The Tainted Sword

Chapter XV

Later that day, Arteris raised her hand for silence in the small meeting chamber. The council members, Flinn, and Jo ceased their debate and turned toward the baroness. “We’ve been here nearly two hours and not even approached a decision regarding Sir Brisbois.” Arteris pronounced the defamed knight’s name with clipped precision. In the silence that settled, the music of the festival outside the hall intruded. Faint shouts of “Flinn the Mighty!” interspersed themselves with the songs of bards and the sound of lute and pipe. Flinn stifled a smile, hoping that Braddoc, Karleah, and Dayin were enjoying the feast-day Arteris had declared in his honor.

Sir Brisbois certainly was not enjoying the feast-day. He sat in front of the U-shaped council table, his hands resting uncomfortably in his lap. Two guards stood at either side of him.

Flinn smiled wryly. He thought it poetic justice that he had regained his council seat—a spot Brisbois had occupied that very morning. He remembered being in the council sessions many years ago, taking part in the active administration of the estates of Penhaligon. He had believed injustice and goodness then, and he had believed in his ability to help those less fortunate than he. The beliefs that sustained him so long ago had returned. Once again, he believed that justice would prevail and good would defeat evil. This afternoon had affirmed that.

Flinn’s attention returned to the trial at hand. The council members had split into two factions—those who said that Brisbois had been under the malevolent influence of the dragon all along, and those who believed he had willingly bartered with the wyrm. The debate was growing heated. Flinn had said next to nothing in the council, letting the factions wrestle the issue of Brisbois’ guilt. He personally thought Brisbois had willingly sided with Verdilith, but that was a matter for the council to decide.

Flinn turned and looked at Johauna beside him and smiled. She was quiet and, he guessed, a little overwhelmed by all the proceedings. But she was as composed as always; he feared no discredit from her. This closed council session would be a good introduction to the less-glorified aspect of knighthood: political duty. Although protocol stated that no one who was less than the rank of knight could attend a closed council, Flinn had insisted on Jo’s behalf, stating that her future was at stake, too. The baroness had graciously given her consent.

“Sir Flinn,” Arteris said loudly, breaking Flinn’s train of thought, “what say you? This man has defiled your honor, and we may debate the whys of that forever. Although Penhaligon has suffered a blow to its good name, it is you who have suffered most at the hands of this knave. The decision is yours. I repeat, what say you?”

Flinn looked at the baroness, then shifted his gaze to Brisbois. The man sat in the center of the room before the council; he was stiff-backed and unmoving. Brisbois’ gaze reluctantly shifted from the baroness to Flinn.

“Sir Brisbois,” Flinn began, deliberately using the man’s tide, “your honor and reputation as a knight are at stake. You must know that for your disreputable actions you are likely to be dismissed as a knight in the Order of the Three Suns.” Flinn paused for effect. “I am personally in favor of that, but I would like to know the reasons behind your actions.” Brisbois continued to look at Flinn. “I do not defend myself, Sir Flinn,” he said coldly. “I believed Lord Maldrake was my friend, and for him I would do anything—include besmirch your honor. Maldrake told me that Lady Yvaughan was in love with him and that he needed my help in securing a divorce. Accusing you of dishonor on the battlefield and stripping you of your rank as a knight was an easy matter.”

“What made you confess your guilt?” Flinn asked equally coldly. “Why today? Why not years before? Or have you developed a conscience after all this time?”

Brisbois flinched, but maintained eye contact. “No. I don’t have a conscience. I admitted my guilt and accused Lord Maldrake of his influence on you to get revenge. The man was betraying me—”

“The dragon, you mean,” Flinn interjected.

“I mean the man. I never knew until today that Maldrake was, in fact, Verdilith. I had been led to believe that the mage Teryl Auroch was the dragon,” Brisbois stated. “I betrayed Maldrake’s trust in me because I was afraid he and Auroch were setting me up to take the blame for whatever Maldrake had planned for you.”

