The ghazneth’s hand dropped from its chest, revealing a jagged void where the breastbone had erupted from the inside out, through the hole showed a tangled snarl of veins and a lump of oozing fungus shaped vaguely like a heart. Vangerdahast stumbled back, surprised to feel a rising panic. He could not recall the last time he had experienced such a thing-certainly long before Azoun took his crown.
The ghazneth ambled forward on its waspish legs. Vangerdahast forced himself to think. So the thing’s heart had moldered away. That didn’t mean it was indestructible. It was either undead or demonic, and he had ways to deal with both. All he had to do was guess which and sneak another spell or two past those magic-absorbing wings without letting the thing slit him from groin to gullet first.
The ghazneth scuttled two steps to the side, placing itself between Vangerdahast and the battle still raging between the orcs and Ryban’s Purple Dragons. The wizard wondered whether the time had come to make use of what many war wizards considered the weathercloak’s most useful device: the escape pocket. He reached for the secret fold in the cloak’s lining, then realized fleeing was not an option. Tanalasta was still somewhere nearby, and the creature would be too likely to notice her if it took to the air again.
The ghazneth stretched its wings, cutting off every avenue of escape, save those that involved flying or leaping off the cliff. Vangerdahast’s panic became determination, and he found the peacemaker’s rod sheathed inside his weathercloak. A common tool available to every lionar in the Purple Dragons, the little club was hardly as powerful as many of the slender wands still tucked into their pockets inside his cloak, but it did have the advantage of swiftness.
The ghazneth started forward, keeping a careful eye on the wizard’s hand. Vangerdahast allowed it to herd him back toward the cliff edge, praying the thing did not realize he could fly. There was no reason it should. The creature had been imprisoned inside the web spell when he tumbled over the cliff, and it had been facing the wrong direction when he returned.
Vangerdahast reached the rim of the cliff and stopped. The ghazneth gathered itself to spring, and he pulled the black peacemaker’s rod from inside his cloak. “Last chance to surrender. Otherwise, there won’t be enough left of you to make a good pair of boots.”
He leveled the steel club at the ghazneth, and predictably enough, the phantom brought its dark wing around to absorb the coming fireball.
Vangerdahast flung himself backward off the outcropping and was instantly flying again. He performed a quick reverse roll and came soaring up straight along the cliff face, returning to the same place he had just been. The ghazneth appeared in the same instant, hurling itself over the edge with wings stretched wide.
Vangerdahast smashed the peacemaker’s rod into its mangled chest, then cried, “Go east!”
The ghazneth shot skyward as though launched from a catapult, then banked eastward and streaked off screeching in confusion and rage.
Vangerdahast chuckled lightly, and stepped back onto the outcropping. It would take the creature a good half hour to recover from the rod’s repulsion magic. That would be plenty of time for him to reunite with Tanalasta and be long gone. He returned the peacemaker’s rod to his pocket, then reached for his signet ring.
Crouching behind the last dune before the barren expanse of the Stonelands proper, Tanalasta watched the phantom streak eastward over her head, then slipped her signet ring into a secure pocket in her weathercloak. The last thing she needed was to have Vangerdahast contact her now. The creature had already proven it could hear their ring-talk, and whatever the old wizard had done to the thing, she did not want it venting its anger on her.
The phantom faded to a dot and disappeared entirely, and only then did Tanalasta return to her horse. She started back across the dunes toward the outcropping, taking care to stay in the troughs as much as possible. The first two times she was forced to crest a dune, she saw Vangerdahast searching for her from the cliff top, peering up the mountainside or scrutinizing the caravan as it struggled to put itself back together. The third time, she noticed the wizard’s stallion hiding in the trough below, pressed against the shady side of a boulder and trembling in terror. She guided her own horse over toward it, speaking to the frightened beast in a soft and reassuring voice. The horse regarded her warily, its eyes large and suspicious.
