Two men stood on either side of the Queen. To her right was a human, whom Pug took to be General Fadawah. There was nothing soft in his features or demeanor. He looked as if carved from unyielding stone. His head was shaved, save for a single topknot of hair gathered together and allowed to fall down his back. His face was scarred, and Pug recognized the marks; they had been described to him by those who had faced the moredhel outlaw chieftain Murad, when Prince Arutha had quested after the Silverthorn plant that he needed to save his betrothed’s life.
At the Queen’s other hand a robed figure stood, a Pantathian to outward appearance. Pug could detect no features beneath the creature’s hood. Pug gently sent energies down to the ship, attempting to detect any counter-measures. There was a flow of communication between the ship and other agents, near and far away. And there were detection spells, which he easily avoided.
That made him suspicious and he sought to investigate behind those spells. As he suspected, there was a second array of wards, cleverly masked by the clumsy detection spells, and he had been close to activating them.
He studied his enemy’s defenses and made ready his attack.
Pug gathered his energies, determined to blast this ship from existence. He would deal with the other ships and the serpent priests who rode them after disposing of the Queen. As energy gathered around him, Pug sensed probing energies of an alien nature, from an unknown source.
Suddenly those on the ship below were running and pointing. A handful of robed figures appeared upon the decks and began incanting wards of protection.
But they were too late, as Pug unleashed a tremendous blast of mystic energy, enough to ignite the entire ship in a funeral pyre. A crimson ball of fire exploded from his fingertips, hurling like a comet of death at the Emerald Queen’s ship. The explosion was deafening and blinding, and as it ignited, Pug suddenly sensed his mistake.
‘Flee!’ he sent to Macros and Miranda. ‘It’s a trap!’
The bolt of energy encountered a counterspell, one woven into the very fabric of the ship itself. Weeks of execution had been involved in this, the most subtle thing the Pantathians had undertaken since Pug’s first encounter with them years before. The cloth in the sails, the tar in the deck, the nails in the hull, and the wood of the spars - all had been imbued with this countermagic. And the wards of detection and the incanting of the Pantathian priests had been nothing more than masks to hide the tell-tale traces of this subtle magic.
Pug’s defenses were hardly in place when his own magic was turned back upon him. The fireball ran back up its previous course, seeking its source. Furious energies exploded around him, blinding and deafening him, rendering him near-senseless. Reflexes took over, and he attempted to put distance between himself and the ship.
Red flames consumed Pug, and only his own incredible power and instinct kept him from being incinerated in an instant.
Then those upon the ship unleashed their own attacks, and Pug suffered.
A presence manifested itself to Pug as he struggled to avoid the next wave of pain. ‘Puny mage! Do you think we were unaware of your pitiful scheming? You are but a pawn in a game so much more vast than any you can imagine. Now die!’
At that instant, Pug saw the face of his true enemy. Where the Emerald Queen had sat, the illusion was pierced. A demon crouched upon the golden throne under the canopy athwart the galley. Mystic chains went from his taloned hand to magic collars around the necks of the Pantathian and General Fadawah. They were clearly under the demon’s control and both looked upward helplessly.
‘I am Jakan, and I shall rule here!’
Agony raced through every fiber of Pug’s being as his protective wards were stripped away from him. The robes on his body burst into flames and his hair and skin began to burn. A scream erupted from lungs scorched and blistered and his eyes shriveled in his head. He struggled to escape, but the pain was overwhelming, and he lost all control. His mind fled from the pain, and as he felt darkness closing around him, he also felt himself tumbling through the air.
Then a pair of arms grabbed him, and a groan of agony came from Pug as he was carried aloft, every movement an agony for him. Macros sent word to Miranda: ‘Get us out of here now!’
Even the chilled air burned his flaming skin as Pug lapsed into darkness.
‘Will he live?’ asked Miranda, fear etched into her features. ‘I don’t know,’ answered Tathar.
Dominic and Nathan looked on in horror at the thing that had been Pug. His body was smoking and charred, and in several places white bone showed through. Acaila said, ‘It’s a miracle he lives still.’
Nakor pushed through and said, ‘life is strong in this man. It holds strongly here. We must help it.’
Nakor put his hands above his head a moment, then incanted. He placed his hands upon Pug’s chest, over his heart, and said, ‘I need whatever strength you can spare.’
Instantly the Spellweavers of Elvandar began to spin their magic. Dominic lent his skills, using a spell of healing, the most powerful he knew.