Nekros Skullcrusher turned from the devastation, grim but determined not to let it lead him astray from
his intentions.
“So much for the wizard . . .” he muttered, trying not to think of what spell the human could have
possibly cast that had, in the process, also destroyed the seemingly invincible golem. Clearly very
powerful, so much so that it had not only cost the wizard his life, but had brought down the mountain on
an entire section of tunnels.
“Dig the body out?” asked one of the warriors.
“No. Waste of time.” Nekros clutched the pouch with theDemon Soul,thinking ahead to the culmination
of his desperate plans. “We leave Grim Batolnow.”
The other orcs followed him, most still uneasy about this sudden decision to depart the fortress but not at
all enamored with the idea of staying behind—especially if the wizard's spell had weakened the remaining
tunnel systems.
An incredible pressure pushed down on Rhonin's head, a pressure so immense he felt as if at any moment
his skull would burst open. With some effort, he forced his eyes open, trying to see if he could find out
what pressed on him and how he could quickly remove it.
Turning his blurry gaze upward, he gasped.
An avalanche of rock—literally a ton and more— floated just a foot or so above his head. A dim
radiance, the only visible sign of the shield he had cast earlier, revealed the one reason why he had not
been crushed to pulp.
The pressure in his head, he realized, had been some part of his mind that had managed to keep the spell
intact and, thereby, saved his life. The increasing pain, however, served to tell the trapped mage that with
each passing second the spell weakened.
He shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable in the hope that it would relieve some of the
pressure— and felt something pressing against the bottom of his head. Rhonin carefully reached down to
remove it, assuming it to be some pebble. However, the moment his fingers touched it, he felt a slight hint
of magic.
Curiosity momentarily shifting his attention from the horror above him, Rhonin pulled the object near
enough to see.
A black gemstone. Surely the same stone that had once been set in the center of Deathwing's medallion.
Rhonin frowned. The last time he had seen the medallion had been after Kryll's death. At the time, he
had not paid any attention to the stone, his mind more concerned with the danger to Vereesa and—
Vereesa!The elf 's face blossomed full into his thoughts. She and the dwarf had been farther away,
protected by the initial spell, but—
He shifted, trying to see. However, as he moved, the pressure in his head multiplied and the stones
above dropped a few precious inches more.
At the same time, he heard a deep-voiced curse.
“F-Falstad?” Rhonin gasped.
“Aye . . .” came the somewhat distant reply. “I knew you lived, wizard, since we'd not been flattened,
but I was beginnin' to think you'd never wake! About time!”
“Have you—is Vereesa alive?”
“'Tis hard to say. The light from this spell of yours lets me see her a little, but she's too distant for me to
check! Not heard anything out of her since I woke!”
Rhonin gritted his teeth. Shehadto be alive. “Falstad! How far above you are the rocks?”
A sardonic laugh escaped his companion. “Near enough to tickle my nose, human, else I'd have slid
over to check her sooner! Never thought I'd be alive at my own burial!”
The mage ignored the last, thinking about what the dwarf had said about the nearness of the avalanche.
Clearly the farther the spell extended from Rhonin, the less it covered. Both Vereesa and Falstad had
been protected from being crushed, but the ranger might possibly have been struck hard on the
head—perhaps even slain by the deadly blow.
Yet Rhonin had to hope otherwise.
“Human—if 'tis not too much to ask—can you doanythingfor us?”
Couldhe rescue them? Did he have either the power or the strength remaining? He pocketed the black
stone, now wholly concerned with the more desperate matter. “Give me a few moments. . . .”
“And what else would I be doing, eh?”
The pressure in the wizard's head continued to increase at a frightening pace. Rhonin doubted his shield
could last much longer, and yet he had to maintain it while attempting this second, perhaps even more
complex spell.
He had to not only transport all three of them from this precarious position, but send them to a safe
place. All this while his battered form cried out for recuperation.
How did the spell go? It pained him to think, but at last Rhonin summoned the words. Attempting this
would draw away his concentration from the shield, though. If he took too long . . .
What choice do I have?
“Falstad, I'm going to try now. . . .”
“That would please me to no end, human! I think the rocks're already pressing against my chest!”
Yes, Rhonin, too, had noticed the shift. He definitely had to hurry.
He muttered the words, drew the power. . . .
The rocks above him shifted ominously.
Utilizing his good hand, Rhonin drew a sign.
The shield spellfailed.Tons of stone dropped upon the trio—
—And suddenly he found himself lying on his back, staring into the cloud-covered heavens.
“Dagath's Hammer!” Falstad roared from his side. “Did you have to cut it so close?”
Despite the pain, Rhonin pushed himself up to a sitting position. The chill wind actually aided, snapping
him out of his disoriented state. He looked in the dwarf 's direction.
Falstad, too, sat up. The gryphon-rider had a wild look in his eyes that for once had nothing to do with
battle. His visage had turned absolutely pale, something Rhonin would never have imagined of the
stalwart warrior.
“Never, never, never will I crawl into another tunnel! From now on, 'tis only the sky for me! Dagath's
Hammer!”
The wizard might have replied, but a groan from farther on caught his attention. Rising on unsteady feet,
he struggled his way toward Vereesa's prone form. At first Rhonin wondered if he had imagined the
groan—the ranger looked completely lifeless—but then Vereesa repeated it.
“She's—she's alive, Falstad!”
“Aye, you can tell that from her moaning, I'll bet! Of course she's alive! Quick, though! How does she
fare?”
“Hold on . . .” Rhonin cautiously turned the elf over, studying her face, her head, and her body. She had
been bruised in some places and her arm bore stains of blood, but otherwise she seemed in as good a
shape as either of her companions.
While he cautiously held her head up to study a bruise at the top, Vereesa's eyes fluttered open.
“R-Rhon—”
“Yes, it's me. Take it easy. I think you got struck hard on the head.”
“Remember . . . remember that—” The ranger closed her eyes for a moment—then suddenly sat up,
eyes flaring wide, mouth open in horror.“The ceiling! The ceiling! It is falling in on us!”
“No!” He took hold of her. “No, Vereesa! We're safe! We're safe. . . .”
“But the cavern ceiling . . .” The elf 's expression relaxed. “No, we are not in the cave any longer . . . but
wherearewe, Rhonin? How did we get here? How did we survive in the first place?”
“You remember the shield that saved us from the golem? After the monster destroyed itself, the shield
held up, even when the ceiling collapsed. Its sphere of protection shrank, but it still held up enough to
keep us from being crushed to death.”
“Falstad! Is he—”
The dwarf came up on her other side. “'Tis all of us he's saved, my elven lady. Saved but dropped us off
in the middle of nowhere!”
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