Return of the Sorceress (29 page)

At first Nearra had no idea who Maddoc was speaking to, but then the skeletal griffin came crashing down upon Ophion. It dug its bone talons into Ophion’s flesh, and though no blood welled forth, Ophion whined in pain. The bone-griffin lifted its beak
and then brought it down on Ophion’s back, nearly tearing the shapeshifter in two.

But Ophion didn’t use its powers to fight back against the griffin. Instead, his neck began to lengthen, gray fur receding, replaced by smooth snakeskin. Ophion extended his wolf head toward Nearra, the sun-shaped medallion still clenched tight in his jaws.

“No!” Maddoc shouted.

Nearra heard the wizard running toward her, but before he could reach the table upon which she was bound, Ophion dropped the medallion onto her chest, and then his head curled back on his serpentine neck.

She felt a warm tingling as magic power surged through her, and the leather straps that held her down evaporated like so much dew in the burning light of day. Her hand snatched the sun medallion from her chest. She sat up and gazed upon the medallion as Asvoria ran her fingers over its surface.

The medallion began to glow and suddenly released a burst of white light so intense that even with her eyes closed, Nearra could see it.

The sorceress slipped the Daystar over Nearra’s head and climbed off the table. Nearra tried to reassert control over her body, but no matter how hard she concentrated, it was useless. It seemed Asvoria had at last fully emerged.

Maddoc gaped at Nearra—or rather, Asvoria—in horror.

“The paralysis spell!” he said. “You used the Daystar to nullify it!”

“Of course,” Asvoria said with Nearra’s voice. “Too bad the girl didn’t know how to activate the medallion, or else she could’ve used it to counter the enchantment that placed me in her body.” The sorceress grinned. “Too bad for her, that is. Quite fortunate for me.”

Inside their shared body, Nearra’s spirit raged in fury, throwing itself against the ethereal walls of the psychic cage that now imprisoned her. But there was nothing she could do. Asvoria had won.

As if a truce had been silently called, all fighting ceased the moment Nearra, no,
Asvoria
climbed off the table. Even the bone-griffin and the shapechanger stopped clawing at one another. All eyes turned toward Asvoria and Maddoc as the two wizards confronted each other.

Davyn felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. They’d failed. Nearra was gone, her spirit destroyed.

Not necessarily, he told himself. If Asvoria could exist as a passenger in Nearra’s body for so long, perhaps the situation had been reversed. Perhaps Nearra was now the passenger, unable to do more than watch as Asvoria did as she pleased.

And if that was true, then there was still hope
—if
they could get hold of the Daystar.

Maddoc raised his hands, fingers contorted in mystic patterns.

“I can’t let you go, Asvoria. I’ve worked too long and sacrificed too much to obtain the knowledge that you possess.”

Asvoria laughed, and though it was Nearra’s voice, the dark cruelty in the laughter sounded nothing like her. “You could never hope to stand against me even if you were at full strength. What makes you think you can do so now, weakened as you are?”

Maddoc looked uncertain. A line of sweat trickled down the side of his face, but he didn’t back down. “I’ve made the study of you my life’s work. I know more about your strengths and weaknesses than you ever could.”

Asvoria smiled. “An amusing bluff, I’ll grant you, but that’s all it is.” She pointed at Maddoc and a burst of crimson light shot
forth from her finger to strike the wizard in the chest. Maddoc grimaced in pain, stiffened, and then collapsed.

Asvoria turned to regard the rest of them. “Anyone else?”

The three goblins shrieked and fled down the stairs. Oddvar started after them, but just before he reached the doorway, he turned and hurled his poison-coated dagger at Asvoria. The sorceress’ eyes flashed with violet light, and the dagger halted in mid-flight. The metal glowed white-hot, and the air was filled with a sour stink as the poison was burned off the blade and the weapon clattered to the stone surface of tower roof.

Oddvar shrugged. “You can’t blame me for trying.”

Asvoria smiled. “Actually, I can.” Violet energy flared in her eyes once more and Oddvar was suddenly lifted off his feet and hurled toward the edge of the roof, as if he were caught in a gust of wind. Limbs flailing, the dark dwarf was thrown up and over the crenelations.

Oddvar screamed as he fell, but he didn’t scream for long.

Like the others, Kuruk and Shiriki stood silently as they watched the dwarf meet his fate. But now Kuruk began walking stiffly toward Asvoria.

The sorceress leveled her finger at the elf, but before she could release a They destroyed my original body, but I was able to transfer my spirit to this form.”

Shiriki cried out, “I knew you weren’t my cousin!”

Asvoria peered intently at Kuruk, as if using her magic to verify the truth of his words. Finally, she smiled and lowered her hand. “It seems that body swapping is quite the fashion tonight. Come to my side. It was your task to guard the Daystar, and while you failed to keep it from these children, I can always make use of a dracolich.”

Kuruk stepped over to his mistress and took his place at her side. Asvoria then looked at Ophion.

“Are you injured?”

The shapeshifter was still half wolf, half serpent, its coils wrapped around the bone-griffin. But with Maddoc unconscious or perhaps even dead, the creature had stopped fighting and stood immobile. Ophion released the griffin, its form blurred, shifted, and rearranged until it once more resembled the black-haired girl that Davyn had first seen with Nearra back in the dracolich’s cavern.

Ophion walked over to join Asvoria and Kuruk. “My injuries are minor.” It smiled. “It helps if one can toughen the skin as well as shift it away from attacks. I shall heal soon enough.”

“About your current shape,” Asvoria began.

