"Wonderful," the dwarf said as she jabbed the staff at a creature trying to come up through the ground in front of her. "Your sword, Goldmoon's staff, and there's dozens of them."
The dwarf and the knight backed up toward the line of wounded soldiers and renegades, where the trees were thin and they could better see the undead.
Jasper had moved on to another soldier, and then another, furtively looking toward Camilla and Redstone and at the wraiths that slipped around them and floated toward the fallen men. He watched in horror as one fell on a wounded renegade and began to devour him.
"The time for healin' is done," the dwarf pronounced as he pushed himself from the ground and grabbed his hammer.
Gair continued to float toward the construction site, watching with fascination as his wraiths did their macabre dance with Camilla and Redstone. He was paying so much attention to the battle that he hadn't noticed the gnoll. Orvago was climbing onto a crate, then onto another that was stacked higher. As the wraiths carried Gair past him, he vaulted toward them, broadsword raised high above his head.
He swung the sword as hard as he could as he awkwardly plummeted toward the ground. He had aimed for the elf, who finally saw him when the blade glimmered in the light of the moon. Gair managed to twist his body enough so the sword cut only Camilla's cloak, but the sword also bit deep into one of the wraiths holding him.
The black creature wailed inhumanly, and as the gnoll landed, he dropped the sword and threw his paws up over his ears to lessen the painful sound. The wraith contorted for a moment more, then dissolved into black rain that fell down on Orvago, chilling him.
"Father!" Gair howled. "Father!"
Darkhunter had been unprepared for the gnoll's brash attack and nearly dropped the elf when the elder Graymist was slain by Orvago a second time. The wraith juggled the elf in midair, moving his icy hands beneath Gair's armpits to keep him aloft. The elf seemed to struggle against Darkhunter.
"Orvago!" Gair shouted. "You will die! Die!"
Master, Darkhunter whispered. The gnoll is beneath your notice. Do not let him worry you. I need you too badly to let you get caught up in petty ?notions of revenge. The knights first. The woman knight. And then the old-Goldmoon. But the wraith kept his red eyes on Orvago's sword as he chattered.
"The sword," Gair cursed, his legs churning through the air. "I want that sword first. Next we'll slay Cam and Goldmoon-whatever you want. Get the sword first!"
The wraith groaned softly but finally made a move to comply, dropping the elf lower while the gnoll continued to writhe on the ground, wounded by the dissolving bits of the elder Graymist. Orvago was making a whining noise, not unlike an injured dog, and he twitched uncontrollably in the snow.
"The sword," Gair repeated. "It's mine. The animal stole it."
While the fight with the wraiths continued at the construction site and the soldiers and knights tried to drag the wounded away from the undead, Darkhunter gently deposited the elf on the ground. Hurry, the wraith whispered.
Gair darted toward the sword, the fingers of his good hand outstretched. At the moment his fingers brushed the ivory pommel, the gnoll's arm shot out, beating him to the weapon. The gnoll howled and leapt to his feet, all traces of pain gone.
"You tricked me!" Gair shouted. "I didn't think you capable of such a thing!"
The elf skittered back as the gnoll darted forward, slashing madly. The blade cut deep into the elf's leg, and the gnoll continued to press the attack. Gair turned and ran, eyes skyward, searching for Darkhunter. The wraith was above him, descending, inky black fingers reaching out.
The gnoll's feet pounded across the ground behind Gair, as he swung the sword again and again, slicing through Camilla's cloak and biting into Gair's back. The elf cried out just as Darkhunter's fingers grabbed him and pulled him aloft. Orvago crouched and leapt, the magical blade swinging in a wide arc that sliced off a piece of the wraith.
Darkhunter's eyes burned hotly red as he pulled Gair higher and out of sight.
Goldmoon was in the midst of the settlers gathered at the base of the Silver Stair. Iryl and Skydancer were keeping everyone close. Dozens of voices were asking what was going on, was that really Gair, what are the black creatures?
She ignored their questions and edged through the press of bodies, finally reaching the stair and starting up it. The cold wind unmercifully teased her face and hands as she climbed. Below her, she heard Iryl.
"I don't understand. What's Goldmoon doing?" the elf asked.
"Perhaps she is trying to survey the battle," the Que-Nal chieftain replied, "a battle I must join, Iryl Songbrook, now that you and the others are safely away."
The elf protested, but clearly lost. Skydancer selected a few of his strongest warriors and separated them from the crowd. The Que-Nal hoisted their spears and ran toward the construction site.
The aging healer thrust the voices to the back of her mind and continued up. She was practically crawling, using her hands to help support her. She was tired from her efforts healing the injured and from trying to push Gair out of her thoughts.
But that will never happen, she heard inside her head. You and I are linked. Now-and when you die.
Goldmoon climbed higher, feeling cracks in the steps beneath her fingers where Gair had pulled energy from the mystical site. More than three dozen feet above the earth, she gingerly sat, wrapping her fingers around the edge of a step. "May Mishakal, wherever she is, forgive me," the healer breathed.
She concentrated on the feel of the energy pulsing against the palms of her hands and tickling her fingers. She urged it to flow into her, just as if she were injured and were receiving the mystical strength of a healer. She had done something similar before, by accident, pulling energy from the enchanted medallion about her neck to assist in powering a spell to save a dying man. She had not repeated the incident, fearful that stealing energy might destroy her precious medallion, a symbol of her goddess Mishakal.
"It can't be helped," she said to herself, as she felt the energy of the Silver Stair flow up her arms and down her chest, centering on her heart, which was at the same time nurturing the mystical spark she used to heal others.
The stair did not crack beneath her fingers.
What are you doing? Gair was inside her head.
She did not bother to answer, only concentrated harder on the energy. She felt invigorated almost instantly, her fatigue a memory and her heart beating so strongly. The stair remained strong, too, and the healer sensed she was not harming it, since her intentions were pure.
I had intended to fight Camilla and her knights first. But you're forcing my hand, Goldmoon.
The energy chased away all traces of the winter cold, making her feel almost feverish. She focused on the heat and on Gair, focused on shutting off the link that they somehow shared.
Goldmoon, no!
Then his voice was gone, and all she heard was the pounding of her heart. Faintly, from the base of the stairs, she heard the voices of the settlers, questions about what was transpiring, speculations about the battle the knights and soldiers and Sky dancer's Que-Nal were fighting. There was a cry of surprise in the mix, turned to a cry of terror.
"The black ghosts!" Goldmoon heard someone shout. "Run!"
Feet were pounding across the snow-packed ground, and Goldmoon knew that the people were running in terror-but not everyone. She heard the fishermen and the Solace twins. They were standing their ground. She heard the gruff voice of a dwarf-Redstone?-and she heard the throaty growl of the gnoll.