The Faceless One blasted those stones to dust with his Dwaer, and then used it to collapse more of the floor, giving him a rough ramp up and out of the pit Embra had dumped him into. He swarmed up that rubble slope as a many-legged thing-and found himself facing a snarling Ezendor Blackgult.
The Golden Griffon pounced on the Koglaur savagely, stabbing and slashing in a frenzy. When the bloody, shuddering Faceless slapped tentacles over Blackgult's face, seeking to smother him or break his neck, Tshamarra shouted a magic that snatched both Craer and Hawkril to the shapeshifter, and they sliced and sawed tentacles as fast as it could spin them.
Craer struck hard through a cagelike web of sliding flesh at the Koglaur's glimmering Dwaer-and its tentacles slapped back the three battling overdukes in a sudden convulsion.
As Craer skidded away on his shoulders, gasping out a curse, Blackgult and Hawkril roared in unison and waded back into the ropy, many-armed body. Embra murmured a swift spell mat plucked a sword out of a startled guard's grasp and put it into her father's free hand.
The Koglaur reared up over the two overdukes, growing great dark necks swimming with many-eyed jaws. Guards all over the room shouted in horror at the rising monster, and loosed arrows at those swooping, snapping heads. Scales sprouted on them-too late to save some, but swiftly enough to send many arrows rattling harmlessly away.
Two heads bit down on Blackgult's weapons, squalling in pain as they closed around sharp, slashing steel. A third head darted between, fangs gaping wide to tear out his chest-but Tshamarra sent lightning down its revealed throat, and the head convulsed and shrank back, shuddering and spewing smoke.
Ceiling stones broke free and plummeted at other heads as Embra called on the palace enchantments again, her Dwaer flashing-and in the air above the balding men and monsters, the air sang and shimmered as the two Stones wrestled for supremacy.
Drenched in ichor, Craer and Hawkril struggled through a chaos of writhing tentacles and gouting gore, trying to hew to the Koglaur's heart before the shapeshifter could change again. Tshamarra sent fire racing along the limbs they'd sliced, trying to force the Faceless to leave the damaged parts of its body behind, and so be weakened.
Blackgult roared in pain as the blood-drooling jaws crushed or bit away his hands-and other tentacles dived at his feet, scooping up the maimed overduke and hurling him across the hall at his daughter.
Intent on guiding Dwaer-flows and the Living Castle enchantments, Embra barely saw him-and lost control of both when Ezendor Blackgult crashed into her and sent them both skidding across the cracked marble.
With a roar of triumph, the many-headed monster called on its Dwaer- and lightning leaped from it, stabbing out to arc from blade to blade to armor on all of its embattled sides. Guards and overdukes staggered, howled, reeled and fell-and doors behind the Koglaur boomed open.
The shapeshifter barely had time to flail two heads around to see who'd arrived before Hulgor Delcamper charged into it, driving his blade hilt-deep through pale, yielding flesh and bellowing, "For the glory of the Delcampers!"
Flaeros and the king were right behind him, swords in their hands, and the Koglaur stiffened and then surged its entire bulk back to lean toward the king.
Nigh crushed beneath it, Hulgor held onto his sword, and snatched a dagger from his belt to stab and hew, snarling-and on the Koglaur's other flank, a numbed but determined Craer Delnbone raced up a neck, fresh daggers in both hands, heading for Dwaer-glow-
And the Koglaur screamed, a rush of glowing blue blood drenching Hulgor Delcamper. The Stone bobbing not far in front of Craer's nose flashed-and the room was suddenly empty of many-headed shapeshifting monsters.
Craer landed hard on his behind, nose to nose with Hulgor. King Castlecloaks shot glances around his ruined throne room and snapped, "Down arms, all!"
Embra looked up from the sprawled, senseless body of her father, a healing glow already brightening around them, as the other overdukes trudged to join her.
"How is he?" Hawkril muttered.
Embra shrugged, and then shook her head. "Hands, he'll have back swiftly. His wits, now…"
As Hulgor, Flaeros, and the king joined them, the Four exchanged weary looks. Waving a hand at Raulin in greeting, Craer peered at his fellow overdukes. "Suppose we try to list just who's carrying a Dwaer, now, hey? I confess I've rather lost track of Aglirta-threatening perils in all this hurly-fray."
Embra sighed. Hawkril put an arm around her shoulders and said with a trace of dark humor, "Well, a certain shapeshifting monster has one."
Tshamarra nodded. "Another was last seen in the grasp of the not-as-dead-as-we'd-hoped Spellmaster."
"Embra has the third," Craer put in, "and the fourth-Blackgult's-was snatched by a young sorceress of some beauty… assuming, mind you, that she wasn't this same shapeshifter whose blood is all over us."
Embra sighed again. "So we know who has two of them, the Faceless and us… and possibly who holds the other two."
Tshamarra smiled bitterly. "And those three foes all want us dead and Aglirta destroyed."
Craer grinned. "As usual."
"Do you want the Four dead and Aglirta destroyed?" the Master of Bats asked sharply, a glowing scepter raised menacingly in his hand.
Dolmur Blackdragon shook his head. Carefully holding empty hands where Huldaerus could see them, the tall, scorched wizard limped forward, wincing in pain, and turned to regard his brother.
Idiim was in worse shape, and moved more slowly. They traded grim glances and then looked at the Master of Bats again and shook their heads in unison.
"Good," Arkle Huldaerus told them, lowering his scepter. "Then you may stay."
His own walk held more than a hint of a limp as he turned and waved with the scepter for them to follow him through the archway ahead. "More damage has been done to Darsar by fools trying to lay waste to Aglirta than by all the other wars and mage duels I can recall, put together. If you promise not to strike at me or steal magic, I'll show you where I scry the Vale from-and we can sit and watch the fates of those at Flowfoam. Some wine, perhaps?"
Dolmur Blackdragon smiled. "Have you any Sarnen blackjewel?"
The trap-filled, dank, and yet dusty gloom of the Silent House terrified most folk of the Vale, yet it seemed as comforting a lair as any, just now.
For years the rogue Koglaur had used it, slaying fellow Faceless and ambitious Aglirtans beyond counting-but it had never walked these dark, familiar halls in such pain before.
Or staggered through them as it was doing now, a trail of dark blue blood spotting the stones behind it. It shifted shape every few steps in a vain, hissing attempt to leave pain behind.
The Dwaer glowed in its cradling hands, healing… but slowly, too slowly. The swift way would knit slashed flesh in ways that would leave forever stiff knots and joints, resistant to shifting shape… So, patience and pain.
Aye, patience and pain were its lot, this next while. There was a hidden
door just ahead, and then it could either lie still in the tunnel or shift to a wriggling shape and so ascend into the tall, riven turret called the Cracked Crown. There the only annoyances would be squawking, pecking, defecating birds, and-
The Dwaer suddenly flared up with bright, furious force. The Koglaur barely had time to be astonished before the Dwaer-fire was so strong that it was hurled away, roaring at the fresh pain of crisped hands.
The shapeshifter was wallowing on cold and dusty flagstones and staring at the smoke streaming from its blackened claws when a slender human female of dark hair and darker gown stepped from behind a crumbling hanging and plucked the Koglaur's floating, blazing Dwaer out of midair.