Keith Strohm - Bladesinger

The source of that ominous sound-a rather large snow tiger peering intently at Taen and his companions-lay only fifteen feet from him toward the rear of the cave. Though the beast still reclined languorously on the floor, Taen could see its powerful muscles rippling softly beneath stark white fur-and something else. Despite the shifting light from the cavern's flickering torches, he could make out a faint illumination surrounding the tiger. The glow seemed somehow to soften the edges of the beast's outline, making it seem less than real. The half-elf was about to signal Roberc to rein in Cavan as the war-dog's muted growling reached his ears, but a woman's screeching voice interrupted him.

"You!" Taen heard moments before he saw a weathered old crone, whose black robes had served to hide her against the cave's darker rear walls, spin around to face him. The half-elf caught sight of a craggy, face and a shock of stringy snow-white hair before he realized that the crone had unleashed a powerful wave of arcane energy, which stung his honed senses with its strength as it hurtled toward him.

Taen summoned his own power and quickly erected a wall of pure arcane force to meet the incoming attack. Eldritch energy coruscated and flared along the edges of his spell, spitting scattered power as the old woman's arcane attack met the half-elf's wall. Taen blanched at the strength of the crone's assault. Though his defensive shield held, he could already make out subtle cracks that ran through the arcane wall like tiny filaments of a spider's web. Whoever she was, the crone's power was considerable. Beads of sweat started to run down Taen's forehead. Perhaps they had been unwise to leap into the dragon's den, he thought for just a moment. Then a vision of Marissa, chained and battered from her torturous ordeal, flashed through the half-elf's mind. All thoughts of caution fled like shadows beneath the lash of the sun.

"You dare invade my sanctum," the crone screeched in a voice that sounded eerily familiar.

It took him just a moment to recognize the rough timbre-he'd heard it last beneath the citadel, before he and his companions were attacked by giant spiders. The hag of Rashemar and this decrepit witch were one and the same. Taen knew the moment the others made the connection, for he heard Borovazk's deep bass rumble out a string of curses in his native tongue, while Roberc's own invectives filled the cavern. Only Marissa remained silent, and Taen watched as her lips curled in a snarl that resembled the fang-baring of an angered wolf.

"That's right, you fools," the witch continued, occasionally lashing out with a bolt of arcane power directed at Taen's mystic wall, "you've finally discovered my secret-and too late to do anything with it. By the time those foolish othlor discover that you have failed in your mission, my forces will already be victorious, and with the power of the Staff of the Red Tree"-she pointed a gnarled finger in Marissa's direction-"finally under my control, no force in all of Rashemen will be able to stop me."

"Who says we have failed in our mission?" the half-elf spat back at the crone, hoping she couldn't see the tiny droplets of sweat that beaded on his forehead. At this point, he held his arcane defense together by sheer force of will-a will that was beginning to weaken with each successive blast of power from her outstretched hand.

The witch's laughter echoed through the stone cavern. "Who says?" she asked with a sharp-edged smile. "You foolish little elfling… I do!" The crone leaped forward with a piercing shout.

Taen fell back a step despite himself. Now that she stood only a few feet from him, he could see with sickening horror the ruin of the crone's left eye. Black power billowed out of the gaping hole where her eye should have been. A chill ran up Taen's body, threatening to freeze his heart as he gazed into its obsidian depths. The half-elf felt something lurch from deep within him, as if the crone's empty socket were some sort of unspeakable portal-a portal that opened into the vastness of another plane and threatened to suck in his spirit, leaving him trapped for all eternity in a sea of oblivion.

Marissa's shout caused him to pull his gaze away from the witch's pulsating eye. Taen didn't know how long he had been trapped beneath her baleful stare, but it had been enough time for the crone to cast another spell. This time, a sphere of roiling purple energy erupted from the center of her cupped hands and streaked toward the half-elf's arcane wall, which collapsed with a sudden snapping sound as soon as the purple ball struck its leading edge.

"Fleshrender," the crone shouted immediately, "kill them!"

Taen fell back another step beneath the shock of his spell's destruction but felt Borovazk's powerful arms supporting him. Without missing a beat, Roberc and Cavan stepped forward to meet the snow tiger's charge.

"Is time we finished this," Taen heard the ranger's voice hiss loudly in his ear.

The half-elf cast a quick glance in his direction and nodded. All traces of levity and humor were gone from the Rashemi's normally good-natured face, and Taen found himself thankful that Borovazk was an ally and not an enemy, for in the grim cast of the ranger's jaws and the man's iron-hard stare, he could see clearly see the warrior who had killed an ice bear with his bare hands.

"Yes, Borovazk," Taen said, drawing his sword as he did so, "it is indeed time." The half-elf waited for half a heartbeat as the Song rose in him once more before he leaped into the fray.

Marissa froze when she heard the harsh tones of the old woman's voice, and her heart pounded violently within her chest. Memories swam before her eyes, visions of an ugly hag bending over her shackled body. Sweat beaded on her face, and she nearly dropped the Staff of the Red Tree from a hand that went suddenly slack from fear. It was as if she were back in the hag's vile chamber of tortures without any hope of rescue. An unpleasant echo of pain seared her flesh as the crone's voice rose to shriek defiantly at her companions.

She would have been caught in the backlash of Taenaran's spell as it collapsed before the witch's arcane onslaught, but the Staff of the Red Tree buzzed angrily in her mind, dispelling the paralysis that had gripped her spirit. Quickly she stepped away from the conflagration and gripped the Rashemi artifact tightly, eyeing the newly joined battle. Roberc's armor burned a dull yellowish-orange in the torchlit cavern as he and Cavan met the snow tiger's charge. The halfling brought his sword up to meet the beast's raking claw and cursed mightily as its incandescent flesh passed right through the metal, reached beneath his armor, and entered the fighter's body.

Marissa watched as Roberc stumbled slightly from the pain of the attack, forcing Cavan to throw himself to the side at the last possible moment to avoid biting down on his master's flesh. The war-dog recovered quickly, however, and lunged forward, deftly dodging a powerful slash of the tiger's razored claws. Cavan opened his jaws wide, prepared to bite deeply into his enemy's neck-and nearly fell in a tangle of fur and barding as his momentum carried him right through the creature. Saliva sprayed wildly as his jaws snapped together on empty air.

"Taenaran," Marissa shouted to the half-elf as she observed the battle, "the beast is incorporeal. They'll need help."

Taenaran nodded and quickly moved behind his companions. The druid heard his voice call out the words to a spell moments before twin green auras sprang to life around the half-elf's hands. Careful not to interfere with his companion's attacks, Taenaran touched both Roberc and Cavan. Immediately, the auras flared brightly then disappeared.

Marissa knew that whatever spell he had cast would help her friends-but would it be enough? Already the crone had used the distraction of the snow tiger's attack to begin a spell of her own. The druid could see black and purple energy coalescing around the crone's upraised hands as she chanted and called out in a harsh, guttural language that sounded to Marissa like the screams of a thousand banshees.