The Floodgate

A wistful smile crossed the big man's face. "That would be worth seeing!"

"It was enlightening, certainly. One strategy concerned an airborne wizard-one of the deadliest of foes. We jordaini know to increase chances of success by keeping the wizards on the ground. So do the Crinti. They generally keep to the caves or the deep woods. But this path is not sheltered, and it leads to increasingly open ground. This is not typical Crinti behavior."

"None of us are wizards," reasoned Themo.

"True enough, but strategies that prove successful are not abandoned lightly. The Crinti would not take such a path without a purpose." Matteo paused and looked toward the western sky. Only a crimson rim was visible above the hills. "Because this is the Nath, we have additional concerns."

Like the voice of an actor taking a cue, the wail of a dark fairy rose from the hills. "The Crinti fear the Unseelie folk, yet they are leading us deeper and deeper into haunted lands."

Iago shot a furtive glance toward the sound. "Maybe the shadow amazons are like quail, pretending to have a wounded wing and luring danger away from the nest."

"Or perhaps the Crinti are not leading us away from something but toward it."

"An ambush, most likely," Themo muttered, studying his surroundings with new interest.

Matteo considered this a logical assumption. The Crinti trail led through a winding, narrow pass, past small dark caves and tumbled piles of rock. They emerged from the passage unscathed into a large clearing-and the strangest place he had ever beheld.

"By lord and lady," he whispered. He slid down from his horse.

Large, conical mounds rose from the ground, covered with green moss. Some of the hills barely rose to Matteo's shoulder, but most were at least twice the height of a man.

The air seemed different in the clearing. Just beyond the pass, the sky had held the brilliant clear sapphire common to a summer sunset, and the few small clouds that clung to the mountaintops were gold and crimson and purple. Here all was gray mist and land-bound clouds. Much of the Nath was either scrubby forest or barren waste, but here the ground and the hills were covered with lush, light green moss, such as might be found only in the deepest forest. Matteo had the unca

"Never have I seen so enchanted a place," he murmured in awe.

"Enchanted!" Themo sent him a sour look. "You've been spending too much time around wizards."

The big man's face was u

Iago placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's what I told him, Themo." He sent Matteo an apologetic look, his eyes cutting quickly to Themo and back. Matteo, understanding, gave a slight nod. Themo was fond of gossip, and a diversion was definitely in order. "Did you know that Matteo spends every spare hour with the girl who called the laraken?"

This bit of scandal completely engaged Themo's attention, and some of the ruddy color returned to his face. "Have you gone moon-mad? A wizard's apprentice? Though I suppose she's pretty enough," he reminisced, "especially if you're partial to big dark eyes."

Matteo was no longer listening. He walked up to one of the mounds and placed a hand upon it. "Feel this."

The other jordaini gingerly followed suit. The conical hills hummed with energy-even the magic-resistant jordaini could feel it! The moss-covered rock felt insubstantial, not quite solid.

"The veils are thin here," Iago said in a troubled voice as he scrubbed his hand on one thigh, as if to remove the disturbing tingle. "That's why we hear the Unseelie song."

"Could the fairies come through?" Themo demanded.

"They are said to do so, from time to time, but only one or two manage to emerge. Apparently the passage is difficult, possible only at certain times and places."

"So there's no chance of an army of them pouring out of these things?" Theme persisted, nodding toward conical hills.

"Not unless they are summoned," Matteo soothed him, "and there is little fear of that. Who would do such a thing? Who could?"

Iago's eyes settled on something, and widened. "Don't we have a proverb about not asking questions unless you truly want an answer?"

Matteo followed the line of his gaze. Tzigone stood at entrance to the pass. Her blue robe was travel-grimed and kilted up into her belt for ease of movement. Her dark eyes were enormous in a pale and furious face.

"Behind you!" she shouted, pointing.

He turned and was not surprised to see the shadows at the far side of the clearing stir and take shape. The form they took turned his blood to ice.

Thin as wraiths and dark as drow, the dark fairies regarded the intruders with eyes of a strangely glowing black. They were no taller than children. They moved with ethereal grace, darting between the hollow hills so swiftly the eye could not follow them.

Matteo swallowed hard and drew his weapons. As he did so, the creatures disappeared. He heard a faint sound like that of wind, but the impression was gone so quickly that Matteo did not understand the truth of it until he saw the glowing eyes emerge from behind a closer hillock. The Unseelie folk did not move through magic-at least, not as he understood it. They were just that quick.

"Don't let them out," Tzigone yelled. "Hold them here in the valley!"

Matteo shot an incredulous look back at her. "Anything else?"

She was already off and ru

Tzigone's voice faded, as did the clatter of her boots against the rough stone. The fairies likewise vanished, and in an eyeblink their feral eyes peered out from the edges of a different, closer mound. The Unseelie song began, a chilling, unearthly melody that bounded from mound to mound, everywhere and nowhere.

"Mother of Mystra," Themo swore softly, the battle light flickering uncertainly in his dark eyes. "How in hell can we fight this?"

Matteo drew his sword and strode toward the nearest hillock. "As best we can."

Tzigone raced down the passage and launched herself at Dhamari like a human arrow. They went down together, rolling painfully over the rocky ground. He was too surprised to offer much resistance, and she quickly pi

"You tricked me," she hissed, fisting her hands in his tunic and giving him a furious shake. The movement spilled a length of silver chain from its hiding place beneath his tunic. From it hung a medallion-her mother's talisman!

Tzigone lunged for it. Her fingers tingled as a familiar magic spilled from the token, the watchful guardian magic she remembered from her earliest days. With a vicious tug, she broke the chain and thrust the talisman-the real talisman-into the cuff of her boot.

For the first time she noticed the cold, malicious light in the wizard's eyes. "You tricked me," she said again, this time in wonder as she began to comprehend the scope of Dhamari's betrayal. "You told me I was casting a spell of warding and banishment, but it was really a summoning! I called those things!"

"An accident," the wizard protested. "As I told you, this magic is beyond me."

"So you gave it to a green apprentice!"

A contrite expression washed over his face. "Let me up, and I will give you the scroll for the reversal spell."

"Well, that was easy," she said sarcastically, "and probably worth the effort it took." She gave the wizard another shake. "I know you can cast metal transmutation-I've seen you studying the scroll! Change my dagger to iron. Do it!" she shouted when Dhamari hesitated.

The wizard's lips formed a grim line, but he nodded agreement. Tzigone let him up and showed him the silver knife that Basel had bought for her.