Return of the Sorceress (20 page)

    T
he shapeshifter and Nearra burst into the cell where Maddoc had imprisoned her. Nearra’s heart raced and she gulped for air, but the shapeshifter appeared not to have been affected in the slightest by the exertion of running from the cavern, through the tunnel, and up all those steps. But then, it wasn’t human, was it?

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“My name is Ophion.” The creature looked around the cell, as if unsure what to do next.

Ophion looked deeply into Nearra’s eyes. “I humbly beg your forgiveness, Mistress. You made me to be a creature of stealth, not of action.”

“Mistress? What are you talking about?
I’m
not your mistress!”

“I wasn’t speaking to you, girl, but rather the spirit that is trapped inside you,” Ophion said. “Your friends will be here soon, so we can’t stay in here. But if I take you out into the hall, I risk Maddoc seeing us.” The shapeshifter pondered a moment longer, looking increasingly indecisive.

“How is it that you knew to take the form of my sister? Is Jirah really one of Maddoc’s servants?”

“One of my gifts is the ability to pluck images out of people’s minds so I can assume the best form to trick them. I can take on the shape of any of your relatives, friends, acquaintances, any animals you’ve ever seen—but that’s not important right now. We have to make our escape!”

“You’ll never get away from Maddoc,” Nearra said. “If you truly want to serve your mistress, you should release me and let me leave with my friends. At least that way Asvoria’s spirit will be out of Maddoc’s reach.”

Nervous sweat beaded on Ophion’s forehead, surprising Nearra. She didn’t think such a creature could do something so human as sweat.

For a moment, she thought the shapeshifter was going to do as she suggested, but then it shook its head. “Your friends have seen what I am capable of, so I will have a difficult time deceiving them with my powers. But Maddoc does not know of my existence. So there is still a good chance that I can trick him.”

As Nearra watched, Ophion’s form shimmered and shrank. It no longer resembled Jirah. Now it looked exactly like Oddvar—if the Theiwar had possessed large blue eyes.

One detail hadn’t changed, though. Ophion’s hand still had talons but because of its new size it could no longer grip her shoulder with them, so it pressed them to her side instead.

“Make no noise or sudden moves,” Ophion said in Oddvar’s voice. Then without another word it led Nearra to the cell door and out into the hallway. She had no choice but to follow.

Ophion didn’t run down the hall, and for that Nearra was grateful. She guessed it didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention. What had it said to Asvoria? It was a creature of stealth. Oddvar wouldn’t run through the keep with her unless it was an emergency, so Ophion wouldn’t either, though it was walking at a faster pace than the dark dwarf usually set.

Their speed could work to her advantage, Nearra thought. While the effectiveness of Ophion’s disguise depended on going unnoticed, her friends had no such limitations. They would keep running as fast as possible, and hopefully would catch up with her soon.

She tried to drag her feet to slow them down even more, but Ophion jabbed his talons into her side, making her yelp with pain.

“Keep moving,” Ophion growled.

As she once again matched his pace, she saw that his gaze kept darting back and forth, as if he were desperately looking for some way of escape. They passed numerous closed doors, but Ophion didn’t slow down, let alone stop to open any of them and see what was inside. Either he already knew or he didn’t care.

“Stop!”

It was Davyn! Nearra looked back over her shoulder and saw Davyn pounding down the hallway toward them. Not far behind him were Catriona and the others. Sindri rode on Ayanti’s back, arms clasped around the waist of the centaur’s human half.

Ophion, of course, had no intention of stopping. Instead, it coiled its arm around her middle as if it had become a serpent, and started to run, pulling her along with it.

Nearra heard a clang as Davyn dropped his knife, and she knew what he would do next. In her mind, she saw him stop running, ready his bow, draw an arrow from his quiver, nock it and—

She heard the twang of his bowstring.

Evidently, Ophion had too, for its back was suddenly covered in armor plating that reminded her of a turtle’s shell. The arrow struck the shell and bounced off without leaving a mark.

“Blast!” Davyn swore, then picked up his hunting knife and started running again.

Ophion and Nearra came to the end of the hall. The entrance
to a flight of stairs lay before them. Ophion pulled her up onto the stairs and Nearra knew this was her chance. She let her legs collapse beneath her—which didn’t take much effort considering how tired she was. She hoped to drag Ophion down, making it stumble. If only she could delay the shapeshifter long enough for her friends to catch up.

But as she began to fall, Ophion’s forms blurred again. No longer did it resemble Oddvar. Now it was a long, sleek, blue-eyed mountain cat with a thick tawny coat. The arm that had encircled her waist became a band of fur, and it shifted and pulled her onto the cat’s back. Ophion continued bounding up the stairs.

Ophion carried her up two flights before exiting into another hallway. It kept running, its large padded paws making no sound on the stone floor. It passed one door, two, then stopped before a third door. Nearra recognized this door. She started to shout a warning to her friends, but a strip of fur-covered flesh wrapped around her mouth, silencing her.

