Darkvision w-3

by Bruce R Cordell

  "The stone of the palace is enchanted to rebuff just this sort of contamination-the Imaskari performed a lot of dangerous experiments here. But the space where the palace spent these last millennia is not so impregnable." "I know of this space," interjected Monolith. "It is a demiplane that grows without bound. Full of mischief. My brethren seek to close the portals that open in the earth. Yet portals persist." The dwarf nodded. "Somewhere, somehow, a portal has been accessed. The Imaskaran Imperial Weapons Cache was disturbed. A vile cognizance was awakened. That cognizance instigated the palace's fall back into reality. Hold on." The dwarf finished tracing his circle and began to elaborate on the design with quickly scribed sigils beyond the radius of the ring. Thormud continued. "I infer from the stone's description that the entity was able to return the palace to reality because of the introduction and spread of infected crystal into our realm." "The crystal that infused the creatures we fought!" exclaimed Kiril. "Yes. Whoever holds a piece of infected crystal serves as an eye-and worse-a conduit to the entity's power and desires." "This entity-what is its name and origin?" rumbled Prince Monolith.

  "Pandorym," replied the dwarf. As he spoke the name, the glow surrounding Thormud's selenite rod dimmed and the geomancer clutched his side. Kiril rushed to support him, but the dwarf waved her away.

  "Don't worry about me. Just listen. The mineral memory does not know the entity's origin-I imagine it was plucked from some chaotic prototype reality by the Imaskari. Or perhaps it is the result of risky arcanological research. In any event…" The dwarf made one final inscription with the butt of his rod, then stood back. "I can open a passage into the tower. The opening will persist only a few moments. Once inside, I recommend you both head upward. My connection with the palace stone informs me of a central stair. At the top of the stair is the Imperial Weapons Cache." "What do you mean, 'you both'?

  What about you?" questioned Kiril. The geomancer looked at the elf and shook his head. "Listen to me, Kiril. I've got only a few moments of consciousness left. Some influence of Pandor-" The dwarf flinched, then continued. "The entity's curse has got its claws into me. I carried an infected crystal for too long, and during my previous divination, it saw me. If I enter, it will know instantly and send all the servitors it is assembling throughout the tower to contest my presence. I must wait here." "But you're sick," protested the elf. She knew better than to argue. Thormud had that look. When the dwarf's eyes glinted so stubbornly, there was no quarreling. Kiril knew from long experience that even venomous cursing wouldn't dissuade him when he'd set his mind to something. "I'd be struck down within moments if I were to enter. Better I take my chances out here than suffer the certainty of my fate in there. It falls to you, Kiril. You and Prince Monolith." The earth lord nodded. "Enter the cache and secure the weapon. If you don't, I'm afraid that its influence will continue to grow. When its influence waxes through enough intermediaries, it'll free more than its mind. Then it won't have to rely on servants any longer." "What shape will its body take, I wonder?" growled Monolith.

  "Nothing we would want to see," answered Thormud. "Ready yourselves. I am opening the passage… now!" The geomancer threw his moon rod at the circle he'd scribed on the wall. The milky jewel on the rod's tip struck the rock head on and exploded in a dazzling flash of iridescent light. Cool, stale air rushed from the gap. Thormud fell to the sand, unmoving. Prince Monolith scooped up Kiril as she bent to check on Thormud. She blistered his ears, "Let me down, you bastard of a pebble! You bloody dust mote, I'll hew you down to size! I'll…"

  The elemental, uncaring, bore her and itself through the opening. A moment later, the passage sealed behind them and all light was extinguished. The prince lowered her to the floor. She managed to keep her feet as he placed her on solid ground. Kiril railed at the earth lord. "He could be dead! Why didn't you let me help him?" Monolith didn't respond. Kiril couldn't see him in the utter dark, but she could sense his presence. She pounded a balled fist onto his stone-hard chest. The elemental rumbled, "His fate isn't decided yet.

  But if we don't win, he'll certainly die." "You heartless rock!"

