Swords Against the Shadowland

Immediately, the painting on the card came to frightening life. A glittering bird, seemingly formed all of crystal and jewels, sank talons into Malygris's flesh. Shimmering wings with razor-sharp facets beat furiously at his face, and an emerald beak flashed at his eyes.

Malygris screamed in pain and terror, and the bird grew larger. Now its wings beat the air. Malygris swung his arms wildly, trying to fight free as the creature struggled to lift him bodily into the air.

Above him, the red ribbon appeared again, glowing a deeper, uglier shade, pulsing and throbbing with unholy life. Lengthening and lengthening, it wrapped around Malygris and the bird both, muffling the wizard's screams and the bird's angry caws, extinguishing them.

Around and around the ribbon flashed until it was no longer a ribbon at all, but a huge ball, a bubble of blackly crimson hue through which only the vaguest shadows of Malygris and the bird could be seen still locked in combat.

"What enchantment is this?" Fafhrd asked, rising and backing away from the bubble until he stood at the Mouser's side. Free from Malygris's power, he looked himself again.

"Not mine," answered Demptha Negatarth with bitterness and puzzlement.

Then from out of the shrubbery, another figure emerged.

"Ivrian!" the Mouser cried.

She paid him no attention, but ran straight to the bubble of red light. Without thinking, the Mouser leaped to intercept her, but his hands closed only on a string of pearls around her neck before she entered that evil glow.

Flying through the air, Fafhrd hit him from the side, his arms locking tight about the Mouser's waist as they fell to the ground in a tangled heap. "Ivrian!" the Mouser cried again.

Within that luminous orb, a winsome silhouette seemed to turn his way.

Slowly, the orb sank into the earth, taking wizard and bird and girl. Its bloody light faded, leaving them in darkness and a chilling quiet.

The Mouser stared forlornly at the place where the orb had been. On the grass nearby a few pearls glimmered. He opened his fist. On his palm lay a few more pearls, and a few strands of soft blond hair.

Fafhrd began to speak. "Mouser . . . ?"

In the distance, Aarth's great bell began to peel, and the sound of it froze them. Twelve times it rang, then a pause and an extra final note that vibrated across the city.

"Midnight," Demptha Negatarth whispered, "and Festival's end."

NINETEEN SHADOWLAND

The Mouser spun toward Demptha Negatarth. "What did he mean, you swore not to interfere?"

Demptha frowned as he hung his old head. He looked pathetically small suddenly in the too-large corporal's uniform he wore. Slowly, stiffly, he bent and retrieved the helmet that lay on the ground nearby.

"Nuulpha!" he called loudly, straightening. "Nuulpha!" Then, licking his lower lip, he finally met the Mouser's hard stare. "When Jesane was four summers old she developed a blood disease. My magic couldn't help her, but Malygris had a spell. He came to me in the night and offered it. Not only could it halt the effects of aging—you saw that in your dream of Laurian—but used in another manner, it could hold back death indefinitely."

"Wizards are stingy with their secrets," Fafhrd said scornfully. "He just gave you this powerful enchantment?"

Demptha Negatarth shook his head. "We bargained. He gave me the spell to save my daughter’s life. In exchange, I swore never to interfere in any of his undertakings. I knew it was a promise I would one day regret. Malygris was never to be trusted, and even then, I suspected his hatred for Sadaster, who was my friend. But to save Jesane's life, I dealt with the devil when he appeared on my doorstep."

The Mouser bent to collect one of Ivrian's fallen pearls from the grass. "Why didn't you ask Sadaster for the spell?" he questioned.

Demptha's frown deepened. "When Jesane was out of danger, I went to Sadaster, driven by a sense of guilt that I had bargained with his enemy, and he received me cordially. I meant to keep my word to Malygris, I told him, but as a gesture of regret, and in a spirit of atonement, I offered to share this new bit of arcana with him." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "What a joke on me it was—and a shock to my host—to learn that the spell was one of Sadaster's most closely guarded secrets. Not so closely guarded, however, that Malygris had not been able to steal it."

"There at least is the connection I sought," the Mouser mused as he pushed the pearl down inside his right glove. "It must have been Sadaster's spell . . ."—he looked at Demptha—"that very spell in the book that exploded in my hand and set fire to your library."

Fafhrd coughed unpleasantly into his fist, nodding. "I'll wager there was another copy of that same spell in Sadaster's library, which also burned."