Whistling in anguish, the creature on the floor dragged itself away through the dust Galaeron searched the walls and floor for Vala, but she was as hidden to him as to the phaerimm.
Coward! accused the phaerimm he was hiding behind. Switching Vala's sword from one hand to the other, the creature pushed through the icy net toward the fleeing elves. They're just shades!
Galaeron brought his darksword up and severed the hand holding Vala's weapon, then caught the darksword as it fell. He whipped the blade around and plunged it deep into the yelling phaerimm. The creature reacted by spraying the floor with raw magic. Galaeron flowed up the wall, screaming at Kiinyon and Imesfor in High Elvish. "That's it! We've saved all we can."
The wounded phaerimm turned toward his voice and blasted the wall with lightning, but Galaeron was already back on the floor, slashing at the thing's underside with both swords to hold its attention. Kiinyon and Imesfor did not make things any easier. There were only three elves left in the cage, and the high mage paused to snatch one up in his dismembered hands before hurling himself into the shadow tunnel. Kiinyon grabbed the other two by their collars and slowly kicked his way across the ceiling, dragging them along behind him.
Galaeron escaped another flurry of fire and ice by flowing onto the ceiling, then glanced back to see half a dozen phaerimm floating through the shadow net. Realizing he would never stop them all with his swords, he slipped the weapons into his belt-or, rather, where his belt would have been- then plucked off a lock of his shadowy hair. Moving along the ceiling to avoid being impaled by a spear of golden light, he opened himself to his fear as Melegaunt had taught him.
With so many phaerimm approaching, fear was an easy commodity to come by. It flooded into him, bringing with it that eerie, cold energy he had felt earlier. He tossed the tress of hair at the phaerimm and uttered an improvised wind spell.
A howling gale tore through the cage, blasting the phaerimm with a solid wall of dust. The spell was hardly enough to injure them, but it made them pause in a moment of caution. That was all Kiinyon needed. Carried along by the gust, he floated past the blindly slashing claw of the last phaerimm and vanished into the shadow tunnel.
Thinking to make the best of the opportunity, Galaeron drew his swords again and swung around to finish off his wounded enemy-then felt a shadowy hand grab his wrist
'Time to go, elf," Vala called. She jerked him into the shadow tunnel. "And give me my sword!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
24 Nightal, the Year of the Unstrung Harp
Galaeron's body hung on him like human armor, heavy and hot and painfully ill-fitted. His shoulders ached, his head throbbed, his neck wouldn't turn. The hand holding his corner of the floating litter was so frozen he doubted the fingers would unbend, and still he counted himself lucky. Dexon, who had been holding him down, had two black eyes, a missing tooth, and so many bruises that they looked like camouflage in the dusky realm.
A gurgling shriek rose from the center of the litter. Galaeron and the other stretcher bearers- Kiinyon, Vala, and her three men-stopped and spun toward the sound. A catatonic elf was thrashing about, coughing, choking, and clubbing fellow patients. Even from the edge of the platform, an arm-sized phaerimm larva could be seen writhing about under his skin, flickering across his breast as it worked its way up into the elf's throat. Galaeron instinctively stretched out a hand, as did Kiinyon on the other side, but the victim was surrounded by a dozen fellow patients and well beyond reach.
"Keep him quiet!" Melegaunt rushed back and vaulted onto the litter, paying no attention to those he stepped on, then slapped a hand over the elf's mouth. "Put us down."
Galaeron and the others obeyed. By the time Melegaunt dragged the warrior off the litter, only the larva tail remained visible, a fingerlike cord worming up toward the gullet. The wizard dropped a knee across the elf's chest, then slipped his dagger tip under the skin and exposed a spine-covered tentacle as big around as Galaeron's arm. He pulled the thing out of its victim and pinned it down while he sliced off the tiny mouth atop its body.
The wizard was not quite finished when the elf s foot swung into the murk alongside their path. He started to slide into the darkness, but was too weak to do more about it than whimper. Galaeron lunged for his arm-then was nearly knocked off his feet by one of Melegaunt's huge arms. "Don't!" "Something has him!" Galaeron tried to push past
Melegaunt held him back. "And it will have you, if you're fool enough to challenge it!"
As the warrior was dragged off, his glassy eyes rolled toward the wizard's face and remained there until he vanished into the shadows. The wizard turned away, his own expression as hard as it was unreadable.
'Take up your friends and keep moving." He motioned to the big shadow stretcher. "We must go before more shadator come."
Only Kiinyon did not reach for his corner. "We can't leave him."
"We can and we must." Melegaunt started forward again. "Shadator seldom come alone."
Kiinyon did not move. "Elves are not cowards. We do not abandon the spirits of our dead to places such as this."
Melegaunt turned, this time with an expression of genuine sorrow. "I am sorry for your friend, but there is truly nothing we can do. When the rest of the shadator arrive, they will strike at more capable prey. They'll attack from below, at first taking only one or two of us. But the feeding frenzy will start quickly, and all our spirits will be left to the dark. Is that what you want?"
"Of course not." Kiinyon's face was silver with rage. "But I've seen enough of your magic to know you can do something."
Melegaunt's eyes went dark. "Sadly, you are mistaken." The wizard started to walk again. "You may stay if you wish. It is all the same to me."
Eyes bulging, Kiinyon started after him. "You… will… not!"
Realizing the tomb master had been robbed of self-control-and perhaps even his wits-by the past few days of death and defeat, Galaeron blocked his way.
"Master Colbathin, if Melegaunt says he has done everything possible, he has. It's only because of him that you are here at all. I was ready to give you up for dead, but he insisted it was possible to rescue you."
Kiinyon's fiery gaze shifted to Galaeron-a definite improvement, since Galaeron was not likely to grow impatient and blast the tomb master into shadows.
"Why am I not surprised?" Kiinyon said. "You and your lazy magic-I should've known you were a coward, too." "That's enough." Vala stepped to Galaeron's side.
Though her tone was calm, the blow that followed was not The tomb master was rocked back into Burlen's waiting grasp, where his arms were pinned to his side. Vala produced a black cord and tied his hands.
"Galaeron deserves this abuse no more than does Melegaunt." Whether she was speaking to Kiinyon or Lord Imesfor was unclear. She was looking past the tomb master toward the high mage, whose glassy eyes barely seemed to notice the confrontation. "Nor do we have time for it."
"Do as you must." Lord Imesfor held his arms crossed in front of him, his mangled hands pressed to his chest. "The tomb master will understand when he returns to his senses." The high mage inclined his head toward their backtrail.
Galaeron looked and saw a ghostly silhouette crossing the light between two shadow hills, four short tentacles where there should have been a nose. He looked away casually, then asked, "Illithids?"
"They've been following us for some time," said the high mage. "I was wondering if they're native to this plane."
"No." Despite the softness of his voice, Melegaunt sounded angry "They're servitors to our enemy. The phaerimm, I fear, have figured out how to track us."
He gestured in Burlen's direction. The warrior gasped in surprise, then blinked in confusion.