  Monolith's deep voice descended further. "I've known Thormud far longer than you. Stop acting the child." "Blood!" she cursed, then subsided. "Just bloody fine." Kiril blinked away red stars of anger, leaving darkness so complete it bored into her eyes. "I can't see," she mumbled. She knew Monolith was right. A tantrum wouldn't do anything but make her feel better for a few loud moments. Faint light seeped into the air. Xet was emanating a dim glow. "Why aren't you with Thormud?" Kiril screamed at the creature. "Thormud sent Xet with us, to guide us to the chamber where we'll find the source of his affliction. Xet comes along, maybe to save its master's life." Xet cawed a series of forlorn chimes. The swordswoman fumed impotently.

  The crystalline dragonet glittered no more brightly than a star set high in the night sky. The gleam was more than sufficient for Kiril's eyes-she preferred starlight to daylight. But Xet's illumination was unsettling. It meant the geomancer was all alone. The light revealed a bare space shod in rusted iron. The floor and walls were dull and bare, and the high ceiling and narrow passage reminded Kiril of some long-deserted catacomb. Waterlines were visible on the powdery red walls at just about the tip of Kiril's reach. She bent down and touched the floor. It was bone dry. Whatever liquid had once passed this way hadn't flowed in eons. She hoped their presence wouldn't change that. The passage sloped upward to her left, but the grade was almost undetectable. "This way?" she asked, pointing up the gradual slope. "Not really a stairwell, but it slopes up." Xet pealed in the affirmative and flew ahead. Kiril unsheathed Sadrul, the gift of Al Qahera. The razor-sharp blade glittered in Xet's glow. Angul, still in his sheath, groused. Kiril paused and said, "I ask the gods of Sildeyuir to watch over my friend Thormud. See him through to safety."

  See to it, if my past service and sacrifice meant anything at all, she silently added. A long journey in the dark was thus begun.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Chill air brushed Warian Datharathi. He cried out and fell on his face. His prosthesis went dead and its light failed. He gasped for breath. He felt as if he'd just finished a sprint where he pushed himself too hard. Yet his arm hadn't killed him… Coughing and shaking, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Where was he?

  Darkness was all he saw… and a broad ribbon of stone knifing through it. Stars settled into focus above him… and below?

  Vertigo tumbled his stomach. He blinked. Unconsciously, his fingers tried to work themselves into the hard rock, abrading the fingertips of his natural hand. It was the stone of a great obelisk, similar to one of the menhirs that ringed the portal through which he'd plunged.

  But this menhir was wider. And much, much longer, like a path. Or a bridge, over nothingness. The stone path traced an unwavering line as far as he could see-which was unnaturally far. Illumination leaked onto the path from an undefinable source, making a road of light through a sea of blackness scattered with tiny glimmers. Warian crawled forward and peered over the side. Void beckoned in all directions. From what he could see, if he fell, he'd never find the ground, only endless, vacant space. Wait. No, it wasn't quite empty.

  He spied a mote of radiance below. The mote… it was actually a dimly lit chunk of stone dozens of paces across-an island in a sea of night. Demolished walls of a templelike ruin gaped up at him from the isle. Light leaked from the temple walls, twinkling with witchlight.

