"Not dressed for the weather, Kya?" Athan goaded. The knight's hair yet stood on end from the shock of Mordrayn's lightning bolt. He neared Kestrel's rope-somehow spared by the Protector's holy fire-and a moment later was lost to Kestrel's view. The rope grew taut He was ascending. Corran followed close behind.

"Perhaps this will warm her." Faeril opened her palm to loose a searing ray of light. The beam sped straight toward the archmage. A mere foot away from her, however, it sputtered out.

Mordrayn laughed, a spine-tingling cackle devoid of cheer. "A child's spell!" She swept her dragon arm broadly. "Let me show you how grown-ups play."

A cloud of greenish-yellow gas formed in front of her, rapidly growing until it reached some thirty feet in width and brushed the recess ceiling. The fog's noxious odor left Kestrel nauseated by its proximity-she dreaded its effect on anyone who breathed it directly. Mordrayn curled her red lips into a perfect O and, with a small puff of air, sent the cloud drifting off the ledge toward Kestrel's companions.

Before the gas reached him, Durwyn released an arrow. It was a blind shot, as he couldn't possibly see the archmage clearly with the cloud between them, but it whistled through the air directly at Mordrayn. Like Kestrel's daggers, it struck an unseen barrier before it reached the archmage.

Kestrel again cursed the cult fighter who'd destroyed Loren's Blade. Mundane weapons could not so much as scratch Mordrayn with that barrier in place. She scanned the ledge for something-a sliver of the shattered sapphire, perhaps-some makeshift weapon with a little magic in it that she could use to attack the sorceress.

The memory of another blue shard stirred her thoughts. Borea's Blood. She'd all but forgotten the ice knife from the frozen Rohnglyn in the dwarven dungeons. She withdrew Borea from her beltpouch.

Coughing spasms seized her friends as the foul cloud reached them. Athan's bark came from nearby-he must be close to the top of the rope. Unfortunately, Kestrel wasn't the only one to notice his proximity. Another green ray shot from Mordrayn's talon, disintegrating the rope. Moments later, the clatter of armor sounded below.

Mordrayn chortled. Her glee vanished, however, when Ghleanna's voice rang clearly through the virulent mist. Ozama's boots had spared her from the poisonous fumes.

The archmage cocked her head, listening to the words of the half-elf's spell. "What's this?" she mumbled, frowning in concentration.

Kestrel clutched Borea's Blood, afraid it would slide right out of her sweating palm. If she could penetrate whatever invisible barrier blocked their missiles, the archmage's revealing attire left numerous critical areas vulnerable to attack. Its only useful feature was the stiff leather collar around Mordrayn's neck. Her chest, her stomach, her upper back-all lay exposed. And those heels! Kestrel hoped the woman would trip over them.

Mordrayn apparently recognized Ghleanna's incantation and commenced a counterspell. Kestrel took a deep breath. It was now or never.

She made a running leap at the archmage, knocking her to the ground as she plunged Borea's Blood into her stomach. Mordrayn's eyes widened in shock. Black blood welled out of the wound until the ice knife glowed white, freezing the blood and surrounding tissue. Kestrel yanked the weapon out and prepared to strike again.

Mordrayn, though, recovered more quickly than Kestrel expected. With an inhuman shriek, the archmage raked her enormous dragon claw down Kestrel's face.

Searing pain ripped through the rogue's cheek and neck. Kestrel rolled away, somehow maintaining her grip on Borea's Blood. Within moments, the fire gave way to an icy numbness. She couldn't feel her face. She couldn't lift her hand.

She couldn't move at all.

Mordrayn rose. Kestrel lay helpless as the towering archmage wordlessly drove her stiletto heel through the thief's right palm. As she heard bones crack and saw the heel pierce her hand from front to back, she found herself grateful for the paralysis. At least she couldn't feel Mordrayn's torture.

A sound arrested the cult leader's attention. From what Kestrel could see, the cloud had evaporated. If her ears judged aright, both Athan and Corran now scaled the wall, still trying to gain the ledge.

Another arrow whistled through the air. Mordrayn ignored it-to her detriment. When the shaft embedded itself in the archmage's thigh, Kestrel recognized it as one of the bronze-tipped bolts Durwyn had received from the baelnorn.

Fresh anger distorted Mordrayn's features. She snapped the shaft in half and flung the fletched end aside. The remaining half protruded from her leg, blood oozing around it to streak down the length of the limb. She tried to step forward, but the wounded leg buckled. She flailed to catch herself from falling. "Damn you all!" she screamed. With a wave of her hand, a volley of conjured arrows sailed back at Durwyn.

The archmage might still have her magic, but she was losing her composure. Unfortunately, Kestrel hadn't any means of using that observation to her advantage. She could only hope the others also saw that Mordrayn was unhinged.

Athan at last reached the top of the ledge. He immediately rushed Mordrayn, but pulled back about ten feet away. He tried again to close in, but was once more repelled by an unseen force. The archmage cackled in wicked delight. "You're just longing to touch me, aren't you, darling?"

The sickened look that crossed Athan's face made Kestrel wonder about the extent of the torture he'd suffered at Mordrayn's hands, but the warrior recovered quickly. "Only with dwarven steel."

A cry from Faeril ended the exchange. "Lady of Mysteries! Visit your divine fire upon this creature who corrupted your golden Weave!" At the cleric's summons, a column of fire descended from directly above Mordrayn, enveloping her in flames.

As the sacred blaze seared the onetime communicant, Corran cleared the ledge. He crossed to Kestrel quickly and applied his hands to her torn flesh. His voice wrapped her in a prayer of healing. When he finished, he met her gaze. "I have healed your wounds, but I cannot remove paralysis by laying on hands."

She stared at him hard, willing him to somehow understand her thoughts. Try, Corran. Try for one of your miracles.

He sighed. As if he'd heard her, he closed his eyes and made a second supplication to Tyr. A moment later, Kestrel waggled the fingers of her right hand. She could move once more. The paladin shook his head in amazement. "By Tyr's grace…"

They hadn't time to celebrate. The pillar of holy flames sputtered out, revealing a Mordrayn badly burned but still standing. Running blisters covered her withered skin. Her singed hair, what was left of it, had come unbound and floated wildly about her head. She fixed Faeril with a feral gaze. "You will follow my bidding now, worship at my altar!" The archmage barked out an arcane command.

At first, it appeared that Mordrayn's spell had no effect on the cleric. She merely stared, unblinking, at the archmage. A moment later, Faeril pointed a finger at Athan. "Hold!"

The warrior froze in place, both arms raised in a futile attempt to break his sword through the barrier Mordrayn had established. Kestrel gripped Borea's Blood. She'd penetrated that barrier once-she could do so again.

Durwyn launched another arrow at Mordrayn. The cleric turned on him. "Hold!" He, too, froze where he stood. One hand held his short bow, the other hung suspended in the process of reaching back for another bolt.

The bronze-tipped arrow struck Mordrayn in the shoulder. The archmage, her eyes blazing with the fever of the insane, did not even notice. She wheeled on Corran. "You next!" She raised her dragon claw to shoot a thin red beam of light at him.

The paladin raised his shield, positioning it to shelter both himself and Kestrel. The ray struck the shield squarely and bounced back straight at Mordrayn. "No!" she screeched. The beam hit her in the chest, knocking her to the ground.