moment, Ryld thought his ruse wasn't going to work. The standard in his hands was ancient and rusted, the pennant long since rotted away. But the officer seemed to see it as it once had been. Immediately, the ghost pulled up its mount. Fully corporeal, the dead man stared down at Ryld. Its horse mirrored the ghost's appre-hension as it flared its nostrils and - perhaps catching scent of a dragon that was long-since dead in Ryld's time - whinnied nervously.
The undead officer's eyes narrowed, however, as it glanced be-tween Ryld and Halisstra.
"You aren't soldiers," the ghost said. "You're not even human."
"We're drow," Ryld said quickly, silently praying that his race had not been at war with those humans in their day. "Dark elves from the Realms Belowwho have come to fight beside Lord Velar."
"You're too late. Look around you. Lord Velar's army is defeated. The dragons . . ."
The ghost shuddered, unable to go on.
"Yes, I know." Ryld raised his left hand, drawing the officer's eye to the dragon-shaped ring of Melee-Magthere on his finger. "I am quite familiar with dragons, and I know how terrible a weapon they can be. I have knowledge that can help Lord Velar defeat them - if I can reach him in time. Loan me your horse, and this defeat may yet be turned into a victory."
Behind Ryld, Halisstra stood shivering, her arms tucked tight to her chest.
The officer gave one last nervous glance over his shoulder, then swung down out of the saddle.
"Take her," the apparition said, thrusting the reins into Ryld's hand. The ghost drew its sword and turned back toward the direc-tion from which it had ridden. " 'Better to die proud than live in shame,' " it said, reciting the words like a quote.
The ghost officer strode away, dissolving into a swirl of mist amidst the thickly falling snow.
The horse, however, remained. As it shifted its weight, its legs ploughed a furrow in the snow. Reaching up to stroke its neck and steady it, Ryld found that he could smell the sweat and dust that clung to its hair. The animal's body gave off a welcome heat - one that Halisstra, shivering violently, could use to stay alive.
"Can you ride it?" he asked her - a bit belatedly, he realized.
Halisstra gave a shiver that might have been a nod.
"I've r-r-ridden lizards. This beast sh-shouldn't b-b-be any more d-difficult. Wh-what is it?"
"It's called a horse. I saw one for sale in the Bazaar in Menzober-ranzan a few years ago. Heard it fetched a pretty penny but only lived a couple days," he said, then realized again that time was of the essence. "Sit in the saddle, and I'll - "
A wave of pain flowed through Ryld's gut, forcing him to gasp.
Halisstra gave him a worried look.
Ryld, irritated by his lack of control, forced the pain out of his awareness. He gave Halisstra a tight smile as he handed her the reins.
"You ride," he said, "and I'll hold on, levitating behind. The ani-mal will be able to move faster that way. With luck, we'll reach the forest and make contact with the priestesses before the spell you cast on me runs out."
"Not luck," Halisstra chastised. "With the b-blessing of the g-g-goddess."
She gave him a brief kiss - with lips that seemed as cold as those of the dead - then she climbed, still shivering, into the saddle.
Chapter Thirty-five
An instant before the demon reached Pharaun, the spell activated, and an enormous glowing hand interposed itself between them. The hand slammed into the demon, smashing it down against the deck and dragging it across the bone-white boards away from Pharaun. Squeaking with fury, the demon tried to squirm free, but the magical hand was too strong for it.
As the uridezu struggled, unable to move, Pharaun cautiously approached and grasped the two ends of the broken chain. Holding them together, he cast a cantrip, glad that he had been forced to use that form of binding. A pentagram, once broken, had to be redrawn entirely, but a chain used in a binding spell could always be restored with a simple mending - assuming one had the magic to actually restrain the demon, first.
The instant the chain mended itself, Pharaun stepped back and dispelled the magic hand. The demon leaped to its feet, eyes slitted with fury. As it yanked, futilely, on the chain, Pharaun turned to look for Quenthel and Jeggred. He spotted them a moment later - they'd managed to escape from the