[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Elmara leapt away from the horse even before the wizard toppled from the saddle; Gartos was very quick.
He'd realized where El's magic had taken her, wheeled, and his blade was al-ready cutting the air above the
magelord's high-cantled saddle.
Elmara landed hard, jumped to one side to still the speed of her leap, and peered at the wand she'd
snatched. Ah, there! Hooves were thudding toward her as Elmara looked up, pointed the wand, and carefully
spoke the word that was scratched on its butt-end. Light pulsed and hissed away from the wand in a pair of
bolts that swerved in the air to strike Prince Gartos full in the face. He threw back his head, snarled in pain,
and slashed blindly with his blade as his horse galloped forward. Elmara leapt and rolled, and came up well to
one side. She pointed the wand at the armored figure rushing past and spoke the word again.
Light flashed again and sped to its target. The gleaming ar-mored arms jerked in pain. The warrior's sword
spun away to the turf as his mount bucked under him and then galloped away, fleeing in earnest now. Elmara
saw sleepy-eyed folk gaping at her out of their doorways as she dropped the wand to the road at her feet,
pointed her hands at the horse, and spoke a few soft words.
The prince fell from his saddle, rolled over once with a mighty crash, and lay still. The horse sped on into
the rising dawn.
El retrieved the wand, cast a quick look around for other foes, saw none, and stalked over to where the
warrior lay. Gartos lay on his back, face dark with pain and fury.
"I have other questions, warrior," Elmara said. "What brings armsmen of Athalantar to Narthil?"
Gartos snarled angrily and wordlessly up at her. Elmara raised her eyebrow, and lifted her hands
warningly to begin the gestures of a spell.
Gartos watched her fingers move, and rumbled, "S-Stay your spell. I was ordered to find the one who slew
some magelings at the Unicorn's Horn, west of here ... you?"
Elmara nodded. "I defeated them and sent them away; they may yet live. How is it that a prince of the
realm gets ordered anywhere?"
The warrior's lips twisted wryly. "Even the king does the bid-ding of the elder magelords
 and the king made
me a prince."
"Why?"
The fallen man shrugged. "He trusted me . . . and needed to give me the right to command armsmen
without having any young fool of a magelord strike down my orders or slay me out of spite."
Elmara nodded. "Who was the wizard with ye?"
"Magelord Eth
 my watchdog, set by the magelords to make sure I don't do anything for Belaur that might work
against them."
"Ye make Belaur seem a prisoner."
"He is," Gartos said simply, and Elmara saw his eyes dart aside, this way and that, looking for
something.
"Tell me more of this Magelord Eth," Elmara said, taking a step forward and drawing the wand from her
belt. It would be best to keep this warrior talking and give him no time to plot an attack.
Gartos shrugged again. "I know little; the magelords don't care to say much about themselves. He's called
'Stoneclaw;' he slew an umber hulk with his spells when he was young . . . but that's about all I... Thaerin!"
At the warrior's shout, magical radiance pulsed. Elmara turned hastily
 in time to see the rune-carved blade
flashing to-ward her, point first.
She leapt aside. The warrior snarled, "Osta! Indruu hathan halarl! and the blade veered in the air, darting
straight at El-mara.
She let go the wand and raised her hands desperately
 and the blade cut right through them, searing aside
her fingers to plunge deep into her. Elmara screamed. The dawn sky whirled around her as she staggered back, blood
welling up, fought to speak, and fell back onto the turf, greater pain than she'd ever known hissing through her.
She heard a cold chuckle from Gartos as darkness rolled in, and fought with all her will to cling to
something . . . anything ... With her last breath she gasped, "Mystra, aid me ..."
*****
Prince Gartos struggled to his feet. He felt weak and sick in-side and couldn't feel his feet at all... but they
seemed to obey him. Grunting, he took a few unsteady steps and sat down, armor clanking. Narthil spun
around him.
"Easy," he muttered, shaking his head. "Easy, now ..." His men lay strewn along the road, with not a
horse in sight. "Thaerin," he grunted, "Agios!" Gartos extended his hand, watched the blade tug itself free of
the dead woman and drift, dark and wet, to his waiting grasp. Young witch, who did she think she was to defy
Athalantar's magelords? He fumbled at his gorget, got it aside, and grasped the amulet beneath, closing his
eyes and trying to concentrate on the remembered face of Mage-lord Ithboltar....
Firm fingers swept his aside. His eyes flew open, and he was staring up at the innkeeper's white,
frightened face as she thrust a dagger into his throat and drew it firmly across. Blood sprayed. Prince Gartos
struggled to swallow, could not, and tried to raise his blade. Its glowing runes dancing before his eyes,
mocking him, were the last things he saw as he sank down into darkness....
*****
"Gartos will see that this sorceress dies," Briost said firmly, and a smile slowly crossed his face. "Eth will
make sure he does."
"You're confident of Eth's abilities?" Undarl asked. The wiz-ards seated around the table all looked down it
to the high seat where the mage royal sat, in time to see his fire-red ring wink with sudden inner light.
Briost shrugged, wondering (not for the first time) just what powers slept in that ring. "He has proven
himself able .. . and prudent... thus far."
"This was a testing, though, wasn't it?" Galath asked excit-edly.
"Of course," Briost replied in a voice dry with patience. Why, he thought privately, did there always have to
be one eager puppy at these meetings? Surely work could be found for such as Galath on these evenings
 teaching him to unroll a scroll, per-haps, or put on his own robes so the hood was to the back and the tabard facing
front? Anything would suffice, so long as it kept him far away....
Galath leaned forward eagerly. "Has he reported in?"
Nasarn the Hooded snorted and looked coldly down the table. "If every mageling we set to a task did that,
our ears'd be ringing with their babble every moment of the day
 and all night, too!" With his unblinking stare,
sharp nose, and dusty black robes, the old man resembled a vulture sitting and watching prey that would soon come
its way.
Undarl nodded. "I'd not expect a magelord to waste magic on bothering his fellows just for idle chatter; a
report should come only if something serious is amiss ... if the intruding mage should prove to be a spy for
another realm, for instance, or the leader of an invading army."
Galath flushed in embarrassment and looked away from the mage royal's calm face. Several of the other
magelords let him see smiles of amusement on their faces as he looked swiftly and involuntarily up and down
the table. Briost yawned openly as he smoothed one dark green sleeve of his robes and shifted into a more
comfortable position in his chair. Alarashan, ever one to leap onto a popular cart, yawned too, and Galath's
gaze fell to the table in front of him in misery.
"Your enthusiasm does you credit, Galath," Undarl Drag-onrider added with a straight face. "If Eth asks us [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]