Ophion reached up, its paw becoming a human hand so that it could open the door.

Davyn was still in the lead when they entered the hallway. But though he was certain this was the floor they’d gotten off on, Nearra and the creature that held her captive were nowhere to be seen.

What is that thing, anyway? he wondered. He didn’t remember Maddoc having any servants who could shift form like that. But he’d been away for almost a year. Perhaps Maddoc had recruited or created some new servants in that time.

As Davyn ran, he was struck by a sudden realization. He was within the keep where he had grown up. This used to be his
home
, He doubted he’d ever think of it as home again.

Plenty of time for nostalgia later, he thought. Right now he had to focus on rescuing Nearra.

He saw a door ahead that was cracked open.

He reached the door, threw it open, and dashed inside, knife in hand, ready to plunge it up to the hilt in the chest of Nearra’s abductor.

But the room was empty.

No, he realized. It wasn’t completely empty. A number of blank paintings hung on the walls.

He suddenly had a bad feeling about this room.

He whirled around to warn the others to stay outside, but it was too late. Catriona, Elidor, Ayanti, and Sindri all pushed inside.

“For Paladine’s sake, don’t shut the door!”

But even though none of them were near it, the door suddenly slammed closed.

The paintings began to glow as the chamber came to life.

Across from the chamber, a long arm emerged from the stone wall opposite the door. From the end of the arm sprouted the hand that had shut the Gallery’s door. But then an even stranger thing occurred. A section of stone flowed away from the wall, revealing a young woman that it had covered. The stone contracted and reformed until it resembled a dark dwarf named Oddvar.

Ophion grinned at Nearra. “I trust you’re none the worse for having to go without air for a few moments?”

Nearra glared at the shapeshifter. “I’ve been in that room. It’s a terrible place. If you open the door and release my friends, I’ll go with you and do whatever you want.”

Ophion looked at her for a moment, considering her offer. “You know, I think you just might. But even if I believed you, your friends would never agree to such a deal. No, I’m afraid they’ll
have to remain inside while I help you—and therefore my mistress—escape the keep.”

“I wouldn’t speak so soon if I were you,
brother.”

Nearra and Ophion turned toward the voice. The real Oddvar approached them, accompanied by Drefan, Fyren, and Gifre.

Ophion’s blue eyes narrowed as they came, and Nearra guessed that it was sizing up the situation and calculating its chances for success. Finally, it turned to look at Nearra.

“I’ll be back for you,” it whispered, and then Nearra blinked and the ersatz Oddvar was no more. In his place buzzed a tiny blue-eyed fly. She made a grab for it, but the insect avoided her hand easily and flew off down the hall.

Nearra darted toward the chamber door, intending to open it and free her friends, but before her hand could touch the knob, Oddvar’s fingers wrapped around her wrist. The Theiwar jerked her away from the door.

“I think we’d better speak to Maddoc first before we do anything so rash as attempting to release your friends, don’t you?”

The dark dwarf pulled her down the hallway, the goblins following behind.

“And the being just disappeared?” Maddoc sat up in his bed, curtains pulled back, blankets drawn up to his waist. Before him stood Oddvar and Nearra. The goblins waited out in the hall as befitted their stations, or lack thereof.

Oddvar nodded. “One moment he was standing there, looking like the twin I never had, and the next he was gone.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” the wizard mused. “A teleportation spell wouldn’t be beyond the abilities of one who could change shape. But if this being were an accomplished spellcaster, I doubt it would’ve fled from you. It’s more likely that the creature’s
abilities are confined solely to adopting other forms. It probably transmogrified into something very small to get away without being seen.” Maddoc fixed Nearra with his gaze. “You were standing next to the creature. What did it become?”

Nearra didn’t answer right away, and Maddoc began to think that she had no intention of doing so. But then she said, “A fly.”

Maddoc allowed himself a small smile. If he gloated too much, Nearra might decide to go back to being silent. She’d always been a stubborn, spirited girl, and she’d only become more so during the months since he’d implanted Asvoria’s spirit within her. At the time, she had seemed a perfect choice for the procedure. Now he wondered how he ever could’ve been so foolish as to select someone with so strong a spirit.

“What can you tell me about ‘him’?”

“Its name is Ophion. It first appeared to me in the form of my sister, Jirah.”

“That must mean you remember who Jirah is.”

Nearra nodded. “Some of my memories have returned since my experience in the chamber of paintings.”

Maddoc nodded as if such a revelation was only to be expected, but the truth was he had no idea the Gallery of Despair would have such an effect on her. A wise wizard never admitted ignorance. “Go on.”

“From various things Ophion said, I believe it was one of Asvoria’s servants.”

Another surprise and a most unwelcome one. Maddoc wondered where this shapechanger had come from, but he supposed it didn’t matter. Ophion
was
here and still at large within Cairngorn Keep. Maddoc suspected the shapeshifter would try to free its mistress. That meant he would have to take precautions to see that Ophion didn’t interfere with tonight’s ritual.