The Siege

CHAPTER NINE

19 Mirtul, the Year of Wild Magic

Dusk of the day of its arrival, the Shadovar army was drawing the last corner of its shadow blanket over legendary Myth Drannor. The cracked spires and vine-wrapped columns of the city, already half-hidden behind a wall of spring mist, vanished beneath an undulating mantle of darkness, and a silence that had been eerie and foreboding for most of the day grew perfect and still. As the edges were affixed to the ground, a few birds and other woodland animals rushed to escape in ones and twos. These creatures were allowed to flee, but companies of warriors were waiting to slay any monster that might return later to harass the veserabs. From her airborne vantage point at the western end of the city, Vala saw them strike down a beholder, two gargoyles, and even a malaugrym in its true three-tentacled form.

The blanket would prevent their quarry from teleporting away or using the translocational gates rumored to be still functional inside the city, but that only meant the phaerimm would be even more dangerous and ferocious than usual. According to the Shadovar scouts and diviners, there were still close to thirty thornbacks inhabiting the ruins' subterranean levels, and if the attack was to succeed, most would have to be slain in their own lairs. For the first time in her life, Vala wished she could write. She would have liked to set down some thoughts for her son before the blade work began.

Vala dipped a magic wing toward the rolling meadow at the western end of the city and landed in the trampled grass outside Escanor's pavilion tent. The prince was waiting in the entrance, his coppery eyes watching every move as she undid her breastplate so she could remove the wing harness. His retinue of aides and subcommanders was there as well, though most seemed more interested in watching him watch her.

Though Vala had never been particularly shy-and even less so after her time among the elves-Escanor's gaze made her uncomfortable in a way that even the hungry leers of her own Vaasans never had. Instead of turning away, however, she smiled and cocked a playful eyebrow as she raised her tunic to undo the chest buckles. "Never seen a girl take off her wings?"

Something that resembled a grin crossed the prince's face. "It was not your wings that caught my eye." Escanor left the pavilion tent, not coming to her so much as emerging out of the shadows at her side. "You are growing more comfortable with them?" "Not comfortable enough to sleep in." Vala turned her back to the prince, placing the wings more or less in his hands. She let the shadowsilk straps slide through the slots in the back of her tunic, then began to roll her weary shoulders. "We are going to sleep before the assault, aren't we?"

"That will be up to you." Escanor waited for Vala to put herself in order again. When she had, he said, "I have some news."

Vala's heart sank. Her thoughts flew at once to Galaeron and Aris, but when she turned, she asked, "Something has happened at the Granite Tower?"

It was impossible to say whether Escanor meant his fang-filled smile to be reassuring or mocking. "Not at all. I am speaking of Galaeron."

"Galaeron?" Vala said, feigning disappointment. She had been considering this moment since they departed the enclave and had come to the conclusion that there was only one way to play it "He actually left?" The prince's eyes flared red. "You knew of his plans?"

"Knew?" Vala shook her head. "I thought it was just shadow talk. He started it after you asked me to come along on this assault. You made him jealous, I think." "And you didn't tell the Most High?"

"Why would I tell my personal business to the Most High?"

"It is not only your business," Escanor said. "The knowledge he carries belongs to Shade Enclave."

Vala smiled and patted him on the cheek. "I guess you should have thought of that before you invited me on this trip." She picked up her wings and started for her tent. "I've got to go wash. When's dinner?"

Escanor walked alongside her. "You're not worried about him?"

"Should I be?" Vala did not stop walking. In this, above all things, she had to appear indifferent. If Escanor knew how she really felt, he would conceal his knowledge and play on her emotions to make her reveal what she knew. "The Most High had turned him against me. You saw." "Then you can't tell me where he is?"

Vala almost smiled. If the Shadovar didn't know where Galaeron was, he was still free. "I'd watch for him at Evereska, were I you."

"That is the obvious choice, of course," Escanor said, "but he knows we have an army there. We were thinking he might have intended to go to Waterdeep, instead."

"Might have," Vala said. From the little she had overheard after leaving the dinner, that had in fact been Galaeron's plan. "It's going to be hell finding him. Anauroch’s a big desert."