“Would you have continued to act on Maldrake’s behalf had you known he was the vile wyrm?” Arteris asked. The council members stared at Brisbois.

For the first time, Brisbois faltered. He looked down at the marbled floor and said, “As long as Lord Maldrake’s interests paralleled mine, it… it would have made no difference to me had I known he was the dragon.”

“Is it possible, man, that you are still enchanted by the dragon?” Sir Graybow asked.

At that, Brisbois’ head jerked up, and he glared at the castellan. “I am not now enchanted by the dragon, nor have I ever been enchanted by it. I am a free-willed man, perhaps more so than any of you here. Everything I did, I have done willingly and knowingly.”

“Does honor and justice mean nothing to you, Sir Brisbois?” Flinn asked quickly.

Spittle came to the man’s lips, but Brisbois quickly wiped it away. “We can’t all be knights of renown like you, Sir Flinn. Some of us think your quest to attain all four points of the Quadrivial is amusing.” He clenched his hands on his knees and added, “I think it’s pitiable.”

Silence fell in the room, and all eyes were on the unrepentant knight. “Sir Brisbois,” the baroness began heavily, “it saddens me to hear you say those words. As such, I have no choice but to—”

Flinn stood suddenly. “Your Ladyship,” he bowed in the direction of the baroness in apology for interrupting her, “I have something I would like to say—in defense of Sir Brisbois.”

“In defense?” the baroness repeated shrilly. Several others in the room echoed her sentiment, including Jo and Sir Graybow.

Flinn held up his hand and turned to Brisbois, holding the knight’s eyes with the intensity of his gaze. “It’s true that I returned to the Castle of the Three Suns with the intent to avenge myself on you. I wanted to have you dismissed as a knight, much as I had been. But—” Flinn rubbed his chin, the stubble of a beard itching him. “—stripping away one’s rank as a knight would mean nothing to a man like you. I suggest you be censured in other, more appropriate, ways.”

“You are saying that I not be dismissed from the order?” Brisbois demanded.

“I am,” Flinn nodded. Brisbois put his head in his hands. Flinn turned to the baroness and the council. “That is, of course, if the council has no objections.”

The baroness sat back in her chair and looked at Sir Graybow. The castellan nodded curtly to the baroness and then stood. Flinn took his seat.

“We haven’t objections, Sir Flinn,” Graybow began, “so much as concerns. Your … desire to show leniency to Sir Brisbois is commendable, to say the least. I doubt that any other knight here would be quite so willing to do the same.” The castellan gestured to either side of the table. “But there are other issues to consider here, such as our faith in this man. If he were to remain a knight, how should we trust him? How can we put our faith in a man who—by his own admission—holds honor so cheaply?” The old knight sighed. “You have spoken on behalf of this man, Sir Flinn. What do you propose the council should do with him?” Graybow sat down.

Flinn stood slowly. “I ask that the council retain Sir Brisbois’ stature as knight, but that he be censured by serving as my footman for one year.”

Brisbois jumped to his feet. “Your footman? You mean your lackey! You—” The guards pushed him into the chair, and one placed a warning grip on his shoulder to quiet him.

“Am I to understand, Sir Flinn,” the baroness asked gravely, “that you believe such service would be punishment enough for all that this man has done to you?”

Flinn bowed low. “I do, Your Ladyship. Sir Brisbois is a skilled and talented knight, but he needs to learn… manners. I intend to teach him that.” The warrior paused and then added, “And I intend to teach him proper respect for the Quadrivial.” Flinn gestured to Jo, who nodded at the baroness when Arteris’ eyes flickered to the young woman. “My companion, Johauna Menhir, saw the remnant of honor and courage in me when I was a—a self-centered hermit. She taught me the importance of following the Path of Righteousness, no matter how far one has strayed from it. I would like to teach Sir Brisbois that same truth.” Flinn took his seat.

