The Summoning

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

29 Nightal, the Year of the Unstrung Harp

The Dire Wood was much darker and ominous than it appeared outside. Within a dozen paces, the pristine snow turned to soggy peat, and the albino oaks gave way to the shadowy depths of a petrified forest The trees were as black as coal, with ebony limbs that ended in jagged stumps and twisted trunks propped against each other at every odd angle. The ground beneath the trees was as red as blood, full of scum and rot and the smell of decay Galaeron could not imagine how they would ever wade through such a morass-much less find and reach Karse. He looked to Takari and asked, "Which way?" She shrugged. "I've never been beyond the Pale Ring, but no need to worry. Jhingleshod will find us." "Jhingleshod?" Takari gave him an enigmatic smile. "Wulgreth's servant."

"His servant?" exclaimed Malik. Once the phaerimm and beholders had gone off chasing Elminster, the little man had appeared alongside their hiding place, whispering after them until Takari jerked him into the shadow. He still had not forgiven her for the indignity his fright caused him to visit upon his pants. "It might be easier to attract Wulgreth's attention by finding some trumpets to blow." "Not every servant loves his master," replied Takari.

"While that is certainly true, it does not mean he will love us."

"We'll worry about Jhingleshod later," said Galaeron, looking back toward Turlang's forest. "But we can't wait here. Sooner or later, either Elminster or the phaerimm will be back-maybe both. We'll leave as soon as Aris is ready."

Kelda eyed the bog and snorted, prompting Malik to pat her neck. "There is nothing to worry about, girl. Aris will be happy to carry you."

Galaeron was not so sure the giant would be able to carry himself, much less Malik's horse. Aris was seated along the inner edge of the Pale Ring, madly chipping at a small rock into a granite cylinder just small enough to fill the hole the beholder's disintegration ray had left through his thigh. He blew the dust off, held the stone over the wound for a moment, tapped a couple of flakes off one side, then passed it down to Vala, who carefully lowered the rock into the wound.

The giant winced in pain, then laid his hammer over the wound and rumbled an incomprehensible prayer to the dour god of his race. A plume of crimson steam shot from the hole on both sides of his leg, then Aris pressed his back against an oak and held the hammer in place as the wound filled with stone-colored flesh. Though his clenched jaw betrayed how much the healing hurt, he remained stoic and silent.

When the rising vapor paled to pink, Aris returned his hammer to his pouch. The wound was still a puckered mess, but there was nothing tentative about his movements when he pushed himself to his feet and reached down for Kelda. The mare nickered, and dragging Malik along, backed toward the Pale Ring.

"You won't need to carry her," said Melegaunt. He turned to Takari and held out a palm. "If you will lend me your sword."

Takari glanced at Galaeron, then reluctantly passed her weapon over. Melegaunt tipped it toward the sun and uttered a conjuration spell, all the while passing his palm over the underside of the blade. The side facing his hand grew black and hazy, while the steel facing the sun gleamed with silver sunlight. Takari scowled and started to reach for her weapon, but Galaeron waved her off. Though he had never seen anything quite like this spell, he recognized the general form as a Making, and he doubted it would harm Takari's weapon.

By the time Melegaunt finished, the dark side of the blade was as black and deep as a fissure in a cavern floor, while the light side shone too brilliantly to look at. He turned the dark face toward the bog, and a black stripe appeared on the surface of the water. When he adjusted the angle, the stripe broadened to a width of two feet and stretched to thirty paces.

Melegaunt returned the sword to Takari. "Lay the shadow where you wish. It will keep our feet dry."

Takari accepted the weapon with a gaping mouth, then stepped gingerly onto the shadow. When her foot did not pass through into water, she started forward.

Melegaunt motioned the others onto the black band. "Quickly. The path lasts only a few moments."

Vala drew her sword and started along the trail without hesitation, followed by Malik and Kelda, who was persuaded to step onto the shadowy trail only by the threat of being picked up again. Aris took two precarious steps before announcing it was like walking on thread and stepped off to wade alongside. Melegaunt went next, and Galaeron brought up the rear. The bog was more of a mess than it looked, with a muddy bottom that sucked at Aris's boots and filled the petrified forest with a steady cadence of slurping. Takari's trail was by necessity crooked and irregular, detouring around blockades of tangled trees, occasionally narrowing to mere inches as it passed beneath a half-fallen trunk. The air was damp and biting, numbing their faces and stiffening their fingers with cold. They were all shivering within a hundred steps, and the anemic rays of the rising sun were too thin to warm them.