"Particularly on foot. We found their veserab and flying disk, with all of their water-but no sign of them." Escanor took Vala's arm and stopped her. "If you know where they're going, you must tell me-for their own sakes. Without their waterskins, they won't last a tenday, even if they can find the oases." "Then they won't last a tenday," Vala said.

Though Escanor was right about their chances of surviving Anauroch-at least about Aris's-the Shadovar had already guessed the little she knew, so there was nothing to be gained by admitting her own small involvement.

She glared at the dark hand grasping her arm expectantly and said, "At least it will save me the trouble of hunting Galaeron down after he is completely lost to his shadow."

Escanor released her arm. "You truly don't know where they are?" "Isn't that what I said?" "And you are not in love with Galaeron?"

"I have more self-respect than that." As she told this lie, Vala made a point of staring directly into the prince's eyes. "All I am to him is a promise."

Escanor surprised her with an obviously sincere smile. "Just as I told the Most High." He waved her toward his tent. "Please, you will stay here tonight. It will be more comfortable."

"Comfortable?" Though Vala was cringing inside, she forced a playful half-smirk. "Don't you think we need our sleep tonight?"

"When we are done, you will sleep like a lioness after her kill," Escanor replied, showing his fangs. "In truth, I had thought your flirtations no more than a low attempt to mask your betrayal behind a veneer of desire, but I see now that Melegaunt's reports about the women of Vaasa were not exaggerated." "Reports?" Vala demanded.

"That you are always in season," Escanor said. He took her hand affectionately between his. "Bodvar's daughter was a favorite of his."

"Bodvar's daughter?" Vala pondered this for a moment, then gasped, "Granna?"

"Have no fear. Even if Melegaunt is your grandfather, we are many generations apart. Our blood is hardly the same at all." He pulled her toward his pavilion. "Clear my tent!" Vala stopped cold. "Wait!" Escanor's eyes flared red. "You are not sincere?"

"I'm always sincere," Vala said, grimacing inwardly at the distasteful looks the Shadovar cast her way as they streamed from the pavilion tent, "but we've been on the wing for four days and pulling shadow all day for a fifth. I've got to wash."

"I have water in my tent," Escanor said. "You can wash here."

" Wash' is a figure of speech," Vala said. While hardly above sharing a man's bed for her own reasons, she was not in the practice of allowing herself to be ordered into one. The prince was pushing too hard, too fast. He was up to something, and she had to buy time to puzzle out what. "What I really have to do is-"

"You can do that in the garderobe behind my tent," Escanor interrupted. "It opens into the Gray Wastes."

"All right," Vala said, feigning surrender, "but we've got to eat first. I'm famished, and with the day we have tomorrow-"

"That will be no concern to you," Escanor said, leading her into the empty pavilion. "A prince's consort is not expected to fight."

"What?" Finally seeing her opening, Vala stopped. "Consort?"

"Of course," Escanor said. "We Shadovar are not barbarians. We do not cast a woman aside after we have used her." "And I have to stop fighting?"

Escanor shook his head. "Not at all. A consort may fight at her own pleasure-but it is not expected." He waved her toward depths at the back of the tent. "If you please. I will have food brought later."

Vala refused to cross the threshold. "What about Sheldon?"

"Your son?" Escanor asked. "He will be brought to the enclave and raised in my house as a High Lord. Will that not please you?"

Vala needed to consider this only a moment before she shook her head. "No, he is Vaasan."

"Very well, he will remain in Vaasa," Escanor replied. "Whatever you wish, Vala." Vala turned to look at him. "Whatever I wish?" "For a consort of the First Prince, anything," Escanor said. "You could even return to Vaasa yourself-with Bodvar's debt repaid in full."

It was nearly enough to make Vala step into the tent. She had been gone from the Granite Tower for more than a year and longed for nothing more than to return to raise her son and see her aging parents-and that was what made the prince's offer too good to be true. He wanted more from her than to share the fur. There were a thousand courtesans in the Palace Most High that he could have for a smile, and most were-though it stung her pride to admit it-far more desirable than she.

She stepped away from the tent and narrowed her eyes at Escanor. "What does all this generosity cost me? My life? My will?"

Escanor spread his hands. "Nothing, if your desire is true." "Let's say it isn't."

"Then there is a much easier way to secure the same privileges," Escanor said, dodging the question. "Just tell me what you know about Galaeron's disappearance."