  The entire edifice receded as he watched it. Gazing around the vast space, he noted tiny flickers of light in every direction, all moving along seemingly random paths. "What is this place?" he asked aloud. He was having difficulty processing a vista so far outside his experience. Too tired to stand, he shambled on hands and knees to see what might lie behind him. He was at a nexus of three paths. The one he'd first gazed down apparently had no end. The second was long, miles long maybe, and seemed to plunge into a wavering, colored curtain. But the third path seized his attention. The third stone road ran
for only a few hundred paces, then connected to a massive, irregular boulder. Crystal encrusted the third path in a lattice of purplish mineral. Warian was reminded of the inside of a geode. He held out his false arm and compared. It was a match. The encrustations gradually thickened along the third path as it approached the massive chunk of strangely shaped stone. The path was a gradient leading toward the heart of the lode, he supposed. The encrusted surface of the path had been half cleared, mined away. The crystal that remained on the road's surface was scarred, broken, and littered with sparkling dust and debris. A battered wagon was parked a dozen or so paces down the path. Shovels, tamping poles, pickaxes, and other mining tools lay haphazardly scattered on the road. Where were the miners? Did they fall? His eyes narrowed as he studied the irregular shape at the path's end. It looked like a giant egg that someone had cracked. The glint of pure crystal sparkled along the seams. No doubt about it-this was Shaddon's new lode. Screaming, Zel fell out of nowhere and landed on the stone path. His iron pry bar clattered nearby, almost bouncing off the road. Had Warian been standing, he probably would have fallen from the path. As it was, his heart jolted and doubled its rate. Zel landed on the path, yelling, and scrabbled along the stone as if he couldn't figure out which direction was down. Just like Warian had fumbled and groped before he got his bearings. "Hey! Uncle, calm down!" He suppressed a chuckle and grabbed for one of Zel's hands. "If you keep this up, you'll knock us both off. Stop it!" "Warian!" Zel ceased his mad antics, blinked, then grabbed his nephew by the shoulders. "By the four dooms, I'm glad to see you!" "What happened? I had your arm. Why didn't we appear in this crazy place at the same time? "Don't know. You were pulling me along against the… the..

  Sevaera's whirlwind. Then you disappeared as you passed into the ring. I almost got sucked back into Sevaera's damned maw. But after you disappeared, she let up. I followed you." Warian nodded. "Sorry I left you behind. I've never been through one of these before. I don't really understand it. Speaking of which, I don't see a way to go back through from this side." "Who'd want to? She's waiting back there.

  Hey," Zel looked closely at Warian. "How're you? You look beat."

  Warian was bone tired, true. But not as exhausted as he'd feared after using his arm. Figuring out how to ration the prosthesis's energy had saved his life, he was sure. "I've been worse." Assisting each other, they both stood. "Why did she stop after I went through the ring?" wondered Warian. "She, or whatever was in her, doesn't care one whit about me. You seem to be the prize, Nephew." Warian rubbed his forehead. "My arm. It's immune to the control that Shaddon has over everyone else with Datharathi prosthetics." "Shaddon, and that thing that had Sevaera." Warian nodded. "Another thing I don't understand," said Zel, "is this place. Isn't this where the controlling entity comes from? We might have gone from the cauldron straight into the fire, but it really doesn't seem too bad here. Yet…" Zel's eyes widened as he took the time to gaze around the emptiness that stretched without limit in every direction. The air was sharp and cold, like the air just before dawn, but not damp. A faint odor tickled Warian's nose, like the smell after a thunderstorm. But mixed in was the smell of something rotten, closer. Something had died near them, and recently. Warian pointed out floating motes of earth and stone as they drifted all around. Most contained disintegrating constructions. "Amazing! Isn't this amazing? I've never seen anything like this. It's incredible!" Zel forgot about their predicament as the floating ruinscapes captured his imagination. "See that one?" Zel pointed. A perfect cube, each face a mirror, tumbled through the darkness, tracking a path from nowhere to oblivion. "I wonder what's inside? Treasure of some sort, eh?" Zel chuckled. "Now that's an odd one." Warian's uncle jabbed his finger into the void. Distant lights reflected on the shimmering, fluctuating surface of a misplaced lake.

  Lapping, splashing waves on the surface were faintly audible as the globule sailed high overhead and away again. "Zel-" "Better not mess with that one!" crowed Zel, his finger finding yet another object. A slab of transparent glass about twenty paces long and half as wide tumbled below them. As it spun, Warian caught a sudden whiff of carrion, different from the rotten odor he'd smelled earlier. Caught in the slab's center, like a fly in amber, was a monstrous humanoid creature apparently formed of moist earth. Its legs were short and thick, and its arms tapered to bony claws. Teeth, rotting scraps of cloth, and bone shards protruded here and there from the muddy flesh.