"I have been in howling blizzards warmer than this swamp!" complained Malik. "How can the water not be ice?"

"It is not cold you are feeling, it is death," said Melegaunt. "Death ancient and mad and mighty, death sorrowful and ashamed."

"Then what are we doing here?" demanded Malik. "If this Wulgreth is mighty enough to drain the heat from an entire swamp, we have no chance at all."

"Not Wulgreth," said Melegaunt. "I am speaking of Karsus. It is his magic that makes the Dire Wood, and his mad regret that twists everything within it."

Karsus was a name that Galaeron, at least, recognized from his years at the Academy of Magic. Karsus was the foolish Netherese wizard who had tried to steal the Weave from the goddess of magic and brought the floating cities of Netheril crashing to the ground.

Daring to hope he was finally beginning to understand Melegaunt's plan, Galaeron asked, "So it is Karsus's magic you mean to use against the phaerimm?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Melegaunt ducked under a tree trunk and came face-to-flank with Malik's horse, which had slowed as the little man paused to eavesdrop. The wizard slapped the horse on the rump, urging her forward and nearly knocking Malik off the trail, then said quietly, "You will see."

Galaeron silently cursed the Cyricist, then found himself debating the merits of killing him and being done with it. Takari would not think much of the idea, but Melegaunt clearly had his suspicions about the fellow, and the wizard had proven on more than one occasion that he would not balk at doing whatever was necessary to save Evereska. Vala would agree to whatever Melegaunt decided, so the only problem was Aris, and if it came to that, even Galaeron's magic was powerful enough to… the thought brought him to a stunned halt, scarcely able to believe how easily his shadow had crept up on him. The dark thoughts had seemed so normal.

So shocked was Galaeron that he barely noticed Melegaunt disappearing around the next tangle of stony trees, but he did notice when the path vanished beneath his feet and plunged him to his waist in icy water.

His breath left him in a shriek, and his feet turned instantly to blocks of numb flesh. His knees began to ache with cold, his thighs felt like slabs of ice, and his body drained into the swamp. He staggered a single step and nearly fell when the mud refused to release his boot. Something large and soft bumped his leg and stayed. He cried out again and pulled his dagger, but could not bring himself to reach into the icy water to find out what it was.

Galaeron heard another splash and looked forward to see Melegaunt dropping into the water as the shadow trail vanished beneath him. The wizard let out a surprised roar, then spread his hands and levitated himself out of the water. The path was fast disappearing behind Malik and his horse, but with Vala and Takari spinning around to look toward Galaeron, they were helpless to continue forward. Galaeron waved them on. "K-k-k-keep m-m-moving!"

The trail vanished beneath Kelda's rear hooves, and that was all the impetus the mare needed to nose Malik forward. He gave Vala an urgent shove, and they were moving again, staying a few bare steps ahead of the vanishing shadow trail. Takari started to lay a crooked course back toward Galaeron, but Aris gestured them forward again.

"Go." The giant plucked Melegaunt from the air, then sloshed back to Galaeron. "I'll get them."

The soft thing on Galaeron's leg slithered around his thigh, a tiny set of scales or barbs or whatever ticking against his elven chain mail. He took a deep breath, then reached into the water with both hands and felt something huge and fleshy around his leg. He jabbed his dagger into its body, then pulled it from the water and immediately wished he had not.

The thing was as long as his arm, with a slimy black body tapering from a round head to a narrow tail. He could not imagine what it was until he turned it over and saw a ring of sharp little teeth surrounded by a fleshy-lipped sucker.

"By the Fey Wand!" He held the thing at arm's length. "Ifs a leech."

"More my size, I'd say" Aris stooped down and crushed the creature between two fingers, then plucked Galaeron up in his free hand. "And you should see the dragonflies up here."

Galaeron saw a lacy blur nearly four feet across dart past the giant's head, then said, "As 1-long as there aren't any s-spiders." Though the swamp was no longer draining his body heat, he could not seem to stop shivering, and even Melegaunt looked a little blue around the lips. "Can you c-cast a warming spell?"

Melegaunt gave a wry smile. "Unfortunately, sh-shadow magic does not create heat." He shivered, then added, "From normal cold I can protect us, but from this life-draining chill…" He only shook his head.