The baroness scanned the council members’ faces. They each shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders in abstention. She turned back to Flinn. “I have nothing further to say. As of this day, Sir Flinn, he is yours.”

“Your Ladyship!” Brisbois protested again, though this time he remained seated. “This—this is slavery! This is—”

“It is bondage, Sir Brisbois, not slavery. For the next year you are a bondsman to Sir Flinn,” Arteris said sternly. She pointed a sharp finger at Brisbois. “And know you this: if you break that bond in any way, do not return to the Castle of the Three Suns. I will have no truck with a man who would bring dishonor on himself twice. Is that understood, Sir Brisbois?” Arteris’ voice was icy with disdain. Brisbois pursed his lips and refused to answer. “Is that understood?” the baroness reiterated, sharply.

Brisbois’ eyes flashed, then he nodded and replied curtly, “Understood, Your Ladyship. For one year I shall be Sir Flinn’s bondsman, and I shall obey his every command.” He gestured to the two guards. “Are these necessary anymore?”

Arteris glanced at Flinn, who shook his head. She said, “Guards, you may leave. And you, Sir Brisbois, may take your post behind Sir Flinn.” The chastised knight stood slowly and then walked stiffly into position behind his new master. Flinn ignored him.

The baroness spoke directly to Flinn. “You have sought justice today, Sir Flinn, to right an old wrong. Certainly you have righted that wrong and will gain that justice in the year to come from Sir Brisbois. But he is not the true culprit, as you well know.”

Flinn nodded and stood. “I do, Your Ladyship. I now see that Verdilith engineered my downfall from the very beginning. He transformed himself into Lord Maldrake and entered the estates of Penhaligon, fooling all.” Flinn was glad to see several of the council members bow their heads at his mild rebuke. “He used his enchantments on my wife, deceiving her into believing that she loved Lord Maldrake. Then he convinced Sir Brisbois to falsely accuse me. At the open council today he… killed my former wife.” Flinn sat down.

“What do you intend to do, Sir Flinn?” Arteris asked. “Or are you content with Sir Brisbois’ bondage as the extent of your vengeance?”

“No, Your Ladyship, I am not,” Flinn said forcefully. “I intend to hunt the dragon until he is dead, and I shall set out tomorrow for just that purpose.”

Arteris nodded. “Good Sir Flinn, I had hoped you would say as much. We shall gather together a number of our best knights—”

“I beg pardon, Your Ladyship,” Flinn stood and interrupted the baroness again. It was his second such transgression, and several of the council members scowled at him. Sir Graybow shook his head warningly. “Your Ladyship,” Flinn said slowly, thinking fast, “I must admit it has been a long time since I have been at court, and I apologize for my less-than-courtly ways.” The baroness stared at him coolly and then formally nodded. Flinn continued, “I intend no disrespect, Your Ladyship, but I will be hunting the dragon on my own, with only two comrades and my new bondsman.”

“I see now that the knights who had been sent to rout out the dragon were led astray by Lord Maldrake, for he always insisted on joining such ventures,” Sir Graybow spoke up. “As castellan of this castle, I think it unwise of you to hunt Verdilith with only yourself and three others. Surely even one knight, such as myself, would help your cause.” A little ripple of wonder spread through the room.

Flinn inclined his head in respect toward the older man. “You are quite right, Sir Graybow; a knight such as yourself would help my cause indeed. I thank you for the offer, but I cannot accept it. Should I fail, I will return for that help, do not fear.” Flinn suppressed the thought of Karleah Kunzay’s prophecy.

Baroness Arteris clasped her hands together before her. “If you ask for help, Sir Flinn, then we shall gladly grant it, for we are in your debt. Is there anything else you would ask the council?”

Flinn nodded, then moved to stand behind Jo. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Yes, Your Ladyship, there is one other matter. I would ask that you accept Johauna Menhir as my squire. She has been a boon to me this winter, and without her I wouldn’t be here before you. She has learned the sword and bow, and she rides well and is familiar with animals. Most of all, she has the heart and courage to be a knight in the Order of the Three Suns. She will one day do Penhaligon proud.” Flinn’s grip tightened on Jo’s shoulders and she trembled.

