Red mists of pain rose and fell before her eyes. Through them, Laeral saw Blaskyn walk to the throne, turn to salute her mockingly, and sit down with a triumphant sneer.
His face changed. It seemed to glow with white fire. His smile slid away from his lips almost immediately. Pearly radiance shone from the stone, growing stronger. In utter silence Laeral watched cold white fire race up and clown his limbs.
Blaskyn's flesh sank inward, his skin withering and sagging on suddenly revealed bones. He screamed.
Her horrified gaze locked with his, Laeral saw his eyes catch fire and burn. The whites darkened and receded to become points of glowing light.
As his gums and lips shriveled, Blaskyn screamed hollowly, "Laeral! Mistress! Help me-ee-eeF
Teeth sprayed from his agonized mouth. His cry died away into dry choking. His body shook and strained. He seemed unable to rise from the blazing throne.
Silence fell. What had once been her apprentice seemed to grow calmer-or less conscious. Laeral shifted herself to as comfortable a position as she could manage, wondering if Blaskyn was dead.
All at once, the slumped body on the throne1 began to smile. Lipless jaws worked, and then shaped words. "Ah... ah... a good body, this. Better than the wench, though she taught it but a pitiful amount of Art. It will serve."
What had been Blaskyn stood up stiffly. Her rod, daggers, and all fell to the floor with a clatter, the rings rolling slowly off into the darkness.
All too soon, the sunken face loomed up over Laeral.
Ha ha! This is as good as one of those plays nobles mount at their revels in waterdeep.'
Aye, and all true.
On? Can you prove it?
I must trust Mystra.
[scowl, snort] Well, one of us must, i suppose...ok i'll newr see magic out of you. Proceed.
Indeed.
"This fool thought to question ye before he claimed and slew ye," came a cold voice. It sounded more like the lich she had destroyed than Blaskyn. "I am Thalon and have no need to waste words trying to pry secrets and cleave through deceit. My claws will cook ye where ye lie. When they're done, and I eat thy flesh, I will know all ye know. Thy skull will join the others on the shelf-fools who accompanied the mages who lusted after mastery over wizardry. 'Sit not alone, and all that..."
The gaunt face stared down at her almost approvingly. "The young and strong mages have served me as bodies, down the years. Thine is too broken and weaker than this fool's."
As he spoke, the crawling claws swarmed over Laeral. Skeletal fingers tore clothes away and raked stones aside. Dry bones scuttled over and under her bared flesh, dragging branches and twigs from somewhere painfully in underneath her.
Througji all this bony violation, the burning eyes that had once been Blaskyn's looked down at her coldly and steadily.
"This fool lusted after thee, Laeral," came the hollow voice, almost jauntily, "but thy flesh is more useful to me cooked and eaten. It has been a long time... I hope the arundoon sauce has survived."
Thalon turned away, stopped, and picked up Laeral's pendant. He gave her a grisly smile. "The fool didn't even know what this was," he said, tying it about his own neck. "My thanks, mageling-only one globe left, but it's been years since I've worn a necklace of missiles! Not since... but ye need not know that." He turned and went to the stairs, walking more swiftly and smoothly with each stride.
"Don't go-I'll be back directly," the hollow voice called back to her, cold and cheerful.
Laeral shuddered and whimpered at the agony her movement had brought her.
The endless, silent crawling went on. Almost fainting with the pain, Laeral raised a numbed hand and carefully took the earring from her ear. Her last magic. Her hand closed over it and fell back amid the growing pile of wood.
A strange, horrid noise came up the stairs, growing nearer: The lich was humming. That white, sunken face smiled cruelly above her again.
Suddenly Laeral felt cold, sticky liquid falling on her. Thalon was calmly emptying the contents of a crystal decanter onto her limbs.
"Arundoon sauce," the archmage said lightly. "In splendid condition, too, thanks to the spells on the decanter. I'll just put it somewhere safe-for next time. When I come back, Laeral, we'll share a kiss; thy last, I fear, for with it I'll breathe dragon fire into ye, and ye'll burn.... Do minstrels still sing of kisses that burn? I gave them that phrase, though its true meaning seems to have been forgotten."
Thalon lingered above her thoughtfully. "Much about me has been forgotten in the Realms. With this fine young body and your knowledge of who works magic and where, I'll change all that. One mage will lead me to another, until I've swallowed what all of them know. I thank thee for this opportunity, Laeral. It's most kind of ye."
Laeral fought to keep her eyes open against waves of sleepy pain.
He seemed disappointed. "What, no tears? No pleading? I expected some reaction, at least."
Laeral smiled at him tightly as her hand swept up. "You shall have it!" she hissed in answer, through fresh waves of pain, and whispered fiercely, "Alahabad!"
The earring twisted in the air as it flew, to become a metal hand as small as a child's. It struck Thalon in the chest, thrusting the lich-mage backward with the force of its blow.
Laeral saw the lich stagger, saw the metal hand close and tighten on the last globe of the necklace that had been her most powerful magic for so many years, bent her will, and turned her head away.
Ha! Now her revenge! More, human-snow me more!
Of course. I've spent my life showing folk things....
Her eyes were closed, so the flash that blistered her face and side did not blind her. It shook the ceiling above her and the rubble around. Dust began to fall on her like a cloak. More pain. Tiny spears showered her side; bony splinters from what was left of Blaskyn, Laeral decided wearily.
She lay still. The shaking died away. She breathed thanks to Tymora and Mystra both. As if in reply, a thin, falling wail of rage and disappointment rose, mingled with the rolling echoes of the blast... and slowly died away with them.
Your turn for a little pain and disappointment, Laeral thought savagely, as black oblivion took her.
What? I'm m be cheated of the gloat over her fallen foe? Humans are such weak weeds!
Patience, Lord Nergal, and see... [growl, reluctant silence]
Much later, cold and pain awakened her. She looked toward the throne. It still glowed with a faint white radiance, but she saw no trace of the lich. What she sought lay at the foot of the throne.
Gritting her teeth, Laeral rolled over, her broken leg flopping uselessly. The blazing pain, as she hauled herself through stabbing branches and motionless bone claws, made her sob and shriek in turns. She crawled slowly across the floor, wondering if she'd get there in time.
Well, if all this was passed from mystra to you, she must have survived, eh?
Give the tale its time, devil. Give the tale its time. Things are more fun that way...
Fun! [Snort] Now I know I'm in the mind of a human!
Ye doubted it before?
It was long, indeed, before she reached the spot where her rod lay. Laeral closed her hand around it carefully. Her fingers shook. She twisted one of its end knobs until the rounded brass came free. A small metal vial rolled out.
Tearing out the stopper with her teeth, Laeral drank the cool, sweet potion greedily. Relief flooded through her body. She lay back thankfully and let the healing magic bring her strength.