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Thiszult would never take the Purple now.
Shandril got up, grimly. The stink of cooked horseflesh was strong in her
nostrUs. Faithful Shield had lived up to her name all too well. The
dracolich's flames had poured strength into Shandril, not harmed her. She only
hoped Narm had survived.
Lightning cracked overhead as Shandril ran across the smoking road. She did
not look up; she had eyes only for her man. A heart-twisting, blackened tangle
of horse's legs met her gaze. Where once she would have turned away, sick, she
now ran forward without hesitation, peering anxiously into the smoking
slaughter. Narm! Oh, Narm!
He had no protection against dragonfire. He could well be dead. Their child
would never know its father ... Shandril snarled at herself. None of that!
Find him, first!
There he was, moving weakly, half-buried under scorched baggage. He was alive!
Oh, gods be praised!
Tears ran down Shandril's face as she knelt beside him, tearing aside
smoldering straps and canvas with frantic haste. Narm moaned. His hair smoked;
the left side of his face was black and blistered.
"Oh, Narm! Beloved!" Shandril wept. Cracked lips moved; lids that no longer
had lashes flickered open. Watery eyes met hers, lovingly and then looked
beyond, and widened.
"Look out, love!" he hissed, painfully. "The dracolich comes!" Shandril
followed his gaze.
The great Shargrailar wheeled directly above them, vast and dark and terrible.
For all that it was only empty, hollow bones, the undead creature was awesome.
Shandril shivered as she gazed up at its fell might. It turned and dove
silently down the sky at them again.
"Run, Shan!" Narm croaked from beneath her. "Get you hence! I love you!
Shandril, go!"
"No," Shandril said, in tears. "No, lord, I will not!" As the great bony Jaws
opened, she carefully climbed forward
" 377*
ED GREENWOOD
until she lay gently atop Nairn's blackened body, shielding him as much as she
could. Narm groaned in pain. She braced herself to lift her weight off him,
and said softly, "f love you."
As the roar of the dracolich's approaching flame grew in the air about them,
Shandril put her lips to Nairn's and gathered her will. Then blasting flame
swallowed them again.
"Clanggedin aid me!" Delg muttered, as the mule bucked beneath him. The road
before him was one great smoking ruin. A roaring cone of fire had just raked
it again. In a moment the swooping dracolich would be above him. The mule
bucked again. "Oh, blast!" Delg burst out, as he found himself somersaulting
forward in the air. His frantic grab for the saddle-horn missed. Well, at
least he still had hold of his axe. He tucked it close against him so that it
would not be chipped in the hard landing to come.
So the mule's saddle was empty when the raking claws of Shargrailar swept the
poor beast skyward, rending and tearing. The dracolich let out the first sound
it had uttered in many long years as it rose into the air a long, loud hiss of
anger and frustration. It shredded the mule as if it were a rotten rag, and
wheeled again. Destroying an enemy had never taken this long before.
Shandril desperately drew in all the flame that struck her, and strained to
reach the dragonfire that ravaged Nairn's helpless body and draw it into her,
too. Through their joined lips she felt the fierce energy flowing; sluggishly
at first, then faster and faster. Gods, the pain! Her lips were seared as if
by hot metal; tears blinded her. Her body shuddered at the pain, but she held
fast to her Narm as the last of the flames swept over them and were gone.
Still energy flowed into her. She realized with a start that Narm's own energy
was stealing into her now; she was killing him, draining him to death! Hastily
she broke their kiss and stared anxiously down at the slack, silent face. Oh,
Narm! She had no art to heal him! What had she done?
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SPELLJTOE
Bitterly, Shandril felt the swelling energy burning within her. Her veins were
afire; she was bloated with more than she could hold for long. The pain ...
Into her mind then came Gorstag's voice, telling of her mother: ". . . to heal
or harm . . .!" Heal! Could she heal as well as burn? She gathered her shaking
limbs to lie tenderly upon Narm again, and set her lips to his. Closing her
eyes, Shandril willed energy to flow out of her gently, slowly, like a cooling
flow of water, through her lips. It did.
Through their kiss she could feel her released energies flowing into Narm. She
willed it so, fiercely, and felt his feeble heart grow stronger, and his body
began to rally. He moved beneath her, struggling to speak.
Shandril shed fresh tears as she poured still more energy into her beloved,
until he was whole and strong and
Bony claws raked shrieking agony across her back. Shandril was torn free of
Narm and flung to the road beyond by Shargrailar's angry strike. Pain almost
overwhelmed her; she shrieked aloud, flame gouting from her mouth in her
agony. Ohhh, Tymora, the pain!
She had ignored the strike of another boh of lightning and the numbing impacts
of a shower of magic missiles while healing Narm, but the great dracolich
could slay her this way, destroying her as surely as if she had no spellfire.
Shandril twisted and writhed in the dust of the road in her agony. She could
feel her blood flowing out of her. Blood, blood ... she had seen more spilled
these last tendays than in all her life before this, and she was heartily sick
of it!
Well, now she could do something about it. Shandril opened her eyes and looked
for the dracolich. A fierce anger was upon her. Exultation rose within her to
join it; she could heal! She could use spellfire to aid as well as to do
battle! On hands and knees, Shandril turned and saw Shargrailar sweeping down [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]