Rod looked at Taeauna, who hissed, 'No! Lord Rod, listen to him not!'
'Watch her eyes, Rod,' Malraun said calmly. 'See that glow? That's Arlaghaun, inside her head, working her lips.'
'No! Rod, don't let him!'
Malraun looked at Rod, shrugged and spread his hands. 'I can free her; do you think the real Taeauna wants to be chained here, nude and helpless? And remember who put her there.'
Rod swallowed, looking from Taeauna's pleading face to Malraun's, and back. Then he said roughly, 'Do it. Free her.'
The wizard nodded and started forward.
The air in front of him cracked apart, purple fire leaking around the edges of a great night-black slash that sent the air in the room into a whistling, rushing roiling-and Arlaghaun was suddenly standing in Malraun's way.
'Oh, no, you don't,' he snarled, 'hedge-wizard!'
Malraun merely rolled his eyes and unleashed lightning from his hands. Four bolts streaked past the Doom of Galath on either side, parting Taeauna's chains in a welter of sparks.
As she fell to the floor, Rod made a dash for her, sword up to ward off anything Arlaghaun might do.
The Doom of Galath sneered, raised a hand that was suddenly ablaze like a bonfire, and hurled flame at Malraun.
Who stood, smile unchanged, as the burst of flame washed over nothingness just in front of him, and slid away, fading as it writhed and lashed the floor.
Rod ducked away from Arlaghaun to prevent the mage making a grab for him on his way to Taeauna, who was rolling around and sobbing, but Arlaghaun turned and spat, 'You should have stayed where you belonged, Shaper!'
And the ceiling opened up in a shower of falling fangs.
Rod shouted and hurled himself forward, knowing it was in vain. He and Taeauna were both going to be impaled on the scores of plunging blades…
The air sang bright and blue, Rod was nearly deafened by the sudden sound of hundreds of blades clanging and clashing-and Arlaghaun disappeared into a bloody pulp amid a column of edged steel slamming down deep into the floor, so thickly clustered that they were almost edge to edge.
'Who-?' Malraun snapped, staring at Rod as he skidded into a dazed and suddenly silent Taeauna. 'Did you…?'
'No,' said a deep, dry, slightly husky voice from behind the wizard. 'It wasn't the poor Shaper. It was me.'
Malraun whirled around. 'Klammert?' he asked incredulously.
'This was Klammert, and will be again, very shortly.'
'Lorontar!'
'Indeed. Not quite as dead beyond dead as Arlaghaun thought he'd just made me. Overconfidence seems to run rampant among wizards, these days. You, for instance, thought you'd just stroll in, seize the Aumrarr, and thereby lure the revealed Dark Lord to willingly follow you, into your clutches. Narmarkoun, who's watching us all right now, is just as convinced that you'll be walking right into his little trap.'
'Oh?' Malraun's voice was soft, his eyes glittering. 'And what is oh-so-wise Lorontar convinced of, just now?'
'That all the spells Arlaghaun cast and held in abeyance, to take effect at the time of his death, will come down on the head of this poor wretch I've possessed. Such a waste of apprentices.'
And that was when the room exploded.
A tall and blue-scaled Doom of Falconfar absently caressed the smooth skulls of his dead wenches, as they pressed in ardently around him, and settled himself deeper into their icy embraces. Their companionship would have to suffice; aside from Narmarkoun himself, there were no living men or women for many days of travel from this room.
'And about now,' he murmured into their endless grins, expecting no reply and receiving none, 'ah, yes, there, unnoticed in all the tumult of unleashed magic, the shadowy wraith of Lorontar races from the burning body of the unfortunate Klammert into the Aumrarr. Whom Malraun will now carry off, little knowing that by doing so he dooms himself. Lorontar knows the Dark Lord will try to come to Malraun, who knows not that Lorontar wants Malraun. Neatly done.'
He turned away from his spell-spun scene of the sobbing, reeling Taeauna, as it showed Malraun snatching her and opening a ring of purple fire in the midst of all the roiling fire and lightnings.
'Yet a mistake, Lorontar. You may gain control over Malraun's magic and servitors, yet in doing so you have forewarned me, and Narmarkoun is
Behind him, unregarded in his fading scrying, Malraun and the Aumrarr vanished through a swirling, dwindling iris of purple fire, leaving a despairing Rod Everlar reaching vainly for them.
Rod stopped grimly in front of the magic mirror. Thankfully, Arlaghaun and Lorontar hadn't destroyed it in their spell-battle, though the far end of the hall, behind him, was twisted and blackened.
He clanked at every step, clad in ill-fitting but hummingly magical armor, and staggered under the weight of all the magic he was carrying.
He might need it all to rescue Taeauna.
He didn't even know where this Malraun laired, but the mirror should show him where Taeauna was, and if the orb in his left gauntlet did what Klammert's notes said it was supposed to do, he could use it to control one of the gates of Ult Tower to go to whichever place he was thinking of.
'Taeauna!' he snarled at the mirror, picturing her face. 'Show me Taeauna!'
The scene of a castle against racing white clouds obediently dissolved into a darker scene of a torch-lit chamber full of Dark Helms.
They stood in a ring, laughing, no swords drawn. In their midst, in the center of the ring, was a woman clad only in manacles, who swung a sword at them all desperately; a sword that harmed them not, as it sprang back from spells that were protecting the warriors.
Rod clenched his teeth as their laughter rose higher, and looked again at Taeauna.
She was crying as she swung the sword.
