Free Demon Lord IV - Lord of Shadows by T C Southwell

chattering. The last thing he
remembered was raising the ward, and he realised that he must have
passed out again from exhaustion. Why had Bane not dragged him into
the shelter and kept him warm as he had done before? Dread shivered
his insides as he struggled to sit up, his stiff limbs
protesting.
    The ward
towered over him, two hundred feet high, or a hundred and ninety at
least, since it would have settled back a bit. He remembered his
triumph as it had risen the last few feet, just before he had
blacked out. The rim of blue fire blazed, holding the ward aloft,
as it would until it was activated. He rolled over and got to his
hands and knees, his limbs shaking with weakness and cold. Crawling
into the lee of the wall, he fumbled in the pack for some water.
Bane was nowhere to be seen, and cold dread tightened on his heart.
Had Bane abandoned him, or left to do something else and fallen
foul of Vorkon?
    Sipping the
freezing water, he gazed around, his heart pounding. A glance at
the glowing clouds found them to be brightest just above the
horizon, so the sun was on its way down. He had been unconscious
for only a few hours. He shivered. The prospect of spending a night
alone in the pitch black cold sent chills through him. He wanted to
scream for help, but no one would hear him. How would he survive
the night, with nothing to warm him? There was no fire, and no wood
to make one.
    Perhaps he
could warm the stone as Bane had done. He had not tried it before.
Laying his hand on the rock, he channelled the blue power into it,
letting it flow out of him with as little effort as possible, since
he was already so tired. Several minutes passed with no warmth from
the stone, then, as he was about to give up, he detected the
faintest rise in temperature. It was working, but with far more
effort on his part than it had taken on Bane's. Perhaps too much.
He needed warmth, though. Without it he would die.
     
    Shrea looked
up from the fire that she had built in the cave, glad that she had
brought oil soaked wood in anticipation of her need for warmth when
she had learnt of her destination. The sixth ward was chiselled
into the cave wall a few paces away, blue powder packed into its
grooves, ready for activation. The ward was linked to a smooth grey
stone at the bottom of the well of water at the back of the cave,
warmed by the heat of the earth and reeking of sulphur. The stone
would have to be shattered before the ward could be broken, if
anyone ever tried. First, however, they would have to retrieve the
stone, and the well appeared to be deep. Now she waited, tending
her fire and heating tea from her supplies. Only when the seventh
ward had been activated could she activate the sixth.
    The sound that
had made her look up came again. A scuffling and scraping, like
rocks breaking and falling. She stood up, pulling her coat around
her and glancing at the ward. Rocks did occasionally break off the
mountain and fall of their own accord, loosened by the changes in
temperature and the ceaseless, eroding wind that whistled through
the crags. It could also be something or someone climbing the steep
slopes, however. Perhaps a mountain goat, if she was lucky, but if
it was one of Vorkon's minions, he must not discover the ward. It
seemed unlikely that one such would be out here on this remote,
bleak mountain, but she could not afford to take any chances.
    Vorkon would
have instructed his minions to seek out blue mages, and perhaps one
had sensed her presence. Her powers of illusion were weak, but
sufficient to cover the ward with a glamour. She whispered the
spell, accompanied by the complex, fluid hand movements that aided
its casting. The glamour formed, covering the ward with an illusion
of stone. Satisfied that it was hidden, she crept to the cave
entrance and peered out into the freezing wind and sleeting black
snow.
    Further down
the slope, a huge, earthen form moved across the rocks, its six
long arms gripping the crags and hauling it up