The masked witches

Jet sprang back into the air to keep watch over the battleground from on high. Aoth walked over to the spear and picked it up. He caught his breath at the force and intricate structure of the enchantments he sensed inside it, and felt instantly wary of the weapon. It wasn t that it was cursed, or at least, its maker hadn t intended it to be. But he didn t like the feeling that as he studied it, it was taking his measure as well.

That s mine! called Vandar.

Aoth turned to find that the lodge master had come up behind him. He was glaring like he was still facing an enemy, and he still had the red sword in his grip.

Making sure he didn t hurry or look rattled, Aoth proffered the weapon butt first. I know, he replied.

I was just saving you the trouble of having to look for it.

I can understand that you covet it, Vandar said.

But the spirits gave it to me, just like they mean for me to have the griffons.

Aoth stared into the other man s eyes. But you ll settle for half of them, he said. Because you do remember giving your word?

Vandar held his gaze for a long moment. Then he blinked, and something that might have been confusion or even a trace of shame flickered across his face. Yes, he said. I mean, I keep faith with those who keep faith with me. He hefted the spear. Thanks for finding this.

Be careful with it and the sword, Aoth said.

I don t know much about fey weapons

Vandar turned toward the spot where some of his fellow berserkers were still trying to smash down a door. Can t magic break through there? he asked.

Aoth sighed and said, I hope so, but it s not going to do it yet. Call your men back.

We shouldn t give the durthans time to regroup! the lodge master said.

We need time to regroup, replied Aoth. Your brothers need to recover their strength, or the enemy will butcher them as soon as they do get inside. Your wounded need care, or they re likely to die. Is that what you want?

The Rashemi took a breath. No, he said. It s just that stopping halfway isn t how a berserker fights. He raised his voice to a bellow. Brothers! Leave the doors alone for now! Just watch them, and help the wounded!

While you and I, said Aoth, confer with our fellow officers.

They headed for the Stag King, who currently stood amid the phantom beasts he d wrested from the durthans control and brought under his own. An enormous wolf fawned at his feet, squirrels sat on his shoulders, and wrens and crows perched on the points of his antlers. It might have looked comical if not for their misty appearance, the foxfire in their eyes, and the gore caking the head of the fey lord s weapon.

That didn t go too badly, said Aoth.

The Stag King nodded. I see you pulled the Rashemi back from the doors, he said.

They ve taken a beating already, said Aoth. Maybe, when we do get the doors open, your warriors should go in first.

The spirit gri

Vandar snorted. We might at that, he said.

It s all right, Thayan. The Griffon Lodge is happy to take the lead, in this fight or any other.

Fine, Aoth thought. Be an idiot. What do I care?

Aloud, he said, We need more men on the walls. After we put them there, we should be able to relax a little. Eat, rest, and recover both our physical strength and our spells. Let s plan on breaching the donjon a little before sundown.

So you want to fight the undead at night? asked Zyl. Aoth looked down to find the black hare crouching near his foot.

The Stag King shrugged. It doesn t matter, he said, It will be dark inside the keep and in the vaults underneath no matter when we venture in.

That s true, said Aoth. And we should expect it s going to get nasty. The enemy knows the ground, and we don t. Most of them will be able to see better than most of us can. They ll try to split us up and lure us into traps. Which means that if we lose our heads, either to panic or to bloodlust, and go rushing off into the dark, we re done for. Vandar, can you control your lodge brothers?

Even when the fury takes us, the Rashemi answered, we don t lose all our sense. He surprised Aoth by smiling a wry little smile. Not all of us, not every time. We ll divide up into war bands, each led by a brother far advanced in the mysteries a man who can ride the anger instead of letting it ride him. The others will move when he moves and stop when he stops.

Good, Aoth said as he turned to the Stag King.

And you can manage your warriors? I confess, I don t understand much about them, but I don t imagine they ve spent much time underground.

They ll be all right, the spirit replied.

Anyway, they re my concern, not yours.

Aoth took a breath of the smoky air. I m not trying to set myself about you, Highness, he said. Or you, Vandar. But someone has to think about the overall tactical picture. And maybe a captain who s taken more fortresses and fought more undead than he can remember, and who doesn t have the management of one particular part of our army to preoccupy him, is a good choice for the job.

The Stag King waved a dismissive hand. All right, human, he said. Perhaps you have a point. I promise, I ll at least listen to whatever you recommend.

Vandar nodded curtly. So will I, he said.

Finally! thought Aoth.

Jet laughed his screeching laugh inside his master s head. They just want someone to blame if it all goes wrong.

Uramar noted how the mushy flesh of the little demonic half-corpse oozed and dripped in Falconer s grip. The skull lord himself looked somewhat the worse for wear. He still had his gauntlet, but the same skirmish that had charred bits of his bones black had cost him the rest of his gear, and he d thrown on a brigandine that hung like a sack on his skeletal frame.

The biggest change was the loss of one of his skulls. A pair of Uramar s broken selves two of the more erudite and less sane ones were debating whether the Nar could somehow procure another or must manage with only two forevermore.

For a moment their voices waxed painfully loud. Uramar resisted the impulse to grit his teeth and pound at his temples. His command had just lost a fight, and the warrior parts of him understood that at such a juncture, his officers mustn t see him acting crazy or distressed. It would be bad for morale.

Suddenly, the half-corpse spoke, distracting him from his discomfort. I humbly apologize for making you wait, noblest of wizards. But I m sure that you comprehend that, surrounded as I am by our mutual enemies, I can t always answer instantly.

According to Falconer, the little half-demon was relaying the words of one Dai Shan, a merchant adventurer out of Thesk. The mortal s accent was strange to Uramar, but his light baritone voice conveyed intelligence and self-assurance.

We re under siege here, Falconer snapped.

Why didn t you warn me that the Griffon Lodge and their allies were coming?

Would that I could have, Dai Shan said, but to my eternal regret, I didn t know. I m sure such a sagacious leader as youself can appreciate that, even though I gather intelligence as assiduously as I can, I m not privy to everybody s plans. Are you in serious difficulty?

I ve had better days, the Nar replied.

Is there anything you can do to help us?

Dai Shan hesitated, or perhaps it simply took a moment for the magic to carry his words across the intervening distance. Perhaps, august magus, perhaps, he said. As it happens

With a soft slurping sound, the remaining flesh of the half-corpse liquefied all at once. It slipped off the little demon s bones and spilled to the floor in a splash of filth. A couple of Uramar s voices shrieked with laughter. A more squeamish soul wanted to puke, and its nausea churned his stomach.