"I already have," Vala said. "Beyond that, I don't know anything that would help you."

"Allow me to be the judge of that," Escanor said. "You cannot know what might help us."

Vala was tempted. She was almost telling the truth anyway. If Galaeron wasn't going to Waterdeep-and apparently he wasn't, since the Shadovar couldn't find him-then she was at a loss. Escanor was right, though, in that she couldn't know what might help them find the fleeing elf-or implicate those who had stayed behind. However she looked at it, she would be betraying her companions at least in spirit, if not in fact.

"Let's try this," Vala said. "Tell me what you know, and I'll tell you if anything I know can help."

Escanor surprised her by laughing-not a cold, threatening chuckle, but a warm, almost respectful guffaw.

"You are a brave woman, Vala Thorsdotter," he said, clamping a big hand on the back of her neck. "I do not want to see what will become of you if the Most High learns you have refused to recant your betrayal."

Vala's legs grew icy, and she looked down to see herself melting into the shadows at her feet. "What are-"

That was as far as she made it before her consciousness vanished into cold darkness. Sometime later-it could have been a second or an hour, Vala had no way of telling-she felt the humid Myth Drannor air warming first her face, then her body, and finally her legs. She saw herself rising from a puddle of darkness, her body returning to its normal proportions. When she dared to raise her gaze again, she found herself standing atop the shadow blanket, surrounded by the murk-veiled towers and trees of Myth Drannor. Standing half-glimpsed at varying distances along the narrow street, were dozen of companies of Shadovar warriors.

Still holding Vala by the neck, Escanor pulled her around the corner of a huge, castle like ruin into a tree-choked courtyard that had once served as the building's main entrance. There was a single attached tower to the left and an L-shaped wing on the right, ail cloaked in the same mantle of darkness as the trees and the ground itself. A dozen Shadovar warriors stood near the entrance of the courtyard with their weapons and wands in hand and a nervous officer watching Escanor approach.

Sensing that she would not like whatever the prince had in mind, Vala allowed her hand to drift toward her sword hilt-and felt Escanor's iron grasp tighten on her neck.

"You saved my life once," he hissed. "Do not make me return the favor by snapping your neck."

"It's dark," Vala said. "Just wanted to see what's going on."

"Truly," Escanor sneered. He stopped in front of the nervous-looking officer. "This is the Irithlium?" The warrior inclined his head. "It is, Prince."

"Good." Escanor thrust Vala forward. "Tell her what we've been able to learn about this place."

The officer nodded and turned to Vala. "Not much, Lady Thorsdotter. It was once a magic school, which naturally attracted the phaerimm. The upper layers seem to have been stripped bare, but there are at least six phaerimm lairing somewhere beneath the foundations."

"Six phaerimm?" Vala gasped, understanding why the patrol looked so nervous. "In one building?"

The officer nodded. "Our assignment is to map their lairs."

"No," Escanor said, "now your mission is to slay them."

The officer's topaz eyes paled to citrine. "Slay them, Prince?"

"There is nothing to fear, my servant." Escanor thrust Vala toward him. "I brought you a new scout. You may contact me to request another if she falls."

The officer raised his brow at this, then nodded and said, "As you order, my prince."

Escanor turned to Vala. "You said you wished to fight," he said. "If you change your mind, you know what you must do." "I won't change my mind," Vala said, glaring at him.

"Of course not," Escanor said. He dismissed a young Shadovar from the patrol, then took the warrior's horned helmet and passed it to Vala. "This will prevent the phaerimm from controlling you-and if you should happen to change your mind, all you need do is touch the flat of your blade to a horn."

Vala accepted the helmet and used it to replace her own. "And if I don't?"

"Then I will report your death in battle to the Most High," Escanor said. "The Granite Tower will be informed of your bravery and devotion to duty."

"That's not what I meant," Vala said. "What do I get if we kill all the phaerimm? The same deal I would've by going into your tent?"

"If you kill six phaerimm?" Escanor's grin showed the tips of his fangs. "If you kill six phaerimm, then I will be your consort."