Galaeron hesitated, already knowing Melegaunt's response, then said anyway, "I can use the Weave-"

"How often must I warn you?" Melegaunt glared at Galaeron a moment, then looked up at Aris. "You do not seem troubled."

"Nor do I seem troubled by the leeches-but seeming does not make a thing so." He raised a foot out of the water to display the bloated black forms dangling to his ankle. "If we can find a stone, I can ask Skoreaus Stonebones to make it warm for us."

Galaeron eyed the petrified trees they were passing, but decided not to suggest using one of them. The magic that had stolen their lives seemed as corrupt as the shadow trying to steal his.

Aris weaved through the petrified tangle until he caught the others, then placed Galaeron behind Takari and Melegaunt behind Vala, leaving Malik and his horse to bring up the rear. Recalling that Cyric was the human god of strife and murder, Galaeron was not so certain he liked the idea of having Malik behind everyone else-but a.few stumbling steps convinced him he was too weak to assume the post himself.

Conscious that the phaerimm and beholders-or perhaps even Elminster-would soon be coming up behind them, they continued westward at their best pace, Aris now assuming the duty of watching for foes behind. The strength continued to drain from Galaeron's body, and he began to shiver uncontrollably Vala sheathed her sword and carried him in her arms long enough to strip him out of his wet clothes, then volunteered her own cloak to keep him warm instead. When that did not work, Takari volunteered hers, and even Malik produced a heavy woolen cape. The extra weight only seemed to tire Galaeron all the more. He began to feel queasy and lethargic, and it became a regular duty for Vala to catch him by the arm.

Melegaunt and Aris fared better, though the swamp had clearly taken its toll on them as well. The archwizard stumbled along mumbling to himself about hearts and heavy magic, and even became muddled enough to explain a little of his shadow magic to Malik. Aris simply started to slow, pausing now and again to brace himself against a petrified tree and check back for enemies.

The sun was high overhead when the trees finally vanished and the bog became a broad river that seemed to flow one direction on the near side and the opposite way along the other side. The far bank sloped up from the water in a gentle slope covered with gnarled black oaks-no doubt as petrified as the bog trees-but at least standing on dry ground.

Takari laid the shadow path perhaps halfway across the river and started across, only to watch the swirl of a dark eddy catch it near the end and sucked it beneath the surface. She saved them all by flipping the sword around and severing the trail with a flash from the bright side of the blade, then quickly laid another path and tried again. This time, the eddy caught the trail only a dozen paces ahead, barely giving her time to flip the blade.

The horse whinnied from the back of the line, and Malik called, "Keep going! There is an eel behind us large enough to eat Kelda!"

Takari laid a trail along the edge of the river and, when the shadowy ribbon did not swirl away in a new eddy, raced forward to give the others room.

"Given what the bog did to Galaeron, I don't fancy taking a swim in the river," she called over her shoulder. "1 don't suppose you've another way to cross, Melegaunt?" "Cer… tainly."

Melegaunt's voice was so weak and thick-tongued that Galaeron hazarded a glance over his shoulder-prompting Vala to extend a guiding hand as the trail rounded a bend in the river. "Why don't we use that bridge?" "Bridge?" Galaeron asked, confused.

"There's always a bridge," said Vala, pointing past Galaeron's nose.

Galaeron looked forward again and saw the river purling over a stretch of dark, submerged stone. At each end of the stretch stood ruined bridge towers, their crowns jagged and broken, their windows black and unbarred. In front of the near tower stood a hazy figure in plate armor, his hands wrapped around the hilt of a huge two-handed sword resting tip-down in front of him. "And a knight," called Malik. "There is always a knight." Galaeron drew his sword and heard the others doing the same, but Takari waved their weapons down. As they drew closer to the knight, it grew apparent he stood ankle deep in the river, water gurgling around his feet and mist swirling around him. His armor was coated in rust, while the face peering out from his raised visor seemed nothing but moldering bone and watchful, coal-dark eyes.

As they approached, he unsheathed his great sword and held it before him, the tip pointed at Takari. She stopped in her tracks and lowered her own sword.

"Well met, old Jhingleshod," she said. "Oft have I watched your wanderings from the Pale Ring."

"And there you should have stayed, elf. You have no business in the land of death."

"Not I, but my friends." Takari stepped aside and gestured to Galaeron. "They come in need of your aid."

"My aid?" Jhingleshod's black eyes shifted to Galaeron. "What aid can I give thee but a quick death?"

