25th Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY

Far side of the Aerie Lake, The Pomarj

I've got nothing!

Cygnus' hand reflexively reached for the remaining scroll stuck in his loincloth, even knowing that it contained nothing that could possibly save him against whatever incantation Lamonsten was about to hurl at him.

Lamonsten continued to cast, but his movements suddenly seemed much faster to Cygnus.

He's hasted himself!

Scarcely had the thought crossed the Aardian mage's mind when he saw five magic missiles leave Lamonsten's hand.

But they were not aimed at him.

Cygnus watched as the streaks of white light shot almost straight downwards and slightly to Lamonsten's left, where they abruptly vanished a few feet above the pier.

A cry of pain issued from seemingly empty air. It was followed by a dull thud.

Unru! Cygnus realized. Lamonsten's detected him!

He balled his fists in frustration. Cygnus did not have one single spell left in his head; not even a cantrip. He had no weapons; only the scroll now clutched tightly in his hand. The scroll containing a spell that Cygnus technically did not have the training to cast.

I've got no choice, he thought. I've got to try and grab him with the telekinesis and pray I can hold it until someone else can finish him off.

As he began to unfurl the parchment, Cygnus caught a glimpse of Argo climbing up a rigging line with Scurvy John in pursuit.

When he glanced back at Lamonsten, he saw that the Slave Lord wizard was casting again, and this time Cygnus was very definitely his target.

There was suddenly a loud hissing to his right.

Cygnus whirled. Crouched only a few feet away was one of the giant weasels that Elrohir, Aslan and Nesco had battled back in Highport. Cygnus had seen a blanket in Icar's quarters that had been made from the hide of one of these creatures and had dearly hoped he'd never have to face a live one.

The dire rodent's tan, triangular head swung towards Cygnus as it sniffed the air. The creature's beady black eyes focused on him and the creature hissed again menacingly.

The creature's back legs tensed. It was getting ready to spring, and Cygnus knew it would knock him right into the lake if it hit him.

Time seemed to slow down for the Aardian mage. He felt the same peculiar sensation that he had back in the Hall of Pillars, while battling Wimpell Frump.

Real or not?

He couldn't tell. The dire weasel certainly looked and sounded real enough. Just because Lamonsten was an illusionist didn't mean he couldn't conjure up a creature like this. It'd be the perfect trick, in fact.

Cygnus didn't use summoning spells. Part Hew had never taught him any, and he'd never bothered to learn any later on. Watching other wizards demonstrate them in magical performances, they had seemed ungainly to cast. The arm movements were slow and cumbersome, and the small bag and candle needed were just more foci that could be lost or-

Foci?

He never even had time to make a conscious decision as the weasel attacked. That portion of Cygnus' brain that possessed the ability to detect and manipulate the arcane energies known as mana had somehow done it for him.

Cygnus dismissed the creature as unreal a split-second before its claws reached him. The weasel's image seemed to peel up and away before evaporating into the empty air.

It was only after the fact, as his conscious mind caught up with his unconscious one, that Cygnus realized that Lamonsten had not been holding or a bag or candle in his hand when he had cast his latest spell.

The position of his fingers however, had been just right to be holding a small piece of woolen fleece.

"Save your illusions, Lazy!" Cygnus shouted at his foe. "I'm onto them!"

He began to read from the scroll. The magic-user kept all his attention on what he was doing. He knew Lamonsten would surely cast another spell as quickly as he could, and even if it was another illusion there was no guarantee that Cygnus would be able to disbelieve it again.

His fingers were trembling so badly that the scroll shook in his hands, making it even harder for Cygnus to concentrate on the magical symbols inscribed on it. But he managed it and as he finished, still unsure of whether it would work correctly; or at all, Cygnus looked up at Lamonsten to fix the target in his mind for the discharge.

But Cygnus couldn't help noticing other things in his peripheral vision as he did so.

He could no longer see either Argo or Scurvy John.

But he did see his team leader.

Locked in what looked like an embrace with the dark elf Edralve, Elrohir staggered towards the edge of the pier and leapt off.

In an instant, Cygnus realized what had happened. His friend would never do such a thing.

Unless he was already mortally wounded and determined to take his enemy down with him.

That same instant had not yet passed when Cygnus knew what he had to do.

He was not prepared for the pain.

In one second, Cygnus' heart had leapt in his chest as he watched Elrohir stop dead in the air, successfully caught in his telekinetic grip. But in the next, before the mage's eyes could follow the progress of the drow still hurtling down and away towards the lake's surface, his entire left arm, already extended out in the casting, suddenly felt like it was on fire.

Cygnus gasped. It felt like a giant was trying to press his arm down. It felt like he was literally holding Elrohir up only by his own mortal strength.

Something had indeed gone wrong with the scroll reading. Cygnus knew enough to know the spell wasn't supposed to affect him this way.

And as his arm involuntarily began to drop, he saw Elrohir's form begin to drop as well.

No!

Exerting all his strength, both mentally and physically, Cygnus held onto the ranger.

He now saw that Elrohir was no longer moving.

By the All-Father, no!

There wasn't time for tears. Contracting his arm very slightly, Cygnus began to slowly move Elrohir back towards the dock. He could use all of the spell's energy up in one burst and hurl his friend onto dry land, but in the unlikely event the ranger was still alive, the landing would surely kill him. Even know, Cygnus could see the blood dripping from the ranger's stomach.

Then he remembered Lamonsten.

The illusionist, a broad smile on his face, was casting again.

What a pitiful excuse for a wizard, Lamonsten thought as he began uttering the magic words and evoking the needed gestures to tap the power arcane once more.

If the arrogant fool thought he was immune to all illusions, then Lamonsten would simply mix in just enough reality into his next one to make the point moot.

He could feel the energy flowing through him- energy that Lamonsten was tapping from the place where all shadows lay- energy that was infusing and mixing with both illusion and evocation.

The idiot Cygnus was still standing still, concentrating on his telekinesis. Lamonsten had spared only the briefest of glances at Elrohir's still form, and at Edralve screaming in the water as she was attacked by lacedons. Neither mattered to him.

A tiny, glowing orange sphere- no larger than a pea- materialized in the air in front of the illusionist. Lamonsten could just make out the miniscule shadows swirling in and around it.

Disbelieve this, he thought with a sadistic laugh as he hurled the shadow fireball towards his target with a mental nudge.

He saw Cygnus lock eyes with him as Lamonsten's fiery sphere hurled towards him.

Then Cygnus made an odd gesture with his left arm. He curved it inwards swung it to his right in kind of a circular motion.

And in the next instant he was engulfed in the explosion of the shadow fireball.

Lamonsten began to laugh as he watched the Furyondan mage crumple to the grass, his skin blistered and burned.

But the laugh died in his throat as he saw the shadow out of the corner of his eye.

He whirled around just in time to see a large object come out of its circular arc and hurl directly at him.

It was a body.

It was the body of the ranger Elrohir.

Lamonsten shrieked and tried to dodge, but the figure slammed into him. Lamonsten felt the railing of the Water Dragon splinter and give way beneath him as the impact pushed him over the edge of the deck and out into space.

Ajakstu was always warning me to keep a feather fall in mind at all times, was Lamonsten's last thought before his head struck the wooden dock.

I should have listen-