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something comforting as Thail's fingers probed cautiously. The wizard took a
flask from his belt with crimson, dripping fingers and said simply, "Drink."
The liquid was thick and clear and slightly sweet. It soothed and refreshed,
and a delicious warmth spread from Shandril's stomach. "Thanks."
Her eyes sought Burlane. "I followed them," she said. "They went west... the
land rises. Two hills away the rearguard split. Four swordsmen followed up the
mules, and these two came back this way to slay any who pursued." She realized
with sudden vigor that the pain had subsided, and with it her sick, dizzy
feeling. "What was in that vial?"
"A potion," Thail said gently. "Can you walk?" He raised her gently to her
feet.
Delg patted her hip and said, "Well done, ladymaid." Shandril looked around at
the others: Ferostil, looking relieved as his eyes met hers and saw they were
no longer misted in pain, and Rymel, who wordlessly held out to her the knives
of the two archers.
"Can you use a bow?" Burlane asked her quietly.
Shandril shook her head, but took the knives and slid one down either boot.
Rymel nodded approvingly.
Burlane laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let us go," he said. "I would
have this treasure we've bled for."
There was a general rumble of agreement, and the Company of the Bright Spear
strode forward. Shandril looked once over her shoulder at the twisted bodies
of the archers before the mist swallowed them. She had killed a man. It
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had been so quick, frighteningly easy. She stumbled on a clump of grass
despite Burlane's arm and paused in shock. "Shandril?" Burlane asked quietly.
"Are you well?" "I ah, yes. Yes. Better now." Shandril strode on, trying not
to look down at the tunic that clung to her damply. It was dark and glistening
with the blood of the man who had nearly slain her. Her skin crawled. She
hoped it would not begin to smell too soon.
Far to the east the mist was thinner. Wisps of it curled about Marimmar as the
Mage Most Magnificent led his apprentice through old, thickly grown trees.
"This way, boy! Just ahead, and you'll lay eyes on what few have seen unless
they be elvish for four lifetimes of men, and more! Myth Drannor itself! Who
knows what art may wait there for you and me? We could wield magics unseen in
these lands for many a long year, boy! What say you?" The pudgy mage fairly
trembled with anticipation.
"Ah, Master . . ." Narm began, looking ahead.
"Aye?"
"Well met, lord of the elves," Narm said hastily, "and lady most fair. I am
Narm, apprentice to this Mage Most Magnificent, Marimmar. We seek Myth
Drannor."
Marimmar blinked in surprise and beheld a tall, dark-haired male elf who bore
both wands and sword at his belt. The elven warrior stood beside a human lady
of almost elfin beauty dark eyes, a gentle mouth, and a slim, exquisite
figure who wore plain dark robes. They stood together in the middle of the
old, overgrown trail Marimmar had been following and showed no signs of moving
aside, though both wore polite expressions and had nodded courteously at
Nairn's salutation.
Marimmar cleared his throat noisily. "Ah well met, as my boy has said. Know
you the way to the City of Beauty, good sir? . . ." The elf smiled thinly.
"Yes, I do, Mage Most Magnificent." His voice, low and musical, was faintly
sarcastic. His eyes were very clear.
Narm stared in wonder. This seemed an elven lord like the old tale spoke of.
SPELLFIBE
"However/' the elf continued, gently and severely, "I stand here to bar your
way to it. Myth Drannor is not a treasure-house. It is today a sacred place to
my people, even now that most of my kin have gone from these fair trees. It is
also a very dangerous place. Devils have been summoned to the ruined city by
evil men. They patrol the forest even now, not far beyond where we stand."
"I am not a babe to be frightened by words, good sir," Marimmar snapped. "We
have come far to reach Myth Drannor before it is plundered, its precious magic
lost! Stand aside, for I have no quarrel with you, and would not harm you!"
Marimmar urged his pony forward.
"Back your mount, mage," the lady said calmly, "for we have no quarrel with
it." She stepped forward. "I am Jhessail Silvertree of Shadowdale. This is my
husband, Merith Strongbow. We are Knights of Myth Drannor. This is our city,
and we bid you politely begone. We have the art to drive you back, Marimmar.
Make us wield it at your peril."
Marimmar cleared his throat again. "This is ridiculous! \bu would tell me
where to pass and where not to pass? Me?"
"Nay," Merith mocked the mage's florid speech. "We but inform you of the
consequences of your choice in this matter, good mage. Your destiny remains in
your hands." He smiled at Narm, who had backed his pony away.
Marimmar looked around and discovered he stood alone. He harrumphed and turned
his mount. "Perhaps ah, there is something to your warnings. I shall direct my
quest for knowledge elsewhere for now. But know this! Threats shall not stay
me nor many others, who even now seek this place with far more greedy intent
than I from exploring Myth Drannor, when the opportunity proves more ah,
auspicious. My art may open me a way that you cannot gainsay!"
Merith smiled. "It is said that a man must follow where his foolishness
leads," he quoted the old bardic saying mildly.
"Safe journey, Narm and Marimmar both," Jhessail added, her eyes alight with
amusement. Narm could see no less than three wands at her belt. Marimmar saw
them too and nodded curtly to the knights as he wheeled his pony.
"Until our paths cross again," he said loudly. The Mage
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Most Magnificent spurred his mount into a canter, tearing past Narm like a
whirlwind. His young apprentice turned and saluted the elf and the lady mage [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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