From the end of the line came a pair of splashes, then a startled whinny and hissed curse as the shadow vanished beneath Malik and his horse. Jhingleshod lifted his chin at the sound, but kept his attention-and his great sword-fixed on Galaeron.

"We have need of Karsus's magic," Galaeron said. "If you can show us-"

"Not we." Jhingleshod jabbed his sword at Galaeron's chest. "You. What come you seeking?" "I come to save-"

"Think well, elf," Jhingleshod warned. 'To answer wrong is worse than death."

Galaeron paused to consider the question. He had been about to say he came to save Evereska, but Jhingleshod's reaction left little doubt that the answer would not have been the one the dead knight wished to hear. Another splash came from the end of the line, and this time it was Melegaunt's voice that cried out. Jhingleshod paid the noise no attention and kept his dead gaze fixed on Galaeron. "Your answer? You have come far, elf-you must know what you are seeking."

"I do." Galaeron glanced at Takari, then over his shoulder to Vala. "Absolution. 1 seek pardon for my mistake."

A black light flared in Jhingleshod's eyes, and his skeleton's jaw opened as though smiling. "There is a boon 1 would ask for my help, elf. Will you give it?"

Galaeron started to ask what the boon was, then thought better of it. Jhingleshod would not react well to pointless barter. He demanded unflinching honesty of those who sought his help, and the truth was that Galaeron would pay anything to absolve his mistake. He simply nodded.

Jhingleshod's eyes shifted to Takari as though to ask something, but seemed to find the answer they were seeking in her frightened expression and looked back to Galaeron.

"Go," the knight said. He pointed through the rusted-out remains of a portcullis to the submerged bridge. "If you have the strength to reach the other side, I will do what can be done to help you."

Galaeron left the shadow trail and stepped through the portcullis without hesitation, but stopped on the other side. "My friends-"

Jhingleshod whirled on him, bringing his great sword around so swiftly that Galaeron could not have blocked the rusty weapon had he tried. The flat of the blade caught him full in the shoulder and slammed him into the musty tower wall.

"Go!" Jhingleshod motioned again toward the bridge. "My bargain with you is done."

Galaeron felt an angry darkness well up inside him and gathered himself to spring, but Takari desperately shook her head and flicked her eyes toward the bridge. Galaeron remained crouched, trying to fight down the black fury within. Together, he and his companions might be able to destroy Jhingleshod, but what then? Takari had said he could guide them to Karse, and Galaeron had seen enough of the Dire Wood to know how valuable such assistance would be. He gathered himself, and letting his aching arm dangle at his side, staggered through the cold water.

Jhingleshod turned to Aris next, and as Galaeron passed through the shadowed archway asked, "What seek you?"

Galaeron stepped out of the tower onto the mossy surface of a submerged bridge. Though no more than three inches of water ran over the surface, the river's purling drowned out Aris's answer. Reluctant to anger Jhingleshod by tarrying, Galaeron continued forward.

The stone was as slick as ice, so that even the shallow flow threatened to sweep his feet from beneath him. He sheathed his sword and dropped to a low crouch, carefully sliding one foot ahead of the other and twisting it into the mossy surface. He could feel the heat of his body rushing down through his feet into the water. A light fog rose around him, veiling the far shore behind a pale haze, and he grew dizzy from the cold.

As Galaeron crossed the midpoint of the bridge, the river changed direction and began to flow across from the other side. The effect was more than a little disorienting, making him feel he had somehow gotten himself turned around and was now approaching the wrong tower. He closed his eyes and continued blind until the current's new direction felt right.

Galaeron was nearly across when the purling changed pitch, and the water began to surge over his feet erratically A flicker of dark motion next to the bridge caught his attention, then he saw the bloated body of a drowned human floating on the surface, bobbing in place as the current pitched him repeatedly against the bridge.

Dressed in knee high boots and black leather armor, the man was bearded and large, with a crooked nose and skin as blue as his open eyes. There were no signs of any wounds or broken bones, though the absence of a helm and weapons belt suggested there had been time to shed both before drowning. Galaeron shuddered, wondering if the fellow had fallen victim to the river's life-stealing waters and simply fell in. The man's eyes rolled toward Galaeron, then a blue hand rose out of the water, stretching out as though reaching for help.

