A cultist loomed in her path, but Twilight didn't slow. She leaped into the shadows a pace before him and reappeared, a heartbeat later and ten paces distant, near the exit.
A shadowdancer, Yldar thought. This maid is full of surprises.
Yldar parried his opponent into a stone pillar and ran after Twilight, heedless of any attack. He bore down on the demonist mage at the exit and a hulking cultist with a wicked spear.
Twilight leaped upon the lady acolyte like a pouncing fox, bearing her to the ground and going straight for the Bracer on the hooded woman's wrist. The acolyte's guard brought his spear back.
'No!' Yldar shouted as he charged, drawing a shocked glance from Cythara.
Then reality flickered, and Yldar thought he heard light laughter from somewhere, like that of an elf child who was entirely too amused by his own joke.
Twilight rose and caught the spear solidly beneath the left breast. Her eyes opened wide as the shaft carried her back and pinned her against the wall. Twilight convulsed and blood trickled from her mouth.
His eyes bleary, the world gone red, Yldar threw himself at the spear wielder with his sword slashing. His furious rush sent the bodyguard staggering down, and a great blow to the right shoulder made the arm flop uselessly at his side. The brute roared and spat at Yldar, but the sun elf did him one better. He rammed his sword through the hulking man's chest.
Yldar turned from the slumping body. The thief seemed dead upon the wall, her face even paler than normal, but Yldar clutched at the spear to pull it free anyway.
Twilight's eyes snapped open and she gave a cry of more discomfort than pain. 'Careful with that!' she chided. 'Hurts, you know.'
Yldar was stunned. He had expected the moon elf to be dying, if she wasn't dead already, but talking? And calm?
He yanked the spear out of Twilight and she grunted. Blood trickled out. Somehow, it must have missed all her vital organs. Yldar wondered how such a thing was possible.
'Come!' she snapped. 'Let's-'
'Traitors!' Cythara shouted. Deep in another spell, she sent her five orbiting spheres streaking after them with a flicker of will.
Yldar shouted a warning and shielded Twilight with his body. The spheres burst against his back, scorching him with fire, splashing him with acid, jolting him with electricity, and stunning him with a burst of discordant sound. One got through-the blue sphere, which exploded with chilling energy against Twilight's shoulder. But a ring on the thief s hand flashed and the deadly cold faded away. Teeth clenched, Yldar sagged.
'Come!' Twilight shouted again. Slinging the limp Yldar's arm over her shoulders, she made a break for the stairs. 'Put your head down!'
They ran toward the door.
'Stop!' Cythara shouted.
She snapped off another spell and a sheet of flame fell across the exit, ringing the room, but Twilight and Yldar were already through, crashing through the oak doors.
'Yldar!' was Cythara's last, lingering shout.
The two elves lay stunned on the anteroom floor outside a wall of flame, struggling to think. It took a breath to recover the skill. Yldar looked back at the burning curtain that separated them from the cultists and mouthed a single word: 'Cythara.'
For Twilight, it was a different word.
'Up,' she said, hauling him that direction. Yldar's injuries flared, and he staggered. He would have fallen had she not caught him.
'What happened back there?' Yldar asked. 'I thought I'd lost you!'
'Erevan won't let me go that easily.' Twilight gritted her teeth and hauled Yldar up the steps. She was obviously in pain, but at least she could walk-he could not make the same claim.
'Erevan…' Yldar gaped. 'Erevan Ilesere? The Fey Jester?'
'By the black bow, goldie,' Twilight cursed as she struggled to haul him away. 'How much do you eat, anyway?'
Through the pain, Yldar managed to cast a strengthening spell on Twilight, such that she could lift him like a sack of feathers.
The sudden might caught her off guard, though, and when she kept pulling, she slammed him against the low ceiling. The world went dark, and Yldar knew no more.
Cythara dropped her hands with a look of anguish. As though it no longer mattered, she let her defenses fall, all except the wards that kept anyone from approaching within five paces. Standing in the center of the altar chamber, she felt very weak, very frail, and very alone.
But the cultists did not regard her thus. Instead, they eyed her warily and kept their weapons out. The instant any saw an opportunity, Cythara knew her blood would spill.
Then there was a strange sound, one that started off weak but grew in intensity until it echoed around the chamber: Cythara's laughter.
It only lasted for a breath, but it was quite enough to send a visible chill through every demonist present. There was nothing uncertain or mocking about the laugh-it was quite mad.
Then, stifling her giggle, Cythara assumed an imperious stance and lifted her chin. 'Your leader,' she said. 'Who gives the orders in this coven?'
A thickly muscled man stepped forward. 'I do,' he said. 'And who might you…'
A ray of amber light shot from Cythara's fingers and struck him in the chest. A hole appeared through the cultist, which spread in a flash. He twisted in agony as more and more of his flesh melted and disintegrated before their eyes. In a heartbeat, only dust remained.
'Who truly leads?' Cythara asked.
The woman from near the exit, the one who had worn the Bracer, stepped forward then. She pulled back her hood, revealing sharp, almost feline features and a mop of burning red hair. Voluptuous and sensual in her movements, she was lovely, in a cruel way.
'I am Leis'anna, Chosen of Graz'zt. Who are you who so disturbs our peace?'
'One born to command, not to follow,' Cythara replied. 'Do you yield?'
Leis'anna laughed.
The sun elf launched a spell at her-a black, enervating ray-but Leis'anna batted it aside with defensive magic conjured from the amulet she wore.
'You wish to do battle, elf?'
Cythara just smiled.
'Very well,' the demonist said. 'Submit to me.'
She felt Leis'anna's compulsion magic beat upon her mind. The words cut through her consciousness like a suggestion from a bandit who held his knife at her throat.
Cythara felt a tiny flicker of Leis'anna's mind, and she knew what she faced: the chosen servant of a powerful demon prince-a master of manipulation, who read and controlled minds with the blessing of the mightiest of dark powers.
Mighty dark powers. Cythara smiled.
Then Leis'anna gasped as she felt her own power turned back upon her. Not only had Cythara defeated the Chosen's will, but the sun elf had answered with a compulsion spell of her own.
Leis'anna writhed on the floor, snarling and scraping her claws across the stone as she shattered her own illusions. The alluring female body swelled into the powerful torso and legs of a great lion, and her hands became mighty paws. Her face grew darker, furry, and distinctly feline. Her illusions ruined, the lamia stared at Cythara in horror.
'Who truly leads?' Cythara asked again.
The lamia rose, but only to her knees. Around the room, the cultists dropped into obeisance. Cythara heard the whispers of Leis'anna's demon lord, and saw how badly Graz'zt wanted her darkening soul. She shivered at the
