Swords Against the Shadowland

The wizard howled in pain, an inhuman sound that chilled Fafhrd's blood, yet pleased him bitterly. He bent to snatch up another stone, but when he drew back to throw it, Malygris had achieved the roof. His shadowy form melted into the dark-tiled background.

Grabbing his sword, Fafhrd ran with his rock through the garden to the opposite side of the house, ready to continue the battle. Squinting, breathing furiously, he scrutinized the gutters, the roof summit, the walls, the grounds. Then he ran back to the other side again.

With a curse, he swung his blade in a powerful arc and carved a deep gash in the sod. Tasting failure, he remembered Laurian and Sameel. He would have another chance at Malygris—both he and the wizard had sworn it.

Flinging open the garden doors, he made his way through a darkened foyer and found the stairs to the upper floor. The library doors hung crookedly on their hinges. He rushed inside.

Sameel cradled Laurian in her arms on the carpet. She turned a tear-streaked face toward him. "Malygris?" she asked hopefully.

"Gone," he answered. "Laurian?"

Sameel brushed hair from her mistress's face. "She's with Sa-daster now."

Fafhrd picked up the scabbard he had cast aside and sheathed Sadaster's sword. A new anger welled up within him as he clenched his fist around the hilt. "Why?" he raged. "Why did she challenge him alone? We should have planned it together, chosen the time ..."

Sameel smiled wanly. "You didn't know Laurian."

/ know she's dead, Fafhrd nearly snapped. Instead, he bit his tongue and shook his head. "She should have let us help."

Sameel leaned her head forward until it touched Laurian's brow. "I helped," she whispered. "Didn't I, mistress?"

"What?" Crouching down beside her, Fafhrd lifted her chin, forced her to look at him.

She gave a weak laugh that sent a new chill through Fafhrd. "She asked me for a favor," she said, turning her face away. "Something important, something that would insure Malygris's coming."

Fafhrd knelt closer, confused as well as angry, but suddenly frightened again as he peered at Sameel and perceived in her a new, desperate quality. It seemed as if her mind were unhinging. He started to speak again, but she put up a hand to stop his lips.

A moment of lucidity settled upon her face, and in her eyes he saw a sadness so deep it set his soul to aching. "Don't ask," she said, her words feather-soft, her breath herb-sweet. "The answer might hurt too much. And I will never tell."

Her eyes fluttered, and her head sank down upon Laurian's head again.

"Sameel?" he said.

She didn't answer.

A dark stain spread slowly across the carpet beneath Laurian's body. Fafhrd stared, puzzled. Too much blood for Malygris's wounds, and Laurian hadn't been stabbed. He noted how gingerly Sameel supported her mistress's limp form in her left; arm. His eyes spied Laurian's dagger so close at hand.

With a despairing cry, he caught the hidden arm and tugged it free. "What have you done?"

Blood swelled freely from the vein she had opened lengthwise and properly. It ran over her palm, through her fingers, dripped into Laurian's dark hair, into Laurian's shut eyes.

Sameel pulled her arm away and hugged it to her bare breast. "All the kindness, all the joy I have known in this world flowed from my mistress and my master," she said. An eerie happiness filled her voice. "They will need me in the Shadowland."

A hollow silence settled through the room. Fafhrd's eyes burned, and his heart threatened to burst. Kneeling, clutching his sword as if it were a holy relic, he banged his head again and again on the pommelstone.

Looking up, Sameel touched his knee. A dull light, swiftly fading, lingered in her eyes as she sought his gaze. "I didn't mean that—not all the joy," she whispered. She spoke his name once, then leaned down to wrap her mistress in a final embrace.

All through their night together, she had called him only, my lord.

Fafhrd raised his fists and screamed in rage and pain. For a long time he remained beside them, awash in memories, paralyzed by old and new regrets. Then, carrying both women, he placed Laurian on her velvet chair and arranged Sameel on her mistress's lap.

Closing the two halves of the silver sarcophagus around them, Fafhrd sat down and leaned his head against it.

After a time, he got to his feet, collected his breeches and other garments from Sameel's room, and dressed. While Malygris breathed, he would save his grief, and hoard his anger like a treasure of incalculable worth.

Meanwhile, there was the Mouser to find.

Carefully he closed the gates of the estate and stepped into the street outside. A soft breeze blew through the avenue, sweeping away a misty fog. Hugging himself beneath his cloak, he turned southward.

But before he went far, a harsh mirth echoed down the night, freezing him in mid-step. Even with its bitter edge, he knew that peeling laugh. "Vlana?" he said, casting a searching gaze about.