Bal-Simba paced the great stone hall like a restless bear. Now and again he paused to peer over the shoulder of one of the Watchers.
“Anything?” he asked the head of the Watch for the dozenth time that morning.
“Nothing, Lord. No sign of anything out of the ordinary.”
“Thank you.” The wizard resumed pacing. The watcher stared into the crystal again and then frowned.
“Wait, Lord! There is something now.” Bal-Simba whirled and rushed to his side.
“It’s faint. Very faint, but there is something around the edges . . . No, now it’s getting stronger.” The Watcher looked up at Bal-Simba, awed. “Lord, there are indications of new magic in the city of Night itself!”
“What is it?”
“I do not know, Lord. Considering the distance and the masking spells it’s a wonder that we can pick up anything at all. Whatever is happening there must be extremely strong.”
“Hai Sparrow!” Bal-Simba roared. “You spread your wings, eh? Well fly, Sparrow, fly. And we will do some flying of our own.” He motioned to Arianne who was sitting nearby. “Sound the alert. We will make what use we can of the opportunity our Sparrow gives us.”
Again the dragons rose from their roosts in the Capital, formed into echelons and climbed away to the south. Again the Dragon Leader reviewed his instructions. A reconnaissance in force over the Freshened Sea, they told him. Scout to the South until you meet resistance. Well, he thought. We’ll see just how far south we can go. And then perhaps we’ll go a little further. He tested his bowstring grimly.
In their dark towers above the City of Night, the magicians of the League flew to arms. Spells pushed upon them from a hundred directions, elemental and relentless. In the harbor ships stirred uneasily as the waters tossed them.
“Get underway immediately,” the Shadow Captain ordered, scowling at the sky. Most of the crew was still aboard the Tiger Moth and a mooring is the worst place for a ship to be in a time of danger.
Under the lash of the captain’s voice the crew rushed to their stations. Hawsers were quickly cast off and two hands scrambled for the rigging. The oars were broken out and fitted into the locks. The crew hastily arranged themselves with an even number on each side. The captain saw the result and scowled again. Half the benches were empty, but it would have to do. With the mate beating time and the Shadow Warriors pulling for all they were worth, the Tiger Moth threaded its way through the clutter of ships and made for the breakwater gate and the open sea.
High in the watchtower overlooking the sea gate, a brown-robed mage threw back his arms and began his incantation. As the spell took shape in the plenum beyond human senses, a certain configuration of forces appeared. It was only a small part of the spell, but a lurking worm sensed it and battened onto that configuration. The worm’s own spell twisted the conjuration out of its intended shape and the wizard screamed as he felt the spell writhe away from him and into a new and dangerous direction. The last thing he saw was a blinding, searing flash as the room exploded around him. His fellows, those who were not too close, saw the top of a black tower disappear in an incandescent blast.
The rest of the tower slumped like a child’s sand castle built over-high and toppled into the bay. A huge block of hewed basalt crashed through the Tiger Moth just aft of the mast, breaking her back and bringing a tangle of rigging down on the poop where the Shadow Captain stood.
Impelled by the force of the block the Tiger Moth plunged beneath the cold black water. Only a few pieces of wood and rigging floated up.
The worm fed on the new power and spawned several copies of itself to lurk in the unimaginable spaces of magic and feed in turn when the opportunity arose.
“Master, our spells weaken!” the sweating wizard cried. With a curse Toth-Set-Ra strode to the lectern where the man had been conjuring and shoved him roughly aside. Quickly he scanned the grimore’s page, creating the spell anew, and scowled at the result. What should have been bright and shining was wan and gray. Angrily he reached out for more power, but instead of the expected strong, steady flow he found only a wavering rivulet.