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for Cale. He hoped it was enough for Jail and Magadon.
    They stood on soft carpet on one side of the cavern, perhaps fifteen paces from the slaadi and the Sojourner. On the floor between the slaadi, Riven struggled feebly to draw his weapons.
    Azriim and Dolgan went wide-eyed at the sudden appearance of the three comrades.
    “Cale,” Azriim hissed, and fumbled at his blade hilt.
    Dolgan growled and unslung his axe.
    The three comrades went straight after the Sojourner.
    Jak held his holy symbol before him and shouted the words to a spell. Beams of white fire shot from his hand at the Sojourner. They never reached their target. Instead, one of the gems circling the Sojourner’s head attracted and absorbed the beams as if they had never been.
    Magadon’s bow sang and an arrow flew, its tip glowing red with mental energy. The arrow slammed against some invisible shield before the Sojourner, stopped in mid-flight, and fell to the ground, inert.
    Cale felt a twinge behind his eyes and feared a mental attack, but the sensation never grew beyond the initial sensation. Perhaps Jak’s spell had shielded him from the Sojourner’s attack.
    Jak’s and Magadon’s failed attacks confirmed what Cale had already suspected: A formidable array of defensive spells and wards protected the Sojourner. Cale had to bring them down or weaken them.
    Hurriedly, he recited a prayer that pitted the power of his magic against that of the Sojourner. When the spell took effect, the contest proved short-lived and one-sided. The Sojourner’s power overwhelmed Cale’s spell, which dissipated without effect.
    Cale saw then that magic would be of little use against the superior spellcraft of the Sojourner.
    Use steel,” he called, and charged, leaping over a couch as he went.
    Jak and Magadon brandished their blades and joined his rush.
    Before they had taken five strides, the Sojourner responded. Unlike most wizards Cale had encountered, the Sojourner did not speak a complex phrase or manipulate some esoteric ingredient. Instead, he simply raised his left hand-wincing with pain as he did so-and spoke a single word.
    An expanding wedge-shaped spray of variously colored beams shot outward from his fingertips. The three companions had no time to dodge.
    A yellow beam struck Magadon in the chest and blew him from his feet. Lightning played over his body, leaving him smoking and sparking on the floor.
    An orange beam struck Jak in the left leg as he jumped the couch. His trousers, boots, and flesh blackened, bubbled, started to melt. The little man screamed in agony, collapsed to the couch, and rolled onto the floor, clutching his melting thigh and writhing. The stink of burning flesh filled the chamber.
    The green and blue beams intended for Cale diverted into Weaveshear. The blade drank them greedily, though the magical impact staggered Cale and stopped his charge. Weaveshear shook in his hands, bleeding shadows. He clutched it in both hands to keep his grip.
    The Sojourner eyed the sword with raised eyebrows-as though surprised that it had been able to absorb his spell-and spoke another word of power, this time without a gesture of any kind.
    A sphere of lightning took shape around the creature, surrounding him at arm’s length. It sizzled and spun, charging the air in the chamber with energy. Bolts arced out to touch the metal of the slaadi’s weapons, to burn the cushions and furniture at the Sojourner’s feet. Even at a distance, the hairs on Cale’s arms rose.
    Cale knew that he could not allow the Sojourner the freedom to continue casting, but the slaadi were in his way.
    Azriim and Dolgan, seeing Cale alone, seized weapons in their hands and advanced. Dolgan held his huge axe in his ham hands; Azriim held his blade in one hand and one of his many wands in the other.
    Cale pointed Weaveshear at them and released the pent up magical energy he had stolen from the Sojourner. The unsuspecting slaadi had no time to avoid the attack, and the green