The Abduction by J. Robert King Read Free Book Online

passion, hopelessness….
    “Tomorrow, I am a woman,” Shaleen says.
    She nestles against me. At her touch, the dread and fear amalgamate into something greater, something new. My trembling stops. I draw a long, contented breath.
    “Tomorrow, Iam a man.”
     
    The music begins, unstoppable. The trump sounds. The drums cadence like thunder. The fragmented sanctuary returns around me. I am dizzy. I am lost, here in my own palace, my own wedding, my own life. It is tomorrow. Everything has changed, for better or for worse.

Chapter 4
What Once Bound All To All
    The sanctuary glowed with the light of a thousand candles.
    They stood ensconced along the limestone walls. They topped candle stands, lit aisles, and flickered in votive constellations at the feet of statued heroes. They bathed everything at the human level in suffused light, but left the heads of the statues, the vault above, and every other heavenly thing in darkness.
    Benches of black walnut bent ever so slightly beneath the burden of nobles, guildmasters, ambassadors. The sanctuary was full, and only half the guests had been seated. The others would stand in the narthex, craning to hear and see.
    Pipes, trumpets, and drums blasted out the bridal march. The ceremony had begun.
     
    *****
    It was too late to stop the shapeshifters.
    By the time Captain Rulathon had found Khelben in the wedding crowd and warned him that one or all of the bride’s attendants were shapeshifters, Eidola was walking down the sanctuary aisle.
    Khelben cast quick magics to win past the elaborate wards that masked the women.
    “You are right. She is accompanied by eight monsters” said the Lord Mage of Waterdeep, incredulously watching the attendants sashay down the aisle.
    The shapeshifters glided along beside the bride. None was more than a claw’s length away from her, a breath away from their prey,
    “What do we do?” Rulathon whispered. “Can’t you flash them all away into sifting soot?”
    Khelben grimaced. “No. They are too close to the bride, and the guests. Still, we might have a chance if….” His words fell to mutterings,
    Rulathon gazed intently at the mage’s face.
    “It’s a long walk up the aisle, girls,” Khelben thought aloud. “If I can’t beat you, I may as well join you….”
    He murmured something else and swept an arcane gesture down his torso. With a pop that was barely audible over the pipes and trumpets, the black-robed and greybearded mage was replaced by a slim ivory-garbed attendant.
    The lass gave Rulathon a very Khelbenesque wink. She hurried forward, her stride somewhat more businesslike and determined than those of her comrades. She caught up to the smiling cluster and began her own smile.
    It was a toothy grimace. Through it came a growled warning, magically sounding in the ears of the attendants:
    Hello, shapeshifters. This is the Blackstaff speaking to you. Congratulations for living this long. Stay in your current forms and fall back behind the bride’s train, and you will live longer, still.
    There was no sign that the creatures had heard him, except that their pace slackened. Eidola moved forward, out of arm’s reach.
    Unfortunately, thought Khelben, shapeshifters have a knack for growing things longer than arms.
    Very good. Sisters, the Blackstaff hissed to them. You’ve no doubt felt the spell blades I’ve conjured within your bellies. As long as you make no sudden moves and stay in your current forms, those daggers probably won’t cut anything vital.
    The pace of the party slowed even more.
    Khelben’s smile deepened.
    Now, let’s chat about who you are and what you are doing here. Piergeiron thinks you are malaugrym. I have a notion you are somewhat worse. Am I right?
    Eight coiffured heads nodded on their lovely necks.
    I thought so. And as to what that something is… let’s repair to the crying room for a little talk….
     

    Bagpipes shrieked their solemn songs, drummers cracked sticks against skins, corpulent and