In the grinding heart of their destruction, Ingryl Ambelter whirled, his rage and Dwaer-fire rising together.
Lord of the Serpent Rauldron grinned at him, the glowing web of his next Dwaer-weaving already flashing out toward the Spellmaster-and for just a moment, it seemed to Ingryl that he was looking into two mocking, glittering lights in the empty eyesockets of a skull rather than the flat, brown eyes of the priest.
And then his foe's Dwaer-attack fell on him with the crushing force of a hammer, stabbing through his crackling, flaming shieldings in a dozen places.
The Spellmaster shrieked in fear and spun frantic Dwaer-fire around himself, whirling it in a spiral that-yes, thank the Three! -caught up the bolts reaching for him and whisked them around and around him to augment his own armor.
Ambelter's own slashing counterbolt went hopelessly awry, twisted by the maelstrom of magic around him, and cracked its way along the front wall of the room, slamming the door open and scorching its way into the far corner, where it clawed mightily at the stones and spent itself.
His foe lashed him with a Dwaer-spell that rent his whirlwind as if it was nothing-a nothing that flashed blindingly and rocked the chamber again with the shrill shriek of its dying. The Spellmaster flung himself aside and spun himself a better shield, hurling another bolt at his foe-or so he desired Gadaster to think.
In truth, this bolt was but a shell of the one he'd hurled before. It took the same flashing path as its predecessor, as the man who was not Rauldron strode forward, weaving another Dwaer-spell, but veered out the open door while just a small and snarling offshoot raced on to the corner.
The other priests were in the audience chamber outside, eyeing each other in open fear as the battle raged in front of them-and Ambelter's draining bolt fell on them like the clutching fingers of a desperate man, splitting to strike every man there.
One of them had time to hurl a magic back into the chamber, a net of fanged serpent-mouths that Gadaster casually destroyed. He sent back a flood of lightning, and as the priests stood rooted, struggling against Ambelter's draining magic, that river of lightning struck them all at the knees, hurled them to the stone floor, and slew them. Ambelter's drain-tendrils greedily took their lives.
Even as Gadaster struck at him again and the Spellmaster was forced to retreat, his shieldings faltering and failing in showers of sparks and blossoming darkness, Ingryl Ambelter felt new energies-the stolen vitality of the priests on the threshold-come raging into him, followed by something else.
Something large, and deep, and dark. Something that made him tremble at its very touch. More power than he'd ever tasted before, shuddering into him, making him strong, and cold, and… and…
INGRYL AMBELTER, a god whispered in his head.
"Y-yes?"
YOU KNOW ME, AS ALL MEN KNOW ME.
"Yes, Dark One!"
YOU HAVE SEIZED POWER ENOUGH. I AM PLEASED. BE NOW THE "GREAT SERPENT," IF IT AMUSES YOU TO BE SO.
And the Thrael opened out around him, thrumming and vast and-thrilling. In the heart of clashing Dwaer-fire, even as Gadaster's attack stabbed into him and agonies that should have slain him surged through him, Ingryl Ambelter beheld… and gasped. So this was what he'd been missing! Not just Stones of trapped and frozen power, but a living web of magic, with awareness of its own, great-
And suddenly that great weight of darkness was gone from his mind, without even bothering to utter, "Or else."
Ingryl Ambelter rose out of what he now realized had been an awestruck daze, and gathered his newfound power around himself. So this is what it was, to be a Great Serpent!
With a bellow of exulting laughter, the Spellmaster of All Aglirta hurled a bolt that should easily destroy his former master, Dwaer and all!
A flash was born beyond his spread fingertips, and then a mighty roar arose and went on and on, as the far wall of the scorched chamber vanished, the ceiling fell into his bolt and suffered the same fate, and sunlight flooded in to show him room after passage after great chamber of the building beyond vanishing into rubble and emptiness, the sheared-off edges slowly collapsing inward with ground-shaking thunder.
The sunlight also flashed back from something small and bright and whirling, that hung in the air much closer to him. At a spot where Gadaster-in the Bowdragon maid's stolen body-might well have been.
Ingryl peered at it, and then nodded grimly. Gadaster had teleported away and left behind a shimmering wildfield-just as he himself had done when fleeing his lair, to keep the cursed Band of Four from following. Should he try to use his Dwaer to trace and follow, he'd be whirled away to a random elsewhere.
Ah, but what if he called on the Thrael instead?
Shimmering in his mind, it waited, but Ingryl saw in a moment both its lure-he could spend oblivious days racing along its flows, examining this new magic, and that-and its unsuitability.
No doubt he could trace his foe's teleport, given hours of looking or lucky anticipation of where Gadaster might be headed, so that he looked first in just the right place… But what, during those hours, would his onetime master be doing? Teleporting again almost immediately, for one thing…
Bah! What need had he now, to concern himself with such trifles? Let the skull-wizard strut around in his stolen wench-body! Ingryl Ambelter might have had to worry about a walking skeleton with wiles and a Dwaer, but the Great Serpent could laugh at the worst Gadaster Mulkyn could do!
Ambelter's own Dwaer blazed with a fierce, triumphant flame in his hand, and he laughed as he looked down at it, half-drunk on the dark, whispering power raging in him. It would always rage there, making him as restless and as mighty as he was now…
Letting him do-this!
He gave in to the whispering urgings and grew, transforming himself, towering up over what was left of the riven temple walls, becoming serpentine and giant, a Great Serpent in truth.
Wavering higher, as tall as the highest keep he'd ever stood upon, Ingryl Ambelter gazed down the Vale, opened great fanged jaws, and roared in triumph.
His roar came out as a thunderous hiss, as he swayed back and forth, gloating. The Silverflow made its own coiling way across the land below him, the Thrael reached out like a glittering net around him, and… the Thrael!
The moment he thought of it, its fascination snared him again, and he dwindled, the gigantic serpent-body forgotten. The Great Serpent shuddered down out of sight, towering into the sky no longer.
Lost in the wonder of the Thrael, Ingryl Ambelter stood naked amid the shreds of his torn robes, his Dwaer-Stone blazing in his hand, and never noticed the surviving Serpent-priests, all around him in the ruins, going to their knees and then to their faces on the stone floor, in silent, awestruck reverence.
24
Shapechangers and Secrets
Glowing mists flickered and ebbed… and the Band of Four stood in the Throne Chamber of Flowfoam Palace, the barefoot body of Ezendor Blackgult cradled in Hawkril's hands.
Guards stiffened and reached for blades, but the Lady Silvertree sternly bade them stand back, a Dwaer-Stone flickering warningly in her hand.
They obeyed, one veteran daring to ask, "Ah, the Lord Blackgult… how is he?"
"Exhausted, no more," Embra replied curtly, knowing the truth to be very far from that. Blackgult now seemed free of the Blood Plague, but the Dwaer-clash had harmed his mind once more. Awake, he saw them sometimes and at other times did not, and his mumblings were as wildly irrelevant as a drunk crying out in his nightmares.
The Four were most of the way to the royal apartments when doors ahead of them boomed open, and palace guards in full armor strode in, strung bows in their hands.