Swords Against the Shadowland

Death of Nehwon spoke again. "Only you, Demptha Negatarth, of those who possessed Sadaster's spell, used it for no selfish end. You wear the wrinkles you have earned and stoop beneath your properly accumulated years. Only for your daughter's benefit did you employ this insulting magic." He nodded ever so slightly, briefly closing his eyes as he did so. "I forgive you," he pronounced.

Jesane leaned close to Death of Nehwon, and the two appeared to confer. A moment later, she floated down from the barge and stood beside her father. Taking his hand in hers, she looked up to her master.

"Still, a price must be paid," Death of Nehwon proclaimed. "Two deaths yet remain before this play is ended. The despicable Malygris is only one."

Malygris clutched a fist to his heart, and a panicked gleam lit his eyes.

Demptha looked to his daughter, and tears sparkled on his old cheeks. "The other?" he asked.

Thick tentacles of mist whipped over the sides of the barge, seizing Death of Nehwon, hardening instantly to ice. The very air around creature froze, cocooning him in a glacial prison. More mist spiraled up from the shallow sea and froze, burying the barge under a crushing glacial mass.

"I spit upon your hidden face!" Malygris shouted defiantly. The shell shattered, loud as thunder beneath his running footsteps. "And piss upon your timetable; you'll not find my name written there, today or ever!"

The Mouser's blood rushed suddenly, and so did he to overtake the fleeing wizard. He had not come so far and through so much to this strange court only to lose his prey now. "Then I'll write it there, myself," he cried in challenge, brandishing Scalpel. "Stand still, Inkwell, and let me dip my pen."

A loud roar stopped the Mouser in his tracks. A serpent's head large as an elephant's, surged up from the mist on a green stalk of a neck. A red mouth gaped horribly, exposing white rapier teeth that dripped a milky venom. Yellow eyes burned. With dreadful speed, it lunged.

The Mouser dove into the thick mist. Submerged, but on solid substance, he rolled swiftly over and thrust upward with his blade, feeling the point bite into scaled flesh and carve a long scratch. He didn't need to see through the gray blanket, however, to know he did no serious damage. He scrambled up and shot a frantic look for the creature. It glared, undulating on its long neck and yawning to show its teeth again.

Now he got a good look at it, and his heart nearly stopped in his chest. A sea serpent from the Great Inner Sea. Not one, but two! Beyond it, he spied a wake, a subtle parting of the mist, and barely visible as it swam, a second reptilian form with hungry eyes fixed on him.

The Mouser called his partner's name. When no answer came, he risked a glance over his shoulder. A sickening sight greeted him.

A mighty eagle clung to Fafhrd's face, its pinions beating, its talons buried deep in the Northerner's eye sockets. Blood and humor gushed, and Fafhrd's mouth hung open in a strangely voiceless scream as he thrashed and tried to fight the raptor off. O grisly hell! Ignoring his own peril, the Mouser spun about, preparing to run to the aid of his comrade.

Then, in mid-step, he paused, and his lips curled back in an almost feral snarl. A bitter suspicion filled him. No mere bird could ever score such a victory upon mighty Fafhrd. Nor could sea serpents swim in that which was not truly a sea.

He spun again. "Malygris!" he shouted, ignoring the toothy monster that lunged at him. "My pen still needs a dipping!" He leaped away from the serpent's mouth. Though he swore it was only another of the wizard's illusions, why take chances? Dashing around it, leaping over the back of the second swimming monster, he overtook his foe.

The look on Malygris's face as he whirled about was barely human. "Fire!" he hissed.

As the Mouser raised his sword to strike, the steel burst into flame. In a heartbeat, he knew it for yet another damned illusion, but instinctively he dropped his weapon. Cursing, he hurled himself forward, arms grasping. His hands, though, closed on nothing. Malygris faded into nothingness, and a harsh, mocking laughter filled the Mouser's ears.

Then, another laugh rose over that, softer, pitched higher, yet somehow mad, more femininely savage.

Malygris became suddenly visible once more, and another figure, as well, blocking his way. Mist and darkness parted like curtains to reveal an ornate sarcophagus that gleamed like silver. Intricate latches, fashioned like hands and fingers, snapped eerily open. A long black crack appeared, widened, and the thing began to open.

A dark-haired woman, swathed in white linen, smiled a red-lipped smile as she emerged from that box.

On the verge of fleeing again, Malygris hesitated, then gasped. "Laurian?"