Wulgreth's head toppled into the pool, then bobbed to the surface and spun toward Galaeron, eyes still burning with hatred. It shrieked, 'You won't destroy-' And Galaeron brought the darksword down again, cleaving the head in two, then forced himself to hold the flesh-freezing hilt and hack at the lich's body until all of the pieces sank out of sight Then, when no counterattack came and he began to believe none would, something bumped his back. He turned to find the two halves of the skull still surging toward him. He cried out and backed away, raising the darksword to strike yet again.
'What are you doing?' Jhingleshod snatched the halves of the skull out of the pool. 'Well need those!'
Galaeron stared at the iron knight in uncomprehending shock, then slowly began to understand that it was over, that Wulgreth had been hacked and blasted into so many pieces that it would take him the better part of a tenday to draw himself together again.
Galaeron lowered the sword. 'That's right,' he said, realizing that Jhingleshod believed they would destroy this Wulgreth in the same way they had the demilich. 'Hold onto those pieces until we find the phylactery.'
Even had he the heart, Galaeron knew better than to tell the iron knight what he had surmised about the Karsestone. His heart feeling almost as cold and numb as the hand that held the darksword, he waded over to the wall and returned Vala's blade, then laid his icy hand on Takari's mangled shoulder.
'This will slow the bleeding,' he said. 'And don't worry. We'll be back in Rheitheillaethor before you know it.'
Takari opened her eyes and pushed his hand away. 'No, Galaeron. You made your choice.' amp; €› •(c)• • (c)••‹§›•
Another death scream rolled across the brown water, muted by the gossamer curtain of steam, yet still accusatory in its anguish. Laeral ducked beneath the surface and swam toward the voice, using her magic to move almost as fast underwater as she could have through the cold dawn air.
After her garbled sending to Elminster (she still had no idea if he had understood her), she had taken an escort often warriors and ten war mages through the new gate to Roc-nest-and promptly been ambushed by a half dozen phaerimm. Though they were prepared for that possibility-even expected it-all of their magic protections were dispelled before they cast a single spell.
At that point, Laeral should probably have ordered her small company to teleport back to Waterdeep. Instead, desperate to discover what had become of Khelben and hoping to recapture the gate, she moved her group to the rim of the basin. Four of the phaerimm rushed to press the attack, driving her company into the Marsh of Chelimber before they had time to regroup. In the confusion that followed, the small force became separated, and the phaerimm began to pick them off one at a time. She managed to slay two of the creatures during the long night, but those losses had been more than replaced by reinforcements from Evereska.
The thornbacks were using their magic to heat the marsh. Having raised the temperature to a simmer already, they no doubt intended to either force their prey out of hiding or boil it alive. Neither possibility frightened Laeral, for she could easily teleport back to Waterdeep before either grew necessary-but she was loathe to abandon those who could not.
Laeral pushed her head up to confirm her bearings. The voice was weaker now, having faded to a whimper, but it was also closer-just beyond a willow brake. Fearful of making any noise that would betray her approach, she ducked beneath the surface to circumvent the thicket underwater.
As she rounded the corner, three concussions pulsed down through the water, nearly rupturing her eardrums and jolting her so hard that the last air left her lungs. She pushed off the mucky bottom and launched herself into the air with a flying spell, her fingertips crackling with a silvery ball of her most potent magic. On the other side of the willows stood a trio of murk-swaddled men, one cradling the mangled figure of a Waterdhavian warrior, the other two using black glaives to pin down the writhing remains of a spell-blasted phaerimm. The men were all the size of bugbears, with brilliant gem-colored eyes and flesh as dark as shadow. While their weapons were familiar in form and function, the ebony blades looked more like black glass than steel, and the shafts might have been wood, metal, or neither.
The tallest, a copper-eyed figure in a flowing tabard as dark as night, glanced at the silvery ball on her fingertips.
'If you are who I think you are, it really wouldn't do to throw that at us. We mean you no harm.' He used his glaive to raise the phaerimm's twitching tail. 'Two more remain, but we have found ten of your men, recovered six more bodies, and have reports of four teleporting away too wounded to fight. Would that be all?'
'So it would seem.' Laeral let the magic die on her fingers. 'And you are?'
'Escanor Tanthul.' The shadowy figure flourished his cape and bowed. 'These are my brothers, Aglarel and Clariburnus.'
The other two figures bowed and said in unison, 'At your service, milady.'
Laeral closed her open jaw and returned the gesture with a curtsy. 'Laeral, Lady of Blackstaff Tower.'
'Yes, we know,' said Escanor. 'Perhaps we should be gone from here. If you will excuse me for saying so, you seem to have bitten off a bit much even for one of Mystra's Chosen.'
Laeral raised her brow. 'You seem very well informed… for a Netherese.'
Escanor flashed a fang-filled smile. 'As do you, Milady Blackstaff. I can see that it will be a pleasure to fight at your side in the war to come.'
'War?' Laeral began to grow cold at the thought of an alliance with these dark Netherese. 'Let's not get ahead of ourselves.'
'We are hardly ahead of anything,' said Clariburnus. He severed the phaerimm's tail with a flick of his glaive, then tucked the barb into his belt as a trophy. 'The war has begun already. Surely you do not expect the phaerimm to surrender without a fight'
'I know they will fight,' said Laeral. 'They have proven that already, but that does not mean-'
'Our army is already on its way, I am sure,' interrupted Escanor. As he spoke, he passed a hand over the face of the wounded Waterdhavian, cloaking the man's eyes in shadow and putting him into a restful sleep. 'We will try to limit the destruction to the Shaeradim, but even the Chosen must see that if we hope to defeat the phaerimm, we will need to fight-and fight together.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
1 Hammer, the Year of Wild Magic (1372 DR)
They had spent the night inside the pyramid. Galaeron had not realized that until they crawled through Aris's artistic trefoil tunnel and saw the rectangular shadows stretching across the overgrown city. He wished he had Melegaunt to look into them and read the coming day, or perhaps not With two distant phaerimm drifting toward them across the ruins, he could see for himself what the day would bring-at least the short part they were likely to survive.
There were no signs of mind flayers or eye tyrants, nor of Aris and Malik's horse. The illithids and beholders had probably fallen to Elminster or the undead at the sunken bridge. Galaeron could only hope that Aris had recognized how badly events had turned and had managed to sneak quietly away, but he rather doubted it.
'Sooner or later, they'll notice the tunnel,' said Vala. She was crouched on her haunches beside Galaeron, with Jhingleshod staring over their shoulders. 'We could take the Karsestone out through the river opening.'
'What good would that do?' Galaeron looked along the flank of the butte, to where the waterfall poured out of the sandstone and plunged fifty feet into a pool of scarlet water. They'd only catch us out in the open.'
Vala watched him carefully. 'It might give you time to summon help.'
'You mean Shade,' said Galaeron. 'I promised Melegaunt I'd wait for the princes.'
'Do you think that will be possible?' asked Vala. She turned to Jhingleshod. 'Would the Karsestone fit through the river passage?'
'It would be easier to go without it.' The knight looked toward the interior mouth of the tunnel, where the scorched cinders of Wulgreth's corpse were already trying to coalesce into a body again. He pushed his axe back to stir the ashes, then said, 'And the phaerimm might not care that you escaped.' 'They'd care,' said Vala, rolling her eyes.
Galaeron suspected that she also understood what Jhingleshod was really saying-that without the
