Troy Denning - The Sorcerer

"This one was the leader," he continued. "It will have too much at stake to give up. It'll be back with all the help it can muster."

Kiinyon shook his head and started to chide Galaeron for contradicting him, but Lord Duirsar raised a silencing hand.

"How can you know this?" he asked Galaeron. "You speak as though you've lived among the phaerimm."

"Not exactly," Galaeron said.

Though he knew the dim view his fellow Evereskans were likely to take regarding the source of his information, he explained without hesitation how Melegaunt had passed on his knowledge before dying-and how he had been forced to yield to his shadow before he could retrieve it The tale evoked an expression somewhere between revulsion and pity from Lord Duirsar and plain revulsion from Kiinyon Colbathin.

"So you're telling us your information comes from the Shadovar?" Kiinyon asked. The last of the Long Watch was disappearing into the forest, and the sound of their first attacks could already be heard rolling up from the far side of the courtyard. "Milord, Galaeron's intentions have always been good, but his naivet? has made him a pawn of the Shadovar from the start"

Khelben started to defend Galaeron, but Lord Duirsar cut him off by speaking directly to Kiinyon.

"Master Colbathin, did you not say just a moment ago that Lord Nihmedu's plan was an excellent one?"

Kiinyon scowled but nodded.

"Then I suggest we listen to him."

"Thank you, milord," Galaeron said. Though the relief he experienced was for Evereska, he did not try to hide the triumph he felt. "I'm sure Master Colbathin will find he was correct in his first assessment of my plan."

"I wouldn't be too impressed with myself," Kiinyon said. His eyes looked as dangerous as those of any beholder. "Ill recall the Long Watch."

Galaeron caught him by the elbow. "It's too late for that"

Kiinyon glared down at the hand on his arm as though he would bite it off.

Galaeron continued to hold it.

"This is what we must do now…"

He explained his idea, emphasizing how important it was that the Chosen save their silver fire until the mythal had been repaired, then he asked, "Any questions?"

"Only one," Khelben said. "What if we're not quick enough?"

"Then the high mages die and we continue the fight for Evereska without them… or the mythal," Lord Duirsar said, drawing his ancient sword. "So I suggest we be quick enough."

Lord Duirsar asked the high mages to begin their repair of the mythal at once, and Galaeron spent the next few minutes positioning his 'troops' in the shadows around the statue. He would have liked to have Aris there with them, but they had already decided the giant would be most useful supporting Keya and assigned him to join the Cold Hand after departing the palace. Galaeron thought he could hear Aris's boulders crashing into the enemy entrenchment already, but with the battle roar below, it was impossible to be certain.

Once the others were arrayed in their hiding places along the edge of the courtyard, Galaeron stepped into the shadow of the statue itself. He took one last glance around. Seeing that Lord Duirsar, Kiinyon, and the Chosen were all safely concealed within the Fringe, he descended into the shadows himself. The phaerimm were surely wary of such hiding places, but there would be a moment after they arrived when their caution would not matter. It was then that Evereska would be won or lost, Galaeron finally redeemed or forever vilified.

The high mages had already encircled Hanali’s statue and begun their work. The two assistants stood to either side of the goddess, their palms turned down, drawing from the ground the golden strands of Weave magic the phaerimm had released earlier. Their dulcet voices were raised in intonation, each singing a separate spell of support, yet weaving their words together in music like harmony.

The leader stood behind the goddess, casting a protection spell so ancient the words barely seemed Elvish. As he sang, he was taking the Weave strands from his two assistants and plaiting them back into the hem of Hanali’s cloak, slowly restoring it to its original flawless condition. With every fiber he restored, the mage grew a little wispier and more translucent, as though weaving himself into the mythal. Though Galaeron was hardly privy to the secrets of elven high magic, he had heard whispers of spirit-binding during his time at the Academy of Magic, and he knew what he was seeing. The leader would become a part of the mythal, watching over Evereska for all time.

The high mages continued their work for what seemed an eternity, slowly weaving the magic back into the mythal and restoring the statue to its original state. Galaeron concentrated on watching for phaerimm but found his attention drifting to their work more often as time passed. They wove in the most powerful magic first-the spells of imprisonment and foresight and meteor storms-and saved the simpler magic for last By the time they had worked their way down to relatively minor magic like detection spells and dimensional locks, the leader was so translucent it was possible to look through him to the far side of the courtyard.

Only a few ragged edges remained to repair on Hanali’s cloak, and the battle in the entrenchment was raging ever louder, suggesting that mind-slave reinforcements were already starting to pour in from the rest of Evereska. Galaeron knew Kiinyon and the others would be wondering if he had been wrong about the phaerimm counterattack after all, but the long wait only convinced him that the leader had more influence than he had believed. Even for the phaerimm, it took time to gather resources-and the longer they took, the more they were gathering.

The high mages were down to their last magic-simple spells of soft falling and true striking-when half a dozen phaerimm crackled into existence around the statue. Teleport-dazed though they were, they arrived attacking, spraying the courtyard with golden bolts of magic and long tongues of flame. Most of the attacks were blind and found no target at all, but one flurry did strike a supporting mage. Her spell shield flashed silver and dissipated, drained by the power of the attack, and one missile penetrated to burn a thumb-sized hole in her shoulder.

The mage continued her incantation without missing a syllable.

Galaeron and the other two elves were already leaping from their hiding places, each rushing to attack the nearest phaerimm and hurling his most powerful death spell at the next closest Galaeron sent a dark bolt hissing through the torso of his first thornback and glimpsed Lord Duirsar's falling to a black death ray that could have taken a giant Then he was on his second target, slashing his darksword down the length of its thorny body. The creature vanished in a twinkle of teleport magic, leaving behind a pool of black blood.

More crackles sounded around the courtyard as a second wave of phaerimm arrived flinging magic and fire. Galaeron raised a shadow shield to cover his back, then hurled a flight of dark bolts at the first thornback he saw and charged the second. A scything blade appeared out of nowhere and came swinging at him from the side. He blocked with the edge of his darksword, cleaving it down the center, and turned back to find Storm Silverhand stepping out of the shadows behind his attacker. Dispelling its blade guard with one hand and swinging her sword with the other, she lopped the phaerimm's tall off about a third of the way up its body-then came staggering in Galaeron's direction as an errant fireball ricocheted off her shoulder and went raging into the forest

Eyes flashing, Storm whirled on her attacker and charged. The battle became a mad melee of spell, blade, and claw. A female voice shrieked in pain. Galaeron spun around to see the high mage who had been wounded earlier falling to the ground. Where once there had been a leg she had only a smoking wound, but she was still singing her alarm spell and feeding golden strands of Weave to the leader.