The baroness nodded. “If that is your last request, we shall certainly not refuse it. We will be having the next formal initiation ceremony in a month, this spring, and both you and your squire should attend.” She accepted a soft bundle from Sir Graybow and stood. “As for now, please step forward, Sir Flinn and Squire Menhir.”

Flinn and Jo moved forward as one. Flinn remembered his first initiation as a knight, more than twenty years ago. That ceremony, too, had been in the spring, just as Jo’s initiation as a squire would be. The ceremony was held in the great hall, and all were invited. Throngs of onlookers filled the hall that day, and all had cheered Flinn. Even as a young squire he had distinguished himself, and the people expected great things of him.

Flinn stepped forward now in the castle’s meeting chamber. The same pride and excitement that had gripped him upon approaching the great baron came over him as he stopped before Arturus’ daughter.

Baroness Arteris held out a midnight-blue tunic embroidered in gold. “Fain Flinn, former knight of the estates of Penhaligon,” the baroness intoned, “I do hereby formally reinstate you as a knight of the Order of the Three Suns. Go with grace and glory.”

Flinn took the silky swath and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Ladyship.”

The baroness turned to Jo and held out a golden tunic embroidered in blue. “Johauna Menhir, I do hereby formally instate you as a squire in the Order of the Three Suns. Go with grace and obey your knight, for through him you will learn what you must to become a knight, yourself.”

Jo took the tunic and bowed as deeply as Flinn had. “Thank you, Your Ladyship,” she said, the words barely above a whisper. Then she looked at Flinn, who had never seen her eyes shine more brightly. “I’m a squire, Flinn. I’m a squire!” she said breathlessly.

Flinn nodded, unaware that his own eyes shone back at hers, equally bright. “You’re a squire, Jo. My squire.”

Jo swallowed the last of her wine and then pushed her dishes away, sated. The pigeon pie had been truly excellent. Jo had never eaten a finer dinner in all her life. Flinn, Braddoc, Karleah, and Dayin were just finishing their meal. Brisbois, after having served them as per Flinn’s orders, was just now sitting down to eat. The six of them dined in one of the castle’s numerous guest suites—a spacious communal room adjoined to a number of bedrooms. Baroness Arteris had insisted on their being her guests tonight before they headed off to hunt Verdilith in the morning.

The young squire looked around the elegant room while the others finished the fine burgundy. The carved and delicately tinted ceiling hovered at least fifteen feet above her. It contained designs that complemented the patterns in the parqueted wooden floor. Years of use had not dulled the floor’s smooth, glossy shine. Three tall, narrow windows graced the wall behind Jo’s back, and a number of dark, wooden doors in front of her led to the bedrooms and the hall.

Jo smiled. She had a truly beautiful room all to herself, as did everyone but Dayin and Braddoc, who shared a room. Jo couldn’t remember ever having a room to herself, except the cellar hole she’d left behind in Specularum. Even that she’d shared with sewer rats and other vermin. Jo looked through the open door that led to her chamber. While the rest of the castle had awed her with its magnificence, nothing she had seen could compare to the friendly elegance of her bedroom. The delicate tapestries, the gilt chairs, the watercolor portraits, the window traceries—everything beckoned to Johauna. She wanted to stay forever in that room, safe and warm and well comforted.

The squire sighed. She could see a corner of the softly inviting bed. After all the nights of sleeping outdoors on a few furs, the bed looked comfortable, indeed. One night of comfort, she thought, and then it’s time to start my life as a squire. At least now I have proper squire clothes.