Galaeron cried out and sprang back, landing on his seat when his feet slipped out from beneath him. The current immediately threatened to sweep him into the riffle on the other side of the mossy bridge. He rolled to his stomach and flung his arms out, catching hold of the bridge on the upstream side. The current whirled him around, spinning him so that his feet hung over the downstream edge. The river poured over his head and down his throat, chilling him to the bone and threatening to fill his lungs. He clamped his jaw shut and felt the water bubbling into his nose, a mad, animate killer determined to have his life. Already his body was growing weary and stiff, the life draining out of him everywhere the river touched. He blew the air from his lungs, forcing the water out through his mouth and nose, then drew a stiff leg up so he could stand-and felt the dead man's hand clamp his wrist.

Screaming, Galaeron shook the water from his head and found himself staring into the man's undead eyes. The fellow's lips drew back in a gruesome grin, displaying a mouthful of broken fangs and a black wagging tongue. A dozen spells leaped at once to Galaeron's mind. As a tomb guard recruit, he had been well-drilled in the weaknesses of the undead-almost as well-drilled as he had been in horrors awaiting those who fell to them. He thrust a hand into the creature's face and opened himself to the Weave-then felt the icy ache of shadow magic rushing into him instead. Galaeron let the spell drop, and holding onto the bridge only with his free hand, rolled his wrist around against the creature's thumb.

A living man would have released Galaeron's arm and pulled his hand away in pain. The ghoul continued to hold, trying to use strength against leverage. So weak was Galaeron that the tactic nearly succeeded. The first time he tried, the strength simply left his arm, and his hand stopped halfway through the motion, hanging palm up between him and his blue-faced attacker.

Galaeron shoved the arm forward, jabbing a fingertip into the creature's eye. Even a dead man had to flinch, and Galaeron finished his motion, bringing his hand over and down behind the ghoul's. The thing's thumb snapped with a sharp crack, folding over backward to expose a jagged spear of coal black bone.

Galaeron shot his hand up behind its neck and caught it by the back of the skull. He slammed its head into the side of the bridge, at the same time pulling himself back onto the walkway and swinging his feet up beneath him.

The ghoul lashed out madly with both arms, catching Galaeron behind the ankles and trying to sweep his feet from under him. The elf drew his knees straight up, and reaching across his body for his sword, came down kicking. One heel caught the ghoul in the back of the head. The other landed on the mossy bridge and slipped free, dropping Galaeron to a knee directly in front of the beast. His sword cleared his scabbard and struck the ghoul's face in the same motion, its gleaming elven steel slicing through the head just above the jawline.

Galaeron followed through gracefully, his head turning to follow the sweep of his blade tip, and saw a second creature springing out of the water in front of him. This one was smaller than the first, with a female's rounder curves, long black claws, and the yellow eyes of a wight. She was also much faster, stomping Galaeron's sword arm down on the bridge and pinning it there as she snapped her other foot around in a vicious kick.

Thinking to trap her foot with a hook block, Galaeron caught the blow on his forearm-but he was simply too tired and weak. The impact knocked him to his back, then the current spun his feet downstream again, leaving him affixed to the bridge only by his pinned sword arm.

The wight crouched down above his head and grabbed his throat, her icy claws piercing his flesh in so many places he was surprised not to see warm blood spurting up before his eyes. She bared two long rows of sharp teeth and pulled him toward her, twisting her head around to bite.

Galaeron tried to break free and roll away. He was too weak even to push his free hand into the crook of the wight's arm. He tried to kick his feet up to wrap her head in a leg-lock, but his legs felt as numb and heavy as gold. His life was seeping out by the second, being sucked out by the spirit-stealing touch of the undead, being robbed from him by the vigor-draining waters of the shadowed river.

The wight pressed her teeth to Galaeron's throat. He spun toward her with the little strength remaining to him, thrusting his free hand into her face and summoning the incantation to a spell of light. A surge of icy power flooded Galaeron's body as it filled with coldmagic, but he had more pressing worries than his shadow at the moment. He called out the mystic syllable, and a brilliant beam of silver light shot from his palm.

The wight screeched madly and spun away, leaving Galaeron to float across the bridge. He rolled after the wight, digging the numb fingers of his free hand into the cold moss and whipping his sword across the back of the creature's feet with the other. The thing stumbled two steps forward before crashing into the water with a pair of severed heels. Galaeron pulled himself to his knees and brought his sword down across the wight's back. The blow was clean and, had there been any strength to it, he would have cleaved the thing in half. As it was, his elven steel bit deep enough to maim even a beast of the undead.

