wouldn’t be expecting anything fancy like battle magics.
At length, they drew even with the upper bridge, three quarters of they way up the height of the Tower. During the time it had taken them to climb the long spiraling ramp, one of Rishak’s mages had magically ascended the open space in the center of the Tower.
The unfortunate man had encountered one of the demonkind, and in his struggle had no attention to spare for Lian, stealthily concealed in a passageway. The mage hovered in mid-air, surrounded by a blue-white shield that flashed reddish energy with every pass of the demon. He was chanting rapidly, sustaining his defensive magics. His tenor voice was almost cracking in fear.
From far below, a lightning bolt crackled upward to strike the demon, a hugely muscled man-shaped creature with long, blade-like claws. The bolt did not harm the creature, in fact it did little more than distract it; however, the demon bellowed with rage and dove toward the second mage. At the temporary reprieve, the first mage sighed in relief, stabilized his defensive magics, then descended cautiously, hoping to employ a mortal magical shot against the demon.
While all three were thus occupied, Lian took the opportunity to duck back into the corridor and continue his ascent. Pitching his voice as low as he could manage, he asked, “How many of those things are running around loose up here, Lord Grey?”
Lord Grey considered the question for a moment, then answered so quietly that Lian had to strain to hear his words, “What we just saw was probably one of the ward demons. I suspect that the first mage was searching for a way out of the Tower. You shouldn’t have as much trouble.”
“I hope not,” said Gem, just as quietly. “That hideous thing was a Third Order demon, at least.”
“Fifth, actually,” replied Lord Grey. “It is, I believe, a minor noble of its sort. The two who are battling it had better be first rank battle mages, or they’ll be dinner.”
“I was under the impression that you are a necromancer,” said Lian. “How do you know so much about demons?”
Lord Grey said, “I have served dark magicians of one sort or another for a very long time, Highness. Let’s just say that I’ve seen that kind of demon before.”
Lian wasn’t satisfied with the skull’s perfunctory explanation, but ignored it for the time being. Here in the upper quarter of the Tower were signs of the final defenders’ struggle against the rebel army. Scattered about were statues of men clothed in robes and others clad in armor. Many were shattered, but some were surprisingly intact, and amazingly detailed.
There were several creatures, in addition to a variety of spells, which could transform a man into stone, and Lian prayed that the figures he beheld had not been caused by permanent wards. Many of the petrification spells left the victim with assorted degrees of awareness, and he’d read that the sensation of being eroded away by time was excruciating.
Continuing up the curving outer ramp, he noted that the number of petrified men was increasing. Many were still locked in poses of battle, while others had fallen over.
“A Great Mage died up here,” commented Lord Grey.
“How do you know that, Lord Grey?” asked Lian.
“This many casualties represents more magic than one person could safely cast, Highness,” he replied. “I suspect that this is a result of a deathstrike dealt by one of the more powerful Tower sorcerers. Destroying himself completely in the casting of one last spell might have appealed to him as a more attractive alternative than continuing on to his afterlife, if that was what he thought he was doing, anyhow.
“You cannot actually avoid your afterlife; you can merely postpone it.”
Lian glanced back toward the pack. “I won’t ask how you know that.”
Lord Grey, predictably, didn’t answer him.
The ramp passed one last great hall, a singular one in this case, the final passage into the
At length, they drew even with the upper bridge, three quarters of they way up the height of the Tower. During the time it had taken them to climb the long spiraling ramp, one of Rishak’s mages had magically ascended the open space in the center of the Tower.
The unfortunate man had encountered one of the demonkind, and in his struggle had no attention to spare for Lian, stealthily concealed in a passageway. The mage hovered in mid-air, surrounded by a blue-white shield that flashed reddish energy with every pass of the demon. He was chanting rapidly, sustaining his defensive magics. His tenor voice was almost cracking in fear.
From far below, a lightning bolt crackled upward to strike the demon, a hugely muscled man-shaped creature with long, blade-like claws. The bolt did not harm the creature, in fact it did little more than distract it; however, the demon bellowed with rage and dove toward the second mage. At the temporary reprieve, the first mage sighed in relief, stabilized his defensive magics, then descended cautiously, hoping to employ a mortal magical shot against the demon.
While all three were thus occupied, Lian took the opportunity to duck back into the corridor and continue his ascent. Pitching his voice as low as he could manage, he asked, “How many of those things are running around loose up here, Lord Grey?”
Lord Grey considered the question for a moment, then answered so quietly that Lian had to strain to hear his words, “What we just saw was probably one of the ward demons. I suspect that the first mage was searching for a way out of the Tower. You shouldn’t have as much trouble.”
“I hope not,” said Gem, just as quietly. “That hideous thing was a Third Order demon, at least.”
“Fifth, actually,” replied Lord Grey. “It is, I believe, a minor noble of its sort. The two who are battling it had better be first rank battle mages, or they’ll be dinner.”
“I was under the impression that you are a necromancer,” said Lian. “How do you know so much about demons?”
Lord Grey said, “I have served dark magicians of one sort or another for a very long time, Highness. Let’s just say that I’ve seen that kind of demon before.”
Lian wasn’t satisfied with the skull’s perfunctory explanation, but ignored it for the time being. Here in the upper quarter of the Tower were signs of the final defenders’ struggle against the rebel army. Scattered about were statues of men clothed in robes and others clad in armor. Many were shattered, but some were surprisingly intact, and amazingly detailed.
There were several creatures, in addition to a variety of spells, which could transform a man into stone, and Lian prayed that the figures he beheld had not been caused by permanent wards. Many of the petrification spells left the victim with assorted degrees of awareness, and he’d read that the sensation of being eroded away by time was excruciating.
Continuing up the curving outer ramp, he noted that the number of petrified men was increasing. Many were still locked in poses of battle, while others had fallen over.
“A Great Mage died up here,” commented Lord Grey.
“How do you know that, Lord Grey?” asked Lian.
“This many casualties represents more magic than one person could safely cast, Highness,” he replied. “I suspect that this is a result of a deathstrike dealt by one of the more powerful Tower sorcerers. Destroying himself completely in the casting of one last spell might have appealed to him as a more attractive alternative than continuing on to his afterlife, if that was what he thought he was doing, anyhow.
“You cannot actually avoid your afterlife; you can merely postpone it.”
Lian glanced back toward the pack. “I won’t ask how you know that.”
Lord Grey, predictably, didn’t answer him.
The ramp passed one last great hall, a singular one in this case, the final passage into the
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