“Does it displease you? I thought you might be amused if I assumed the form of the girl’s sister again. I can become something else if you wish.”

Asvoria cocked her head as if listening to an internal voice. “No, that shape will do fine. It annoys my soul-sister.”

Davyn’s heart leaped at the sorceress’ words. So Nearra did still exist! He was more determined than ever to get his hands on the Daystar, but he had no idea how. He glanced at his companions. Catriona watched Asvoria with a mixture of hatred and sorrow and Elidor was doing much the same. Ayanti looked as if she couldn’t believe what was happening, and Sindri was sitting up, but he looked as if he might pass out any moment. He was still physically drained from countering the magic of the Gallery of Despair, and being slammed to the ground by Kuruk hadn’t helped him any. Davyn doubted Sindri would recover soon enough to be of any help.

Asvoria turned to Shiriki. “And what of you, elf? You served Bolthor, who was at best a minor evil. Will you now serve a much greater and, if I do say so myself, more glorious evil?”

Shiriki glanced at Elidor, and Davyn was surprised at the
tenderness in her gaze. But then she turned away from him and walked over to join Asvoria.

“I serve the Dark Queen. I can think of no better way to do that then by serving you, my lady.”

Asvoria nodded, clearly pleased. “Good.” The sorceress then turned to Davyn and his companions. “And what of the rest of you? Will any of you pledge your allegiance to me and enter into my service?”

None of them spoke.

“How about you, Davyn? You once served Maddoc. You are no stranger to the ways of evil. And by serving me, you’ll be close to Nearra.” She smiled. “Or at least what’s left of her.”

Davyn clenched his fists, but he didn’t reply.

“None of you? Ah, well, I can’t say I’m surprised. After all, I’ve had the better part of a year to observe you. Still, I thought it only polite to make the offer.” She raised her hands. “When I’ve finished taking care of you then I can reclaim Cairngorn Keep and pick up where I left off. Ansalon has changed a great deal over the last several centuries, but one thing hasn’t changed. The land could still use a strong, firm hand to guide it.”

“A hand like yours?” Catriona said.

Asvoria grinned. “Naturally. Now, unless any of you have some memorable last words you wish to share …” Asvoria’s hands began to crackle with mystic energy.

Davyn spoke up. “There is one thing that I’d like to say.”

The sorceress sighed and the energy surrounding her hands died away. “Very well, but hurry up and get it over with.”

Davyn shouted, “Raedon, get that medallion!”

    T
he copper dragon held onto the tower’s edge by his front claws. Davyn had no idea how Raedon had come to be here or why he had climbed up the side of the tower instead of flying, and he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting the Daystar and saving Nearra.

For an instant, the dragon didn’t react, but then he fixed Asvoria with his gaze and scowled, as if sensing what had happened. He opened his mouth and chuffed a blast of slow gas toward the sorceress and her servants.

Davyn felt a surge of hope. The slow gas would immobilize Asvoria and the others, and then they could take the Daystar, and with any luck, Sindri could figure out how it worked and—

But Asvoria gestured and crimson energy flared bright around her hands. Suddenly wind began to blow, so strong it could almost be called a gale. The wind quickly dissipated the cloud of slow gas and then just as quickly died down.

Asvoria frowned at Raedon. “I thought I’d managed to divert you to a grove where the descendants of some of my old pets still live.”

Raedon pulled himself up higher, revealing a wing that was swollen and discolored.

“Ah! I see you did get to meet my little friends. Though it appears that their venom might have lost some of its potency through the generations. One bite should’ve been enough to kill you. Well, I suppose I’ll just have to attend to that chore myself.” Once again the sorceress’ hands flared red.

Davyn knew they had only seconds to act. He turned to Elidor. “Now, while she’s distracted. Get the medallion!”

Elidor sprinted toward Asvoria, moving with unbelievable speed. As he ran, the thief drew one of his throwing knives and hurled it toward Asvoria’s head.

Davyn held his breath and prayed that Elidor’s aim was true.

It was. The knife struck the medallion’s chain and severed it just as Elidor reached Asvoria. The elf caught the Daystar as it fell, whirled about, and sprinted back toward his companions. His knife, however, kept flying and lodged in Kuruk’s shoulder. But the dracolich took no notice of the wound. He was too busy glaring at Raedon.

Asvoria, suddenly aware of what had happened, shrieked in fury and turned away from Raedon. She unleashed a blast of mystic energy at Elidor, but the elf, warned by one sense or another, hit the ground and rolled. The blast missed him and blew out a chunk of one of the tower’s crenelations instead.

“Get it back!” Asvoria screamed. Kuruk lumbered after Elidor and Oddvar and Shiriki followed. Asvoria turned to Ophion. “Deal with the dragon.”

Ophion’s body expanded, stretched, and took on mass as it transformed into a gigantic scorpion. It scuttled toward Raedon, pincers snapping and barbed tail dripping poison.

Raedon, who had only managed to haul half of his body over the tower’s side, said, “Not another blasted bug!”

And then Davyn could spare no more attention for the dragon, for Elidor shouted, “Catch!” and hurled the Daystar toward him
just as Kuruk was about to reach the thief.

The medallion tumbled through the air, and Davyn caught it. He half expected to feel some sort of tingling or burning as he touched the magical object, but all he felt was cool, smooth metal.

“Catriona, Ayanti! Try to hold them off!” he shouted.

The warrior and the centaur nodded grimly and Davyn went to Sindri’s side. The kender looked as if he was half asleep. Davyn grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

“Sindri, wake up! We need you!”