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"You won't kill me," the woman called. "You can't."
Her laughter cut across the wind as she lifted the hideous
mask, letting Wingover see her face.
"I don't know what you want," Wingover shouted.
"You know," the woman laughed. "The thing your wiz-
ard had. The thing you brought here. Give it to me!"
Wingover faced Kolanda, trying to hold her gaze,
counting silently. It was only three hundred yards to the
rockfall beyond the bridge. The dwarves should reach it
any moment. Once within that hidden portal, they
might be safe. He didn't know how he knew that, but he
knew.
"You've come too late for that," he shouted. "It's gone."
"Gone? Gone where?"
Above and just beyond the woman and the goblins, a
figure appeared on top of a rock. It was Glenshadow. Bi-
son cloak whipping in the wind, long hair and beard
streaming, he leaned for a moment on his staff, then
stood erect as the staff's crystal cap winked to life. A
clear crimson beacon blinked to life in the darkening
murk.
"They made it," Wingover muttered. "Spellbinder is
beneath the ground."
On the flat top of a sundered stone the wizard Glen-
shadow raised his glowing staff and shouted, "I know
you, Caliban!" His voice carried on the wind like flung
ice, and a brilliant flare of crimson shot out from his staff
toward Kolanda Darkmoor - shot out, and stopped just
short of reaching her, swallowed up in a darkness that
had a voice of its own
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