Laeral stepped out of the forest mud onto the damp sand at Anauroch's edge, nearly three hundred miles away. Though she had known in principle what to expect, so stunned was she by the size of the dark orb in front of her that, in her teleport afterdaze, she grew confused and thought she had somehow arrived outside the Plane of Shadow. Just translucent enough to make out the silhouettes of foothills rising ridge after ridge, the murky sphere was as wide as the horizon itself and so high that only a slim crescent of cloudy gray sky hung above it

Laeral was jarred out of her awestruck muddle when Chief Claw stumbled into her from behind, nearly flipping his body over her shoulder and growling an Uthgardt curse. Recalling that there would soon be a whole stream of soldiers pouring out of the teleport circle, she quickly stepped aside and grabbed the barbarian's enormous wrist.

"It's the shadowshell," she said, trying in vain to pull him aside. "You're outside the Sharaedim, remember?"

"Charideem," Claw repeated absently, head rolling backward as he struggled to take in the enormous dome of darkness rising above him. "The Great Dark Mountain!"

Lord Yoraedia blinked into existence behind Chief Claw and slammed into the barbarian's back as he walked forward. "Corellon's arrows!"

Yoraedia stepped back, reaching for his sword-and was promptly knocked forward again when Skarn Brassaxe crashed into him from behind.

"What? Who?" the dwarf cried. "Where in the Under-dark-"

"The shadowshell, remember?" Laeral set her feet and jerked Chief Claw aside, then released him and grabbed both Brassaxe and Yoraedia. "Snap out of it, good sirs, or our army is going to start teleporting in on top of itself- and if you think the Trade Way was a mess, wait until you see what happens when an elf and a dwarf try to occupy the same space!" "Don't want that!" Claw said, recovering his wits.

The chief turned and literally began to toss the other commanders out of the teleport circle as they arrived. Laeral spent another moment with Yoraedia and Brassaxe, helping them overcome their teleport afterdaze by reminding them where they were. When they finally seemed to recall what they were supposed to be doing, she assigned them each a sector to keep clear, then helped the next batch of arrivals through the transition. She had rehearsed the entire plan with her commanders before creating the teleportation circle in the Forest of Wyrms, but with only three hours to march the entire relief army through an area little more than five feet in diameter, there was no margin for error.

Finally growing confident that her commanders had the situation under control, Laeral turned to inspect the area. Though hardly pouring rain, the weather was still overcast and drizzly, and she could barely make out the main Shadovar camp, positioned for easy defense atop a low butte at Anauroch's edge. The murky silhouettes of several dozen sentries stood at the brink of the cliff, using their dark spears to point down at the arriving army while their astonished comrades rushed up behind them.

Laeral raised an arm arid waved at the astonished sentries, then used a sending spell to address the closest one. Give your prince the compliments of Laeral Silver-hand and tell him the Army of the North has arrived.

The warrior cocked his head in surprise, then raised his spear in acknowledgement and turned to go. It shall be done.

Laeral nodded and started across the damp sand toward the shadowshell. Though still more than a quarter of a mile away, the edifice's imposing size made it feel like something natural, more along the lines of the High Ice or the Spine of the World than something created by the magic of men. Stationed at its base every half mile or so were small patrols of Shadovar warriors mounted on their strange flying worms, paying more attention to Laeral and her relief army than to the rocky slopes inside the dark sphere. It was too murky to tell whether the drizzle was also falling inside the shell, but the few withered trees visible through the barrier suggested that something was turning the Sharaedim as life-less as Anauroch.

As Laeral drew nearer the shadowshell, her faint shadow darkened and split into three identical silhouettes. A pair of gleaming metallic eyes appeared in the heads of the two outer shapes, then they slowly assumed the shapes of two Shadovar warriors. She stopped and addressed the broad-shouldered figure on the left. "A pleasure to see you again, Prince Clariburnus."

The prince's lead-colored eyes lit with pleasure, then his silhouette peeled itself off the ground and, still expanding into its normal form, bowed.

"Clariburnus, please." He gestured at the other prince, a gaunt figure with talonlike fingers and eyes the color of rusty iron. "My brother, Lamorak."

Also returning to shape, Lamorak bowed and said, "Your arrival is a welcome surprise." He cast a meaningful glance toward the growing horde of warriors spilling from Laeral's teleportation circle. "We were given to believe it would be some time yet before you arrived with your army."

