by Jean Rabe
"By Reorx's beard!" swore Jasper. The dwarf clutched his hammer tightly and made a move to follow the gnoll, but Goldmoon grabbed his shoulder. She pointed to the fallen soldiers and renegade Que-Nal. The dwarf was torn for an instant between helping the men who still lived and going after Gair. He couldn't reach the elf so high above the ground, and some of the injured needed immediate attention.
"By Reorx's beard," he grumbled again. He, too, pushed through the crowd, but not toward Gair. He noticed that more of Goldmoon's students were following suit, kneeling to tend to the renegades, not just the Solamnic forces. He heard Goldmoon shouting to Gair, but he couldn't quite make out the words. There was too much talking going on among the settlers.
He knelt by a soldier whose arm was badly mangled.
The dwarf was exhausted, but seeing the wounded man and the others dying nearby, forced him to summon his mystical energy. "Have to get you fixed up quick," he told the man as he searched for his inner spark. Gotta be quick, he added to himself, 'cause I might have to help Goldmoon handle Gair.
"Goldmoon!" Gair cried as the shadows lowered him just enough to tantalize the gnoll.
Orvago stood underneath them, leaping and swinging the blade.
"Goldmoon!"
The healer edged through the crowd, noting the shocked look on the settlers' faces. Some were angry, while others looked frightened. However, most were still bewildered by the night's events. Amanda was at her mother's feet, reaching up into the air and calling for the elf.
"I'm here, Gair." Goldmoon raised a hand to draw his attention.
The wraiths of the elder Graymist and Darkhunter continued to hold Gair suspended. The elf slowly regarded the healer.
"I want to thank you, Goldmoon," he began. "You showed me the doorway, and through it, I've brought these men, and more. I couldn't have done this without you."
The aging healer shuddered but kept her eyes locked on her student.
"I owe you, dear teacher, and I need to pay you back, but there's the dilemma. How? I tried to bring Riverwind's spirit through the door, to give him some substance. Just for you. But he objects to the notion. Still, you know that I am nothing if not persistent. Would you like that, dear teacher? To have Riverwind at your side, as I have these men at mine?"
"Gair, come down, please."
"Ah, that wouldn't be such a good idea. My hairy friend down there doesn't seem too friendly."
Orvago howled and redoubled his efforts, his leap taking him perilously close to one of the wraiths. They raised Gair a little higher.
"And then there's sweet Camilla." The elf gestured toward the edge of the crowd. The knight commander was slowly making her way through the throng.
"Gair…" Goldmoon motioned to him.
The elf scowled and shook his head, then laughed. "I'll come down when you're all dead."
A scream cut through the murmurs of the crowd, coming from the construction site. Goldmoon turned but couldn't see through the gathering. There were cries of "What's happening?" and "What in the name of vanished gods is that?" She tried making her way through the bodies, while at the same time keeping her eyes on Gair. The elf laughed louder at her quandary.
Suddenly the crowd was scattering, and Goldmoon was knocked to the ground in the panic. The elf drifted toward the construction site, Orvago following him, barking and snarling. One of them stopped long enough to tug Goldmoon to her feet.
Camilla was shouting orders to her men within earshot. They quickly formed a rank and tried to restore some semblance of order. Iryl was instantly at her side with Skydancer, both trying to help.
"Gather the people by the Silver Stair!" Camilla shouted to the pair. "There's nothing there that can catch on fire. Get them away from the rest of the tents." The knight and two of her men were moving forward, eyes on the fallen who were still being tended to by Goldmoon's students.
There were shadows dancing around the healers. At first glance, it looked as if the shadows were caused by the still-flickering campfires and the tents that continued to burn, but as the knight moved closer, she saw that the shadows had eyes… red ones.
"Undead!" she called, realizing it would panic the people more, but wanting them away from the shadowy things. She charged forward, nearly slipping on a patch of ice, and stepping between bodies to reach the wraiths. She nearly knocked over Jasper, whose eyes were closed in concentration.
In a heartbeat, she was at the edge of the settlement, and the black shapes were moving to meet her. They hovered above the ground just beyond the reach of her sword, darting in as if to tease her.
The cries from the settlers grew softer, indicating they'd moved away from the center of the camp and that Iryl and Skydancer were having some success herding the settlers toward the Silver Stair, but not all of the settlers were being cooperative.
Camilla had the fishermen to her right. They were swinging gaff hooks at the shadowy creatures. Dwarves were hurling spikes from the construction site at the things and were greeted by bone-chilling peals of laughter. Redstone was among them, but she was swinging Goldmoon's staff. One wraith darted too close to the stout dwarf, and she landed a solid blow with the staff. The wraith flew back, howling.
