Ed Greenwood - Cloak of Shadows

"This the one that regenerates?"

"Yes," Shar told him, stamping her boot back on, "and hurry! I want to be gone from here before ardent Amdramnar gets back!"

"He'll have put some sort of locking spell on the door, you know," Belkram said warningly.

"Then our secret weapon'll blast a hole through the wall!" Sharantyr hissed.

That won't be necessary. Sylune sounded amused. There's a secret door at the back of this room that opens into the castle library.

"The Malaugrym have a library? I'll bet Elminster would give his beard to sit down at leisure and read his way through it," Shar said aloud.

Belkram snorted. "Read it? He probably wrote most of it!" He watched Itharr's bleeding stop, and the gash on the burly Harper's forehead begin to fade. "Sylune's looked around for us?"

"Hush!" Shar told him severely. Touch and hold him, Sylune told her. So Sharantyr walked to Belkram, put her arms around him, and kissed him.

He stiffened with a grunt of pain as she embraced his injured shoulder, but as their lips met Sylune said through them, Well done. Now I can speak to you both at once. Be very careful. Beyond this door is one of the most powerful Shadowmasters, waiting for you to come through. He's too strong to fight but will leave you alone as tools to be used later, if you impress him. Act fearless and mysterious… and no clowning, Belkram. If you do this, you just might live. Leave the secret door open behind you-wedge it with that table leg over there-so Amdramnar can come to the rescue if you need rescuing.

"If he tries what he intends with me," Shar told her darkly, letting go of Belkram, "he'll need the rescuing."

"Come back, lass," Belkram said pleadingly, and puckered his lips. "I was getting used to it!"

"Later," Sharantyr told him briskly, taking up her blade and cutting the air with it a few times. "We've got a castle full of Malaugrym to deal with first!"

"Couldn't I just buy you a nice meal," Belkram offered, "and a little too much wine? No?" He looked mournful. "It used to work," he told Itharr wearily. "What went wrong?"

Itharr started to laugh, then clutched at his temples in pain, wincing. A few breaths later, the ring's magic had repaired him enough to sigh, swing himself off the table, and hand the ring to Belkram.

"Heal thyself, dolt," he said, "and hurry, or we'll have a lust-crazed Malaugrym all over her, and that'll sure slow her down when we start running through this place trying to escape."

Belkram put on the ring and looked at Shar. "Ready?"

She lifted her sword in response, and the two Harpers drew their blades again. Shar stepped between them and did as Sylune directed. A part of the wall that looked as solid as the rest grated suddenly aside. Belkram was ready with the table leg.

The room beyond was crowded with ornate bookshelves. The narrow aisle between them ran to the right, and the three rangers followed it cautiously, peering around a corner to look straight into the politely smiling face of a handsome man in a maroon monk's cassock, who sat at a table with several books open in front of him.

"Please be seated and take your ease," the man said, closing a book. It immediately lifted itself off the table and drifted over his shoulder, heading for a gap on one shelf. "No danger awaits you here."

A book floated out of the smooth ranks of tomes in another bookcase, heading for the table. As the volume opened itself for the Malaugrym's scrutiny, the three Faerunians saw that another book was also on the way. All over the library, volumes were drifting unhurriedly about in a continuous, graceful dance.

"And your name, sir, would be?" Sharantyr asked softly, sitting down. The sword in her hand flashed once.

With smooth effort, the man avoided looking at the blade-beware, this one is very dangerous, Sharantyr told herself-and said, "Milhvar of the Malaugrym. And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Sharantyr of Shadowdale, in Faerun," Shar told him, "and these are my… companions, Belkram and Itharr." "Adventurers come to explore the demiplane of Shadow?" Milhvar asked. "Or do you pursue a private purpose?"

"We came here by accident." Belkram replied, "but have become friends of Amdramnar. Others in this castle have not been so friendly."

"I've just heard talk of a duel or some such unpleasantness in the Hall of Stars," Milhvar said, briefly glancing at the contents of the tome in three places and then sending the book on its way again, "and you do seem to travel with cutting edges in plenty, ready for use. Have you any plans here in Shadowhome that I can help you with?"

"To get home again," Itharr offered. Milhvar raised his eyebrows.

That's all? Just to leave, before you've seen more than a handful of rooms and a few warring kin? It seems a poor return for the dangers you've faced, surely?"

"I-" Shar began, but broke off, half-rising from her seat, when two other Malaugrym came hastily around a bookshelf.

Milhvar looked at her raised sword, then over his shoulder at the approaching pair, and said to her, "You can safely put that down. We rarely brawl on sight here in the castle, and never in the library. There is too much of lasting value here." He closed another book and let it rise gently over his shoulder.

"Oh," he added, "be known, Sharantyr, Belkram, and Itharr of Shadowdale-a most favorably named place, I must say-to Indyl and Thaune of the blood of Malaug. Have you business with our guests, you two?"

"We do," Thaune said excitedly. "Or at least, we hope so." He sat down on a corner of the table, ignoring Milhvar's pained look. "Olorn's got it in for you. He's raging around the Great Hall vowing revenge and trying to whelm armies of us against you right now. Would you be willing to use that sword on him, if a couple of us cornered him and held his magic in check?"

"It's the only way you'll be safe from him," Indyl put in, lifting burning eyes from a steady scrutiny of the sword to fix Shar with disconcertingly bright golden irises. As if aware of how menacing his blazing gaze seemed, he hastily muted his eye color to a milky brown. "We've been waiting a long time for a chance to deal with him."

"How," Milhvar asked smoothly, before any of the rangers could reply, "will that sword be of any particular use against Olorn? Is it some sort of special blade?"

"It cut through every spell Olorn threw at them," Thaune said.

"Bheloris said it held them both up, when they triggered a trap-chute in the Red Chamber," Indyl added, news that made Milhvar's eyebrows leap upward. He turned his head to watch a third Malaugrym come around the bookshelf.

"Ah, Drelorr," Milhvar greeted him, "we have visitors from Toril."

"Aye," the newcomer said, leaning a leonine body forward to regard the sword Sharantyr was holding. Its tip pulsed with sudden radiance as he drew near. "This is the blade that burns flesh and makes wounds that won't heal."

"Won't heal?" The other two young Malaugrym drew back from the table with almost comical haste.

"Not at all?" Milhvar asked calmly.

Drelorr shrugged. "They can be spell-healed, right enough, but won't knit of themselves just by shifting shape." He looked at Sharantyr. "You wouldn't want to sell this sword to me, would you?"

Sharantyr shook her head.

"Could we borrow it, then? Or rent it for half a day?"

"Sorry," Shar said. "No."

"Or will you work with us," Thaune suggested, "as we suggested before Drelorr arrived? We don't want to part you from your weapon, just bring its powers against Olorn."

"We've no interest in becoming any more entangled in the feuds of the House of Malaug than we have already become," Shar said carefully, "and so I must decline."

She stiffened as the blade flashed, then she relaxed. 'Nor will spells dupe or force me into relinquishing it," she added dryly. The next probe was more intense, and she felt the faint vibrations of Sylune working spells of her own.