Laeral returned his bow with one of her own. "Yes… well, I was beginning to think you Shadovar would never stop coming to our rescue."

Lamorak frowned in confusion, but Clariburnus's grin was broad and appreciative. "Your long march was a ruse?"

Laeral glanced over her shoulder at the weary warriors spilling out of the teleportation circle. "Don't tell them," she said in a low voice, "but after the debacle at Rocnest, we decided it would be best to draw the remaining phaerimm out of the way before trying to bring another army in. According to my scouts, the last three free phaerimm are rushing down out of the Trielta Hills with their hobgoblins and illithids as we speak."

"By the time they realize that you are no longer in the Forest of Wyrms, your warriors will be resting in dry tents behind a screen of Shadovar pickets," Clariburnus offered. "My compliments. A sly plan well-executed."

"I thank you for the compliment," Laeral said, "but I fear I must decline your offer of protection."

Lamorak's eyes flashed crimson. "Surely, you do not believe the slander spewed against us in Waterdeep?" "Only half," Laeral said, making light. "Tempus knows, we need the rest, but Evereska's mythal is failing."

The two Shadovar glanced at each other, their eyes full of mistrust and suspicion.

"I heard from Khelben," Laeral explained. "He's in the city."

"Of course," Clariburnus said, nodding in comprehension. "The phaerimm deadwall has begun to fail-the shadowshell is working."

A terrible thought occurred to Laeral. "Are you sure? If the shadowshell is blocking their access to the Weave, it would be blocking Khelben's, too. I wouldn't have been able to hear him."

"We're sure," Lamorak said, addressing Laeral as though she were a several-hundred-year-old child. "There is still Weave magic inside the shell, and it takes far less energy to carry words than to maintain the dead-wail."

Clariburnus's eyes grew distant. He fell quiet and turned toward the shadowshell. Not familiar enough with the Shadovar to recognize what was happening, Laeral remained silent herself and looked to Lamorak. "My brother?" Lamorak asked. "What is it?"

Clariburnus turned back to Lamorak, then slid his eyes in Laeral’s direction and shook his head ever so slightly.

Laeral frowned and said, "If something's troubling you, Prince, tell me. The last thing we need right now is to start mistrusting each other."

Clariburnus thought for a moment, then said, "Very well. Your story can't be true. The shadowshell would have turned Khelben's communication spell back on him."

Laeral nodded, recalling how all of the spells they had tried after establishing contact had failed. "As a matter of fact, it did," she said, "and not only the sending spells. We tried transferring items, opening dimensional doors, and about a dozen other things. Nothing worked." "Then how could you hear him?" Lamorak asked.

"It wasn't a spell-it's a gift to the Chosen from Mystra." She waited until a look of acceptance came to the prince's faces, then said, "Now, I must ask you to allow my army into the Sharaedim. We are not going to let that mythal fall."

Clariburnus looked to his brother, who raised a hand and turned away to think.

"Prince Lamorak, your brother Aglarel assured Lord Piergeiron that we would be given access," Laeral said. "If you refuse to honor that promise…"

"Have no fear, we will honor the promise." Lamorak glanced back at the burgeoning relief army, then returned his gaze to Laeral and gave her an icy, fang-filled smile. "With your permission, we will do even more. We will help you destroy the phaerimm."

"Of course, I welcome the help of the Shadovar." Laeral returned his smile with one just as cold. "You might even say I've been counting on it." ©• •©••Ђ›• •©••©•

As secret passages went, the one leading into the subbasement of the Irithlium was a masterwork. Concealed beneath the only false column among the thousands of real ones supporting the floor above, the entrance was nearly undetectable, with the door seams concealed by the column's base stone and the hinges hidden in the capital twenty feet overhead. Had Vala not seen the two-foot centipede crawling out from beneath the base as she approached, it was doubtful that she would have noticed anything unusual about the pillar at all. It looked just like every other support column she had passed, complete with mildew and moss-filled cracks. The elf builders had even taken the precaution of concealing the latch in a crack on the opposite side of an adjacent column.

"Scout, why are you stopped?" The demand came from ten paces back, where Parth Gal-Vala refused to call the Shadovar a lord, even in her own mind-stood peering out from behind a column. "Have you found something?" "A secret door," Vala said, motioning him forward.

