Jean Rabe - The Silver Stair

The nearest spirit suddenly disappeared into the ground, coming up beneath the gnoll to grab his ankles. Icy pain shot through Orvago's legs, and his knees buckled. The gnoll pitched forward, straight into the second wraith, whose claws clutched at Orvago's heart. The third had somehow gotten behind the gnoll and was clawing at his back.

The gnoll screamed and rolled on the ground, still refusing to drop the blade. He swung it clumsily and ineffectually, his opponents able to dodge his erratic movements.

The elf's expression softened as he regarded his friend. For a brief moment, he considered calling off the wraiths, but Darkhunter was at his side, demanding revenge for the pain the gnoll had inflicted on him.

Kill him, Darkhunter urged his fellow wraiths.

"Finish him," Gair pronounced. "Now!"

The three uninjured wraiths wrapped themselves around the gnoll like an inky blanket. Writhing on his back, it was all Orvago could do to raise his arm and try to feebly swing the sword.

The gnoll bit down hard on his lower lip, hoping this new pain would help him concentrate. It barely registered, though he could taste the blood in his mouth. Focusing his energy into his next swing, he lashed at his own leg, slicing through the wraith on top of it and digging into his own flesh.

The gnoll and wraith cried out simultaneously, and the spirit floated away. Two left. Orvago drove the blade down again. The tip bit into his abdomen, sending another jolt of agony into him. He tugged the weapon free and swung again. Another ghostly scream cut through the air as a second wraith fled. One left.

The gnoll was able to push himself to his knees. A few yards away, Gair was urging the injured wraiths to move forward, to surround the gnoll. "You should have finished him when I told you to," he lectured. "See what you've done by toying with him?"

There was a chorus of coarse-whispered apologies. The wounded undead continued to beg their master's forgiveness as Orvago stood shakily and faced his remaining opponent. He avoided looking at the things' eyes, which continued to unnerve him. Instead, he swept the sword back and forth in front of him, glancing sidelong at the elf.

The gnoll took a step forward, purposely giving the wraith an opening. The black creature took it, darting in and raking the gnoll's bleeding abdomen. Orvago felt numb, whirling only by sheer will and slashing at the creature before it could move away. The blade passed all the way through the wraith, and Orvago spun about and sliced at it again and again.

The wraith's brief scream drowned out the cries of its fellows as it dissipated. Bits of blackness, like rain, fell on the snow, then disappeared.

Orvago was weak and bleeding profusely. Still, he squared his shoulders and snarled defiantly He waved the sword again in a serpentine pattern he'd seen the men use on the ship that brought him close to Schallsea Island.

Darkhunter was conferring with Gair, the whispery words too soft for the gnoll to hear. The other four wraiths were behind the elf, nursing their unseen wounds and glaring at Orvago with their ice-hot eyes.

"I can't let him return to the settlement," Gair said. "Not now. No matter what. Goldmoon would question him about his injuries. Perhaps she could use a spell to pull the information from his small brain." With a gesture, he waved the four wraiths forward. Darkhunter remained at the elf's side.

Orvago spread his legs and bent at the knees, jabbing forward, sending the blade into the lead wraith's chest, then dragging it up through its mudlike form until the blade sliced through its neck. The creature screamed and disappeared, raining blackness on the snow. Not pausing, the gnoll aimed a blow at the ground, where one of the wraiths was coming up between his feet. The sword cleaved the thing's head in two. More rain.

The elf called the remaining two off, but Orvago pursued them. He slashed to his right, narrowly missing one, then turned and brought the sword down to his left, slaying a third. He shuffled forward, sweeping the blade left and right until he connected with the last of his foes.

Behind Gair, Darkhunter sought safety by seeping into the ground. The elf backed up, warily watching Orvago, who was stumbling toward him.

"You're hurt," Gair said. "I could heal you."

Orvago snarled. "I do not trust you," the gnoll said, the words guttural but clear.

"By the vanished gods, you can talk!" The elf drew his sword. It gleamed faintly in the starlight. He continued to back farther into the clearing, and the gnoll continued to follow him. "You're good with a sword," Gair said. "I'll warrant you that, especially with a magic one-my magic sword-but I'm the better swordsman."

"Maybe," the gnoll grunted.

"I don't want to kill you, Orvago."

"Liar."

The elf spun and darted down the trail, kicking up snow as he went. He dashed into the middle of the clearing, down a path between a row of burial mounds. A black shadow-Darkhunter, the gnoll guessed-rose from a mound and followed him.

Orvago did not pursue. He didn't have the strength. He turned and staggered southward, the magical sword in one hand, the other hand pressed as firmly as his strength would allow over the deep wound in his abdomen.

Dawn painted the snow a pale pink-like Camilla's lips, Gair mused. The clouds overhead were the color of her eyes. The elf was sitting deep in the Que-Nal woods on a rotted log. Wrapped in his cloak, he stared at a spot on the snow-covered ground.

The Solamnic knight commander was probably lost to him now, he suspected. He doubted she would understand or condone his dealings with the dead. Perhaps he could contact the spirits of some famous longdead Solamnic knights. That might impress her. He could give them form as he had to his wraiths, and maybe he could convince them to reason with her.

"Goldmoon?" he whispered. "She might forgive me on her own. Forgiveness is in her nature. She'd probably accept me back into the settlement, but she certainly wouldn't teach me any more mystical spells." He thrust his sword into the ground between his feet. "She'd try to stop me from using dark mysticism, and that I could not tolerate."

A shadow moved away from him and clung to the trunk of a thick willow tree. It was Darkhunter. The wraith was still recovering from the wounds Orvago had inflicted with the magical sword.

The elf allowed himself a wry smile. "My sword. With my sword that damnable gnoll dashed an entire day's worth of work-slaying five spirits I painstakingly brought through the doorway. One was my father, and that is a spirit I will bring back again."

Would it be easier the second time? he wondered, or harder, given that the elder Graymist had been slain by an enchanted weapon?

"By the vanished gods, why did I leave that sword hanging up in my tent where the gnoll could get it?"

No matter. He would try to get the sword back. He had to return to the Silver Stair sometime anyway, since he needed to use the energy that coursed through the ruin to bring back his father, and more. Perhaps on that trip he would liberate the sword. He had purchased it, after all. Perhaps he would kill the gnoll with it.

He dropped his head into his hands and sobbed.

"What am I saying? What's wrong with me? Kill Orvago?" The elf's shoulders shook. "I only intended to deal with the dead, not to add to the dead. What's happening to me?"

You are becoming stronger, the shadow of Darkhunter whispered.

It took the gnoll several hours to make his way back to the settlement. There was little life left in him when he collapsed at the base of the Silver Stair. His chest rose and fell raggedly, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It was dawn before he was discovered.

The entire settlement was ringed around him. Camilla stood over him, talking to Goldmoon and to Willum. Orvago couldn't make out the words. He hurt all over, and he felt terribly cold and weak. He couldn't move his arms or legs, couldn't feel them.