaguered foe cast downlightnings once more.Lanseril finished his spell, pointed at Manshoon carefully, and then turnedhis attention again to healing his companions. Jhessail raised her wand again andthen staggered as the lightning struck. The ground shook as something the magehad hurled exploded in front of Elminster, and Narm shielded Shandrildesperately with his own body as stones flew. A stone struck his shoulder,and then his back, with numbing force, and he had not even time to sag beforesomething else hit him on the temple. His eyes saw red, deepening steadilyinto . .. darkness. ... Half a world away, Khelben Arunsun and Malchor Har-pell, great mages both,looked at each other across the aged parchment between them as they feltroilingart echoing in their blood. With one accord they turned to the crystal ballthat stood at hand. The room about them, high in Blackstaff Tower in the greatcityof Waterdeep, fell silent as the two mages stared intently into the crystal,and the great lords gathered there waited to learn what had occurred.In Candlekeep, near the sea, the Keeper of the Tbmes looked up from pages ofstamped and burnished electrum as the soft glow of the runes of power theybore flickered.

The First Reader had seen it too, and fallen silent in his translation. The two men looked at each other in the dark, dusty round room that was the innermostand most sacred of the Inner Rooms, and then stared out, unseeing, into thedarkness. The glowing globe that gave them light to read by dimmed where ithungat the keeper's shoulder, brightened, and then dimmed again."Great art, somewhere, contending with great art," the First Reader saidquietly, and the Keeper nodded."Aye," he said grimly, "and what changes will it bring this time?"The question hung unanswered in the room with them for a long time beforetheycould begin reading again.Orlgaun wheeled again, and Manshoon shook where he sat on the broad, scaled back from the aftereffects of the mighty disjunction he had worked. The hand thathad nearly slain him was gone, as were the other, lesser magics that had a.s.sailedhim-but below on the rocks, the old mage and the younger maid still stoodcalmly. Their hands moved again in the gesture of spell-weaving, and the elfand the ranger still flew after him, low and beneath Orlgaun's body where hecould not reach them, one on either side.Manshoon snarled in frustration and tore another globe from the necklace he wore as the black dragon dove again toward his enemies. Orlgaun moved more slowlyand heavily with each pa.s.s. Both spells and steel had struck the dragon, andstruck deeply. The black dragon had felt nothing worse than the sting of arrows for a long time. Nor have I met such resistance in a fair while, Manshoon thoughtdarkly, as he hurled the globe he held. He then watched magic missiles rise uptoward him in a bright dancing group of lights. He was powerless to stop them.Behind him he heard Merith's triumphant song as the elf thrust his bladebetween two of Orlgaun's armored scales. Manshoon turned, raising his wand, butFlorin was there, sword sweeping out. The blade burned across the lord's fingerslike liquid fire, and Manshoon saw the wand whirl harmlessly away in the air amiddroplets of his own blood just before the magic missiles struck.The dragon rider's globe exploded with stunning force, showering everyone onthe ground with a spray of dust and small stones. Larger fragments crackedsharplyoff the rocks they crouched behind. Only Elminster and a sorely woundedJhessail still stood in view. The other knights lay still under the dust or crouchedbehind cover tensely. The earth's shuddering nearly threw the weary Jhessailto her knees. Under Nairn's heavy weight, Shandril was jolted into confused awareness ofthe tumult around her. Where was she now? Wearily she wriggled into the light,scarcely aware that she was pushing away a body, and completely unaware that.i.t was Narm. She saw dust swirl everywhere. In the open pit of tumbled rocks andcoins before her Elminster stood calmly, facing to her right and lookingupwards.Shandril peered upward, and saw a dark form approaching rapidly. It wasMerith,blade in hand. He was flying somehow, and was hurrying. He seeks Jhessail,Shandril thought dully as she saw his dark, anxious face and where he washeaded. Jhessail had just sagged down onto a rock, pain showing on her face.But beyond the hurrying elf, in midair, Florin was flying with the aid of hisshield, and as he hung from it he struck, again and again, at someone who wasriding a gigantic black dragon. Whoever it was twisted this way and thatunder Florin's blows until suddenly he straightened with a roar of triumph and there was a flash. Florin was hurled end over end through the air like a husk doll.The dragon turned ponderously under its rider's urging, and thundered downout of the sky at Elminster.The old mage stood alone. No, not alone, thought Shandril, as she feltroilingfire deep within her where there should have been nothing left. It glintedbriefly in her eyes. Not while I live. She struggled to her knees, set herteeth, and pointed her arms at the mage on the dragon. She felt sick and asweak as a newborn kitten, and her head throbbed piercingly, but she could feel thefire flowing within her. Let it be as it was before, she thought. Whoever youare, evil one, burn! Burn! How dare you harm my friends! She had screamed that last aloud, she realized dimly, as the last of thespellfire roared up out of her in a bolt of crackling fire that drained herutterly. Her knees gave way, and she could not even see if she had strucktrue as she fell on her face on the rocks. Manshoon stared at the bolt in astonishment, an instant before it hit him.And then all he could do in the teeth of the blinding roar was scream.Orlgaun fell away weakly, hearing its master cry out. The dragon drew back,uncertain. It dared not attack anything that had slain Manshoon-and ifManshoon was dead, there was no reason to tarry. It had hurts of its own, deep, rawpainthat stabbed to the lungs at each wingbeat.But Manshoon yet lived, clinging to his wits and his saddle grimly, barelyable to hold himself upright. He could not survive another blast like that-and ithad not even come from Elminster. The old mage still stood waiting, calmly, andManshoon knew he could not continue this battle and live. Beyond Elminster lay the young maiden who had come crawling out from the G.o.dsonly knew where to smite him with what must have been raw energy: Spellfire!Manshoon shuddered, looked around quickly to ensure that neither.of those whohad flown to attack him was near, and urged Orlgaun away northward. He tiltedthe dragon's body to shield himself from Elminster's gaze and foil any magicmissiles the old mage might now unleash. An attack he could not hope tosurvive,Manshoon thought despairingly.Behind him, the air crackled and there was a flash of light as one lastlightning bolt struck. Orlgaun convulsed beneath him and fell, the greatwingsshuddering. For terribly long moments they dropped before the dragon caught.i.tself and began, raggedly, to fly again. He had escaped alive. Not quite theachievement he had expected."Shandril!" was all Narm said. It was all he needed to say. They hugged eachother fiercely and cried for a long time. Around them, the Knights of MythDrannor used art to heal each other, and packed yet more treasure, and saw totheir weapons, and laughed. In their midst, Elminster, who had cast another spelland now stared off northward with a frown of concentration, stood like a statue.At last, when all were as whole as could be managed, and heavily laden withcoins and bars and Jewels, Jhessail approached the embracing couple and touchedNarm gently on the shoulder."Are you well?" she asked softly, as the other knights gathered around, Tbrmand Rathan grinning openly."Yes," Narm said thickly into Shandril's hair. "Right well." Then hedisengagedhimself from Shandril anxiously. "How are you, my lady?"Shandril smiled back at him. "I live. I love you. I am most well."Narm smiled in his turn, and then asked very softly. "May I take you to wife,Shandril Shessair?" Jhessail turned away to seek out Merith's eyes and found his gaze already uponher. They shared a smile of their own.The knights waited. Shandril's face was hidden in her hair, her head bentdown. Someone-Florin-looked away in sudden dismay. Silence fell. Then Shandril'sshoulders shook, and they realized she was crying. Her slim hands reached outand found Narm's shoulders, and she clung to him and pulled herself into hisembrace and said brokenly, "Oh yes. Yes. Please the G.o.ds, yes."T