Parth raised a hand to halt the rest of the patrol and remained where he was. "Open it."

"This place was built by elves," she said. "It'll be trapped, and I don't have the word of passing."

Parth shrugged and did not come out from behind his column. "That is what scouts are for." He paused, then said, "Unless you would rather contact Prince Escanor and tell him where your friends are?"

Vala glared daggers at him. "One of you must have a spell for disarming traps."

"Of course-we are a reconnaissance patrol," Parth said. "Which means we should be locating phaerimm, not assaulting them. If you will just contact the prince, I am sure we will all live longer. Until then, I am afraid I must insist that you perform your duties."

A muffled thump sounded in the darkness somewhere behind Parth, then a strangled voice cried out in alarm. There was the sharp crack of a dark blade slicing through a thick carapace, followed by a sort of buzzing snarl and a wet crunch. Vala glimpsed a handful of Shadovar slipping through the columns toward the struggle, but the sounds died away almost as quickly as they started, and the warriors arrived too late to help their comrade.

"Balpor," someone announced. "Gone, except for his head and one arm."

It was the patrol's fifth casualty, and they had not even seen a phaerimm. Vala felt a sudden chill. Though the sensation seemed likely to be her own reaction to another casualty, she took the precaution of glancing around the immediate area to make certain nothing was creeping up on her. She thought she glimpsed a gray figure slipping behind the pillar where the latch was hidden but found only empty darkness when she stepped around the other side. "What is it?" Parth called.

"My imagination," Vala answered. "Still want me to open that door?"

"Unless you've changed your mind about telling the prince what he wishes to know," he replied.

"Sorry." Vala dropped to her haunches and slipped the tip of her dagger into the crack where the latch was hidden. "Listen, if this goes bad for me, send word to Sheldon that I died for my word." "Sheldon?" "My son," Vala said.

"Ah… that would not be necessary, if only you would-"

"Can't do it," Vala interrupted. She had to suppress a shiver. The chill she had experienced earlier just wouldn't go away. "One more thing-if this leads to a treasury instead of a phaerimm lair, don't touch anything. There's nothing elves hate more than artifact thieves." "Thank you for the warning," Parth replied.

"I wasn't thinking of you," Vala said, "but you know how fond I am of elves."

She took a deep breath, then, stretching her arm as far as she could, crouched down around the side of the pillar and flicked the latch. Eltargrim.

So softly came the word that Vala was not even sure she had heard it She spun on her heels and saw nothing behind her, but the chill remained. If anything, the cold felt deeper than before, though perhaps only because of the icy sweat running down her chest and sides. "Vala?" Parth sounded as frightened as she was. "Still here," she said. "Watch yourselves."

Vala rose slowly and went to the column. Half-expecting the Shadovar to tell her to wait for him to send someone forward to check for traps, she took a deep breath, then gave it the gentlest of pushes. The entire shaft swung aside, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling down into the darkness beneath its false base. When no clouds of poison gas came billowing out, she waved the tip of her darksword around the entrance to check for motion activated traps, then pushed down on the first stair. Nothing happened. "Well?" Parth called.

"No traps so far," she reported, "and no cobwebs. Something comes down here, and it doesn't leave tracks."

The Shadovar stepped out from behind his hiding place and motioned her down the staircase. "We're right behind you." "Sure you are," Vala muttered.

Deciding Parth and his comrades deserved no warning about the gray figure she might or might not have glimpsed and the whispered word she might or might not have heard, Vala crouched on her heels and dropped to the fifth step down.

The steps continued to spiral downward through another ten feet of solid stone, then opened up into a grand corridor running parallel to the base of the stairs. By crouching on her heels and craning her neck, Vala could look far enough up the passage to see a series of arched doorways opening off to either side at irregular intervals, but the magic of her darksword did not allow her to see all the way to the end of the hallway. When nothing came charging up the stairs to meet her, she descended the first ten feet in two quick bounds, braced her hand on the banister, and leaped into the corridor facing the opposite direction she had been descending.

Vala found herself facing a large round silhouette with a wriggling crown of bulbous-ended tentacles. She had just enough time to recognize the silhouette as that of a large beholder before several eyestalks began to swing in her direction. Leaping into a foot-first slide underneath the thing, she flipped her darksword toward its huge central eye and grabbed for her dagger.

