There was a brief crashing sound, as of thornbushes being crushed, nearby on his left, but he ignored it. She'd obviously thrown her stone there to divert him, rather than hurling it at him. What of it?
The riven shards of the tree burned fitfully in the wake of his spell. Drathar stood watching them, smirking in satisfaction. Anger a wizard, and die.
An old, old saying, but perhaps thieves were too busy pilfering things to learn the wise lessons that kept most folk in Faerun alive.
Bushes rustled again, very near, on his left. Drathat whirled, cursing, to hurl a swift battlestrike.
Florin's thrown sword took him in the face, and Florin was right behind ir, punching hard and brutally, battering the breath right out of Drathar Haeromel's lungs even before Drathar hit the littered forest floor.
The Zhentarim took a hard punch in his throat and had no means left even to scream as the ranger's dagger plunged into his breast once, twice, and thrice.
Drathar had time to think that he was dying and to see a few stars through his welling teats.
Then the dagger came down again, and it all ended.
'So you sent my champion-my champion, Vangerdahast, one man out of an army of thousands you could have chosen from, to say nothing of all the Wizards of War under your personal command, who would seem to be far more useful in aiding the Knights against foes who are hurling spells at them! And now he bids fair to get slain while we watch, I helpless because I can do nothing to aid him but scream at you, and you’re helpless because you stlarning you well want you be!'
Vangerdahast glowered at her, tight-lipped, but he made no reply.
'Well?' Alusair pressed him. 'Are you going to do nothing? While we all watch? Very well, I order you to protect Ornrion Taltar Dahauntul of the Purple Dragons-to say nothing of my mother Queen FilfaeriPs personal Knights! Do something! Work some magic! Or shall I just order all of these loyal, upstanding noble sirs to draw their swords and reward your treason fittingly?'
'Thereby dooming them all,' the Royal Magician said. 'I am not without defenses of my own, Highness. Pray think before you speak so rashly.'
'Think before I speak? Think before I speak?' Alusair's voice rose like a trumpet. 'I have seen barely more than a dozen winters, sirrah. I am a willful, spoiled brat-by your own description, don't think I haven't heard it-and I am an Obarskyr! Being born royal was not my choice, nor have I been much of a credit to my blood thus far, but I do know that one thing royalty do not have to do is think before they speak! They have Royal Magicians to do that for them-and speak for them behind their backs, all too often, too!'
Silence fell as Alusair panted to draw breath for the test of her tirade. Into the gap burst a small, explosive sound that froze everyone in the chamber.
Laspeera, the demure and motherly second-most-powerful Wizard of War in the realm, was snorting in suppressed mirth.
'Hand me your sword,' Pennae said. 'It'll take me forever to saw his head off with this little dagger.'
Florin winced. 'You're going to decapitate him?'
'Just to make sure. He doesn't seem to have had any of those blast-the-countryside contingencies tied to his death, but perhaps he has a slow healing and will come after us after he's lain here long enough.'
Florin winced again. 'Someday soon I'll be wanting to hear more about when and where you heard of such things.'
'Someday soon,' she agreed. 'If you tie me to the bed, you may even get some answers.'
Florin was too busy blushing to reply as she rose, patted him on the arm, thrust his sword into his hand, and said, 'Let's get back to the others. The Watching Gods alone know what trouble they'll have gotten into.'
As they came out into the trampled and burned area in front of the cliff, Pennae said, 'Well, well. Seems the gods guide my tongue.'
Dauntless was charging across the corpse-strewn ground at… himself. Or rather, at someone else who wore the face of Dauntless and a ragged, dirty peasant's dress. Roaring, waving his sword wildly, Dauntless lumbered closer and closer to his foe.
After a shout of 'I am the real Dauntless! Knights of Myth Drannor, strike down this impostor! Stop him!' the Dauntless in the dress seemed to realize his deception was hopeless. He raised his arms and started to cast a spell.
'Hrast, that's a stlarning srrong war spell!' Pennae said as she and Florin sprinted forward. 'Dauntless is doomed-or we are!'
The wizard wearing the face of Dauntless raised his voice to end his incantation-and noticed the running pair for the first time.
'Naed!' Pennae gasped, swerving to take herself wide and away from Florin.
The wizard hastened to finish the spell, eyes fixed on her.
Light bloomed around him as Doust cast the only thing he could think of to distract the foe.
Dauntless, running hard and fast, stumbled.
Florin ran faster, drawing back his sword for a desperate throw.
A long, slender sword raced out of the night, into the light, and plunged righr rhrough the wizard.
Black fire burst from the man's chest, some magic of the sword melting its way right through his body. Arms flung wide, incantation lost in an agonized scream, Onsler Ruldroun toppled, dying.
White fire boiled up from his limbs, setting afire something black and amorphous that had sprung off his face. Blazing, it fell beside Pennae, and she turned to pursue it, dagger out.
Fire raced out from rhe mage's boots, in a brush-crackling expanding ring that sent saplings sagging down and Florin swerving to snatch up Dauntless and haul him back and away. Just behind them, a running Jhessail was hurled back by a wind only she could feel.
The ground rumbled and shook, flinging everyone off their feet and sending the flying sword cartwheeling away through the night sky, trailing little flickering flames. Dousr's modest little sphere of light expanded into a huge dome as bright as day, and at the heart of it the wizard's body, arms flung wide, hung motionless in the air, frozen in the instant before he would have struck the ground. The dead wizard burned.
'Now these,'Pennae shouted, 'are contingency spells!'
'Fury of Tempus!' Dauntless cried, his face gone from purple to pale. 'Let's get out of here!'
'Oh?' Semoor shouted back. 'How? Axe we supposed to fly?'
Dauntless stared at him, then turned and pointed back at the cliff. 'Everyone!' he bellowed as the ground shook again under them and the burning body of Ruldroun grew too bright to see, 'Over there! Muster to me! Laspeera and Vangerdahast gave me magic!'
They all gathered around Dauntless.
He looked around at all of them, smiled tightly, held up what looked like a rune-covered tile shaped like a flat bar-and broke it. The world quivered.
The cliff, burning wizard, and all the strewn bodies and scorched trees vanished.
They stood in an open area where stars aplenty glimmered through high, tattered gray clouds above them, and a narrower, more rutted road than the Moonsea Ride was under their boots. On either side of the road was deep forest, stretching as far as they could see.
A little way east, along the way-east if they'd judged the stars right-a mound of rocks rose up on the north side of the road, bare of trees. Otherwise, there was nothing that could be called a landmark anywhere in sight.
Semoor peered in every direction, straining to see as far as he could in the night gloom, then asked, 'Where by the Morninglord's rosy behind are we now? And what fell wizards, monsters, and stlarning magic flying swords are sneaking up on us this time?'
Vangerdahast smiled upon the simmering Princess Alusair. He gestured airily.
'See? Just as we planned,' he said, strolling over to stand on the far side of the scrying sphere that had just shown Dauntless and the Knights vanishing from the battle-ravaged forest.
He frowned and let disapproval creep into his voice. 'If you're going to give orders, Highness, be very certain you know what's happening, what's been planned, and what you're blundering into the midst of. I always do.'
