Lord Adarbrent took the spellbook from Sophraea.
'1 began this,' he said. 'Now, let me finish it.'
The pale lady stepped aside, disappearing back into the shadows.
'It's stopped,' moaned Gustin, staring at his creation.
The statue had marched to the first step leading into the Markarl tomb. There it stood, rocking back and forth slightly on its stone heels.
'It has to go inside, and come out again, and close the door,' instructed Lord Adarbrent, nose almost resting upon the pages of Algozata's spellbook as he tried to read it in the dim light.
'Maybe if I move closer,' said Gustin.
'Is it safe?' said Sophraea.
'Truly, I don't know,' the wizard replied. He moved up to the statue and laid a hand on its stone shoulder. The faintest purple light sparked when he touched his creation.
'My spell is holding,' he said.
'Go on, go inside,' Gustin spoke directly into the statue's beautifully carved ear. Rather than commanding, his voice took on a coaxing tone.
For a breathless moment, the statue stayed still. Then, with a ponderous creak, it took one step forward into the tomb, and another, and another.
'Don't touch the tomb or the tomb's door,' called Lord Adarbrent to him. 'Stay back a little and you should be safe from Algozata's curse.'
The statue stopped in the center of the tomb's floor.
'Now, put your burden down,' Gustin instructed it.
Again, it stood for a long moment before bending down and placing the shoe in the center of the floor.
Then, the statue straightened and, with Gustin's repeated coaxing, retreated out the door.
Without hesitation, Lord Adarbrent turned the pages to Algozata's curse and began to recite the ending of the spell.
Undercutting his words were Gustin's continued instructions. 'Grab the door, push it, push it.'
Sophraea chewed her knuckles, darting glances over her shoulder at the crowd held at bay by the topiary dragon.
The statue pushed the bronze door of the Markarl tomb shut.
Lord Adarbrent ended the last verse with a sigh and nodded to Gustin.
'Lock!' Gustin commanded.
The statue turned the iron key in the lock with a hollow clang. Then it swiveled in place and leaned its back against the entrance of the Markarl monument. The statue froze into place, a heroic paladin surveying the City of the Dead, a permanent guardian for the tomb.
Sophraea felt a collective sigh heave out of the very earth of the graveyard. She closed her eyes and saw the noble dead fall back from the walkways and paths. The marchers ceased marching, and the dancers ended their spinning dances. The knight upon his skeleton horse reared once and galloped away.
All around the perimeter of the City of the Dead, its shining guardians strengthened their circle of protection. The black streak that formed a path for the dead to the Dead End gate disappeared.
Algozata's curse was finally broken.
'We did it!' Sophraea spun in her excitement to congratulate Gustin and Lord Adarbrent, only to halt in mid- spin. For now, with the other dead fading away to their tombs, she could see what flew down the path toward them.
Black robes swirled around gray skin shrunken upon the bones. Eyes burned with red fire. Gems, dulled under years of dust, studded the remnants of the broad seafarer's belt and heavy axe.
This was what she'd felt moving in the City of the Dead ever since Gustin had amplified Algozata's curse. This was the 'something bigger' that had bothered her as they had fled the tunnels. This was the anger that she'd felt when they'd come back into the City of the Dead.
This corporeal ghost arrived with a roar even as Sophraea tried to cry out a warning.
'Dorgar Adarbrent!' bellowed the ghost. 'How dare you wake me!'
Lord Adarbrent fell back before a fury even greater than one of his own rages.
'Grandfather!' he choked out.
'Spells! Foul magic!' The ghost cried unhooking his axe and swinging it so the wind whistled over the blade. The spectral breeze knocked everyone back a pace. 'What have you done, Grandson?'
Gustin tried to counter with a spell, a fizz of sparkling light that streaked toward the ghost. Lord Adarbrent's aggrieved ancestor batted it aside with his axe.
An answering wave of cold rolled over Gustin, chilling even Sophraea standing several paces back. The wizard's teeth chattered in his head and he pitched to his knees in the snow.
Sophraea ran forward, flinging her arms around Gustin's shoulders. Tremors of chill shook the lanky wizard's frame. Sophraea rolled him over, lifting his head out of the snow and cradling it in her lap.
The ghost of Royus Adarbrent advanced on his grandson. Lord Adarbrent held his ground, chin up and staring straight ahead.
'What have you done, Dorgar?' bawled the ghost.
'Protected Waterdeep,' answered the old man with dignity.
'By waking every ghost? By using dreadful spells? Algozata's book should have burned with her body. How dare you bring it here?' the ghost snarled. With every shout, the ghost swung his axe, each stroke coming closer and closer to Lord Adarbrent. The old man did not flinch.
Each slice ofthe axe through the air swept the area with a bitter wind. Frost formed on every leaf ofthe topiary dragon. Briarsting trembled on the creature's neck, turning from green to gray with the cold. The Carvers huddled together and even Rampage Stunk was struck silent with the chill.
Under each icy wave emanating from the axe ran a current of terror. Sophraea fought to stay still and not run screaming. She clutched Gustin's shoulders, anchoring herself to the wizard. Gustin groaned.
The Carvers held their ground. Sophraea could hear her father and her uncles talking in their rumbling voices to the rest, urging them to stay together and wait for this phantom to quit the place.
Stunk's men were not so calm. Most dropped their weapons and ran. Stunk stayed where he was, swaying back and forth as he always did, fingers clenched at his side. His hate-filled eyes remained fixed on Lord Adarbrent.
Sophraea bent over Gustin. His eyelids fluttered. 'Wake up,' she pleaded.
The wizard blinked up at her. 'I'll be all… all… r-r-right,' Gustin ground out between shudders. 'J-j-just cold.'
'We need help,' she stated when the ghost of Royus Adarbrent was almost upon his grandson.
Gustin gritted his teeth and heaved himself out of Sophraea's lap. He planted both hands in the snow, shoving himself into a kneeling position. The faintest sound of a spell spilled from his lips. He raised one trembling hand and traced shapes in the air. The magic spilling from his hand etched a circle in the snow around Sophraea and himself.
Sophraea felt as if a candle had been lighted in her heart. Warmth spread through her. The terror rolling off the ghost receded.
'Can you extend the circle?' she whispered to Gustin.
'I'm trying,' his voice was barely a breath and his shoulders shook under her hands as she tried to steady him. 'That ghost is very strong.'
Standing directly in front of Lord Adarbrent, the phantom Royus let his axe drop until the head rested on the snow. The burning eyes narrowed, scanning the face of his grandson.
'You have courage,' the ghost stated in a calmer voice as Lord Adarbrent remained standing still before him.
The faintest smile twisted up the corners of the old man's lips.
'I am too old and too close to death to be afraid of it,' the nobleman said.
The ghost rubbed his chin, the same contemplative gesture that Sophraea had often seen Lord Adarbrent use.
'Algozata was executed by the family for this spell,' the ghost said finally.