Tanalasta halted a dozen paces from the big stallion. “There now, Cadimus.” She kept her hands on the horn of her own saddle, realizing she would only spook him by trying to rush matters along. “Don’t you recognize me? I’m Vangerdahast’s friend.”
The horse pricked his ears forward at the mention of his master’s name. Tanalasta raised her hand slowly and pointed toward the outcropping.
“Vangerdahast,” she said. “You know Vangerdahast, don’t you? Vangerdahast is well. Why don’t we go see him? Vangerdahast is right over there.”
The horse peered around the boulder in the indicated direction. When he did not see the outcropping, which remained hidden behind a low sand dune, he stepped cautiously forward. Tanalasta leaned forward to grab his dangling reins, but he snorted a warning and jerked his head away.
“All right, Cadimus.” Tanalasta pulled her hand back. “Follow me on your own. We’ll go see Vangerdahast.”
She turned her own mount up the trough and started forward, moving slowly so as not to alarm the skittish beast. Whatever had happened up on the outcropping must have been terrifying indeed. Cadimus was a powerful stallion bred for fighting spirit. His brother, Damask Dragon, was her father’s favorite war-horse.
At length, they drew near enough to the outcropping that the summit began to show over the crest of the dune. Cadimus grew more skittish than ever, pausing to snort and scrape the ground with his hoof. At first, Tanalasta tried to reassure him with soft words, but the more she talked, the more determined the stallion became to convince her to turn around.
Finally, she decided to try a different strategy and looked away, then rode on without saying anything. It was a risky strategy and not only because she was reluctant to leave the poor beast wandering the Stonelands alone. Vangerdahast was a portly man. Even if her own horse was strong enough to carry them both, Tanalasta did not look forward to sharing her saddle with the wizard for the next tenday or two.
The princess rode almost fifty paces before Cadimus finally came trotting up beside her, snorting angrily and trying to shoulder her mount around. Tanalasta put up with the stallion’s bullying just long enough to grab his reins and jerk his head around.
“Some war-horse you are!”
Cadimus snorted in disgust, but lowered his ears and stopped pushing against her mare. Tanalasta sighed in relief and led him another dozen paces up the trough, then reluctantly turned to cross the dune crest.
Already in the shadow of the outcropping, they had to start up the mountainside if they wanted to reach the top. Cadimus nickered in protest and pulled against his reins, but Tanalasta angled away from the outcropping and managed to persuade him to keep climbing.
As they started down the other side of the dune, a loud swooshing noise sounded behind them. Cadimus let out a terrified whinny and bolted, nearly jerking Tanalasta from the saddle. She caught herself on her saddle horn, then dropped to the ground and spun around, one hand pointed toward the sound and the other already slapping at her magic bracers.
“Don’t you dare!” snapped Vangerdahast, landing atop the dune in a small sandstorm. “I’ve had quite enough abuse today.”
Tanalasta lowered her arm, only slightly surprised by the sight of the flying wizard. “Perhaps you could give me some warning next time?” She looked down the trough after Cadimus’s fleeing form. “Look what you’ve done.”
“I’ve no time to waste on warnings!” The wizard pointed at the bare finger where her signet ring should have been. “Besides, how was I to warn you? I’ve been trying to ringspeak to you for fifteen minutes!”
“I thought you would.” Tanalasta pulled herself back into the saddle. “That’s why I took it off.”
Vangerdahast’s cheeks darkened to the color of rubies. “What?”
“I was afraid of drawing the phantom’s attention.” Reluctantly, Tanalasta offered her hand to help the wizard into the saddle behind her. “It can hear our ring-talk.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Vangerdahast frowned, then raised his brow and absentmindedly waved her off. “On the other hand…”
Not bothering to finish the sentence, he stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled for his horse.
“On the other hand what?” Tanalasta demanded.
“Come along.” Vangey spread his arms, then leaped into the air and flew over Tanalasta’s head. “We don’t
