The golden bands constricted, digging painfully into Rhys’ arms, pinning his arms against his body and cutting off the circulation to his legs. Mina tried pulling and tugging on the bands with all her might, but her might was that of a child, not a god. Atta quivered in fury and continued to lunge at Krell.

Krell leered at Nightshade and jabbed at him with the spear. Laughing to see the kender cringe and the dog try to bite him, Krell stood over Mina, who was still tugging on Rhys’ bands. Krell watched her with amusement.

“Never a god around when you need one, eh, Monk?” Krell jeered. He reached out with his index finger and, roaring with laughter, poked Rhys in the chest.

Rhys tottered. With his legs and arms bound, he could not keep his balance. Krell poked him again, harder this time, and Rhys went over backward. He had no way to break his fall and he landed hard, striking his head on the stone floor. Pain flared. Bright light burst behind his eyes.

He felt himself spiraling downward into unconsciousness and he fought against it, but when he hit bottom, darkness closed over him.

Nightshade lost his grip on Atta. The enraged dog charged out from beneath the bench and went for Krell’s throat. Using the bone bracer on his forearm, Krell backhanded her across the muzzle. She slumped down beside Rhys and lay there, shaking her head, dazed. At least she was still breathing. Nightshade could see her ribs move. He couldn’t say as much for Rhys.

Mina was on the floor beside him, shaking him and begging him wake up. Rhys’ eyes were closed. He lay quite still.

Krell stood over Mina. He had tossed the bone spear onto the floor, and he flourished another iron ball in his hand. “Are you ready to come with me now?”

“No,” Mina cried, raising her hand to ward him off. “Go away! Please go away!”

“I don’t want to go away,” said Krell. He was enjoying this. “I want to play catch. Catch the ball, little girl!”

He threw the iron ball at Mina. The ball struck her on the chest. Golden coils whipped out, fast as slithering snakes, and wrapped around her arms and legs. Mina lay helpless on the floor, staring up at Krell with terror-filled eyes.

“Mina, you’re a god!” Nightshade cried. “The magic won’t work on you! Get up!”

Krell whipped around to glare at the kender, who shrank down as small as he could manage, using the bench as cover.

Mina either didn’t hear him or, more likely, she didn’t believe him. She lay on the floor, sobbing.

“A god! Hah!” Krell leered at her, as she screamed in terror and tried pathetically to wriggle away from him. “You’re nothing but a sniveling brat.”

Nightshade heaved a resigned sigh. “I guess it’s up to me. I’ll bet this is the first time in the history of the world a kender had to rescue a god.”

“We’ll leave in a moment,” Krell said to Mina. “First I have a monk to kill.”

Krell broke off another bone spear and stood over Rhys. “Wake up,” he ordered, jabbing Rhys in the ribs with the spear. “It’s no fun killing someone who’s unconscious. I want you to see this coming. Wake up!” He jabbed Rhys again. Blood stained the orange robes.

Nightshade wiped away a trickle of sweat that was rolling down his neck and then, stretching forth his sweat-damp fingers in Krell’s direction, the kender began to softly sing.

“You’re growing tired. You cannot smile.

You feel as though you’ve walked a mile.

Your muscles ache.

You start to shake.

And very soon you’ll start to quake.

And as you ease down to your knees now’s the time

I end my rhyme, you great big sleaze.”

The “sleaze” term wasn’t really part of the mystical spell, but Nightshade added the word because it rhymed and was expressive of his feelings. His chant had been interrupted a couple of times when smoke went down his windpipe and he had to cough, and he worried this might ruin the spell. He waited a tense moment as nothing happened, and then he felt the magic. The magic came from the water and seeped through his shoes. The magic came from the smoke and he breathed it in. The magic came from the stone, and it was cold and made him shiver. The magic came from the fire, and it was warm and exciting.

When all the parts of the magic had mixed together, Nightshade cast his spell.

A ray of dark light shot from his fingers.

This was Nightshade’s favorite part-the ray of dark light. He liked it because there could be no such thing as “dark” light. But that was how the spell was named, or so his mother had told him when she taught it to him. And, in point of fact, the light wasn’t really dark. It was a purplish light with a white heart. Still Nightshade could see how one might describe it as being a “dark” light. If he hadn’t been so worried about Rhys and Atta, he would have really enjoyed himself.

The dark light struck Krell in the back, enveloping him in purplish white, and then the light evaporated.

Krell gave a spasmodic jerk and nearly dropped the spear. He shook his helmed head, as though wondering what had come over him, then glared suspiciously at Mina.

She lay where he’d left her, bound in the magical coils. She had quit crying and was staring in wide-eyed amazement at Nightshade.

“Don’t say anything!” Nightshade mouthed. “Please for once, keep your mouth shut!” He crawled back even farther under the bench.

Krell apparently decided he’d been imagining things. He hefted his spear, getting a better grip, preparing to drive it into Rhys’ chest. Nightshade knew then that his spell had failed, and he gnashed his teeth in frustration. He was about to hurl his own small body at Krell in what would probably be a fatal attempt to knock him down, when Krell suddenly swayed on his feet. He took a few staggering steps. The bone spear slipped from his hand.

“That’s it!” Nightshade cried gleefully. “You’re feeling tired. Really, really tired. And that armor is really, really heavy…”

Krell sagged to his knees. He tried to stand up again, but the bone armor weighed him down, and he toppled to the floor. Encased in the bone armor, he lay helpless on his back, feebly flapping his arms and legs like an overturned turtle.

Nightshade crawled out from his hiding place. He didn’t have much time. The spell would not last long.

“Help!” he shouted, coughing in the smoke. “Help me! I need help! Rhys is hurt! Abbot! Someone! Anyone!”

No one came. The priests and the Abbot were out in the street, fighting a battle that was, by the sounds of it, still raging and growing worse. The fire, too, appeared to be spreading, for the chamber was now obscured in smoke, and he could see flames shooting up over the tops of the trees.

Nightshade grabbed hold of the bone spear. Krell was glaring at him from out of the eye sockets of his helm and cursing him roundly. Nightshade searched for a fleshy place he could skewer with the spear, but the bone armor covered every bit of the man’s body. In desperation, Nightshade struck Krell on his helmed head. Krell blinked at the blow and snarled a nasty word and flailed about, trying to grab the kender. Krell was still under the effects of the mystic spell, however, and he was too exhausted to move. He sank back weakly.

Nightshade bashed Krell in the head again, and Krell groaned. The kender hit Krell until he quit groaning and quit moving. Nightshade would have continued hitting Krell except the spear broke. Nightshade eyed him. The kender didn’t think his foe was dead, just knocked senseless, which meant that Krell would come around eventually and when he did, he’d be in an extremely bad mood. Nightshade knelt beside Rhys.

Mina was wriggling about on the floor, trying to claim his attention, but he’d get to her in a minute.

“How did you do that?” Mina demanded. “How did you make that purple light?”