Spellfire

Shandril glanced down-and met Symgharyl Maruel’s glittering, angry eyes. She was casting yet another spell, arms moving in fluid motions. Again the acrobatic figure in dusty gray sprang at her from the side. But The Shadowsil crouched at the last second, turned with a laugh of triumph, and hurled the spell meant for Shandril at the somersaulting Torm. But from his hands flashed two daggers, blades spi

Shandril turned and ran on without waiting to see who would die. A dull, rolling boom sounded from far behind her, and stones shook beneath her feet. The floor of the cavern, rising still, was scattered with riches. The faces of long-dead kings carved from cold white ivory stared at her as she pushed past, shuddering at the thought of how large the beasts who yielded those tusks must have been.

Shandril was feeling her way past a curtain of strung amber, the toothed ceiling of the cavern low overhead, when there was yet another mighty blast behind her. Dust swirled as small pieces of rock rained down around her. Shandril heard the hasty, sliding steps of someone ru

“Damnation!” she cursed aloud. “I can’t keep ru

And the gods heard. There was an ear-splitting crash from the cavern behind her. Shandril was flung violently forward amid a helter-skelter of rocks, coins, gems, gold chains, and choking dust. Over the din, the thief of Deepingdale heard the dracolich Rauglothgor give an anguished, bellowing roar that rose and fell, then died away in hollow echoes.

Then came three short, sharp explosions. Shandril screamed and held her ears. The deep rolling did not die away, but seemed to be coming from all sides. Small rocks struck her like stinging rain. Then loud booms sounded again, and larger slabs and pillars of rock broke free and fell. Refusing to be entombed alive, Shandril crawled desperately on into the darkness. She heard faint, despairing shouts far behind in the dark, but the words dissolved in the never-ending echoes.

When chaos finally died into stillness, Shandril was alone in the drifting dust. Her ragged breathing was deafening in the sudden silence. She lay still, aching from bruises and scrapes, covered by sweat and dust and small stones.

Suddenly, she noticed a pale glow from the rubble below. Shandril stared at it as her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. The glow came from a sphere of crystal. Its curves were glossy-smooth, and it was a little larger than a man’s head. The steady white radiance came from within it, and by its light Shandril could see that it lay among a pile of treasures.

She picked her way to the sphere. When she nudged it cautiously with a toe, the glow did not flicker. She watched it for a time, waiting for any change, peering closely to see if anything might be hidden beneath it. Finally, she reached down and touched it. She ran her hand lightly over the cold smooth surface, then stepped hastily back, eyeing the sphere narrowly. But nothing flickered, nothing changed. Shandril crouched down and gently lifted the sphere. It was light, and yet somehow unbalanced, as though something were moving inside. But she couldn’t feel, hear, or see anything inside.

Holding the sphere up like a lamp, Shandril looked around. The jagged ceiling of the cavern hung close overhead, stretching away perhaps twenty paces, to meet the broken and rubble-strewn stone floor. She swung around slowly, gold coins and other treasures winking as the radiance met them. She was at a dead end. The roof of the cavern had fallen in, and she was trapped, far underground!

Panicking, Shandril scrambled forward. There must be a way out’ The whole wide cavern can’t have been blocked, just like that’ “Oh, please, Tymora, whatever has gone before, smile upon me now!”

And then the light she bore fell upon an outflung arm.

The young man who had been chasing her across the cavern earlier lay face-down, silent and unmoving. A pile of stones half-buried his legs. Shandril stared down at him for a moment and then knelt carefully amid the rubble and gently brushed the hair from his face.

His eyes were closed, his mouth slack. She knew him now. He was the man whose eyes she’d met across the taproom of The Rising Moon, the same man who’d defiantly hurled magic at Symgharyl Maruel before the gate in Myth Dra

He was handsome, this man. And he had tried more than once to help her. Abruptly, he moved slightly. Before she knew it, she had set the globe down and was carefully lifting and cradling his head.

He stirred and worked his jaw. Pain and concern lined his face, and he spoke suddenly. “More devils! Is there no end? No-” His hands moved, and he caught at her. Shandril found herself dragged down onto the rock beside him.

“Must… must…” he hissed weakly.

Shandril grunted and struggled against his grip, reaching for a weapon she no longer bore. And then, inches from her ear, she heard a surprised “Oh.” The pressure on her shoulders eased, and his hands became suddenly gentle. Shandril looked up into his eyes, now open and aware. They met hers in wonder, and in them she saw dawning hope, and confusion, and regret.

“I pray your pardon, lady. I have hurt you.” His hands fell away, and he scrambled to rise, rocks rolling all about. He fell back weakly.

Shandril put her hand out to him. “Lie still! Rocks must be moved first. Your feet are covered. Do they hurt?” She clambered past him as she spoke, wondering to herself if it would be safest to leave him helpless, unable to reach her. But no; she could trust this one. She must trust him. The rocks lifted easily. They were many, but small.

“I-can feel nothing. My feet seem… a little bruised, but no worse, I hope.” He smiled wanly. “Lady, what is your name?”

“I-Shandril Shessair,” she replied. “What do they call you?”

“Narm,” he replied, moving one foot experimentally. It felt intact, so he rolled over to help her free his other foot. “How came we here?”

Shandril shrugged. “I ran. The fight went on, and-was that you following me?”

“Yes,” he replied, gri

After a moment she gri

Narm looked down at his empty hands for a moment and then into her eyes. “I would know you. Lady Shandril,” he said slowly. “Since first I saw you at the i

Shandril looked away first, reaching to take up the glowing globe and cradle it in her arms. She looked at him over it, eyes in shadow, long hair veiling her face. Narm opened his mouth to tell her how beautiful she looked, and then closed it. She was looking at him steadily.

“The cavern fell in upon the others,” she said abruptly. “We have been buried, walled off.”

Narm sat up, heart sinking. “Is there no way out?”

Shandril shrugged. “I was looking for one when I saw you,” she said. “Can your art open a way?”

Narm shook his head. “That is beyond me. But I can dig, gods willing,” he said with a nod. “Where did you leave off looking?”

Shandril went forward with the globe. “Here,” she said. Slowly, carefully, they moved along the stones, shining the globe high and low. But they found no gap. “together they continued on around the walls of their prison. Reaching their starting point, they straightened wearily.

“What now?” Shandril sighed.

“I need to sit down,” Narm said. He selected a large, curving boulder and sat, patting the rock beside him. Slowly, Shandril moved to join him. Narm swung a battered sack from his shoulder and pulled it open. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Shandril replied. Narm handed her a thick sausage wrapped in oiled cloth, a partially eaten loaf of round, hard bread, and a leather water skin.