Vala hit the floor at about the same time her darksword found its mark-though, without the weapon in her hand, she could no longer see in the dark and knew that she'd hit the beholder only by the bloodcurdling screech that echoed down the corridor. She was showered in warm gore as she slid under the still-floating eye tyrant. Knowing better than to think even a perfect slash to the central eye could kill a monster this big, she reached up and caught the bottom of the cut with her free hand, then jerked its wounded side to the floor and smashed it into the stone. At the same time, she was bringing her dagger up behind it, driving the steel blade through its thick skull once, twice, half a dozen times, until the trapped beholder finally collapsed in a limp heap atop the arm that had been holding it pinned to the floor. Vala pushed the thing aside.

"Vala?" Parth called down the stairs, then more loudly, "Vala?" "No such luck, Parth," she yelled back. "Still here."

A deep rumble reverberated through the ceiling as the secret pillar was pushed back over the stairwell. "Coward," Vala muttered.

She extended her arm to call the sword back but felt its hilt under her knuckles already. Counting herself lucky she had not found the blade instead, she rolled to her knees and took the weapon in hand-and, once she could see in the darkness again, found herself looking into a huge, toothy mouth surrounded by four arms. Even at this unfortunate angle, she recognized it instantly as a large phaerimm. "Tempus give me strength!" she gasped.

Why pray to Tempus, my dear? I am your god now. The raspy voice came to Vala inside her head, not like the single whispered Eltargrim she had thought she heard earlier but definitely inside her thoughts. Set aside your sword, and we will talk.

Vala gathered her legs beneath her and sprang to her feet-then found herself rolling head over heels down the dark corridor.

What don't you understand, human? the voice demanded. Put down your weapon.

Showing no fear of the darksword whatsoever, the phaerimm continued to come down the corridor, two of its four arms pointing at the mossy floor. Puzzled by the thing's strange behavior, Vala wavered between doing as it ordered and throwing her sword at it-though she felt sure it was ready with magic to bat the weapon out of the air the instant it left her hand.

She made no move to do either, and the phaerimm stopped just beyond her sword's reach. Obey!

Parth's muffled voice began to reverberate down the stairwell, demanding explanations and shouting threats about what would happen if she didn't open the doorand suddenly Vala understood. The phaerimm did not want to kill her. It had trapped her alone, believing that it could turn her into one of its mind-slaves-but Vala's helmet protected her against that.

"Y-yes," she said. Moving very slowly, she dropped to her haunches and set the sword on the floor. "I want to talk."

As soon as her hand left the hilt, she was plunged into blindness again. Unaware of the phaerimm's presence, Parth and the others continued to yell for her to open the door. Silently cursing them for fools as well as cowards, Vala kicked her darksword away and backed down the corridor. She was so terrified that her whole body was shaking. Without the sword, she could no longer see what the phaerimm was doing.

A bony hand clamped her shoulder. That is far enough, child.

Vala stopped and prayed it would not remove the helmet Escanor had given her. Without it, she would become the thrall it believed she was. Unless she lulled it into a false sense of security, she had no chance of killing it anyway. The things could cast spells as fast as she could think-maybe faster. You are not one of the Shadovar.

It was not a question. Did the phaerimm expect an answer? What are you?

"V–Vaasan," Vala replied. "My people owe them service."

Vala? the phaerimm asked. The one Escanor favors to carry his egg?

Vala had to concentrate to keep from gasping and asking how the phaerimm knew such a thing; instead, she merely nodded. What are you doing here?

"I refused him," Vala said, "and so he sent me to kill phaerimm."

At the top of the stairs, Parth had finally realized something was wrong and stopped pounding on the column. And could you?

Vala shook her head. "No!" At the moment, it was an honest answer. "Never again."

Again? The phaerimm seemed astonished, then said, But I forget who you are. How do you feel about him now? "I hate him." It was not far from the truth. Can you betray him?

"Perhaps," Vala said. A low rumble shook the ceiling as the false column began to slide aside. "He is very powerful."

7 will help you with that, the phaerimm said. Hold out your hand.

Vala extended both arms, palms up. She felt some-thing small and round pressed into her palm.

