Tower-we know what makes them run, though, don't we?'
Shayna opened her mouth to reply-and closed it again in horror as the unmistakable voice of her grandmother Pheirauze came out of the shapeshifter's mouth. 'Of course we do, Gallant One. Make them truly fear the Summerstars, so that none dare set foot in Firefall Keep without our leave! Let them taste the fire I did, my Dark Master!'
The laughter that followed veered sickeningly from the cold, brittle mirth of Pheirauze to the hearty bellow that was the shapeshifter's own.
'They call me the foe,' he mused aloud, breaking off his laughter abruptly. 'Astonishingly apt.' He smiled thinly, and said, 'Yet if I am to prevail against them when they're finally sensible enough to come at me all together, I'll need to burn me another wizard or two.'
He leapt up. His eyes went vacant, the way they looked when he was impressing commands on the Hungry Man. This time, no doubt, the Dark Master would be sending him away from the coming fray.
The shapeshifter swung around so that his lips could brush hers. 'You, my pretty one,' he murmured, 'must be the lure that endangers Storm. Do not mind-speak to me unless she brings clear doom to you; she can hear when we talk so. Lead her on a dance-topple stones upon her, appear where she cannot follow, wear her out running … but take her away from the stalwart men of Firefall Keep, after I split them. Slay her not-for that is to be the finale of our feast.'
'It shall be my pleasure, Master,' Shayna whispered in his ear, and kissed it. He gave her a savage grin, slapped her shoulder, and growled, 'Let us be about it, then! To war, for the bloody joy of it!'
He grew a tentacle that soared across the open area of his devastation. The limb snapped around the end of a roof beam. Another tentacle took her by the waist, and then the air was rushing past their ears as they swung across the emptiness of the night.
Shayna saw a few stars glittering above them, and then felt stone and tile under their feet again.
Her master said, 'Don't mind-speak now, but heed: if you see Storm, cry out her name-sob, as if you're terrified-and run toward her. The moment you get behind cover, stop and dodge away. Once you're both away from the others, just try to stay ahead of her. I'll do the rest. Hold still.'
He murmured something, touched her eyeballs with cool, feather-gentle fingertips, and said, 'There. Now you can see in darkness.'
She could. 'How long does the spell last?'
He shrugged. 'If it fails and Storm's close behind you, feign collapse, and I will free you when you awaken.'
She looked down at her hands and her tattered gown. 'Shouldn't I have a weapon? I–I'm all but naked.'
'And that will be a weapon, if any of the men ever get close to you. Don't worry about who sees you. Save for Storm, none of them will see another dawn.'
The torches wavered. One of the men cried out and swung his blade at something that moved in the gloom beside him. It faded away almost mockingly: a ghostly helm on the shoulders of a spectral warrior striding along a corridor that was no longer there.
'Easy,' Ergluth said, his voice deep and calm. 'We're in the Haunted Tower, now-there'll be other phantasms.'
No one lowered a weapon. The two war wizards had their wands out, and only Storm walked barehanded, her blade riding ready on her hip.
The flickering torchlight showed them chaos ahead. Stone rubble was strewn everywhere, in some places heaped almost to the ceilings of chambers it had flowed into. The twisted, half-buried form of a chambermaid spoke silently of how swiftly and violently the collapse had come.
'Gods,' one of the men muttered, 'what're we fighting?'
'One who is insane,' Storm told them all in level tones. 'If he strikes, don't flee, but attack from all sides, repeatedly. We might push him howling over the edge, and he would cease to be a real threat.'
'Is that a Harper's promise?' one of the armsmen asked almost slyly. There were hollow chuckles from those around him.
As if the mirth had been a cue, a sudden flash and roar came from above and ahead. The standing stump of a lone pillar toppled into their midst, showering jagged rocks in all directions as it came.
'Scatter!' Ergluth roared, scant seconds before the crash came. They all heard one agonized scream before the deafening thunder smote them.
Almost immediately, lightning cracked and snarled through the dust cloud above the tumbled stones of the pillar, reaching into the area the armsmen in the rear had fled to. There were more cries.
'Fall back!' Ergluth roared out of the darkness. 'Back into the open hall-Redgarth Hall, where the stair had fallen!' He took two steps forward, holding his sword carefully upright so as not to stab anyone and reached down to where he knew a man lay.
His fingers encountered something shattered and sticky. He straightened with a sigh-only to stiffen, cold fear stabbing at his heart, as a voice said in his ear, 'I'm the one he wants. I'll skulk off by myself and see if I can draw him away.'
'Ye gods, woman!' he snarled. 'Don't scare me like that! Why …' And then he fell silent. She was gone.
He stood still for a moment, breathing hard, staring around into the darkness and trying to see. There were no torches left alight hereabouts-only over there, beyond where the pillar had crushed a dozen men or more.
Time to start earning the tall stacks of coins a boldshield was paid-tall if they were coppers, at least.
As Ergluth turned that way, he saw under the shattered stone the agonized face of a veteran, a man he knew well. The armsman's back was broken; the pillar had crushed him below the waist, and now he was twisting and contorting in soundless agony, drumming one fist vainly against the ruined floor tiles.
Without hesitation, the boldshield said gravely, 'You shall be avenged,' and drove his sword in deep through that gaping mouth, to end the pain.
Time indeed to start earning those coins.
Storm went forward like a soft shadow moving through the gloom. Her eyes could see as well as those of any cat. Sometimes it was useful to be a Chosen of Mystra. The foe had been above them, and just about … there. If she took that stair-
The night behind her suddenly lit up with a burst of flame, and she heard more screams and groans. More Purple Dragons down. She set her teeth grimly. Still, if they'd stayed in the rooms by the kitchens, the shapeshifter could have strolled up and cooked them all at leisure by hurling that same spell into their laps … At least this way the armsmen would die with swords in their hands. Still-they died.
There was a second flash, a little nearer. This one showed Storm a lone figure standing two rooms away, staring at her: Shayna Summerstar.
'Storm!' the young woman screamed. 'Lady Storm! Save meeee!' She broke into a run, bare feet slapping on the stones in her frantic haste.
'Shayna!' the bard cried. She took twelve quick strides to the right, into deep shadow, and drew her sword.
It would be a bright sunset and a royal visit here, both, before she'd believe that lass was anything but a pawn of the foe.
She waited, still and silent. As long, wary breaths dragged by, she knew she'd been right. Shayna would have reached her by now if that terrified run had been genuine.
As if that thought had been a cue, there were scattered shouts from far off behind her, and one despairing wail. The foe was on the loose.
Storm glared into the darkness and then set forth like a panther on the hunt. If she let this go on, she might be the only defender still alive by the time the sun rose over the ruin of Firefall Keep. Yet she could do nothing to stop it that would not endanger her friends even more.. and all this death was coming down on them because of her.
They died just as Maxer had died.
Sometimes it was a terrible thing to be a Chosen of Mystra.
Enough brooding. Somewhere off to the right should be the outermost passageway, and a stair that would
