From outside came sudden tumult: thudding hooves, screams and yells, and then, very near, a horrible, gurgling moan.The wizard tore his gaze from Shandril just long enough to roll his eyes and snarl, "What now? Oh, Mystra aid me!" Snatching a wand from his belt, he strode out of the room. What in the name of all the gods was going on? The sudden reek of something burning came to him as he flung wide the oaken door of the guardhouse — and stopped in astonishment, again.

Across the threshold, he saw Guardcaptain Ruldel's face twist in pain as he sagged back into the arms of a young man in mage robes. Many arrows stood out of the dragons on the warrior's surcoat and shield, and already his armor was dark with blood. Above him stood a dwarf, face grim, bloody axe in hand. The war wizard goggled at them all from the doorway, frozen in disbelief. As the commander sank into the boy's arms, he groaned, struggled to speak for a moment, and looked up at the dwarf.

The words came in a rough hiss. "Tell Azoun, I… we were togeth…"The rest was lost forever in a last rush of blood.

Delg shook his head as he tugged the shield out of the man's lifeless hand; the fool had not even had time to get it properly on his arm. Now he was past needing it. Delg crouched, holding the shield-it was as tall as he was-up to protect Narm. The young mage was drenched with sweat, exhausted from deflecting far too many arrows with a feeble, invisible magic meant for hanging cloaks on pegs or fetching small things from across a room. The spell had failed in the end, and Narm barely clung to wakefulness.

Arrows hissed and hummed past them, reaching hungrily through the air close by… toward the open door of the guardhouse. The war wizard stood there, still looking astonished as the shafts tore into him.