in vain, trying to stop the horrific creature. She had watched as the monster ignored arrows, rocks, flaming oil, and plunging spears, striding through each attack while barely taking notice of the humans’ exertions.
The destruction within the walls of the city was terrible. The stone structures inside the gatehouse had been smashed to rubble. When it reached the first block of wooden domiciles, flames exploded from the monster’s mouth, and tongues of fire spewed forth to ignite the buildings instantly, rising to an inferno within a few breaths. People had streamed from the crowded structures in abject terror, while others-too many to enumerate-had perished in the conflagration. The monster had continued its rampage through a market, where precious few sellers were still at work. Even so, the stalls had erupted, and small stockpiles of wool, timber, and oil in casks had swiftly burned to ash.
Beyond the market stretched another neighborhood of crowded wooden buildings, blocks and blocks filled with people. Coryn pressed her hand to her mouth in horror as she watched the creature approach these dwellings. Then, unaccountably, it halted. She noted the resistance, the manlike limbs flailing as the beast struggled to press forward, but instead it was dragged almost physically backward, through the still-blazing wreckage and the shattered gatehouse, where Ankhar’s ogres hastily withdrew before it.
Finally it vanished into a mere box, a ruby prison that apparently could contain a magical creature that was far bigger than the box’s obviously small confines.
“An elemental,” she whispered to herself. “Somehow he has gained control over an elemental.”
But this was not just any elemental, she understood. She had dabbled with the magic used to control those extraplanar creatures, had felt the searing heat of a fire elemental and known the willful taunts of one spun from air. She knew the flooding power of pure animated water and the crushing strength inherent in the bedrock of the land itself. But she had never beheld a creature of such power, such size-one that embodied all four of the mighty elements. It was as if Ankhar had captured the lord of all elementals and was now wielding it as a weapon at the behest of his army.
She stared again into the clear white wine. The bubbles had mostly dissipated and the outline was gray, but in its center she could see the ogres advancing now to claim area around the smashed gatehouse. The brutes tossed boulders into piles, formed a makeshift barricade, erected a wall of planks as protection from the defenders’ arrows, and clearly established a strong front within the very walls of Solanthus. Once that makeshift fortress was secure, Ankhar would be able to move more of his force into the breach, and she could guess what was next: a fresh attack with the elemental king in the lead.
There was no time to waste.
Coryn set down the stone and stood up. When she opened the door to the alcove, the glowing bowl immediately grew dark. Emerging into her laboratory, she pulled down a thick tome from the shelf above her desk and started thumbing through it with one hand. With the other, she rang a small bell.
She found the spell she was seeking just as Rupert knocked quietly on the door. Marking the space with the tip of one of her slender fingers, she looked up. “Come in.”
“Yes, my lady. How can I help?” asked her servant and loyal friend.
“I need to go away for a few days. Have Donny collect my cloak and boots. I’d like to have a little food-not much. Oh, and you can empty the wine in the scrying bowl.”
“Of course,” Rupert said, advancing quickly toward the alcove. He paused, looking at her questioningly. “Is everything all right, my lady? That is, you seem rather upset.”
Coryn grimaced. “Everything is not all right. The war has taken a turn for the worse. Unless I can get Jaymes and the army of knights on the move immediately, I am afraid Solanthus is doomed.”
“I am sure you will meet with success, my lady,” Rupert declared smoothly. “And I trust that you will be back in time for the lord regent’s ball?”
“Ball? Oh, damn, I forgot about that. When is it, again?” She was annoyed to be reminded, but knew it was imperative she attend the gala function. Lord Regent Bakkard du Chagne was capable of many surprises, often unpleasant ones, and an occasion where the eyes of all Palanthas, including the city’s considerable diplomatic community, were upon du Chagne, was just the kind of opportunity where he needed to be monitored. Coryn wanted to be there to make sure he didn’t announce any new policies certain to harm the war effort.
“Yes, I’ll be there,” she snapped, realizing she had to hurry. “But that means I’ll have to get out of here in the next few hours. So we all have work to do.”
“Of course, lady,” Rupert agreed, bowing slightly before he entered the alcove. By the time he came out carrying the porcelain bowl, Coryn was so engrossed in reading her spell that she didn’t note his departure.
Dawn broke over the Compound. A thick gray mist hung in the air, grimly mingling with the cloud of smoke that lingered from the blast that killed Salty Pete. Jaymes awakened shortly after first light. He dressed quickly and made his way through the nearly silent manor. Sally, red eyed and grief stricken, tried to intercept him with tea, but he merely shook his head and strode out of the house into the cool day.
The scent of soot and brimstone coated every breath, and the stench only grew stronger as he made his way across the muddy compound toward the scene of the previous evening’s disastrous experiment. He found Dram and Sulfie already there. The pair was poking listlessly through the scattered debris, lifting the charred timbers that had forged the long tube of the bombard. Here and there were bits of the iron straps that had held those boards together.
“Pete wore a ring-it was on a chain around his neck,” Sulfie said, choking back tears as she stared at the tall lord marshal. “Our Pap gave it to him, and he always wore it. But it wasn’t on his body-it must have gotten blown off when he was killed.”
“I… I offered to help her look for the ring, first thing this morning,” Dram admitted. “But it don’t seem to be around here anywhere.”
Jaymes shook his head understandingly. “Not much chance of finding it, I suppose. But why don’t you have a work crew come up and comb the place, at least for the rest of the day. Maybe it’ll turn up before we have to get back to work.”
“Yeah, I was kind of hoping you’d want to do that, soon as possible,” Dram said. He regarded Jaymes cautiously, his eyes hooded and the expression on his face further concealed by his bristling beard. “Anyway, I already ordered them to come up.”
The marshal nodded, leaning down to pick up one of the broken brackets. “Perhaps we should use stronger steel?” he asked, turning the shard over and over in his hand.
“ More of it, certainly,” Dram said. “Thicker bands and twice as many. But that’s Kaolyn alloy-you won’t find a stronger metal anywhere on Krynn. And the lumber we used came from ironwoods, so that can’t be improved on.”
“The only solution is to make it bigger, then?”
“Bigger and heavier, aye,” the dwarf acknowledged. “This one weighed a bloody three tons, so Reorx only knows how big the next one will have to be to avoid”-his eyes took in Sulfie, still sifting through the wreckage-“accidents.”
“Maybe we-” Jaymes stopped suddenly and spun on his heels. His eyes narrowed as he studied the shadowy doorway to the long warehouse where the logs were stored.
“What is it?” Dram asked. He followed the direction of the marshal’s gaze and huffed as brightness flashed within the dark shadows. “Humpf! I mighta guessed,” the dwarf said sourly, addressing Jaymes. “But how did you know she was going to pop into sight all of a sudden?”
“I got a feeling,” the lord marshal said with a shrug.
A mist of sparks whirled momentarily in the shadows of the doorway, and the White Witch was standing there. Her alabaster robe reflected the dim light with the purity and luminance of a sunlit glacier. Her long dark hair was unbound, flowing around her shoulders, the dark strands still a little brittle from the lingering effects of her teleport magic. Her lips, usually so full and warm against the gentle oval of her face, were drawn into a tight line of concern.
She stalked toward them. The hem of her robe occasionally brushed the scorched, sooty ground, but somehow the white material stayed perfectly clean. Sulfie was gaping at the wizard in awe, her troubles momentarily forgotten, while Dram edged forward to stand next to Jaymes. Coryn was still twenty paces away when she began speaking angrily.
“You must get back to your army right away,” she declared. “There has been a development.”
In blunt terms she described the attack of the monstrous elemental king, the damage wrought, and the
