way! Aside! Get out of the tluining way! ”
When one palace guard stopped uncertainly, halberd raised, Dauntless smashed it aside with his fists and slammed the soldier into the passage wall. When the guard snarled a curse and reached for a dagger, a Purple Dragon rushing along behind Dauntless punched him hard in the throat, leaving him to reel and fall in the wake of the hurrying throng.
Tathanter, Malvert Lulleer, Laspeera, and the Dragons had already pounded along too many Palace corridors, striking aside servants and guards who hadn’t gotten out of the way fast enough-but there were the doors to Anglond’s Great Hall at last!
The door-guards took one look at them and flung the doors wide; Laspeera’s band burst into the Great Hall, panting for breath but running hard.
As shrieking fine-gowned merchants’ wives went sprawling, Dauntless and his dozen Dragons spread out, each racing through the thronged guests, sword out and looking for trouble.
Trouble, as in the Knights of Myth Drannor.
Pages, scribes, and courtiers from Silverymoon shouted in alarm and ran to surround and protect their lady. The envoy’s maid raced to Lady Summerwood’s side, eyes blazing with sudden silver flames.
A voice erupted then from the breastplate of every Purple Dragon in the hall: “Laspeera am I, of the Wizards of War of Cormyr. Loyal Dragons and citizens, strike not at me, or those running with me! We serve the realm!”
“No sign of them!” one of those running Dragons bellowed from the far end of the hall, gasping for breath.
“None here!” another called. Other shouts followed, all announcing an utter lack of Knights of Myth Drannor from one end of the hall to the other.
Laspeera frowned, worked a swift spell-and Dauntless and his dozen, from wherever they were all across Anglond’s Great Hall, were lofted into the air, rising upright to soar up onto the balconies. They promptly commenced to rage along those levels, peering and running.
The hall was in an uproar, but it died down when Dauntless thrust his way to the rail of the lowest balcony to wave at Laspeera and then spread his hands in a helpless “They’re not here!” signal.
Grimly Laspeera turned to her king and queen, to tender her apologies-and stopped, her mouth hanging open in astonishment, as King Azoun gave her a broad, genuine smile ere turning to the Lady Summerwood and saying grandly, “Aerilee, at many of our revels we celebrate the vigilance of our war wizards and Purple Dragons with a mock chase, such this one you have just witnessed, to both entertain the citizenry and to remind them that the finest folk in all our realm watch over them constantly and vigorously! May I present Laspeera Naerinth, one of our foremost and most capable war wizards?”
Still dumbfounded, Laspeera found herself swept into the warm embrace of Silverymoon’s envoy, whose enthusiastic kiss at first made her stiffen, then shrug, and then engage in as an equal partner in a warring of tongues.
“I’ll bet you give great backrubs,” she murmured, when at last their lips parted.
Airilee grinned impishly. “Oh, I do. Do you rub feet?”
Laspeera grinned back, and shrugged. “I’m willing to try.”
Up on the balcony, watching all the kissing, Dauntless slammed a fist down on the rail and growled, “Hrast! That could be me, down there!”
The nearest balcony guard looked him up and down, and shook his head. “Nay. You’ve not the legs for it.”
Nearby Purple Dragons started to snicker, as Dauntless gave the guard a choice glare.
Semoor Wolftooth squeaked in surprise as the wardrobe doors in front of him crashed open in a great splintering of wood. Two dark, helmed shadow-things had just burst through them.
Barely half a breath later, five more shadow-things shredded the tall painting on the east wall to ribbons by arrowing through it, sword points first.
At the same time, the door the Knights had come in by crashed open under the onslaught of two more of Margaster’s bladewraiths-who were met by Islif’s snarling fury. Her swift-swung blade shattered a helm almost instantly, causing that bladewraith to fall into drifting dust, its sword clattering to the floor.
The other bladewraith raced past her shoulder, heading for the Royal Magician of Cormyr.
Vangerdahast spat out a word that boomed and rolled in all ears-and shattered three wraith-blades in midair, felling the shadow-thing racing for him and two that had burst in through the painting.
Jhessail shrieked and ducked away from a wraith that chased her, blade foremost. Pennae sprang into the air to catch hold of the candle-wheel lamp hanging from the ceiling. A wraith-blade laid open her back as she did, causing her to shout in pain.
Doust was proud of his grand technique when casting shields of faith, but threw it aside to stammer out the magic faster than he’d ever done. Jhessail had only just begun to shimmer in its protection when he shouted at her, “Right, do something to these!”
A moment later, a wraith-blade plunged through his guts, and he doubled up around it as it burst wetly out of his back, vomiting his blood all over Jhessail as he plunged face-first to the floor, kicking and writhing.
Semoor’s sanctuary magic formed just in time, bladewraiths circling over him like flying angry eels but not striking. Overhead, Pennae kicked a wraith-blade away, swung hard on the lamp, and used its momentum to hurl herself feet-first down and across the room. She landed smoothly, bouncing to pluck up the fallen sword of the shadow-thing Islif had destroyed at the door.
Her pursuing bladewraith plunged down at her from behind, and would have spitted her as surely as it had served Doust, if its sword hadn’t been slashed viciously aside by Islif, on her way to backhand another bladewraith away from Jhessail.
The mage of the Knights sat on the floor, her face a-drip with Doust’s blood, frantically casting a spell. Across the room, Vangerdahast was chanting something too.
On hands and knees, Semoor scuttled across the room, trying to reach Doust. He saw the shimmering around Jhessail flicker violently as a shadow-thing hacked at it-twice, thrice, and then the magic winked out.
The wraith-blade thrust down again-and Semoor flung up his hands to ward it away from Jhessail’s unprotected head. It sliced through his magic and then him, almost severing one of his hands.
The Anointed of Lathander stared in horror at the ruin dangling from his wrist, and started to scream.
Which was when Jhessail’s battlestrike finally took effect, its bright leaping bolt sending the bladewraith wavering aside that had been circling to finish Semoor.
An instant later, Vangerdahast’s chanting ended with the calm words “undeath to death”-and all five remaining wraiths collapsed in a clattering of falling swords and whirlwinds of corpse-dust.
“Islif,” the Royal Magician snapped, without pause, “pry off that side of the doorframe. In a space behind you’ll find a coffer of healing potions. Use what you need. Now, disturb me not!”
Pulling himself stiffly upright, he closed his eyes and hurled his will across the Palace, praying to Azuth that he’d be in time.
“I’m in time! Turn right!” Vangerdahast’s voice murmured abruptly, sounding as if the Royal Magician were standing where he could speak right into Florin’s ear.
The ranger almost jumped, but obediently hurled himself around the turn, still racing along in darkness relieved only by the tiny glows that marked spyhole-swivel coverings.
“Slow down so you won’t miss this turn- right turn,” Vangey said, and Florin obeyed.
“Keep going past the first opening, turn left here, up the steps… along… down the steps, and turn right on the first landing… aye… now, see the glowing line? That’s the edge of a panel-slide it hard away from you and go through, turning left immediately and moving fast and low!”
Panting, the ranger-Knight did just as he was bid, seeing the plinths as he plunged out and around them. There was the false one, as he ran on, past it. Vangey said not a word… ah, of course; the wizard could hear him, too!
Twisting back around the next plinth, Florin struck out backhand with the very tip of his blade at the false plinth-and felt his blade slice cloth, and flesh beneath.
There was a hoarse shriek, and the ranger flung himself at the floor and then bounced up off it, slamming into the unseen wizard before the man could say or do anything. If he could ruin any spellcasting They hit the floor
