Lyim gathered up his red robe and rolled stiffly into a sitting position atop the cold white slab. His body felt strong and right, as if he'd slipped on a familiar, butter- soft glove. The mage flexed the fingers of his right hand before wide, disbelieving eyes, until he couldn't contain his elation. He leaped from the slab into the air. Coming down, he crashed into Ezius, slumped against the marble base.
Lyim blinked at the white-robed mage. Ezius raised a trembling hand, as if about to cast a spell. At least that's what Lyim presumed when he reached out with his own right hand and touched Ezius's temple. The older man's face went slack, and all comprehension left his eyes. Ezius stared around the room like an idiot child, bewildered by everything he saw. Lyim reached out his hand once more, poising it above the mage's head. "Take a little rest, Ezius. You've earned it." Fine amber dust drifted down from Lyim's hand. The dust clouded Ezius's already vague eyes, and then his head slipped gently to the porcelain floor.
"Lyim!"
The mage looked up at the sound of a familiar voice cursing his name. Lyim spun about to face his most hated foe, his handsome face spread in a wolfish smile of anticipation.
Chapter Eighteen
Bastion's high defender stared at tbe pulsing, purple glow around the door, and the meaning of King Weador's warning came clear to him. Guerrand had witnessed light like that only once before: during the triple eclipse on Stonecliff. Lyim Rhistadt had lost his hand that night. There could be no mistaking the danger now.
Guerrand called Dagamier from the scrying sphere and sent her to collect all the wands, cloaks, and components she could lay her hands on. He sized up the magical protections on the door and settled upon the likeliest spell to break them. From his ever-present pack, the mage pulled a stringed chime-a small, silvery tube-and waited impatiently for the black wizard to return.
The radiance beneath the door flared up, streaming
through the cracks so that Guerrand was bathed in an ultraviolet glow. The high defender knew he could wait no longer.
Setting aside the chime momentarily, Guerrand searched through his pouch again and withdrew a small glass bead. As he whispered an incantation, he used the bead to trace magical symbols on his forehead, the backs of his hands and arms, his chest, and finally, in the air surrounding him. With the final phrase of the spell, Guerrand released the bead. It shattered like a fine crystal glass, and the mage was surrounded in soft, shimmering light. As long as it lasted, he would be protected against all but the most powerful magic.
Guerrand retrieved the chime and held it up by the string. He struck it slowly once, twice, thrice with a small, rubber-tipped mallet. With the third tone, the double doors burst inward. Guerrand leaped one step inside the door, discarding the chime.
The high defender had been inside Bastion's white wing only on those few occasions when Ezius had invited him. The area near the door was dim with murky blue-violet light. But the purple, incandescent portal throbbed and swirled with energy at the far right corner of the wing's vast, open room. It glowed so brightly at its center that Guerrand could not bear to look directly at it.
The mage glanced away, eyes burning as if he'd stared at the sun. A pair of luminescent eyes, unblinking and motionless, rose before him. They were feline in shape, but far too large to belong to any cat Guerrand had ever seen.
With a wave of his hand and a muttered word, Guerrand filled his end of the vast chamber with light. There was no sign of Ezius or Lyim, dead or alive, anywhere in the wing. But he found the source of the odd, luminous eyes. No past experience could keep him from starting backward. The creature that blocked his path to the portal resembled a snake or an eel in form, but its proportions were monstrous. It was coiled into a loop, but Guerrand guessed the creature's body must have been at least twice as long as his own frame, possibly more. The body appeared black, but where light reflected from the tiny, glossy scales, they flashed a dark, subterranean blue.
Most unsettling was the creature's human-shaped head. The dark, slanted eyes had vertical irises, like a cat's. The ears were pointed and too far back on the head to look human, though, and its teeth resembled needles.
At the other end of the body, held straight up in the air with great menace, was a bony stinger as long as Guerrand's forearm. Venom glistened on its tip. Guerrand shuddered; Lyim had chosen his guardian with irony.
The two adversaries eyed each other warily. Guerrand had heard about nagas, fiendish and intelligent monsters with a hunger for magical knowledge. They were known to offer their services to powerful mages in exchange for spell formulae. Even when Guerrand was an apprentice, Justarius had warned him against dealing with such beings. If Belize had done the same tor his apprentice, Lyim had obviously ignored him.
The wizard was greatly relieved to hear Dagamier's footsteps as she returned across the nave. The black- robed mage stepped into the white wing and slung a heavy cloak across Guerrand's shoulders that would protect the wearer like a suit of armor.
The naga's eyes followed Dagamier, the first movement Guerrand had seen the monster make. He raised his hands before him. Sparks raced across Guerrand's flesh, ready to leap forward as a bolt of lightning.
Nagas were highly susceptible to bribes, so before attacking, Guerrand thought to offer one. "We want your master, and have no quarrel with you," he began, searching his memory of Bastion's collected magical items for an artifact of use to a limbless creature. "Stand aside, and I will give you a magical circlet after I'm assured we've passed freely."
"My master is not here," the naga replied in a dark voice that held no trace of an accent. "He has entered the portal. I will accept your offer and let you pass." With silken grace the naga's coils slid off one another. The creature backed away warily, but its unblinking eyes remained riveted on Guerrand.
Dagamier tossed a disbelieving glance at Guerrand. He, too, was surprised at the monster's easy acquiescence, and did not entirely trust it. With the spell sdll ready to cast, he advanced into the white wing, balancing caution against the immediate imperative of drawing Lyim from the portal. Dagamier followed three steps behind him.
A scream set Guerrand's heart hammering. Looking back over his shoulder he cursed. Silhouetted by the doorway, Dagamier had her arms thrown wide, and a look of horror and pain was frozen on her death-pale face. With great effort, as if pulling against a harness, she tipped her dark head back to peer up into the rafters above.
But Guerrand had already seen what Dagamier could not. Dangling heavily from an overhead beam, just inside the door, was a second naga. Its serpentine tail hung down and disappeared behind Dagamier. The naga quivered its tail, making Dagamier twitch like a marionette. Slowly her eyes rolled back and her head slumped. The black wizaid's entire body went limp. Yet she remained standing until, with a flick of its tail, the naga snapped its poisoned stinger out from her back.
Dagamier collapsed sideways and lay motionless.
Before the woman's body hit the floor, two bolts of lightning ripped from Guerrand's hands to smash into the monstrous snake-thing above the door. The air crackled and buzzed as the twin arcs twitched in a fantastic dance across the open room, rooted at one end to Guerrand and at the other to the naga.