Extinction

He almost ended his search there, but when he passed his hands a final time over the illithid's corpse he felt the tingle once more.

Something was tucked deep into the pocket he'd just pulled the prism from. Digging into it, he pulled out a silver chain with a flat oval of green jade hanging from it. He recognized it at once.

"So that's where the jade spiders disappeared to," he muttered, slipping it into his own pocket.

Standing again, Gromph used magic to levitate the illithid's head?no sense touching those limp, foul-smelling tentacles if he didn't have to?and positioned it on the chest of the corpse. Then he pulled a pinch of dust from a pocket of his piwafwi and sprinkled it over Sluuguth's body. He chanted a brief spell and pointed a finger. A harsh sizzling filled the air as a beam of green energy sprang from its tip. It washed over the corpse, illuminating it in a blaze of crackling light. An instant later, all that was left of Sluuguth was a thin smudge of dust on the floor.

Crossing the room, Gromph picked up the empty thought bottle. One of its sides was dented slightly, but the sigil-shaped pane of glass was still intact. It could be reused. He removed the dent with a mending spell, then set it on the table beside the second bottle and cast a minor spell that caused the spray of blood that had landed on the desk to dry to dark brown dust, which he blew away. He placed the unopened bottle carefully in the drawer, then picked up the one that had been uncorked.

He turned to the wall, and, with a wave of his fingers, released the fire elemental that Sluuguth's spell had frozen in place. The elemental rushed out with an angry roar, filling the room with heat.

"Wherrre is he?" it said, flaring as it twisted this way and that, looking for the vanished illithid. "He must burrrn."

"The illithid is gone," Gromph answered.

The elemental flared white-hot with anger.

"You said I had only to burrrn an intruder to be free," it growled. It pointed at the soot-smudged spot on the wall where the magical sigil had been. "Am I then to be put back in bondage?"

Shielding his face from the heat, Gromph said, "No. Your task has been altered, that's all. After you perform it, you are free to go." He showed the elemental the thought bottle. "In a moment, I will use this magical device. When I am done, you will relay the following information to me. ."

A few moments later, Gromph found himself seated behind his desk, holding a corked bottle in his hand. A drawer containing a bottle identical to it was open, and a fire elemental hovered on the other side of the desk. Glancing at the wall, Gromph saw that the sigil that had held it had been activated. An intruder must have entered the office?Gromph cast a quick detection spell, but his magic revealed no trace of any creature, living or undead. Whoever the intruder was, he or she had left a gold ring and what looked like a spell tube on Gromph's desk?and an impressive battle-axe, leaning against the side of the desk.

Suddenly worried, Gromph realized that the last thing he could remember was being trapped inside the sphere, floating on the lake. He had obviously made it back to Sorcere somehow, found his way into his study, and escaped the imprisonment spell. But how?

Gromph stared at the golden bottle he held in his hand?one of his thought bottles. The answer must be inside.

"Masterrr," the fire elemental said, drawing his attention.

Gromph looked up.

"The Gracklstugh army, together with an army of tanarukk, arrre attacking Menzoberranzan," the elemental a

That said, the fire elemental gave a roar of triumph as the invisible magical bonds that had held it fell away. It disappeared as abruptly as a blown-out candle.

"An illithid," Gromph whispered.

That explained, then, why he held a thought bottle in his hand. A tickle of memory returned. He'd created the thing?and the bottle that matched it?for use in the event of his capture by a mind flayer. His plan had been to offer it to the creature. .

There, the memory faded.

Shrugging, Gromph placed the bottle carefully in the drawer beside the other one and pushed the drawer shut.

"Sorcere is under attack?" he muttered. "We'll see about that."

Gromph strode toward the balcony where two of his students stood. They were Norulle, a fifth-year student who had used a hair-growth cantrip to cause a long, dwarflike beard to sprout from his chin?hardly an appropriate affectation, given whom they were fighting?and Prath, a first-year student who was still only in his thirties, and whose stocky build and bulging biceps should have caused his House to enroll him in Melee-Magthere, instead. Both had their backs to the corridor down which Gromph hurried and were sheltering behind the ghostly image of a turtle shell the size of a table that hung in the air, just in front of the balcony.

Norulle flinched as a hail of arrows struck it, most of them exploding to splinters as the spell destroyed them. One arrow, however, sparkled with arcane energy. It pierced the magical barrier and snagged the sleeve of Prath's piwafwi. Barely glancing at it, Prath yanked it free and cast it aside. A moment later, a trickle of blood dripped from his hand. He shook it away.

The boy should have been a soldier, indeed, Gromph thought.

From outside came the sounds of battle: the shouted orders of the duergar below; the creak-and-thump of catapults being winched and shot; the crackling, explosive hiss of magical energy; and the frantic chanting of mages, casting retaliatory spells from the balconies above and below.

"Norulle, Prath?what's happening?" Gromph asked as he strode out onto the balcony. "Where are your instructors?"

Norulle whirled around in surprise, a wand clutched in one hand.

"Master!" he gasped. "You're here!"

Diamond dust glittered in Norulle's hair and beard. Someone had cast a powerful protective spell upon him.

It was Prath who answered Gromph's question, "Leandran's gone. He was hit square on by magic fire."

He pointed at a spot farther along the balcony?a smoldering crater in the stone floor. Through a hole at the center of it, Gromph could see the ground below. Smaller craters, also still smoking, pitted the wall behind that spot like splash marks. Each was ringed by a circle of frost. The two students had obviously used a cold spell to extinguish the blaze. Of Leandran, the school's Master of Abjurative Magic, there was no trace, save for the lingering stench of burned flesh.

A whistling sound drew Gromph's attention. He glanced to the side just in time to see an enormous clay pot arc up toward Sorcere and strike the side of the stalagmite, several dozen paces away. It broke against the stone, splashing liquid fire in all directions. The fire poured down the stone, burning everything in its wake: stone walls, a decorative arch of wrought iron above the balcony, and the balcony itself.

Figures on the balcony scurried away from the rush of flame?one of them a little too slowly. As some of the stuff poured down onto his piwafwi, his agonized screams filled the air. They were cut off a moment later when the wrought-iron arch, weakened by the fire, collapsed with a loud squeal of metal. Above the spot where it had been mounted, the wall continued to burn, and the flames soon ate a hole through the stone.

Gromph stared in the direction from which the pot of fire had come, at the protective barrier the duergar had erected. It stood just in front of the tu