Mark Sehestedt: The fall of Highwatch

Guric's corpse lurched and would have fallen had Argalath not caught him.

"So… hungry," he said.

Argalath waved to his men. "Bring him. Quickly!"

Vazhad took two of the acolytes back into the tunnel. They returned, dragging a bound and gagged Damaran soldier. His eyes were wide, and the blood and tears had frozen on his face, but still he thrashed and screamed behind the gag.

The thing in Guric hissed in delight and fell on his meal before the three men had even brought it to the basin. Argalath and the others left him to it. It was over in moments.

Guric stood, his eyes and teeth shining bright in the starlight amid their mask of blood. The ravaged body of the soldier steamed in the cold at his feet.

Argalath opened his mouth to speak The world spun around him, light lancing through his brain, shattering the darkness there. In the roar of the world's passing, he heard-far, far away-his brother screaming.

With every beat of his heart, the world came back into focus, and the roar in his mind fell away. When Argalath could finally see again, Vazhad and Jatara were leaning over him, concern written on their faces. He realized he'd fallen and was lying in the blood-spattered snow.

"Are you hurt, master?" said Jatara.

"Ukhnar Kurhan has fallen." The words had passed Argalath's lips before he realized them, but he knew they were true.

"What does this mean?" asked Vazhad.

At the same time Jatara, face filled with worry and shock, said, "Kadrigul…?"

"Help me up," said Argalath.

They did. The other acolytes were looking on, impassive. Unmoving. Not even a hint of worry-or worse, ambition-in their eyes. He had trained them well.

"Master," said Jatara. She was trembling, her grip on his arms too tight. "Master, my brother…? Please."

"I do not know," said Argalath. "All I know is that Soran's body has been destroyed. Ukhnar Kurhan will seek another or return here, weakened, bewildered, and hungry."

"Seek another?" said Jatara, and Argalath knew her meaning.

"The only way he could possess a living being is if the person were to invite him."

"And if the person was… not living?"

Argalath turned away from her. "I need rest. This has been… most trying. Have the acolytes see to our new guest. You should help them, Jatara. Vazhad, take me back to my rooms."

"Master?" Jatara called after him.

Leaning on Vazhad's shoulder for support, Argalath headed for the passageway that would take him through the tunnels and back to Highwatch. Back to his bed. Vazhad cast an apologetic glance over his shoulder, but he did not slow.

"Master!" Jatara said. "Master! My brother?"

Carnage. Absolute carnage.

On the frozen river where Tirron and his hunters had been slaughtered, a band of uldra worked in the bloody snow, gathering the corpses of the dead. They dragged the broken and torn elves onto litters. Their dead mounts they left where they lay.

Near the steep bank where the trees drew in close, one of the uldra found another corpse, neither elf nor one of their mounts. A human, dressed mostly in skins and leathers. His skin and long hair were as pale as the snow in which he lay. His limbs were twisted and back broken as if he had been pummeled by a giant.

One of the Frost Folk. The uldra who found him had fought his kind before. On hunting trips to the far north of the outside lands, where the cold almost matched that of the queen's domain.

The horizon beyond the shore suddenly lit up, as if by a great fire, and the ground shook. In the distance, the uldra heard a scream. It hit beyond the ears, striking their very bones with its fury and pain.

The sound died away. The rumble in the ground stilled to a tremble, then stopped.

The uldra felt a stray breeze waft past his face. It almost felt… hot. But not in a pleasant way. Scalding.

He looked back down on the pale corpse. Something was different. Something The corpse's hand shot out and gripped the uldra's ankle in a crushing grip. The eyes opened. Red fire burned in their depths.

The little stone pressing back the dark with its pale light, Menduarthis led Hweilan out of the hollow and down a steep path to a clearing in the wood. A mound sat in the very center. Something about it set Hweilan's teeth on edge.

Menduarthis dragged her to it. "Quickly!'

He fell to his knees at the foot of the mound and pressed both hands into the snow. He closed his eyes, and for a moment Hweilan thought he was praying.

"What are you doing?"

He stopped his chant and glared at her. "Trying to make sure no one follows us out of here."

"What about Lendri?"

"If he isn't here by the time I finish, he won't be coming." Menduarthis closed his eyes and resumed his chant.

Hweilan looked back the way they had just come. Wind still tore through the wood, its howl masking all other sounds. No sight of Lendri.

"Time to go."

Menduarthis stood and tossed his light stone in the snow. It was no longer glowing with a pale blue light. It pulsed yellow, and with each pulse it quickened and darkened, becoming an angry red.

"What is that going to do? "she said.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him. "Blow this mound to the bottom of the Nine Hells, I hope."

"But Lendri!"

Menduarthis ignored her and pulled her behind him. They circled the mound, and on the first full circuit, Menduarthis began an incantation. Hweilan looked back up the rise. It was hard to be certain through all the snow stirred by the wind, but she thought she saw a pale shape bounding toward them.

"Menduarthis, I think I see him!"

"Too late," he said, and in the next swirl of shadow and light, Hweilan looked up at a clear sky, set with a million stars. Stars she recognized. And Selune was the moon Hweilan knew. Just the right size. Her court of stars in the old familiar patterns.

Menduarthis pulled her behind him. "Not safe yet!"

Stumbling behind him down a frost-covered slope, Hweilan looked back. The mound was a mirror image of the one they had just left in the Feywild, but the shadows seemed thinner here. Less vital. Starlight glimmered on the rime-covered rocks, almost sparkling.

She tripped, righted herself, and when she looked back again, Lendri was running toward them.

Hweilan opened her mouth to call And the mound exploded.

She saw Lendri lifted through the air, then Menduarthis fell on top of her, taking her to the ground. A tide of rock, ice, and grit washed over them in a roar of sound. When it passed, smaller stones and a storm of soil began to rain down around them.

Menduarthis rolled off her, and she sat up on one elbow. Back where the mound had been was only a smoking crater. Eldritch lights sparked and fumed, and tiny lightnings struck the ground. They were growing with each strike.

And then Lendri was beside them, bleeding from dozens of scrapes and cuts, still naked as the day he was born.

"Whatever you did…" He looked back at the magic fury eating away at the crater. "We should go."

Hweilan looked back at the conflagration. "That thing and the queen…?"

"The thing is dead," said Lendri. "Kunin Gatar? I very much doubt it."

In the crater, several bolts of lightning crackled around one another, each increasing in fury as they struck the ground.

"We need to leave!" said Lendri.

"Damned if I don't agree with him for once," said Menduarthis.

They were deep in the Giantspires, in the high mountains, and the stars seemed very close. Cold as it was, it was a cold Hweilan knew, and after the realm of Kunin Gatar, it almost seemed warm.

Menduarthis led them into a high valley flanked by three peaks. In the bottom of a gully choked with boulders and bushes of iron-hard branches, he took them to a small cave. No more than a large hole in the ground, it looked like the entrance to an oversized warren.