The baroness had been generous to both Flinn and Jo. The castellan outfitted Flinn with a new set of armor, which stood in one corner of the communal room. Brisbois had polished it earlier. Jo now owned two changes of proper clothing. Currently, she wore clean, fresh leggings, a soft undershirt, and the golden tunic. A pair of new boots and a warm woolen cape completed the outfit. Freshly bathed, her hair carefully braided, and clad in her new clothing, Jo had presented quite a different image when she entered the anteroom earlier this evening to join the others for dinner. But it was only Flinn’s appreciative eyes that she had noticed. The memory made her smile again at Flinn.

“Glad to be an official squire, Jo?” Flinn guessed her thoughts. His smile in return was every bit as broad as hers.

“Oh, yes! I’ve never been happier, and I have so much to thank Thor and Tarastia for!” Jo said enthusiastically. “I’m a squire, you’re a knight, and Dayin’s found a home with Karleah—” Jo ruffled the boy’s hair, but Dayin pulled away from her and hunched down in his chair. “Dayin? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” muttered the boy sullenly.

Braddoc gestured toward Dayin with a silver bread knife. The dwarf was cutting a last slice of bread from a still-warm loaf. “He’s been acting strange ever since your hearing, Flinn. In fact, if memory serves me right, he started acting this way during the session.”

“And why shouldn’t he be acting the way he is?” Karleah said carelessly. “The boy’s father is the one who led the lady into the hall.”

“Dayin’s father?” Three voices chorused.

“Dayin,” Jo asked first, “what does Karleah mean? Was that man really your father?”

Dayin nodded, his eyes seeming too large for his head. “Yes,” he said, his lower lip trembling but trying not to.

“Karleah?” Flinn turned to the wizardess and asked, “You knew Maloch Kine, didn’t you?”

The old woman returned Flinn’s look, her tiny dark eyes bright in the light of the candles. “I knew him.” She shrugged. “It was Maloch Kine, all right. But he abandoned the boy, and now Dayin’s mine.”

“Sir Brisbois,” Flinn called sharply, “who was that man attending Yvaughan?” His eyes locked on his bondsman, who finished a sip of wine and then spoke.

“I was wondering when you’d get around to him,” Brisbois said. “The man’s name—at least here in the castle—is Teryl Auroch. He came here about two years ago as an ‘advisor’ for Yvaughan, courtesy of Maldrake, of course,” Brisbois added wryly.

“What do you know about him?” Flinn asked.

“The man’s a mage, and a powerful one, too.” Brisbois leaned toward Flinn. “I can’t prove it, but I think Auroch killed Yvaughan’s son—though, if he did, that was really a blessing in disguise now that I think just what the father was. Also, I think he was slowly poisoning Yvaughan, but I can’t prove that, either. Maldrake—Maldrake refused to listen to me when I tried to warn him about Auroch, but who knows? Maybe they had all this planned from the very beginning.”

“Do you know if this Auroch is still here in the castle?” Flinn asked.

Brisbois stood and smiled blackly. “Yes. What’s more, I’ll bring him to you. It’ll be my pleasure, Flinn. I’ll return as soon as possible.” Brisbois went to the door, then hesitated. “The… interment for Yvaughan is taking place this evening. The baroness said she would hold a brief ceremony.” He left the room.

Flinn nodded, his eyes distant and unseeing. Jo reached over and covered his hand with hers. “I’m sorry about Yvaughan,” she said quietly.

The knight turned to her and clasped her hand in his. “Thank you, Johauna. I … appreciate your concern, more than I can tell you.” Then Flinn withdrew his hands and rested his chin on them. “If Maloch Kine—or this Teryl Auroch—really are one and the same, what do you suppose that means?” Flinn shook his head and turned to the boy. “Dayin? Are you certain that man was your father?”

Dayin’s lips quivered, and tears touched his eyes. “It was him,” he whispered. He leaned against Karleah for comfort, the old woman putting her bony arm around the boy’s slender shoulders.

Jo asked, “Why would your father abandon you like that, Dayin? Did something happen to him? Did he think you were dead?”

