It was too late. As he crossed the threshold, the man turned to solid ice, his momentum carrying him sliding across the floor toward the stairs across the room, a wide-eyed expression frozen on his face. As he tumbled down it, the ice – and him along with it – shattered, cascading downward like ice cubes made of body parts.
“Nasty use for a transmutation spell,” muttered Raith, smirking. “Anywhere that’s safe to go, the guards know and have been. Either the dragon cleared a path through the halls or a wizard working for them did it.”
Nola looked at him flatly. “Or the wizard who opened the gate.”
“Or that,” he admitted.
“So how do we figure out which paths those are?” Cirion asked, noting his henchmen keeping alert in the hall.
In the silence, the wounded guard whimpered and the intruders exchanged a look. Soon they had pried him from the crossbow bolt and chair and were headed back down the corridor, the guard in front with Cirion’s knife to his throat. Unless he wanted to be the first victim of a trap, he’d steer them clear all the way to the gate, but it proved more difficult than that.
“Wait, wait,” said the guard, and they paused near a hall’s end.
“What is it?” Cirion whispered.
“Guards,” the man replied quickly, “around this corner. They’re always here. The gate room is up the stairs beyond it.”
Nola cautiously took a look to confirm it. “A lot of them on a wide staircase, looking bored,” she reported, turning to Raith coldly. “You better have something good ready.”
Cirion knocked out the guard and quietly laid him aside, and when the wizard gave the signal, they launched their attack. As they charged forward and startled guardsmen fumbled for weapons, the flapping of leathery wings accompanied a loud roar before the floor shook hard enough to knock them all off balance. Part of a wall nearby crumbled and an arrow intended for them missed wildly. A disturbed look passed between intruders and guardsmen alike.
The dragon had returned.
They stood quietly in the dark, their torches doused, the wizard’s staff dark. Just ahead sat an open room full of dust, cobwebs, and scattered crates, but no signs of recent passage. On the far side, an open archway revealed a stone staircase rising toward the castle’s main areas, dim firelight dancing down the stairwell from above. A nearby noise had inspired their caution, but it didn’t compare to the deep thud that now shook the walls, loose mortar falling from the ceiling, a rotting board dropping with a muted clatter. Anna cringed at the sound. Only a dragon somewhere above them could’ve made that thud. As the elves unsheathed their swords, she eyed the lance. Such a slender weapon taking out something massive enough to make that loud a noise seemed improbable.
Eric crept up the stairs with Lorian. After peering around the corner, they motioned for the others to follow. Anna made it there first, eager to see why the light above was so much brighter than expected on the floor below, and why the sound of flames was so deep, loud, and unusual. She leaned around Eric’s shoulder and saw why. Before them roared a superheated wall of crackling flames barring the way. No wonder the area below lay undisturbed. Nothing could get by this.
Except Soliander. When asked, the techie had no ideas, his staff not helping.
“Something’s hanging in the air there, guys,” Anna said quietly, squinting at the fire. “It’s a cylinder of some sort.”
After a moment, Lorian remarked, “Ah, I’ve heard of this from Soliander. This device of his sustains a spell without wavering and is nearly impossible to remove, unless...” He trailed off, turning to Ryan. “Korrin, do you still wear the Dispersion Ring? You can reach the device without getting burned. Just grab it and the spell will end.”
Anna had seldom seen such a dubious expression on someone’s face.
“Are you sure?” he asked
“Yes. Another item of Soliander’s, especially a magic resistant one, is the only way. Remember your arm will be unaffected up to the shoulder. It is magical fire, not real.”
“It seems real enough to me.” He began pulling out a gauntlet to don. “Wait a minute, I thought the armor was fire proof.”
Lorian shook his head. “Only against dragon fire.”
“Great,” he muttered. He held up one hand toward the fire, remarking, “Well, I feel the heat everywhere except on this arm. Maybe there’s some truth to it.”
Anna bit her lip. There had better be more than some truth to it.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan pulled the helmet’s visor down to protect his face, donned the right gauntlet, and carefully reached through the fire. The flames vanished as his hand closed around the device. Visibly relieved, he pulled up the visor with the other, bare hand, but the metal had become hot in just seconds and burned his fingers.
“Ow!” He jerked his hand away, seeing red blisters already forming.
“Let me see,” said Anna, the medical student in her taking control. “Second degree burns. We need to wrap this.”
Rognir cleared his throat. “Why don’t you just heal him, lass?”
She looked at the dwarf uncomfortably. Rognir’s healing of Eric had deeply impressed but troubled her, weakening her resolute disbelief in gods. She’d reconsidered this whole business with more seriousness than the hollow promises she’d made Ryan. Following Eric’s suggestion to start pretending, she’d chosen a goddess to call on, identifying with Goddess
