Gorstag let the body fall into the mud grimly and turned to Lureene. “Are you all right, my lady?” he asked. “Is there fire or ruin behind you in The Moon?”
Lureene shook her head, wide-eyed. “No, Lord,” she said, close to tears. “I am fine… thanks to you. We are safe.”
“Aye, then,” Gorstag said, and he looked down the road. “But will Narm and Shandril be? Find me the fastest horse, while I get my axe.”
Lureene stared at him in horror. “No!” she said. “You’ll be slain!”
“Leave my friends to die because I did nothing?” Gorstag’s face was tike iron. “Find me the fastest horse!”
Lureene rushed toward the stables, tears blurring her sight as she ran. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, gods, no.” But the gods did not hear before she reached the stables.
There was a slow thudding of hooves, then, as Gorstag came back out of the inn with axe in hand. Frightened faces were gathering about the yard.
A dwarf on a mud-spattered mule rode heavily in at the gate, and came to a sliding halt before Gorstag. The dwarf heaved himself sideways and rolled down out of the saddle with practiced ease, using the axe he bore naked on his shoulder tike a walking-stick. Crippled, he leaned heavily on his axe as he limped over to Gorstag. The innkeeper was looking grimly toward the stables, where a worried Lureene was leading out a horse.
“Well met,” the dwarf said to Gorstag. “You are Gorstag?” The innkeeper, who was intent upon Lureene and the approaching mount, looked down in surprise. “Aye, I am.”
“Have you seen a companion of mine, the adventuress Shandril? She waited on tables here, once,” the dwarf rumbled. I hear she rides with a young mage, now, and hurls spellfire.”
“Aye. I have,” Gorstag said, axe coming up. “Who then are you, and what is your business with Shandril Shessair?”
“I am come from Shadowdale,” the dwarf said gruffly, looking up at him with a gaze as harshly steady as his own. “From Sharantyr and Rathan and Torm of the knights I have heard where Shandril headed and followed on. I am sent by Storm Silverhand of the Harpers and Elminster the sage, and bear a note to ye, to tell you to trust me in this. Here; read it. Now tell me where Shandril is, for time draws on and my hones grow no younger.”
Gorstag grinned at that as he unrolled the parchment. “Not so sour, Sir Dwarf. Life is less a trial to the patient.”
“Aye,” the dwarf replied, “most of them lie dead. Tell me where Shandril is!”
“A moment.” Gorstag read the parchment. Lureene brought the horse to his shoulder, and he moved so that she could read what was written, too:
To Gorstag, of Highmoon, By these words, well met! The bearer of this note is the dwarf Delg, once a swordmate of Shandril in the Company of the Bright Spear, just after she left your house. He serves no evil master and bears Shandril no ill will; trust us in this-he has submitted to all our tests of art in this regard, and it is true. The Cult of the Dragon destroyed the. company, and it was thought only Shandril survived. This Delg, left for dead in Oversember Vale, made his way to the shores of the Sember, where he was found by elves and taken to priests of Tempus. While they were healing his wounds and praying to the god for guidance as to what task they should set him in return, a messenger of Tempus appeared and said that Delg’s task was to defend the girl who wielded spellfire against seeking swords; and so he has come to you for word. Our part in defending Shandril is done, valiant Gorstag; we tend Dammasae’s place of rest and remember. Aid this one as best you can, and you will be honored greatly. Him shall have then in your debt, Elminster of Shadowdale and Storm Silverhand of Shadowdale.
Gorstag read it, frowning a little, and then looked up at Delg. “You’ve missed them,” he said simply. “They rode west from here some short time ago, now. A mage hostile to them follows them, close indeed.”
“I’ve missed them? Then there’s no time left to wait about!” the dwarf said, and hobbled back to his mule. “Up!” he commanded it, “and ride like the wind… or she’ll be in trouble again, and in need of old Delg, before we get there!”
“Will you not take a faster mount?” Gorstag asked, waving at the horse Lureene held. Delg shook his head.
“My thanks, but how fast would I travel if I fell off it at the first bend in the road? Nay, I’ll stick to what I know, and make haste in my own way. Fare thee well, Gorstag. Stay by your lady. It is the greatest adventure you can have.” And he grinned then, and rode away, raising his arm in a warrior’s salute. Gorstag returned it, watching him go, and Lureene stroked his arm thoughtfully and said nothing.
After a time Gorstag looked away from the road and said gruffly, “Well, you can put the animal away. We shan’t be needing it.”
Lureene nodded. “Of course,” she said, turning, “and there’s a little matter of corpses lying about, too…”
Gorstag growled and went to put away his axe and find a shovel. He carried the letter very carefully in his hand, and looked at it again as he went.
Shargrailar the Dark circled high above the Thunder Gap, cold winds whistling through the spread, bony fingers that were all that was left of its wings. Shargrailar was the mightiest dracolich in Faerun known to the cult, perhaps the most powerful bone dragon there had ever been. Its eyes were two white lamps in the empty sockets of a long, cruel skull. It looked down with the cold patience of a being who has passed beyond the tomb and yet can fly, and it flew lower, watching and waiting.
So a human female dared to destroy dracoliches? Death must find her. Lucky she must have been, and her victims young fools, but still, she must die. She was headed toward Shargrailar’s lair. Armed with spellfire, they said. Interesting. Shargrailar glided among the clouds like a silent shadow, peering at the tiny road men called the East Way, far below. It had been a very long time since Shargrailar had been interested in anything.
There below, on the road. Two human riders, with mules… one was female. Silently Shargrailar descended, skeletal head peering. Yes… yes… this must be her. If not, what matter? What pair of humans could hurt Shargrailar? The great dracolich dove down out of the sky like a gigantic arrow of death, for that is the way of dracoliches. As it descended, Shargrailar could see that the she-human was beautiful… it opened bony jaws to give her death, silently, patiently…
Thiszult rode hard, hauling upon the reins savagely. He had to pass the maid and mage and get ahead of them, to have to time to call up his special magic-or find a height or their camp, to have some time with them in view to do it. It would not do to miss them now-or to get too close and warn them, without his swordsmen to chase them and bring them to a stand.
He thought furiously as he rode. He wore no insignia, and rode alone. There was nothing to say that he was a mage, nor that he wished anyone ill. Yet, he was riding in brutal haste-dangerous, as the road climbed toward the Peaks, and a warning to anyone that all was not right-especially to a couple no doubt wary indeed, by now, of attacks He slowed his mount, cudgeling his brains for a plan. In darkness they could too easily evade him. Yet, one had to sleep, and they would halt, to camp. Perhaps then would be the best time to attack, but only if he had their close trail by then and remained unseen. There was no other way.
With a sigh, he brought the horse to a shuddering haft, leaped clear and then tied its reins to a sapling before the winded horse could move away. He checked what he carried with him. It was all secure. Well and good. A quick glance up and down the road-empty, as far as he could see from here-and he quickly cast spells of invisibility and flight upon himself, and leaped into the sky.