The Best of the Realms, Book I

CHAPTER 6

Tresk Mulander squinted through his glowing shieldtoward the shimmering image of his young drow opponent. So far, all had goneas anticipated. The girl was good, just as Mistress Shobalar had claimed. Sheeven had a few unanticipated skills, such as her deadly aim with a tossedknife.

Well enough. Mulander had a few surprises of his own.

It was true that Xandra Shobalar had raped his mind,plundered his vast mental store of necromantic spells. There was one spell,however, that the drow wizard could not touch: it was stored not in his mind,but in his flesh.

Mulander was a Researcher, always seeking new magicwhere lesser men saw only death. Moldering corpses, even the offal of theslaughterhouse, could be used to create wondrous and fearsome creatures. Buthis strangest and most secret creation was waiting to be unleashed.

In a bit of unliving flesh-a tiny dark mole that clungto his body by the thinnest tendril of skin, he had stored a creature of greatpower. To bring it into existence, he had only to make that final separationfrom his living body.

The wizard worked his thumb and forefinger beneath thegolden collar. The enspelled mole was hidden beneath the magical fetter.

Mulander twisted off the bit of flesh, reveling in thesharp stab of pain-for such was a miniature death, and death was the ultimatesource of his power. He tossed the tiny mole to the cavern floor and watchedwith sharp anticipation as the contained monster took shape.

Many of the Red Wizards could create darkenbeasts,fearsome flying creatures made by twisting the bodies of living animals intomagical atrocities. Mulander had gone one better. The creature that rose upbefore him had been fashioned from his own flesh and his own nightmares.

Mulander had begun with the most dreadful thing heknew-a replica of his long-dead wizard mother-and added to it enormous size andthe deadliest features of every predator that ever had haunted his dreams. Thetattered, batlike wings of an abyssal denizen sprouted from the creature'sshoulders, and a raptor's talons curved from its human hands. The thing hadvampiric fangs, the haunches and hind legs of a dire wolf, and a wyvern'spoisoned tail. Plates of dragonlike armor-in Red Wizard crimson, ofcourse-covered its feminine torso. Only the eyes, the same hard green as hisown, had been left untouched. Those eyes settled upon the drow girl-the hunter whohad become prey-and they filled with a brand of malice that was only toofamiliar to Mulander. An involuntary shiver ran through the powerful wizardwho had summoned the monster, a response engraved upon his soul by his ownwretched, long-gone childhood.

The monster crouched. Its wolflike feet tamped down,and the muscles of its powerful haunch bunched in preparation for the spring.Mulander did not bother to dispel the magical shield. The monster retainedenough of a resemblance to his mother for him to enjoy its roar of pain as theforce field shattered upon impact.

Enjoyable, too, was the wide-eyed shock on the face ofthe young drow. She regained her composure with admirable speed and sent a pairof knives spinning into the monster's face. Mulander knew a moment's supremeelation when the blades sank into those too-familiar green eyes.

The monster shrieked with rage and anguish, raking itsface with owl-like talons in an effort to dislodge the knives. Long bloodyfurrows crisscrossed its face before the drow's knives finally clattered to thecave's floor. Blinded and enraged, the creature advanced toward the dark elfgirl, its dripping hands wildly groping the air.

The drow snatched a bola from her belt, whirled itbriefly, and let fly. The weapon spun toward the blinded creature, and wrappedtightly around its neck. Gurgling, the monster tore at the leather thongs. Asharp snap resounded through the cavern, quickly followed by a grating roar.Sniffing audibly as it sought its prey, Mulander's monster dived withoutstretched talons toward the drow girl.

But the drow rose into the air, as swift and asgraceful as a dark hummingbird, and the monster fell facedown upon the cavernfloor. It quickly rolled onto its back and leaped up onto its feet. Athunderous rush filled the cavern as its batlike wings began to beat. It roseslowly, awkwardly, and began to pursue the drow.

The young wizard tossed a giant web at the monster;the creature tore through it with ease. She bombarded it with a barrage ofdeath darts, but the weapons bounced harmlessly off the creature's plated body.

The drow summoned a bolt of glistening black lightningand hurled it like a javelin. To Mulander's dismay, the bolt slashed downwardthrough one leathery wing. Shrieking with rage, the monster traced a tightspiral to the cavern floor and landed with a stone-shaking crash.

No matter, the magical battle had taken its toll onthe drow maid as well. She sank slowly toward the cavern floor, and toward thejaws of the wounded but waiting monster.

Her golden eyes grew frantic and darted towardMulander's gloating face.

"Enough!" she shrieked. "I know whatyou need-dispel the creature, and I will give you what you want without furtherbattle. This I swear, by all that is dark and holy!"

A smile of malevolent satisfaction crossed the RedWizard's face. He trusted no oath from any drow, but he knew that her battlespells were nearly exhausted. Nor was he surprised that she had lost heart forthe battle. The girl was pathetically young-she looked to be about twelve orthirteen by the measure of humankind. Despite her fell heritage and magicalprowess, she was still a callow lass and thus no match for such as he.

"Toss the key to me," he told her.

"The monster," she pleaded.

Mulander hesitated, then shrugged. Even without themagical construct, he was more than the equal of that elf child. With a flickof one hand, he sent the monster back into whatever nightmares had spawned it.But with the other, he summoned a fireball large enough to hurl the drowagainst the far wall of the cavern and leave nothing of her but a grease spot.He saw by the fear in her eyes that she understood her position.

"Here-it's in here," the girl saidfrantically, reaching into a pouch at her waist and fumbling about.

Her efforts were hampered by her own fear. Her breathcame in exhausted little gasps and sobs, and her thin shoulders shook withterrified weeping. Finally she took out a tiny silken bag and held it high.

"The key is in here," she said. "Takeit, please, and let me go!"

The Red Wizard deftly caught the bag she tossed him,then shook a small glistening sphere into his palm. It was a protectivebubble-a bit of magic easily cast and easily dispelled-that contained adelicate vial of translucent green glass. And within that vial was the tinygolden key that promised freedom and power.

Had he glanced at the drow child, Mulander might havewondered why her eyes were dry despite her weeping, why she no longer seemedto have any difficulty maintaining her ability to levitate. Had he taken hisgaze from that longed-for key, he might have recognized the look of coldtriumph in her golden eyes. He had seen that expression once before, briefly,on the face of his own apprentice.

But pride had blinded him to treachery once before,and had lured him into a mistake that had condemned him to lifelong slavery.

When understanding finally came, Mulander knew thatthat mistake would truly be his last.