"Dozens of the things!" Redstone was shouting. "Commander, they're practically impossible to see in the darkness!"
"Cold!" shouted one of the fishermen. "Colder than snow!"
The man at his side doubled over as a wraith came up through the ground and grabbed his legs. The man screamed once, then was oddly still.
"Get back!" Camilla called to the men. She saw that the spikes and clubs, even the swords of her men were doing nothing to the shadowy creatures— but Redstone's staff! The dwarf landed another blow, where the thing seemed to have a neck. It screamed shrilly and burst into pieces of black that rained down on the snow and dissipated. "All of you, get back!"
She motioned Redstone to her side as her knights covered the settlers who were retreating. "The staff…"
"Goldmoon's," the dwarf huffed as she swung at a wraith coming up through the snow at Camilla's feet. The creature keened and seemed to melt into nothingness. "I think it's got some potent magic in it."
The knight leapt at a wraith flying toward her, slicing away a nest of spiderweb fine hair. The black tendrils fell like rain and sent the rest of the creature retreating. "Orvago calls them whisperers. He claims only magic can harm them."
"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.
The healer pushed all these noises to the back of her mind, then directed her thoughts to her heartbeat and to the stair and to a doorway she was picturing inside her mind.
At the construction site, several wraiths feasted on the dead and dying forms of soldiers and renegade Que-Nal whom Goldmoon's followers had not been able to pull back. A handful of Solamnic knights had succumbed to the icy touch of the undead creatures. Camilla had sent several of the wraiths back to their graves in response.
Redstone left her side only when the knight ordered her to follow the black cloud that rose above the construction site and headed across the camp. Orvago was following them, too, howling and leaping, trying to slice at the whisperers.
"Willum!" Camilla cried, when she caught sight of the lieutenant out of the corner of her eye. "I was worried about you!"
There were other Solamnic knights marching out of step behind him, all of them coming from the east.
"Hurry," she cried to him. "I need your help."
It didn't initially register to the Solamnic commander that the knight's plate mail was coated with dried blood, that Willum was lacking a sword and a leg plate. She didn't notice until the knights were practically upon her that one of them held his head at a strange angle, and that he was missing a hand.
"Willum?"
The Solamnic lieutenant stared at her with sightless eyes, chest unmoving.
"Willum!" Startled and horrified, Camilla hesitated. In that instant, a wraith darted in, his icy hand reaching through her breastplate and into the flesh beneath. The undead squeezed her heart, and she screamed.
Pain coursing through her, Camilla fought to stay conscious. She swept her sword up, piercing the form of the wraith. It exploded in a burst of black rain. She clamped hard on her lower lip and swung the blade again, this time at Willum.
The enchanted sword struck the plate mail and cut through it, shattering the corpse's ribs. Willum staggered from the blow, and from a series of blows striking his legs. Jasper had moved up behind the dead knight an
d was pummeling him.
"Hammer doesn't work against them black things," he huffed, "but it seems to work against these." Willum fell to the dwarf's repeated strikes; then Jasper turned to face another corpse.
Camilla glanced at her fallen lieutenant and fought the tears that welled up in her eyes. She turned her attention back to the wraiths.
The black cloud that continued to float away from the construction site was dotted with bright red specks that glimmered like bits of flame—twelve pairs of eyes. There had been thirteen, but Orvago had slain one of the low-flying creatures. They floated through the tops of tents, some of which still burned, slowing the dwarf and the gnoll, who had to go around the obstacles. As the cloud neared the base of the Silver Stair, they dived on the people gathered there, scattering most of them like dry leaves tossed by the wind.
A few of the wraiths toyed with the handful of men and women defiantly remaining, feigning pain when swords and clubs passed through their insubstantial forms, but most of them glided up the staircase, circling it, heading toward Goldmoon.
Redstone shouldered Goldmoon's staff, swung back, and soundly struck a particularly large wraith just as it felled one of the Schallsea fishermen. Orvago cleaved another wraith in two as he pushed by the Solace twins and reached the bottom step of the Silver Stair.
The hair rose in a ridge from the top of Orvago's head and down his back. The steps glimmered like captured starlight. He growled softly, glanced up at Goldmoon, and took a step up when he saw the wraiths close on her. The gnoll continued to growl as he advanced, his paws shaking from fright of the magical construct.
"Whisperers," he growled. "Kill the whisperers."
We are more powerful in death. Sweet, sweet death.
High overhead, Goldmoon felt the icy touch of a wraith, the sensation like a massive blow that threatened to knock her from her perch. She kept her hands locked on the step and made no move to defend herself, concentrating on the doorway in her mind.