Richard Baker - Farthest Reach

How did she do it? Araevin wondered. If she knew a spell to secure the mythal-weave from another mage’s examination or touch, why didn’t she guard the mythal at Myth Glaurach in the same manner? He could only think of three possible answers: Sarya Dlardrageth was simply careless at Myth Glaurach, which seemed scarcely credible; there was something different about Myth Drannor’s mythal; or Sarya Dlardrageth had learned something new about mythalcraft in the relatively short time since he had bested her at Myth Glaurach.

But she doesn’t have the Nightstar. Where could she have learned the necessary spells? Is there another selukiira she might have access to? Or… did Sarya find a tutor? Araevin’s frown deepened, and he rubbed at the gemstone in his chest.

“This way,” Starbrow said. He turned from the path, striking off into the forests. He slid down a leaf-covered slope, muddy and wet with the spring, and splashed across a small stream at the bottom of the dell. But before they scrambled up the far side of the stream bank, Araevin sensed a terrible, icy cold in the air, and a crawling wrongness that turned his stomach.

He looked back up the short hillside they’d just descended. A pair of nightmarish monsters bounded down after them. They were a pale bluish-white in color, the hue of dead flesh, and they were big-each easily the size of an ogre, with insectile features, clacking mandibles, and long, lashing tails studded with terrible barbs. They carried great spears of black iron frosted with supernatural cold.

“Behind us!” he cried. “Ice devils!”

The devils hissed and clicked at each other, slowing and spreading apart as they realized their quarry had been brought to bay. Araevin and his companions turned to face them.

“We have to kill them,” Starbrow said. “Don’t let them teleport away, or they’ll be back with more of their kind in a matter of moments.”

“Right,” said Ilsevele.

Her hands blurred and her bow sang its deadly song, thrumming deeply. A silver arrow struck the first devil just above its cold, faceted eye, splintering against its chitinous hide, and a second arrow stuck in the tender joint between its armored torso and its bony arm.

The two fiends halted, gathering their infernal power. Araevin started to shout a warning, but even as he drew breath the monsters let loose with a terrible, scathing blast of unearthly cold. The stream iced over at once, and tree and fern alike turned white and died under the deadly frost.

Araevin ducked down under his cloak, hoping its enchantments would help protect him. Cold so fierce that it felt like a white-hot poker seared his hands, his feet, and soaked through his cloak, wrenching away his breath and burning in his nose and mouth. He heard Ilsevele cry out in pain. Then the cold eased, and he threw off his cloak, shaking off a mantle of deadly white hoarfrost as he stood again.

The whole hillside was white and frozen from the ice devils’ wintry blasts. The monsters stalked forward, iron spears smoking with cold. Before him, at the bottom of the dell, Filsaelene stood frozen. She had been in midstream when the devils attacked, and the ice on the creek held her immobilized at the knee.

“I’m stuck!” she cried.

Araevin leveled his disruption wand at the nearest of the two devils and barked out the command word. A bolt of azure energy, shimmering and crackling, lanced out from the wand to knock the devil off its feet. The second devil approached Filsaelene, who stooped down to smash the edge of her shield against the ice covering the creek, trying to free her feet from the ice. But then Maresa suddenly slipped out from behind a tree, leveled her crossbow, and shot the ice devil in the side of its thick neck. Blue-black gore spattered the frost-covered ground, and the monster whirled on her, moving with impossible speed for something so large and powerful. Maresa yelped and gave ground, ducking back into a young stand of alders and trying to keep as many of the slender white trees as possible between her and the devil.

“Is there a good way to kill these things?” Maresa called.

“Holy weapons!” Filsaelene replied. “You need a holy weapon to really hurt them!”

“Anything else?” the genasi demanded.

The ice devil stalked closer and rammed the point of its black spear through the trees, missing Maresa by a hand’s breadth.

Araevin blasted that devil with his wand, staggering it for a moment, then he risked a quick glance back at Ilsevele. He found her fumbling to pick up her bow again with frozen hands. Starbrow knelt by her, trying to help.

“I can’t shoot!” she said.

The first devil regained its feet and charged at Filsaelene, who finally managed to pull her feet free of the ice. She parried the first strike of its spear with her shield, twisted out of the way of the second, but then the monster’s barbed tail came sweeping in fast and low, lashing her across her knees. Her feet flew out from under her, and Filsaelene fell on her back in the icy stream, her sword clattering out of her grasp. The monster straddled her, one clawed foot on either side of her torso, and raised its great black spear in both hands.

Then Starbrow came dashing down the slope, Keryvian alight in his hands. The sword gleamed in one perfect arc that took off the ice devil’s leg at the knee. The creature let out a high-pitched, whistling shriek, and toppled into the creek, even as it slashed and gouged at Starbrow. The big moon elf followed the monster to the ground, blocking its claws and mandibles with lightning-swift parries. Then he set one foot on its chest and rammed Keryvian’s point through the monster’s mandibles, pinning its head to the streambed. Keryvian’s pure white fire flashed from the ice devil’s eyes. The thing shuddered once and lay still.

The second ice devil whirled at the cry of the first, and abandoned Maresa to rush toward the others. But when Starbrow killed its companion, the ice devil halted, its eyes glittering with cold malice. It abruptly vanished, teleporting away.

“Damn,” Starbrow said. “It’s gone for help!”

“Quickly, then. We must be away from here before it returns!” Araevin replied. He turned and helped Ilsevele to her feet, shivering at the icy touch of her flesh. “Can you walk?” he asked her.

She winced with pain, but nodded. “Yes. Let’s go.”

They scrambled up the other side of the dell, and ran at their best speed through the woods beyond, following Starbrow as he dashed ahead. He led them for several hundred yards, through tall groves of magnificent trees that resembled nothing so much as the pillars of a great cathedral above a floor of green ferns, into tangled thickets and past old ruined walls and roads, before they reached a small shrine or chapel half-hidden by the hillside it was built against.

“In here,” Starbrow said. “I think we’ll be safe.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ilsevele asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to stay out in the woods, where we can try to keep ahead of the pursuit? If they track us to this place, we’ll be cornered.”

“The fey’ri have wings,” Starbrow answered. “If they find us in the open, we won’t be able to outrun them. Hiding is probably our best option. And if I remember right…” The moon elf warrior moved into the ruined shrine, and studied the floor carefully.

“Whatever you’re doing, do it quickly! The fey’ri are coming,” Maresa hissed. She flattened herself beside the door, watching the path along which they’d just come. “There are at least a dozen of them back there.”

Starbrow swept aside a small bare patch, then knelt to flip up a flagstone and open a hidden catch. Behind the altar, a hidden door slid open.

“Into the passage,” he said, and stood aside to motion Araevin, Ilsevele, and Filsaelene through. Maresa followed, hurrying across the chapel, and Starbrow stepped in and slid the door closed.