Элейн Каннингем - The Floodgate

The wild celebration grew steadily louder. As they moved past the monument, Kiva pointed to the Azuthan creed carved into the base. "Calm and caution," she murmured derisively.

"They love magic for its own sake," Andris pointed out. "From time to time they unleash wild magic and dance amid the chaos, just to experience it."

The battle leader Nadage crept to Andris's side. "How did you know the wild dance would be this night?"

"There is no pattern, no set time." Andris glanced at the elves that crept near to listen. "When I was at Azuth's Temple, I overheard two priests speak of a new Magistrati-a special sort of priest. Many gathered here have also been elevated in rank. They wish to celebrate before the moon is full, on a night when there is no rain, but a thick veil of mist."

"They wish to veil their foolishness with darkness," reasoned Nadage.

"They wish to use their magical devices and light spells to best effect," Andris corrected. "The light within the circle will be dazzling. All the better for us, for it will blind them to our approach."

Cibrone, the shaman, squinted into the grove that lay between them and the revelers. "I hope you are right, karasanzor. We are breaking treaty to enter these lands, and risking the wrath of Halruaa's wizards. Many of us bear scars from their last war against the People."

Andris put a translucent hand on the elf woman's shoulder and was grateful that she didn't flinch. "Your spells are ready?"

The shaman patted the bag at her belt and looked to Nadage for the signal to proceed.

"We go," the leader said simply.

The elves rose and glided toward the trees. Nimble as lemurs, they climbed into the branches and disappeared. Andris stayed on the ground, trusting his translucent form to provide cover. He crept in, alert for signs of Azuth's displeasure. He paused near the edge of the grove and studied the scene in the clearing beyond.

A glowing circle had been drawn in the soft moss, a large circle that enclosed the Lady's Mirror and most of the clearing surrounding the pool. An enormous, translucent dome enclosed the whole. Within its confines, wild magic raged. Magical sparks leaped and flashed, lending ever-shifting color to swirling mists. Fleet, fanciful illusions darted through the air and reflected on the surface of the pond. The sounds of surf and storm and song rolled like waves over the people who frolicked within the circle. All were dressed in the gray vestments of Azuth and wore the god's symbol over their hearts. Colored fire danced around each embroidered hand, marking the rank of the celebrants. The Azuthans whirled like giddy children or wandered about dazedly, letting the brilliant mists sift through their outstretched hands. Their songs and laughter rose with the maelstrom, magnified and distorted by the wards that contained it.

Nadage padded quietly to Andris's side. "Calm and cautious," he repeated in a derisive murmur.

A few people stood outside the magical circle. Andris pointed to two women who carried swords and wore practical gray tunics and trews. Red flames danced around their Azuthan symbols. That color denotes experience and strength. "Those women are not clergy, but fighters, possibly battle wizards. Subdue them first. Next deal with those bearing yellow auras."

"And the white?" The elf pointed to a tall man whose holy symbol flamed like a small star.

"The new Magistrati," Kiva said as she came toward the two males. "Remember what to expect from him."

Nadage glanced up into the trees and let out a soft call, like that of a drowsy, contentedly nesting bird. In response an arrow rustled through the foliage and rose high into the sky. It slowed as it traced a downward arch, then picked up speed as it dived into the midst of the revelers. It hit the dome and exploded. Sheets of light flowed over the clearing like a protective shield.

As Andris suspected, the arrow triggered a spell that would keep attackers out until the revelers could shake off the effects of the wild magic. Just as effectively, it kept them safely in.

Caught up in the wild magic, the revelers were slow to take note of his latest burst of magical light. All the watchers went on instant alert. One of the warrior women pulled a slender pipe from her belt and blew lustily into it. Andris heard nothing, but the elves cringed.

"They're calling the dogs," Kiva explained through gritted teeth. "Much good may it do them!"

The guard quickly came to the same conclusion. She tossed away the pipe and pulled her sword. Her partner began the gestures of a spell. The crimson flames around the spell caster’s holy symbol climbed higher with gathering power. Holy fire leaped out and licked down the length of the warrior's sword.

Andris sucked air in a sharp hiss. At his side, Nadage shot a concerned glance in the jordain's direction. "Not good?"

"A glowing sword seldom is, unless you happen to be the one wielding it."

A sharp twang resounded, and suddenly an arrow sprouted from the warrior woman's throat. Her blood flowed, first mingling with and then quenching the crimson flames of Azuth. She dropped her sword and fell to her knees, both hands clenched around the killing shaft.

"No!" shouted Andris as he whirled on Kiva, who stood calmly, bow in her hands.

The word burst from him before he could consider the consequences. Nadage looked as deeply shocked as Andris felt.

"This was not what we agreed!" Nadage hissed. "We were to subdue the humans, not kill them." He met Andris's eyes for the first time. "We must withdraw at once."

Kiva shook her head and pointed to the Magistrati. "Too late! Drop and hide!"

The new priest had turned toward Andris's shout. He lifted one hand high, like a child about to throw a ball. A glowing sphere appeared in his hand.

Before the wizard could hurl the magic missile, the elves disappeared into the trees like shadows, and Andris shrank behind a thick cypress. He held very still, hardly daring to breathe.

From the corner of his eye he watched the light speed past him into the trees. It separated as it flew, reforming into five seeking balls of flame. The lights darted here and there among the trees. They faltered, faded, and then flickered out like fireflies at dawn.

Andris let out his breath on a sigh of relief. The ability to hurl this particular spell was granted to all Magistrati, but this man had not wielded the power long enough to remember its limitations: He could not hit a target he could neither see nor name.

He peeked around the tree as an old woman struggled from her chair, her sparse white hair glowing like the moon in the reflected light of her holy symbol. She lifted both hands, beginning the gestures of a spell.

"The old Magistrati," Andris muttered, shielding his eyes with one hand as he squinted into the brilliant white light that surrounded the aging priestess. He lifted his voice to shout, "Get ready, Cibrone! The wizard is casting a protective spell. A wall."

The shaman dropped from the trees. She dug both hands into her bag and brought them out full of seeds. "Get me in closer, karasanzor."

Andris began to run toward the clearing, zigzagging through the trees with the elf woman following closely at his heels. Several Azuthans hurled gouts of magic at the shadowy attackers. A meteor storm of tiny fireballs arced toward them, but all fizzled away just short of Andris-his jordaini resistance to magic repelled such weapons.

Andris searched for the first sign of the wall. He smiled with grim satisfaction as an expanse of stone began to rise out of the ground, just beyond the grove. Azuthans were a devout lot-a wall of fire would have been harder to breach, but their first impulse was to surround themselves with Azuthan gray.

The shaman hurled her seeds at the base of the wall and began a high, ululating chant. Tendrils of green rose from the soil, clinging to the rising wall and matching its soaring growth.