The cursed towers 254
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weapons sliced through the air just inches away from her body, the skewer clattering to the ground, the
reil returning to the warrior's hand and then flying out again in a smooth arc so swift it could only be seen
as a glittering blur. Only Isabeau's magic saved her. She deflected it with a scream, scrambling backward
as the Khan'cohban leapt forward into a somersault that took him well clear of the stallion's savage
attack.
Isabeau saw with dismay that the Mesmerd had darted easily past Feld's ineffectual staff and had flown
swiftly up the stairs in pursuit of Ishbel and Bronwen. The Khan'cohban had seized his dagger again and
was advancing on her, Isabeau backing away until she was stopped by a pillar. Her knees were shaking
with terror and she gripped her sweaty palms together and tried to anticipate his attack.
Lasair dashed forward, teeth bared, but the Khan'cohban smashed his fist into the horse's cheek, causing
him to scream and dance away. Isabeau took this momentary break in the warrior's concentration to run
back, sheltering behind another thick pillar.
"Maya!" she called. "Can ye transform the stallion back? Ye must try!"
"I do no' ken if I can!"
"Ye must try! Maya, try, for Ea's sake!"
"Will ye give me back my baby?"
"If ye do no' do something, we shall all die!" Isabeau screamed back.
The Fairge clenched her hands into fists, her cheeks turning scarlet, her jaw clenched so tightly the
muscles could be seen bunching up in her throat and cheeks. "I canna!" she grunted. "I canna!"
"Ye can!" Isabeau replied as another gray, winged creature darted at her out of the shadows. She only
managed to evade it by falling flat on the floor, the Mes-merd's gray draperies brushing her as it flew over
her. She was almost overcome with its swampy smell, covering her nose and mouth with her hands and
scrambling to get out of the Khan'cohban's reach.
"Ye can!" she cried again, gathering fire into her hands and flinging a flaming ball at the Mesmerd. It
darted away and the sphere of fire smashed into the wall and was extinguished. "Come on, Maya, ye ken
ye can do it!"
Maya closed her eyes, pointed both hands at the rearing stallion, her fingers rigid, and said with a deep
grunt of effort, "Change!"
The stallion did. His skin shivered and rippled, red hide, white flesh, red hide. His hooves stamped and
spun, the sharp tattoo softening into the slap of bare feet. The great dark eyes glared blue, glazed over
with shadows, glared blue through a tangle of red hair. The long, delicately boned nose flattened and
shrunk into the face of a horned man, wild eyed and mad with confusion. Khan'-gharad neighed and
shook his wild red mane and stamped his bare feet and tried to rear, only to fall in a tangle of naked
limbs, his body no longer that of the great, strong, four-legged horse but of a man who no longer knew
how to walk.
The Khan'cohban warrior smiled and bent to pick up his dagger. As it turned in his hand it glittered in the
light. Isabeau shrieked and tried to twist it out of his grasp but he had too firm a grip on the shaft.
Casually he turned and sent the reil whizzing toward her, then bent to seize Khan'gharad by his hair,
forcing his head back to expose his throat to the dagger.
Isabeau was barely able to avoid her own throat being cut by the eight-pointed star, so swiftly did it fly.