The boy’s face worked. “He—he just disappeared. I don’t know. It was a long time ago. I thought… it seemed like he died.”

“The explosion?” Flinn asked.

The boy nodded. “There was an explosion in the tower, and that’s when my father disappeared. I stayed there, waiting for him to come home, but he never did. I—I thought he was dead.” A tear trickled down his cheek. “He wouldn’t just leave me, would he? My father was a good man.” Karleah patted the boy awkwardly, then gave him a little shake.

Braddoc spoke up. “Remember, Auroch and Kine are both old terms for cattle. That seemed a bit odd to me.”

“What gets me,” Flinn mused, rubbing his shaved chin and smoothing his trimmed moustache, “what gets me, is just what this mage was doing with Verdilith as Lord Maldrake. What could he gain? Did he know—”

Brisbois opened the door then, accompanied by a short, nervous man—the man who had led Yvaughan into the council area earlier that day. He carried a buff-colored bird in the crook of his arm. Flinn stood slowly, pushing his chair back as he did. Jo followed his example, one hand resting on her sword, and moved into position next to Flinn. She pulled on her blade, letting it rest an inch or two out of the scabbard’s top. The man might be a powerful mage, but she would protect Flinn regardless of what happened, even at the cost of her life. Dayin huddled in Karleah’s arms, and the dwarf stood near the two protectively. Braddoc fingered his battle-axe.

“Sir Flinn,” Brisbois was saying, his voice heavy with irony, “may I introduce you to Teryl Auroch? He was just leaving the castle, but some guards helped me ‘persuade’ him to call on you first.” He nodded his thanks to three or four men standing in the hall and then closed the door.

The mage stepped farther into the room, his brilliant blue eyes averted. In one hand, he nervously held the bird, while the other hand carried a valise. He was wearing a fur-lined traveler’s cape. Jo counted it fortunate that Brisbois had caught the man in time. “You wished to see me, Master—er—Sir Flinn?” Teryl Auroch asked. His words were smoothly polished, without inflection, but to Jo they sounded disdainful.

“Yes, Master Auroch,” Flinn added his own emphasis to the man’s lesser title. “I will be hunting Verdilith in the morning, and I want to know the extent of your involvement with the dragon as Lord Maldrake.”

The short man shrugged nonchalantly, and then shook as if suddenly cold. “Like Sir Brisbois, I was enchanted—”

“You were not!” Brisbois yelled hotly.

“Brisbois!” Flinn shouted. “Mind your place!” Brisbois glowered at Flinn but then stepped away. Flinn turned back to the mage. “Continue, please.”

“I was enchanted by the dragon,” Auroch said. “Now that Lord Maldrake has disappeared, I am once more in command of myself. I am traveling south to Specularum to find a position there.”

Flinn gestured at Dayin. “And what of your son here?” he asked. Dayin stepped next to Flinn and looked at the mage, tears and hope in his eyes.

A spasm shook Teryl Auroch’s body again, then passed. His brilliant eyes darted more nervously than ever. Jo was convinced he hadn’t even looked at the boy. “My son? I have no idea what you are talking about. I have no son.”

Flinn eyed the mage with distaste, then turned to the boy and touched his arm. “Dayin,” Flinn asked gently, “is this man your father? Think carefully. It has been two years since you saw him.”

Dayin’s blue eyes perused the man who stood before him, silently beseeching the mage to look at him. When the nervous man still didn’t, the boy lowered his head, one quick tear escaping his eyes. “No,” Dayin said in a small voice some moments later, “no, he isn’t my father.”

Jo thought she heard him mutter “anymore” under his breath as he turned back to the comfort of Karleah’s arms. The old woman was watching Auroch with an intensity that would have unnerved many. Auroch, however, seemed oblivious to the wizardess’ scrutiny.

Flinn pointed to the bird Auroch carried. “That bird is the mate to the creature we killed in the great hall today. Why do you have it?”

