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。 The centipede had bitten it off。 Gromph clenched his fists in anger and looked down。 He could see his severed leg lying amid a shower of blood that still rained from his open wound。
Sparkles of light off to one side caught Gromph's attention。 Nimor threw something； and Gromph instinctively blocked his face； fearing a spell。 Instead； he saw the hilt of the winged assassin's enchanted rapier spinning to the ground far below。 The trail of sparkling light was what was left of the freezing blade。 Gromph's spell had done more than banish the centipede。
Nimor； to say the least； was not happy。
As the assassin launched a string of invectives his way； Gromph flexed his muscles and found that the stiffening effect was gone。 He was in pain but not as much as he would have imagined。 His ring was already starting to fight against the grievous wounds the archmage had suffered。 Gromph knew that he'd survive； but there was still the matter of the leg。
Nimor swooped over him then disappeared into the darkness。 Gromph couldn't see the lichdrow。 He dropped slowly to the floor； ing to rest in a pool of his own blood。 When weight started to return to him； he staggered and had to reactivate the staff's levitating power before he fell in a sprawl into the puddle of cooling gore。 He hadn't thought about trying to stand on one foot。 Instead； he let himself hover an inch off the ground； bent； and picked up his own leg。
It was a curious feeling； holding his leg in his hand； but the archmage brushed it off。 The assassin and the lich were obviously regrouping after Gromph's powerful spell had disjoined the magic all around him…all the magic save his own…but they would be back。
Gromph felt the bone on his stump again and was pleased that the skin hadn't yet begun to grow over it。 He turned the leg in his hand and…
A blast of cold air surrounded him； engulfed him； pushed him back and down； grinding him into the stone floor of the Bazaar and dragging him along。 Gromph's head smashed into something that broke； splintered； and fell all around him。
He shook his head； and bits of giant mushroom stem and glass fell from his white hair。 He was half buried in a shattered merchant's stall； but all Gromph could think about was how relieved he was to still be holding his leg。 His body was covered in a thin layer of chilling frost that was already starting to melt in the cool damp air of the Bazaar。
The lich； Nauzhror said into Gromph's mind； was outside the disjunction。
I see that； the archmage answered； letting a wave of frustration follow the thought。
Gromph looked up and around。 Dyrr was casting； while Nimor arrowed fast through the air at the archmage。 He set another protective globe around himself； briefly worrying that the staff's power was being too quickly drained。 It couldn't keep protecting him and levitating him forever。
The lich finished his spell； and Gromph smiled when a bolt of blinding yellow lighting crackled from Dyrr's hands； arcing through the air and splattering in a shower of sparks against Gromph's protective globe。 Even as the lightning spent itself on his defenses； not even making Gromph's hair stand on end； the archmage cast another defensive spell on himself。 Flames flickered almost invisibly along his body。
I see； Prath said。 It worked on the huecuva； but。 。 。
Nimor was upon him； and Gromph tucked his body into a ball against the assassin's attack。 The half…dragon's hands were bigger than they were in his drow guise； and each of this fingers ended in a thick； sharp talon of jet…black ivory。 Nimor raked Gromph's shoulder with those formidable claws； but they skipped harmlessly along the sparking surface of the archmage's fire shield。 Bright orange flames blazed up from Gromph's shoulder； covering the assassin's face。 Nimor roared in pain and beat his wings once so hard that stinging shards of glass from the ruined merchant's stall whirled around the archmage。 Each time one of the little shards of glass hit him； a spark of fire burst out in answer。 The spell never burned Gromph； but for a few unnerving seconds he was surrounded in a cascade of roiling flame。
Nimor disappeared into the shadows in the cavern's vault。
The flurry of glass and fire subsided； and Gromph worked his way out of the wreckage of the merchant's stall。 When his stump was clear； blood still oozing from it； the pain reduced by his ring to a dull； annoying throb； Gromph took a second to make sure his foot was pointing in the right direction and stuck his leg back on。
He held it in place and closed his eyes。 His breath came in short； sharp gasps as the dull throb turned into a skin…quivering shiver。 The feel of the bone reattaching； each fine blood vessel rejoining its severed end； nerves blazing back to life with a wild flurry of pain； itching； pleasure； then pain again； and his skin drawing itself together made Gromph gasp and shake。
The lich； Nauzhror warned。
Only then did Gromph bee aware that Dyrr was casting another spell。 The response that came to Gromph's mind was a powerful deterrent； one that would protect him where the staff's globe could not。 Not pausing to consider any greater implications； Gromph drew together the required Weave energy； and the antimagic field was up in time to block a huge explosion of searing heat and blinding fire。
It also suppressed the regenerative power of the ring。
No magic was working anywhere near Gromph Baenre； and his leg was only half repaired。 He shuddered； clenching his jaw and eyes tightly shut as pain roared up from his leg to wrap his whole body in a spasm of agony。
〃Well played； my young friend；〃 the lich called down to him； 〃but that field will e down eventually。 Meantime； you'll be bleeding…and I'll be waiting。〃
Gromph didn't bother to consider the lich's threat。 He was in too much pain to think。
Chapter Twenty
Piet squeezed the handle of his axe； hoping that his sweating palms would still be able to grip it when the fighting started…and the fighting would start soon。 He glanced at his friend Ulo and could tell that Ulo was thinking the same thing。 Piet could even see Ulo's fingers worrying at the handles of his two big knives； and he knew that Ulo's hands were sweating too。
They had e to the Flooded Forest to do some logging； make a couple of silvers； and mind their own business。 Since they'd been there they'd seen ten of their rades killed。 Some had died in the inevitable accidents that one might expect at any logging camp； but most of them fell to the local wildlife。 The swamp held all manner of arcane threats； from animated vines that dragged men down to a watery grave to lizardfolk who picked off stragglers at the edges of the clearing seemingly out of spite。 Still； the ring of torches and the gods only knew what else…maybe even some sort of swamp etiquette…kept the really dangerous creatures out of their camp。 The makeshift tavern where the men spent virtually all of their non…working time （and there wasn't much of that） seemed like a safe enough place。
Now a dark elf and some kind of huge demon…thing had smashed through the window； an