Sadira. The woman's face was stern and hard, with a deft chin,
sneering lips, and broad flat cheeks.
The wraith pointed the tip of her sword toward the haze below. “Go down,” she ordered.
Sadira pulled a tiny satchel of copper dust from her pocket. The sorceress tore the packet
open with her teeth, then waited as the wraith charged. When her attacker was almost upon
her, she blew the brown powder toward the warrior's open visor. The stuff coated the
woman's face.
The wraith's sword came down.
Sadira twisted away, diverting the blow with a crashing block to her foe's elbow. From the
solid feel of the armor, it was hard to believe the warrior had coalesced out of gray haze
just a moment earlier. The wraith stumbled, then caught herself and braced to swing again.
The attack came too late. Sadira spoke her spell's command word, and the copper dust
covering the wraith's face flashed blue.
A tremulous, ear-piercing shriek burst from the wraith's lips. She dropped her sword and
clutched at her face, pitching forward. Before she could clatter to the ground, a blue
glow ran through her armor. Her body instantly dissolved into a gray fog and drifted away,
leaving a glowing emerald floating where her head had been an instant earlier.
The sorceress plucked the gem out of the air. It was as large as her thumb, cut into an
eye-shaped marquise oval and deeper in color than any emerald she had ever seen. The sheen
of its many facets looked almost black, while a faint green light glimmered in the center.
Sadira laid the stone on a step, drew her dagger, and smashed the pommel into the gem. The
stone did not shatter so much as crumble into a coarse, lime-colored powder. A shimmering
radiance hung over the crushed stone, slowly expanding outward in a cloudlike mass.
Save for its green tint, the light resembled the mystic energy that normal sorcerers drew
from plants to cast their spells.
The cloud burst apart with a deafening crash. Bolts of green light shot through the Gray,
lighting it with a spectacular show of brilliant flashes. The storm continued to rage,
filling the vast abyss with a tempest of resounding booms and effulgent flares, stirring
the ashen haze into a froth of swirling green light.
Sadira was surprised by the tumult. She had known crushing the gem would release a certain
amount of life-force, for even wraiths needed some energy to bind their spirits together.
But the stone had contained at least as much power as she would expect to find in a living
woman. Perhaps that was the reason Borys's knights had been so dedicated to him. If the
gems served as repositories for their life-forces, it would be possible for him to
resurrect them.
After a time, the storm gave one last rumble and died away in a wave of flickering color.
Once more, Magnus's voice descended from the tower summit clear and unimpeded. Before
starting up the stairs, Sadira paused long enough to look under her robe to see how much
mystic energy her spell had consumed. The enchantment had been a costly one. Most of her
upper torso had paled to the normal hue of her flesh. If she was going to get past all the
wraiths, she would have to find a more efficient way to use her magic.
The sorceress began climbing. By this time, Magnus had repeated his sibilant rhymes so
many times that she knew the syllables by heart, even if she did not understand the
meaning of the words. Sadira began to sing along. The melody lifted her spirits, and,
keeping a watchful eye for more wraiths, she bounded up the stairs two at time.
Finally, the sorceress rounded a curve and the staircase broadened into a small apron,
which sat before the open gates of a white bastion. The ramparts were built of alabaster
and finished with undulating caps of ivory. Beyond the entranceway, a pool of shimmering
blue water filled the inner ward of the citadel, with a single pathway of
sneering lips, and broad flat cheeks.
The wraith pointed the tip of her sword toward the haze below. “Go down,” she ordered.
Sadira pulled a tiny satchel of copper dust from her pocket. The sorceress tore the packet
open with her teeth, then waited as the wraith charged. When her attacker was almost upon
her, she blew the brown powder toward the warrior's open visor. The stuff coated the
woman's face.
The wraith's sword came down.
Sadira twisted away, diverting the blow with a crashing block to her foe's elbow. From the
solid feel of the armor, it was hard to believe the warrior had coalesced out of gray haze
just a moment earlier. The wraith stumbled, then caught herself and braced to swing again.
The attack came too late. Sadira spoke her spell's command word, and the copper dust
covering the wraith's face flashed blue.
A tremulous, ear-piercing shriek burst from the wraith's lips. She dropped her sword and
clutched at her face, pitching forward. Before she could clatter to the ground, a blue
glow ran through her armor. Her body instantly dissolved into a gray fog and drifted away,
leaving a glowing emerald floating where her head had been an instant earlier.
The sorceress plucked the gem out of the air. It was as large as her thumb, cut into an
eye-shaped marquise oval and deeper in color than any emerald she had ever seen. The sheen
of its many facets looked almost black, while a faint green light glimmered in the center.
Sadira laid the stone on a step, drew her dagger, and smashed the pommel into the gem. The
stone did not shatter so much as crumble into a coarse, lime-colored powder. A shimmering
radiance hung over the crushed stone, slowly expanding outward in a cloudlike mass.
Save for its green tint, the light resembled the mystic energy that normal sorcerers drew
from plants to cast their spells.
The cloud burst apart with a deafening crash. Bolts of green light shot through the Gray,
lighting it with a spectacular show of brilliant flashes. The storm continued to rage,
filling the vast abyss with a tempest of resounding booms and effulgent flares, stirring
the ashen haze into a froth of swirling green light.
Sadira was surprised by the tumult. She had known crushing the gem would release a certain
amount of life-force, for even wraiths needed some energy to bind their spirits together.
But the stone had contained at least as much power as she would expect to find in a living
woman. Perhaps that was the reason Borys's knights had been so dedicated to him. If the
gems served as repositories for their life-forces, it would be possible for him to
resurrect them.
After a time, the storm gave one last rumble and died away in a wave of flickering color.
Once more, Magnus's voice descended from the tower summit clear and unimpeded. Before
starting up the stairs, Sadira paused long enough to look under her robe to see how much
mystic energy her spell had consumed. The enchantment had been a costly one. Most of her
upper torso had paled to the normal hue of her flesh. If she was going to get past all the
wraiths, she would have to find a more efficient way to use her magic.
The sorceress began climbing. By this time, Magnus had repeated his sibilant rhymes so
many times that she knew the syllables by heart, even if she did not understand the
meaning of the words. Sadira began to sing along. The melody lifted her spirits, and,
keeping a watchful eye for more wraiths, she bounded up the stairs two at time.
Finally, the sorceress rounded a curve and the staircase broadened into a small apron,
which sat before the open gates of a white bastion. The ramparts were built of alabaster
and finished with undulating caps of ivory. Beyond the entranceway, a pool of shimmering
blue water filled the inner ward of the citadel, with a single pathway of
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