“How observant you are.” The mage smiled jerkily. “Yes, it is the mate to the other, but far less dangerous, even in its true form. I am taking it with me so that I can dispose of the creature properly. I hope you have no objections?” He gave a tiny, mocking bow.

“Yes, I do,” Flinn responded suddenly. He took a step toward the mage. “As Lady Yvaughan’s former husband, I claim her ‘beloved pet’ as my own. Please give it to me at once.”

The mage pulled the bird tighter to his chest. “This is an evil creature, Sir Flinn, one from a dimension beyond our own world. What could you, a mere knight, do against such a creature should it revert to true form?”

“You said it was less powerful than its mate, which was dispatched easily enough,” Flinn reminded Auroch. He held out his hand. “That bird, and its mate, were gifts from someone years ago. I now believe that person must have been Verdilith in disguise, and for years his pets whispered words of corruption to Yvaughan. She lies in state tonight,” Flinn paused. “I will slay her other nemesis and offer it to her spirit as it departs.” Flinn took another step forward, and Jo followed him. Braddoc circled around the other side of the table, and Brisbois blocked the mage’s exit. Karleah stayed where she was seated, but she pushed Dayin under the table and began muttering under her breath.

Teryl Auroch’s eyes glittered angrily, and his weak chin quivered with rage. “I don’t fear you, Fain Flinn—precious knight of Penhaligon! And unlike Brisbois, I shall not fail my orders!” the mage shouted. One hand shot upward, and he yelled two words of power in an ancient language. Fwoomp! A swirling column of flame appeared between the mage and Flinn. Jo stepped to the knight’s side, her sword drawn.

Wyrmblight lay poised in Flinn’s hands, and Braddoc’s battle-axe gleamed dully in the fiery light.

Auroch’s upheld hand clenched into a fist, and he slowly pushed his fist toward Flinn. The whirling flame began to grow. Slowly it advanced on Flinn. A low, almost inaudible roar began to fill the room. As the whirling column of flame rose and broadened, the roar doubled and redoubled until it sounded like a thousand fires blazing through a forest.

Flinn held Wyrmblight higher and shouted to Braddoc, “Now!” The dwarf threw his axe squarely at the mage. The sharp blade whirled through the air, its keen edge seeking Auroch. Suddenly, the blade struck an aura surrounding the wizard and fell, marring the polished wooden floor. Auroch, oblivious to the attack, began moving the fiery cyclone closer to Flinn.

“Brisbois!” Flinn shouted. “Attack Auroch’s back! Jo, skirt around and join Braddoc. Try to distract the mage!” Flinn cautiously sidestepped to evade the blazing pillar of flame. Ignoring everyone else in the room, Auroch followed the knight’s move, and the whirlwind slowly drove Flinn into a corner.

Jo and Braddoc warily approached the mage. Why isn’t Brisbois attacking? Jo wondered, then signaled to the man when she caught his eye. But Brisbois, his hands trembling with fear, only waved her on. The bondsman held his quivering sword in readiness, but he wouldn’t leave the door. Jo turned to Braddoc. The dwarf gestured toward Brisbois, glowered with his good eye, and then shook his head. Retrieving his battle-axe from the floor, Braddoc positioned himself further to one side of the mage and nodded at Jo. This is it! Jo thought quickly, the excitement of impending battle rushing through her. She ran forward at the same time as the dwarf and swung her sword, aiming for the mage’s knees. Braddoc’s battle-axe sought Auroch’s chest.

An incredible jolt of pain ripped through Jo’s fingers, spreading inside her hands and into her arms. The pommel of her sword felt as though a thousand hot needles protruded from it, and each one seared into her hands. Jo gasped aloud in pain. Her fingers wanted to uncurl and drop the sword, but she forced herself to remember Flinn’s maxim: Keep your blade at all costs, or else you die. Though the pain drove Jo to her knees, she drew her sword back for another stroke. Braddoc was also on his knees; he was struggling to regain the axe he had dropped.

