The Floodgate

Other cloud forms began to rise, tapping the power of the avalanche. On one of the giants, Procopio saw a familiar face-that of Ameer Tukephremo, the Mulhorandi wizard who had sold him the cloaking spells in exchange for the promise of Halruaan magic.

A tremor of uncertainty shivered through the diviner. Procopio had not considered the possibility that the Mulhorandi might actually enter the land. That they had certainly done. Was it possible that they might even prevail? That he might not only lose a throne but also his homeland?

For a moment the wizard debated his course. He could confess all that he had done, let the other Halruaan wizards know what secrets and advantages their opponents had. Procopio had studied Mulhorandi magic for many years, and the wizards could use this knowledge against the invaders.

Or he could use it to promote his own cause?

In the end, the choice was simple. Procopio began the chant of a cloud-form spell, creating a monster that could challenge any two of the Mulhorandi giants. The sight of his own visage on that godlike frame thrilled him, and he laughed aloud as he willed his elemental double into battle against Ameer Tukephremo.

The sky giants met like two opposing storms. Procopio's wielded a sword taller than a mountain pine. Ameer's curving scimitar flashed against the sky like a new moon.

As the diviner watched the battle, he reached for another spell sequence. He summoned a fireball and then a spell that would place it, greatly enlarged, in the hands of his cloudy avatar.

Light from the magic missile flowed through the insubstantial form, lending it the fire and brilliance of sunset clouds. The titanic image of Procopio hurled the fireball, which tore through the Mulhorandi's cloud form like a javelin. The elemental staggered back, already begi

At last the gigantic image of Ameer faded away. Procopio held the spell, and for a long moment his storm elemental stood in the sky like an avenging god, holding aloft the lightning sword as if daring the other cloud forms to pass.

None of the elementals took his challenge. They dissipated as the Mulhorandi wizards retreated, putting their energies to other, less risky spells. Procopio released the cloud form and stooped to pick up the small book that fell from the empty air to land on the deck near his feet Without sparing it more than a glance, he thrust it into the enchanted bag that would send it to his library. He knew what the book was and what its return meant. This was the spellbook that Ameer Tukephremo had risked so much to win. Its return to Procopio signaled the wizard's death. Procopio sank onto a bench, exhausted by the casting, but his face wore a smile. Halruaa would not soon forget the image of a titanic Procopio, standing triumphant against all challengers. He might not have done all the things he had pla

Kiva rose and clenched her fist around the emerald deeply aware of the hundred souls that cried out for release. The elf woman felt their pain as if from a very great distance. Her own pain had been lost to her long ago, her heart encased in something far harder than green stone.

The necromancer's cold fingers closed around hers, and 8 the magic she had labored over for nearly two hundred years caught them and swept them away. They flew through the liquid magic as if they had beet sucked into a rising waterspout. Up they went, caught in a vastly powerful spell that thrust them across the worlds and through the gate. Like an arrow suddenly loosed from a bow, they hurtled up through the thin and empty air. The gate slammed shut behind them with booming finality. The sheer power of the spell reverberated through Kiva's bones and exploded into white-hot pain. All light and sound and sensation simply, suddenly, stopped.

Later-Kiva had no way of knowing exactly how much later-the world slowly came back to life. She eased her eyes open, listened as the ringing in her ears faded away. As her senses slowly reawakened, she realized that the ground beneath her was soft and yielding.

She struggled into a sitting position and looked wildly around. Instead of the rocky clearing where the spring had leaked water from the almost-closed gate, she reclined or an enormous carpet that, in turn, undulated gently on a cloud.

The necromancer sat cross-legged, studying her with something approaching respect. "I did not expect so powerful a spell. You have worked hard, little elf, and grown further in Art than I had anticipated. Later, you will show me this spell."

She would deal with «later» when it came. Perhaps by then she would be able to learn what magic had gathered around the gate and thrust them so powerfully out of the watery plane.

"The battle?" Akhlaur prompted. Gathering herself, she directed him to the point of invasion. They arrived just in time to see the giant cloud forms grappling in the sky, to witness the victory of a storm elemental with close-cropped curls and a face like a hawk's.

"Ingenious," Akhlaur murmured. "I admire a man who studies the magic of his enemies."

The Mulhorandi forces still outnumbered the Halruaan fighters on the ground. A wave of dark-clad infantry swept forward, and a tremble of anticipation ran through the waiting cavalry.

"The Halruaan army will be destroyed," Kiva said.

"Not necessarily. A water elemental might stem the tide-a truly gigantic creature that could crush the cavalry underfoot."

Kiva swept a hand over the barren plain. "There is no water in sight, my lord."

"No?" He smirked. "You have forgotten your lessons, little elf. Man is made of flesh and blood-endlessly mutable flesh and blood. What is the primary component of all this flesh and blood?"

She nodded, suddenly understanding. "Water! Of course!"

Akhlaur lifted his webbed hands and began to chant. A gray cloud grew overhead, grumbling and quivering. There was a sudden explosion, and a torrent of rain rose up into the cloud.

The warriors directly under the spell cloud immediately dissolved into desiccated bone. Others fell in withered heaps of bone-wrapped skin. Like the ripples cast by an enormous stone, the wave of devastation spread. The army of the Mulhorandi fell by the hundreds, the thousands. The fluids that gave them life flowed upward into the waiting cloud.

As swiftly as thought, the cloud began to take shape. Legs as thick as a wizard's tower descended and slammed into the ground. Shards of bone flew like grapeshot as dozens of skeletons shattered from the impact. The cloud creature turned and began to stalk through the ranks of the invaders.

The Mulhorandi wizards hurled spell after spell at the water elemental. It trampled them or snatched them up and swallowed them. Drowning men swirled through the fluids of their slain comrades, frantically beating at the magical «skin» of the strange elemental.

"There you have it," Akhlaur said with satisfaction. "The elemental will finish the Mulhorandi, then turn upon the Halruaans. I will be most interested to see what Zalathorm employs against this monster."

Matteo stood at King Zalathorm's side, staring aghast at the gruesome elemental. "Who in the Nine bloody Hells summoned that?"

"No one I know can do such a thing!" the king said. "But at least it is fighting for us."

"At the moment, yes. If the tide turns, so to speak, we must be ready."

Even as he spoke, the elemental turned ponderously around and began to pace toward the Halruaan line.

Matteo swore under his breath. "What is the largest creature you could hope to summon?"