Citadels 3 The Shield of Weep Forgotten Realms

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.Ducking inside, they found the tower mostly empty save for the last few members of the fang, who were descending through a trap door.Duras led the way, and Bastun kept watch on the spirits whose howls and whispers echoed as they entered the chamber, eclipsing the entrance.Backing down the stairs, Bastun brought spells to mind, considering one after the other as he thought of a way to stop the maddened ghosts.Duras's footfalls could be heard below, joined by the shouted orders of Thaena and Anilya.Swords and axes cracked against old wood, creating an escape.Passing a small window, Bastun paused to observe the destruction of the wall.Thaena meant to cross it, he realized.The ethran's intentions of reaching the northwest tower were as determined as the spirits' intention to stop them.Looking back to the stairs, the shadows crawled closer and grew louder in their pursuit.Thaena would never make it in time.Steeling himself, he stopped, flexing his hand and steadying his thoughts."You want this?" he yelled at the shadows, pulling his cloak aside and revealing the Breath.They hissed in answer."I give it to you! Take it!"He gripped the handle and drew the blade from his belt, brandishing the weapon at the crowded darkness.Keening wails erupted from the mass, their chainlike tendrils drawing back into the stone.His vision once again was thrust into scenes of the past.Pain lanced through his skull.It was stronger now.The link forged by the Breath between himself and the Shield's history filled his ears with the sounds of soldiers shouting orders and boots pounding down the stairs.Ghostly warriors streamed past him like a cold wind raising gooseflesh on his arms and neck.The shadows became a blurry double image, existing in both the present and the past."Are they repeating the past," he whispered, "or are we?"The Breath blurred as well, trailing behind itself as he continued down the stairs.A ghostly arm followed his own, wielding the artifacts counterpart in the haunting reenactment.The blade itself is haunted, he thought, growing stronger the closer we get, the farther we run.Mystified, he caught his own reflection in a sheet of ice along the wall.There, superimposed over his mask, lay the face of a stranger.An older man with a salt-and-pepper beard, wearing dark blue robes, regarded him with a look of mystified surprise.Too shocked to examine the spirit, he turned and ran, following in the footsteps of the Shield's defenders, caught up in their battle as surely as if he were one of them.He suspected that somehow he might be one of them, the hem of his robes trailing a translucent edge as he neared a pale light below.Tumbling into a room crowded with the images, he reached through them as if they were cobwebs.The nentyarch's soldiers appeared among them, and the battle continued.The shadowy children still approached from behind, but they would not nearthe Breath.The mass of shadows fell in among the ghostly fray, dispersing and joining with the persistent vision.They devoured without prejudice, enveloping defender and attacker alike, losing themselves in the ancient siege.The strain of witnessing past and present pressed on Bastun's mind, increasing the pain behind his eyes.He moved toward the door, squinting through the spirits' flesh toward solid reality, trying to stay focused.A Nar blade slashed toward his throat, and reflexively he pulled back, returning the strike as he thrust the Breath into the phantom soldier.He gasped as the soldier attempted to parry the blow, his sword passing through the Breath with a shimmer of faint light.Bastun stumbled toward the doorway in shock, staring as the soldier was impaled on a pike from behind.He retreated outside.The ground became uneven beneath him, and he fell against a wall of broken stone and rubble.He replaced the Breath in his belt, sighing in relief as the scenes faded and the present reasserted itself in his mind."He saw me," he said in disbelief, repeating the phrase over and over as he turned to assess the climb before him.Pulling himself higher, he found Duras waiting for him several feet up."Take my hand," the warrior said, leaning over the edge of the ruined pile the wall had become.Accepting the offer, Bastun reached the top and stood beside the warrior, still breathless and wide-eyed from the experience.The others made their way to the second guard tower far ahead of the pair.Thaena stood by, staring after them as they climbed over the fallen wall.The fang set their swords and axes to work again, beating at a frozen door in the base of the tower.Syrolf looked little pleased that Bastun had survived, and he sneered before shouting at the berserkers to quicken their strokes.As Duras and Bastun reached them, the group was entering the tower [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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