The wight stiffened and tried to roll toward her foe, but succeeded only in twisting her torso open along the wound. As she looked down in bewilderment, Galaeron raised a hand and spoke a single mystic syllable. This time, he barely noticed as the coldmagic flooded his body, nor did he care that the bolts shooting from his hand were as black and frigid as shadow. It only mattered to him that the undead thing before him had finally gone limp and lost her hold on the bridge, and that the murky current was at last carrying her away over the riffle.

The gate tower stood only a dozen paces away, the dry ground beyond its shadowed archway offering warmth and refuge, or at least an escape from the cold battle on the bridge. Galaeron staggered to his feet and discovered he did not feel nearly as weak as he had several minutes before. To the contrary, while he felt tired and cold, his strength seemed to be returning. There was a peculiar ardor burning inside him, not so much anger as resolve, not so much brutality as ruthlessness.

When no more undead appeared to attack him, he started toward the gate tower, no longer concerned about the slick moss underfoot, thinking only of the battles to come and the magic he would find in Karse-then he recalled Melegaunt following behind, and the others he was traveling with, all following in his footsteps, all trying to cross the dark bridge behind him.

Galaeron spun on his heel and saw Takari slipping and sliding toward him, pushing her sword into its scabbard. Twenty paces behind her, Vala was spinning and whirling across the bridge, her black blade weaving a dark mesh around her and Melegaunt as she slashed at the translucent figures of two withered, shrewish-looking ghosts trying to dart past her flashing defenses. Beyond them, a pair of inky silhouettes were flitting around Aris's steam-shrouded head, darting in to slash at his eyes and ears with black talons. Malik and his horse were nowhere to be seen, of course, but Jhingleshod was not far behind the others, a hazy glimmer of orange that appeared briefly every time the stone giant took a step.

Galaeron pointed his sword over Takari's shoulder. The others!" He staggered a few steps back across the bridge, his numb legs and weary body stirring themselves for another fight. "They need help!"

"Are you mad?" Takari intercepted him and pressed her hand to where the wight had clasped his throat. Her palm was as hot as fire against his skin. "The humans can take care of themselves. We need to get you to shore."

"Shore? What do you take me for?" Galaeron jerked her hand down. "A coward?"

Takari's eyes flashed. "Only a fool." She thrust her palm into his face, displaying a coating of blood so dark it was almost black. "Half your throat is ripped away, your face is as pale as glass, and all you can think about is a human minx with wild eyes and milkbags the size of a thkaerth's!"

Too stunned to reply, Galaeron raised a hand to his throat and felt a gash four fingers wide. How the wound had missed his veins he could not imagine, any more than he could understand how he had the strength to continue standing. There was no pain, no dizziness, no sign of the injury except an overwhelming sense of cold, and even that seemed to be fading.

Takari drew her sword and, grasping Melegaunt's arm, turned back to help the others. "Let's go, then-but I'll never forgive you if you get yourself killed over a human."

They had barely taken two steps before Vala's darksword found one of the ghosts, cleaving it down the center. The creature came apart with a horrid screech, the two halves of its gossamer form paling into wisps of fading light. Melegaunt reached over her shoulder, spraying a string of shadowy darts through the second ghost. The black bolts vanished inside the creature with no visible effect.

Seeing what had become of its fellow, the ghost darted away from Vala and hovered alongside the bridge, well out of her reach. It stretched a hand toward her sword, then flowed into the dark glass and vanished from sight. Galaeron stretched out his arm, trying to slap the weapon from her grasp with the flat of his own blade. His reach fell just short. "Vala, drop your sword!"

Even as Galaeron called out, Vala's eyes went glassy and white. She whirled on Melegaunt, her movements now fitful and rigid as she raised her arm for an overhand chop. Jaw dropping, the wizard pivoted into the clumsy attack, throwing his arms out in a desperate block and catching Vala square in the chest. He bellowed two syllables and sent her body blasting past. She landed two paces away on the downstream side of the bridge, flat on her back and dazed from the explosion.

Vala's hand began to open, and the darksword dipped into the water.

"Grab her sword!" As Galaeron tried to spring past Melegaunt, he slipped on the mossy stone and fell to a knee. "It has her soul!"

Melegaunt stooped down and reached for the weapon, then her white eyes flicked in his direction, and he abruptly drew back. "She'll kill me!"

Vala slipped over the riffle and started a lazy spin downstream, quickly starting to sink as her scale armor pulled her beneath the surface. Ignoring the fact that even elven chain mail was not light, Galaeron dropped his own sword on the bridge and sprang over Melegaunt after her.

