Richard Baker - Prince of Ravens

Jelan snorted. “I did not do it for you, Jack. It seems Dresimil Chumavh has realized the very scheme I had in mind when I attempted to seize the mythal in the Year of Wild Magic. Since I have some aspirations of my own, I find myself unwilling to stand aside and let her plans proceed. Besides, you and I have some unfinished business.”

“If you are angry about the affair with the Sarkonagael’s spell, I am sure that Norwood is angrier,” he said. “After all, he paid me seven thousand gold crowns for half a spell.”

Narm looked up as he fumbled with the keys. “He paid you how much for that book?” he asked.

“I, ah, presented a request to be compensated for some additional expenses. It is a routine ploy in this sort of negotiation.” Jack grimaced. “I suspect he will want that money returned now.”

The swordsman found the right key, unlocked the cell, and opened the door. “Finally,” he muttered. “Let’s continue the conversation elsewhere. This is not a good place to linger.”

“Agreed,” said Jack. He stepped out and helped himself to the sword and crossbow of the fallen guard. Then he followed Jelan and Narm as they hurried out of the guardroom into the castle’s dimly lit corridors. Five dark elf warriors sprawled dead just outside the door; fighting continued elsewhere in the fortress. The warlord and the swordsman turned left and headed toward the sound of battle until they came to a large, thick-pillared hall at the foot of a wide staircase leading from the dungeon level up into the castle proper. Dozens of orc slave-soldiers and a handful of dark elves sprawled on the floor and the steps.

In the shadows of the large pillars in the hall, several adventurers took cover from drow archers and spellcasters who were themselves out of sight at the top of the stairs. Kurzen, Halamar, and Arlith watched the right-hand side of the stairs. On the other side of the room, several of Jelan’s Moon Daggers-the elf mage Kilarnan, along with the Tempus-priest whom Jack had last seen at the beholder’s hall in Sarbreen, and the tattooed swordsman who had accompanied Jelan on that occasion-guarded the left-hand side of the room.

“I see that you found him,” the priest said to Jelan.

The Warlord nodded. “You may remember Jack Ravenwild from the Temple of the Soulforger. Jack, this is Wulfrad, and the fellow with the tattoos is Monagh. Kilarnan I believe you already know.” Jack bowed to Jelan’s companions, doing his best to ignore the suspicious looks they gave him; they hadn’t exactly parted on very good terms, after all.

“Good to see you, Jack,” Halamar said. The fire-sorcerer gave him a firm arm-clasp. “Was Seila not with you?”

“She was, but Balathorp took her, perhaps an hour ago. I think he is making a run for it.” Jack glanced over to Jelan and her crew. “We need to fight our way out of here. Balathorp is getting away.”

“That was more or less my plan.” Jelan peered through the gloom up the stairs, then nodded at the small band. “This way-”

“One moment,” Jack said. He moved over to Jelan and held up his right hand. “Can you remove this ring for me? It is cursed so that I cannot take it off myself.”

Jelan gave him a skeptical look. “What does it do?”

“It prevents me from using my own magic,” Jack said. The warlord hesitated, so he added, “I have no intention of leaving the Underdark until the drow are dealt with, one way or another. They will hound me to the end of my days otherwise. Besides, I am going nowhere until I find Seila Norwood and see her to safety. I cannot leave her in the dark elves’ hands.”

“You surprise me, Jack. Sentimentality? A sense of responsibility? What next, I wonder?” She took Jack’s right hand in her left, steadying it, and then grasped the ring in her other hand, covering it completely to suppress the ring’s curse with her own native antimagic. With one easy motion she pulled the ring off Jack’s finger, then dropped it into a pouch at her belt. “Hmm, I expected that to be harder,” she said. “Perhaps it was enchanted only so that you could not remove it yourself.”

Jack rubbed his hand with a sigh of relief. “Much better; I thank you. I am ready now.”

Jelan nodded. “Good. Kilarnan, Halamar, will you clear a way for us?”

The two mages looked at each other, then began casting. Jack sensed both of them struggling to gather the power for their spells; all the currents of magic seemed to flow toward the wild mythal, and it required an unusual effort for Halamar and Kilarnan to divert the invisible eddies to their own spell. Halamar launched a huge fireball up the stairs leading to the castle, while Kilarnan followed an instant later with a crackling sphere of lightning. Twin detonations rocked the chamber; screams and shouts echoed down the steps. On the heels of the battle spells, Jelan and her mercenaries darted up the stairs; Jack and his comrades followed. Dead or unconscious dark elves littered the landing above, killed where they’d been standing or crouching to fire down at the adventurers below. The dark elves who survived the powerful spells were quickly cut down by Jelan, Narm, and the others, or else they fled silently down the castle corridors.

“They’ll come back with reinforcements,” Kurzen observed.

“Keep moving,” Jelan replied. “To the gatehouse!” She turned to the right and headed down a new hallway of blood-red arrases and gleaming black marble. The small party of adventurers fell in around her as they hurried through Tower Chumavhraele. They took several turns, and passed through a couple of large, empty halls and foyers, until finally they halted by a large double-door reinforced with bands of adamantine. Jelan cracked it open and peeked through; Jack saw the courtyard of the castle just beyond. A squad of drow with a pair of hulking battle-trolls guarded the courtyard and the main gate leading outside.

“Not as many as I expected,” Jelan remarked. “Dresimil must have thrown most of her strength against Norwood’s soldiers. Well, she’ll have cause to regret that soon enough. Kilarnan-the trolls, if you please.”

The elf nodded. “Be on your guard. The drow will not be fooled for long.” Then he drew his wand and began to whisper the words of an enchantment, his wand rising and falling with the sonorous tones of his voice.

For a moment Jack thought the spell had failed altogether … but then the trolls suddenly straightened up, shaking their heads from side to side with snorts and growls. The drow warriors nearby turned to see what was troubling the big monsters; then one troll let out a bellow of rage and smashed at the nearest drow with its huge spiked hammer, while the other wheeled and rampaged into the middle of the warriors behind it. In the space of an instant the trolls and the drow were locked in a furious melee, as the simple-minded monsters flailed and struck at their masters under Kilarnan’s spell.

“Well done,” Jelan said to the mage. “The rest of you, follow me when I charge.”

“Stupid beasts!” one of the drow warriors cried. “Have you lost your minds?”

“They’ve been charmed!” another dark elf who must have been the captain of the detachment shouted back. “Stay away from them until the spell passes!”

The drow warriors scrambled back from the trolls, but not before another one had been hacked down by a huge axe. Jelan watched them scatter, and then she suddenly threw open the tower door and sprinted toward the captain while his back was turned. Narm, Kurzen, the priest Wulfrad, and the tattooed warrior Monagh followed after her; Halamar found a good vantage to throw bolts of fire at the drow as they struggled to meet the new attack. Jack decided to make use of the small crossbow he’d taken from the guard down in the dungeons, staying a few steps back from the heavy fighting. He shot a dark elf who looked like a wizard just before he finished whatever spell he was intoning. Meanwhile, in a few vicious passes of her blade, Myrkyssa Jelan cut down the distracted dark elf captain while the rest of the band and the charmed trolls made short work of the others.