The mage lowered his fist and slowly, carefully, uncurled his fingers, forming his hand into a crescent shape. The fiery column leaped toward Flinn. It arched high above the knight’s head, grazing the wooden rafters. It swelled, becoming as wide as Flinn was tall and then growing wider still. The flames swirled violently, the roar of the fire was deafening. Dishes rattled, drifting off the table and breaking as they met the floor. One window’s panes of glass refused to bear the pressure anymore, and the glass exploded outward.

The heat was growing intense; the candles in the room melted. An unreal, shimmering aura hung in the air, distorting Jo’s vision. The spinning column of fire grew more intense, its color shifting from blazing yellow to lightning white. Jo squinted, her hands still numb from the sword. She climbed shakily to her feet and Braddoc did the same, his battle-axe in hand again. Jo nodded at the dwarf, and they prepared themselves for one more attack. Somewhere behind that wall of flame stood Flinn, trapped.

“Stand back!” shouted the old wizardess above the crackling of the flames. Karleah Kunzay jumped onto the table, suddenly spry for such an ancient woman, and more dishes scattered onto the floor. She stretched out her hands toward the fiery tornado. Blue flames streamed from her fingers, their paths fluctuating wildly but seeking the white flames of Auroch’s conjuration.

Incredibly, Jo watched the blue flames circle and entwine the white tornado. Wind rushed in from the broken window and flung small objects into the air. The intense heat began to subside and was replaced by a strange, growing coldness. Jo stared at the blue flames snaking around the tornado of fire. Was that a wall of ice forming at the base of the tornado? She blinked to clear her eyes and looked more closely. Yes! she thought. Karleah’s doing it!

The circle of ice climbed higher. Auroch clenched his fist and goaded on the fiery tornado, but the wall of ice securely trapped the flame. Then, with horror, Jo saw the mage suddenly, chillingly, smile. The man’s evil grimace grew as the wall climbed higher and the flames of fire disappeared inside. He lifted both hands slowly into the hair, one hand wrapped around the buff-colored bird.

Jo bit back the pain as she lifted her sword once again. Her palms felt as though they had been sliced open and salt poured into the wounds. Tears rained across her hot cheeks. Whatever the mage was about to do, whatever treacherous new spell he was about to unleash, she had to stop him. Perhaps his aura would fail him soon, and she and Braddoc could strike a blow against the man.

From the corner of Jo’s eye, she saw Dayin stumble out from beneath the heavy table. The child raised his hands, and his lips moved. Incredibly, a tiny ball of light brighter than the tornado flashed directly in front of Auroch. An instant later, a pair of doves fluttered in the man’s face. At the same time, the wall of ice came to a peak, the tornado of fire contained within. Karleah laughed her old crone’s cackle.

It was the moment Jo had been waiting for. Without hesitation, she and Braddoc stepped forward, weapons raised. Jo brought her sword down against the arm of the mage. Her blade sank into the man’s thin shoulder, and again the jolting pain of a thousand needles ripped through her. Involuntarily, her fingers dropped the sword. Nearby, Braddoc fell. Suddenly the wall of ice exploded, and chunks of ice and bits of fiery coal flew through the room. Jo fell to her knees, hiding her face with her crippled hands and huddling to the floor. The roar crested in one final boom.

Silence.

The young squire dropped her hands from her face and looked around, stupefied. Flinn stood in the far corner, Wyrmblight held before him. Braddoc lay on the floor near his battle-axe, and Dayin huddled next to the dwarf. Karleah stood on the table, her hands still held before her in mid-motion.

Teryl Auroch and Sir Brisbois were gone.

Jo shook her head and blinked. Other than a few dishes that had fallen from the table, nothing was broken. The window was intact, the candles were still lit. For a single instant, Johauna questioned whether Teryl Auroch had ever been in the room.

But the remains of a buff-colored bird with brilliant green markings lay on the floor in a pool of melted ice.