He entered the icy river headfirst and pulled himself down through the riffle with two quick strokes, then caught a handful of hair and continued to kick deeper. It would do no good to save Vala if he allowed the darksword to sink with her soul. He drew himself down by her hair, stretching his free hand toward the glass sword-then suddenly found the point driving up through the water toward his heart.

Still holding onto her hair, Galaeron rolled behind her and changed hands, then reached around her shoulder to grab her sword arm from behind. Vala whirled and kicked, trying to spin free, but managing only to drive them a few feet upward before they began to sink again. Galaeron released her hair and slipped his arm around her throat, using the crook of his elbow to clamp down on the vulnerable veins in her neck.

Vala went limp almost instantly Her head tipped to one side and her eyes rolled back in their sockets, and the hand holding the darksword came open even before Galaeron could twist the weapon free. He caught it by the hilt and kicked for the surface, already so cold he barely noticed its freezing touch.

Had he been fresh, or had Vala's scale armor been as light as elven chain, he might have pulled them both to the surface. As it was, he barely had the strength to keep from sinking deeper-and that strength was fading fast. Slipping her darksword back into her scabbard, he drew his dagger and began to cut the buckles on her heavy breast plate.

Galaeron had just finished one side when he saw Malik's chubby silhouette drift past above. He thought for a moment that he was merely imagining things, or that the cold water had finally taken him. The little human did not strike him as the heroic type, but there had been that time in Thousand Faces, and now here he was again, his turban unwinding behind him as he dived for them from above. Not taking the time to sheathe his dagger, Galaeron let it fall and raised his hand. Malik ignored it and circled around behind them, trailing a thin rope. Galaeron felt the human pushing something under his arm and took the line from his grasp, then passed it around Vala and back to his rescuer. Malik tied a quick knot, then the current began to pull at them as the cord caught. Wrapping his legs around Vala for extra security, Galaeron grabbed the rope with both hands and pulled-He had barely begun before the rope jerked them to the surface, and his breath returned in a series of cold coughs. He felt Malik clinging to his belt, crying out in terror and all but dragging him back beneath the surface as he struggled to reach the rope. Galaeron caught hold of the little man's collar and pulled him up.

"Malik! Our thanks!" Galaeron guided his hand to the rope. "That was a brave thing you did."

"Think nothing of it," coughed the little man. "I have a bad habit of doing brave things in bad causes."

Unsure of just how to take this, Galaeron rolled Vala onto her back, then finally looked upstream, to where the other end of the rope was attached to Kelda's saddle. The mare was just trotting into the archway beneath the bridge tower, pulling them diagonally across the current as she moved. Takari and Melegaunt were slipping and sliding along the bridge as they scrambled after her, while Aris, having somehow freed himself of the two shades, was kneeling at the edge of the bridge, stretching a long arm out to grab the line.

He finally succeeded, then pulled them to the side of the bridge and hoisted them to safety. Malik whistled Kelda to a stop, and Galaeron set to work on Vala. Her armor was scorched and dented from the spell that had launched her into the river, but any injuries the blast had caused her appeared less important than her near drowning. He turned her on her side and, bracing her between his knees, pushed on her back to force out the water. She began to cough, spewing cold river water from her lungs, and started to breathe on her own. "Shell live," pronounced Aris.

"But not recover." This from Jhingleshod, who was stepping around Aris's far side. "Not until she is free of this river."

Galaeron glared up at the ghostly knight, barely able to restrain his dark anger. "You might have warned us."

"And what would you have learned by that?" Jhingleshod looked away and continued forward, following Melegaunt and Takari into the shadows beneath the next bridge tower. "Were you not strong enough to defeat the servants, I do not think you would have been strong enough to defeat the master."

Galaeron glared after the rusty knight for a moment, then scooped Vala up and started after him. As they passed into the shadows beneath the bridge tower, she began to stir, her arm slipping around his neck, her eyes fluttering open.

"G-Galaeron?" She seemed barely conscious, hardly able to utter his name. "You… came after me?" "Did you think I would let you drown?" "Then we're alive?" "At the moment, yes."

He smiled, and, as they stepped out onto the dry road, Vala's lips were suddenly pressed to his, her warm tongue dancing softly against his. Surprised as he was, he would not have minded, were it not for the guilty shame in Melegaunt's eyes-or the hurt in Takari's.