Free Shadowstorm by Kemp Paul S

Shadovar presence in Selgaunt would pose a threat to their continued operations.
    “As I said,” the young woman continued, trying to appear casual, “Aurgloroasa is intrigued.”
    Mirabeta eyed the woman. “My time is limited. Make your demands known.”
    “Very well. Free rein entirely in Daerlun and Urlamspyr.”
    Mirabeta scoffed and countered. “Daerlun only. It is as much Cormyrean as Sembian. And the Cult is to be entirely out of Ordulin.”
    The young woman leaned back in her chair and regarded Mirabeta through the eyeholes of her mask. “Saerloon, Urlamspyr, and Selgaunt remain as ever they were?”
    Mirabeta nodded. “If your agents are caught there, they will be punished.”
    The young woman considered, and said, “Done, Overmistress. Be assured that Aurgloroasa will hold you to your bargain.”
    “And I to hers,” Mirabeta answered. “Now, where is my assistance?”
    The current state of affairs flashed through the overmistress’s mind. Forrin and his forces were already marching on Saerb. She had received word from Lady Merelith that the muster in Saerloon was almost complete. Merelith’s mages had perfected a stratagem to bring the battle to Selgaunt quickly, and Mirabeta
    wanted to capitalize on it. But the Selgauntan alliance with the Shadovar concerned her. She could not afford a prolonged siege. If she could put a dragon at Saerloon’s disposal, the siege of Selgaunt would be short indeed.
    The young woman gestured at Vendem. “You have met your assistance. Overmistress Mirabeta Selkirk, meet Vendemniharan, birthed of Venomindhar and sired by Venominhandar. He will remain in service to you for one month.”
    Mirabeta stifled a gasp at the mention of Venomindhar and Venominhandar. The destruction the two greens had wreaked in Sembia generations earlier was legend. She controlled her shock and reminded herself that she wielded power in Sembia. She spoke to the dragon as she would any underling.
    “You will journey to Saerloon. There, you will answer to Lady Merelith and her commanders as they lay siege to Selgaunt. She will report back to me.”
    The dragon hefted the decanter of wine and drained it all in one long gulp. He wiped his mouth and said, “Saerloon is a long journey from here even in my natural form, woman.”
    “Overmistress,” Mirabeta corrected him. “And I will arrange for your transport.”
     ŚŠŚ ŚŠŚŚŠŚ ŚŠŚ
    The howl of the wind and the screams of the damned fell away. Long moments passed in darkness. Cale felt a sensation of rapid motion, then a sudden stop. The biting cold vanished, replaced by fetid warmth. The darkness of the archfiend’s breath dispersed and Cale, Magadon, and Riven materialized in shadow, standing in stagnant, knee-deep water and stinking mud.
    Broad-leafed trees and twisted shrubs poked out of the mire to claw their way into a shadowy sky. Malformed creatures, startled at the trio’s sudden appearance, shrieked and hissed at them from the dimness of their dens. High above, ungraceful
    forms wheeled about on awkward wings in the black, starless sky. Periodic flashes of dim, vermillion light backlit the clouds and cast the sky in leering contrast. A thin brownish fog floated around them, ghostly and full of secrets. The moist air, rife with the stink of decay, sank into their clothes. So, too, did the shadows.
    Cale recognized the location—his adopted home, the Plane of Shadow. The familiar darkness, unique to the Plane, strengthened him, and he tried to pass that strength through his arms to Magadon.
    “Mags?”
    “I am all right,” Magadon said, and disentangled himself from Cale. The mindmage looked haggard and his clothes hung from him in tatters. Blood, his own, slicked him. The memory of horror haunted his colorless eyes. Cale remembered how the mindmage had looked moments earlier—a pile of gore steaming on Cania’s ice.
    “You look at me like a broken thing,” Magadon said, and his voice cracked.
    Cale shook his head,