You will allow him to mount you, then press this to his back, the phaerimm said. It will rob him of his power. Do you understand? "Vala?" Parth called down the stairs. "Are you there?"

Vala did not dare shout a warning. "I understand," she said. "What?" Parth called.

She ignored him. "Then what, my master?" As she asked this, she called to her darksword in her mind. "Do I kill him?"

No! You sneak him into the woods, the phaerimm said. This will make it easy. "Vala, answer me, or we're coming down!" The darksword arrived. "Hurry!"

As Vala yelled this, she was already bringing the dark-sword across the phaerimm's midsection. Her dark vision returned and she saw a fang-filled mouth the size of a cavern yawning before her. Instead of trying to back away or strike again, she twirled along the phaerimm's thorny body and saw a fiery column scorch the stone where she had been standing. Reversing her grip as she moved, she drove her black blade through the thorn-back's midsection and rolled back in the opposite direction, using the edge of the wound as a fulcrum to pry the darksword through three feet of tough flesh and scaly thorn.

The corridor exploded into howling winds as the phaerimm bellowed its rage and brought its barbed tail around in a classic distraction maneuver. It was a fatal mistake. Vala was already vaulting onto its thorny back, lopping off first one, then two more flame-shooting hands. She brought the darksword down on the rim of its mouth, and the phaerimm dropped to the floor, its tail lashing ineffectually at the stone where it had expected her to be standing. She spun around and risked another blow from her same location, this time slicing the creature cleanly in two behind her.

The tail struck at the stone twice more, then fell limp and lay motionless. Vala took the precaution of slicing the thing into a few more pieces, then finally heard boots pounding down the stairs and turned to find the first pair of Shadovar legs descending into view. "Parth, take your time. The hard work-"

A loud thrum sounded from the stairwell, and a chorus of Shadovar voices cried out in astonishment. The first pair of legs buckled, then Parth's limp body tumbled into view. It was followed by Carlig's, Elar's, and four more, all that remained of the reconnaissance patrol.

Vala slipped over to the wall beneath the stairwell and pressed her back to the stone, darksword ready to lop off the next foot that came within reach. When none did, she hazarded a glance at the bodies at the base of the stairs. All seven Shadovar were dead, their faces, necks, and other areas of unarmored flesh flecked with tiny, cone-shaped darts. She waited a moment longer, then peered up into the spiraling stairwell itself. The steps were littered with spent darts, and the walls were flecked with the tiny holes from which they had come.

A voice at the top of the stairs, a voice so wispy that it seemed barely a hiss, called, "Eltargrim."

Vala ducked back out of sight, her heart pounding so hard that she could barely hear the darts clattering down the stairs as the newcomer kicked them out of the way. She wanted nothing more than to flee down the corridor as fast as her legs would carry her, but that would have been the worst thing she could do. The stranger knew she was there-had in fact whispered the password that kept her from meeting the same fate as the Shadovar- and whoever it was, he obviously knew the Irithlium far better than did Vala.

A chill came over Vala again. She raised her sword toward her helmet, wondering if Escanor would arrive quickly enough to save her if she touched the blade to one of the horns. Probably not-but maybe he would avenge her death or die himself at the hands of whatever was coming. Either way was fine, as far as Vala was concerned.

A bare foot appeared on the stair above Vala's head. Small and fine boned, it reminded her of an elf's foot, except that the flesh was so thin and white she could see the bone beneath, as well as the tendons and ligaments that made it move. The foot's mate appeared, also small and pale, with long broken nails hanging off the ends of the toes. Above the ankles hung the ragged cuffs of a pair of long-rotted trousers.

Vala grew so cold her flesh broke into goose bumps. Whatever this was, it could not be good. She took a deep breath and spun away from the wall, then brought her darksword around to strike the feet off at the ankles- and barely stopped her blade in time to keep it from burying itself in the stone steps. The feet were gone. But the cold was not.

Vala stepped away from the wall and found a small figure with alabaster skin and a willowy build watching her from the base of the stairs. Clothed in the tattered remains of what had once been a fine cowled robe, the stranger's features were sunken and shriveled, his eyes glowing orbs of pure white.

He pointed at Vala's sword, then wagged a bony finger and said, "You do not seem very fond of elves."