* * *
Her brother complained of vile whisperings when he entered the Queen's Labyrinth. He said that sometimes he could hear them quite clearly, but it was even worse when he couldn't. He didn't understand what they meant when they were clear, but the meaning of the low sussurations blotted his mind. He hated it, and he avoided the place of his hate.
Maliar scowled as the insane kobold battered at Cirig. She didn't have that luxury of Mithiar's. The crystals were much too important - could be used for so much in her work - to be left alone. It didn't matter that the mistress of this place was contemptuous of her - what would Morganna care if she removed a few crystals? The witch seemed to have other plans on her mind.
The elf sighed as the kobold was successfully put down. People seemed to blame the siabra for all the evil of the world. She dearly wished she could orchestrate something so broad and sweeping as what Morganna seemed to be doing.
It would perhaps have saved a lot of grief if Maliar had gone with her first instinct of avoiding the Dark Tower. Morganna was a vindictive woman, and Maliar had foiled her revenge against Clovis all those years ago. It didn't particularly matter that it was an accident - Maliar had kept the Frankish king alive longer than he should have lived.
An enraged shar charged past Cirig and swung wildly at her. Her bladeturn shattered, and she raised her staff to block his next blow. Cirig, the cursed firbolg, fingered his sword but made no move to help her. Ambaratodil leapt to her aid, of course, but it was doubtful if her dear friend could destroy such a creature alone. They had no chance if the shar remained focussed on her.
She slammed her staff into the shar's thick skull and glared over its shoulder. If Cirig wouldn't help her willingly, then she would command him. Glamour rose in her and reached for the familiar places in his mind, where his thrall-bond had existed long ago. "Help me!"
The firbolg snarled and shook his head. Surely he must feel what she was trying to do-
"I'll take you for thrall before he kills me, you bedamned firbolg!" She narrowly avoided the shar's fist, hissing in pain as its claws cut across her face. The underhill shattered one of its kneecaps with a well-placed kick. Finally, finally, Cirig stepped in to help her, though he cursed all the while. Let the filth whine, so long as she survived this.
Maliar stepped back from the fray, preparing to withdraw her glamour from Cirig's mind-
Then collapsed bonelessly as a shar stepped out of the shadows behind her and struck her just-so on the head. His companion had already broken the bladeturn and his curious new thoughts knew exactly where and how hard a strike should be to knock an elf unconscious. He smiled chillingly, revelling in the pleasure of his goddess.
When Maliar hit the ground, her link to Ambaratodil was severed. The underhill cried out and vanished; small pieces of shar flesh dropped to the floor. Cirig was left alone with the two fanatical shar.
* * *
Blackthorn woke quickly, well-trained in banishing unconsciousness. A proper thrall had to be up at a moment's notice, ready to serve their master. Poor Lady Lasaiena had appreciated it most greatly when the taller elf was there to hold her as she mourned for her lost love.
She sighed and rolled over, aching. If only Lasaiena had taken her along to Albion, or simply given her back to the Court. She was too tall to pass for human, though, and Lady Lasaiena was a kind mistress. The girl had decided to free her, not understanding that she couldn't. When she finally did understand the nature of Blackthorn's thrall-bond, she developed another way to free her.
So the elven enchantress was thrall to a firbolg. Not just any firbolg, but Isliffell's old bondservant.
She sat up with nary a groan and looked around. Oh!
Master Cirig lay bruised and bloody on the cave floor. She hurried over to him and shook him gently. The old firbolg could heal himself and he became most irate if she suggested he should save his power and let her tend to his wounds. Still, he did hold her bond and she would serve him faithfully.
A good thrall always served faithfully.
The End