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giant flinched its head away。 A huge gray hand rose up to catch the drow； who scrambled forward and cut at the colossus's neck。
Dark； thick blood leaped forth and washed Valas into space。 He fell hard onto a rooftop and watched the giant stumble about； clutching at its throat。 After a few steps； the huge thrall fell backward； crushing some unnotlucky hobgoblins that were wandering by。
Gromph was in a vile humor as he floated up the cliff face。 He'd cast light into the foot of Narbondel the same as always； and the world exnotploded into madness。 Ores lunged out of nowhere and attacked his guards。 His own ogre litter…bearers summarily dumped his luxurious connotveyance on the ground and joined in the uprising。
The archmage had sought to strike the undercreatures dead with a spell； but nothing happened。 Someone had conjured a magical dead zone around him。 Either one of the ores was a shaman powerful enough to create such an effect； or； more likely； one of the brutes had stolen a talisnotman from his owner。
However they'd managed it； the beasts were charging； and the spells in Gromph's memory were just odd little rhymes； his robe and cloak； mere flimsy cloth； and his weapons； inert sticks and ornaments。 Well； probably not all of them； but he wasn't reckless enough to stand and experiment while the ores assailed him with their pilfered blades。 Forfeiting his dignotnity； he turned and ran。 The exertion made his chest throb where K'rarza'q had gored him。
When he reached the edge of the plaza； he thought he must have exited the dead zone。 He'd better have； because he could hear the grunting ogres with their long legs catching up behind him。 He turned； pointed a wand； and snarled the trigger word。
A drop of liquid shot from the tip of the rod。 It struck the belly of the lead ogre and burst into a copious splash of acid。
With his magic restored； Gromph obliterated every attacker who lacked the sense to run away。 His dark elf attendants were already dead； leaving him to make his way back to Tier Breche alone。
As it turned out； the slave rebellion was pandemic； and the trek wasn't altogether easy。 He considered going to ground in some castle or house； but when he saw the flames gnawing stone； he knew he had to get back。
Dirty； sore； and coughing； he eventually made it home； and when he rose to the top of the limestone wall； he saw something that lifted his spirnotits； albeit only a little。
Eight Masters of Sorcere stood in the open air； chanting； gesturing； atnottempting a ritual； while an equal number of apprentices looked on。 The wizards had fetched much of the proper equipment out of the tower。 That was something； Gromph supposed； but the incantation was a usenotless mess。
The Baenre reached out and hauled himself onto solid ground and his hands and knees； another irksome affront to his dignity。
He rose and shouted； 〃Enough！〃
The teachers and students twisted around to gawk at him。 The chantnoting died。
〃Archmage！〃 cried Guldor Melarn。 He was supposedly without peer in the realm of elemental magic； though it couldn't be proved by his pernotformance thus far that night。 〃We were worried about you！〃
〃I'm sure；〃 said Gromph； striding closer。 〃I noticed all the search parnotties you sent out looking for me。〃
Guldor hesitated。 〃Sir； the mistress of the Academy manded…〃
〃Shut up；〃 said Gromph。 He'd e close enough to see that the teachnoters were standing in a plex pentacle； written in red phosphorescence on the ground。 〃Pitiful。〃
He extended his index finger and wrote on the air。 The magic words and sigils reshaped themselves。
〃My lord Archmage；〃 said Master Godee