'With all due respect, sir merchant,' the guardcaptain said firmly, 'no one brings wagons into Shadowdale without our looking inside them.'
The paunchy, unshaven merchant glared at him. 'Aye, I know your sort of searching. What's the point o' my coming all the way from fair Cormyr'-one of his men gave him a strange look, and the guardcaptain almost smiled-'if you steal half my stock, eh? Pendle's Fine Meats are known from Suzail to Selgaunt, and I'll be damned by all the gods if I let some uniformed thugs in a backwater dale rob me of what I've worked so hard for!'
'Then turn your wagons about, merchant, and go around Shadowdale,' the guardcaptain said softly, his hand on his sword.
'This one's open, sir,' one of the guards spoke out, pointing at the second wagon back. Without taking his eyes from the guardcaptain, Pendle grew a tentacle thirty feet long that snapped like a lash around the armsman's throat.
There was a collective gasp of horror and fear from men on both sides of the roadblock. The guardcaptain stared hard at Pendle as his sword flashed out. 'What are you?' he asked, white to the lips.
Lorgyn smiled a wintry smile at him as two tentacles smashed the man's sword away, and a third rose with a bony spear to stab him in one eye. 'I wondered when you'd get around to asking that,' he said softly.
Men were screaming on all sides now. There was a general rush from the wagons into the woods. Pendle's outriders turned their horses and spurred westward as fast as the horses would go.
The Malaugrym reached out and calmly slew another man, and another, reaching always for those trying to flee or raising horns to arouse the dale. Some of the guards got their bows out, and arrows hissed and hummed. Lorgyn ignored them as he went on killing.
By the time all the guards were dead, lying twisted and broken in the road around him, the Malaugrym was feathered with many arrows. Heedless of the blood streaming from him in a dozen places, Lorgyn shifted to oxen form to drag the lead wagon aside; its draft horses had taken even more arrows than he had, and lay dead in the traces.
The wagon of wizards was all that mattered now. Lorgyn led the frightened horses past all the blood, into Shadowdale. The time for skulking was past… now, let all in Faerun beware the Malaugrym, and cringe in fear!
'There it is again,' Belkram said, pointing at Sharantyr's pack. 'You'd better see what it is!'
The lady ranger set down her pack with more haste than grace, and drew her sword.
'I'll open it,' Belkram offered, 'and you keep blade ready, right?'
She nodded, and Itharr stood back to keep watch on the woods around as Shar bent over her pack. Something had quivered in its depths… at least twice now. Belkram was cautiously turning out the kindling, her candles, her spare boots and undershift, her gloves… 'There!'
Two blades flashed down-to hover above a small cloth bundle. 'Lhaeo was holding that before we left,' Shar said slowly. 'What is it? And why would he put it in my pack?'
The tip of Belkram's blade touched it very cautiously. Then the ranger grinned, reached over, and unwrapped it, revealing-a stone.
A ghostly vapor swirled up from it as it said, 'Finally! Draw together, all of you, and bide here until I return-I only hope we're not too late!'
Open-mouthed, the three rangers watched Sylune of Shadowdale fly off through the trees.
'She can leave her stone?'
'Storm or Lhaeo must have worked some magic,' Belkram said, grunting as he reached beyond comfort's stretch to pluck up Shar's gloves. 'Let's get you packed again,' he said. 'When a mage tells you to stay together, she usually means it's teleport time.'
Itharr nodded agreement-then they all gaped again as the air shimmered. The Red Wizard was standing before them again, Sylune's head floating above his open palm. He gave the three a curt nod of greeting.
The Witch of Shadowdale asked crisply, 'Have we a bargain, then?'
Orth Lantar nodded again. 'We do.'
'Right. Know then that the Lost Ring of Blaestarn lies beneath the third flagstone south of the unicorn fountain, in the house where you've been searching; the white dragon Glandananglar is no more, and her treasure lies under her bones in a cave on the east side of Mount Ahaeragh-its mouth is covered by an illusion, but lies below the tallest horn; and the ioun stones of Thavilar Halcontar are buried a long pace to the south of the duskwood tree in the northwestern corner of his garden. I'll tell you where the rest of the treasures lie after you've sent these three safely to Shadowdale.'
The Red Wizard bowed. 'It will be my pleasure to so serve.' He raised his hands and began, and the three rangers saw a blue-white radiance stream from Sylune to surround his head and shoulders, steadying him against the magic twisting wild.
Soberly and carefully the Red Wizard worked a mass teleport spell, and the world began to whirl into blue- white mists.
'Holy Mystra, aid us,' the three rangers heard Sylune say as the magic took effect.
Then the floating head of the Witch of Shadowdale gasped, and her ghostly eyes widened. 'Wh-Who are you?'
'Midnight,' came the reply, echoing in all their heads.
Sudden force flooded into Sylune; her fading spectral form flickered, and then grew strong and bright. 'But you can call me Mystra-for so I am, henceforth.'
Sylune gaped at a face only she could see-and beside her, the Red Wizard went to his knees, babbling a prayer.
He had not prayed to the Lady of All Mysteries since he'd been a young apprentice, and that had been very long ago.
The world danced, and the three rangers suddenly found themselves standing at the crossroads by the Old Skull Inn in Shadowdale, with startled armsmen and villagers staring at them from all sides.
They peered around, wondering why Sylune had been so suddenly adamant that they be here, now.
'Is that the Blackstaff?' Itharr asked, eyes wide. He pointed toward Elminster's Tower.
Belkram peered. 'Aye-I spoke to him once, and to Laeral several times; that's her, too, beside him.'
Khelben Arunsun was casting a spell-or rather, miscasting it. A shower of blue furry jungle plants abruptly rained down around him. He cursed loudly, like any merchant who's made a mistake, and strode toward the road. Two laborers, who were walking along it with heavy hods on their shoulders, looked back.
They let the hods fall, and boiled up into things out of nightmare.
A small forest of tentacles reached for folk all around, and the street became a chaos of screaming, fleeing people, with armsmen trying to wade through them. Tentacles grew many-fanged mouths and bit down mercilessly.
'Malaugrym,' the three rangers shouted, breaking into a run.
Laeral hurled a spell-and the two monsters were girt with an amber radiance, out of which darted dozens of butterflies.
Laeral stared in disgust at the clouds of insects, unbelted her robe, and let it fall to the turf behind her. Beneath it she wore a short kirtle bristling with daggers. Drawing one in either hand, she raced across the meadow toward the road, Khelben lumbering along beside her.
Horns were ringing out from the Tower of Ashaba, and armored men were streaming from its gates-men who wore the Purple Dragon of Cormyr.
The Malaugrym were undulating along the road toward the three rangers. As the three hefted their blades and eyed reaching tentacles, they heard the deep, bubbling voice of one tentacled monster ask, 'Argast, what's that?'
They all stared at what was rising up from the road in front of the tower-a gigantic black dragon, clutching a wagon in its claws!
'By all the blinded, crawling gods…' Shar cursed in disbelief, watching the dragon spread its great wings. One beat sent it over the meadow, where it set the wagon down as tenderly as a newly laid egg. It banked and roared down at the crossroads, jaws gaping…
Jhessail looked up sharply as a roar split the air outside. 'What was that?' she snapped.
Illistyl beat her to the window. 'Gods!' she gasped. 'A dragon!'