  A dirt-encrusted skull provided the creature with a leering grin. The slab whirled away into the dark. Warian grabbed his uncle's shoulder to get his attention. "We should get out of here before Sevaera, or whatever's riding her, decides to come through." "Aye, I suppose. Hey, look!" Zel pointed along the path in the direction of the wavering curtain Warian had seen when he'd first arrived. "Uncle!" Warian recalled that Zeltaebar's reputation for exasperating dillydallying was well earned. Zel said, "No, no… I see something, something important. Sort of looks like a spire. A tower, maybe? But it's all hazy, like I'm seeing it through water." Warian followed his uncle's gaze down the path. He suddenly realized that the wavering curtain wasn't completely opaque. A grand tower wavered and danced as if behind a heat shimmer, as if it were a mirage. The stone road arrowed for miles across the dark, directly into an elegantly arched gallery that protruded from the half-real structure. Hundreds of secondary spires rose from the enormous, many-windowed edifice. Terraces, outside galleries, open stairs, and sealed doorways studded the structure's sides, barely visible through the shimmering veil. The base of the tower fell into invisibility far below. "Do you think that's where the chief puppeteer lives?" wondered Zel. "Yeah." "Maybe Sevaera didn't follow because she didn't have to. Whatever possessed her lives there." Zel pointed at the shimmering behemoth. "Possibly."

  They gazed at the vast structure and the narrow path that led toward it. Warian looked the other way, hoping to spy something that would offer better hope. In one direction, the stone path plunged onward, span after span, narrowing across the leagues to a single point-a point that appeared to promise eternity. The other route, encrusted with crystal, led only to the nearby blob of dark stone, with its cracks revealing the crystal riches inside. "Maybe we should check out the jumbo geode first." Zel rubbed his hands and picked up the iron bar he'd carried with him through the portal. After a moment's consideration, he dropped the bar and took up an abandoned pickaxe instead. "This stuff is pretty valuable. We wouldn't have to make artificial parts out of it," he said, and walked toward the cart and scattering of tools. "Phew, something really stinks over… oh."

  Warian walked cautiously down the path, across the mined-out crystal.

  The source of the rotting odor lay in the mining cart. A half-orc was stuffed into the cart, obviously dead. The half-orc wore miner's dungarees, and its hoary skin was filthy with dirt and crystal dust.

  Warian was startled when he saw a crystal pendant hanging around the orc's neck. Burn marks scorched the flesh around the crystal, as if it had overheated and cooked the orc completely through. Then Warian realized that the crystal itself seemed charred, and was obviously cracked. He gazed intently at it, but could detect no glimmer of light swimming in the pendant's depths. "I can't figure what killed him,"

  Zel said, his hands on his hips as he gazed into the open cart. "His amulet." "Aye, that's obvious. I mean, why?" Warian shrugged, at a loss. "Maybe the 'puppeteer,' as you put it, couldn't control the miner well enough without a prosthesis, and just killed him with some sort of magical overload." "Is that possible?" "How should I know?"

  Warian kicked at the cart. "I don't know how Shaddon-or the puppeteer-is able to control people through Datharathi crystal."

  Warian froze for a moment. A worrying thought struck him as his eyes skimmed the fields of mined and virgin crystal that encrusted the stone road. "Uncle, why aren't we dead?" "Because we're smart, we're quick, and…" "No, look! Crystal everywhere-the perfect vessel for controlling minds, right? We've seen that it only manifests in this damned stuff." Warian waved h
is hand down the stone lane, thickly encrusted with the pernicious material. Zel rubbed his chin. "Well, you have an arm made of it, and so far you seem to be immune to its influence…" "Yes. Shaddon made it before he found the portal. I just assumed that all the crystal on this side of the portal was corrupt." Zel shook his head. "Maybe only if it's brought into the real world?" "I wonder." He thought about Shaddon's claims. "Or, maybe the crystal must be prepared in a particular fashion-and my arm wasn't. Nor is this raw crystal. It hasn't been mined and worked by Shaddon, who made it susceptible to outside influence so he could serve his own purposes." "Could be. Or perhaps the puppeteer is just toying with us." Zel peered down the path where the crystal gradually thickened to form the irregular bulb of cracked stone. Warian looked back and forth between the irregular boulder and the wavering tower.

  Out of nowhere, a searing flash dazzled his eyes. "… eretu dmaadar grethalsa od favara!" a loathsome voice broke upon them. Blinking, Warian looked ahead, behind-and then up. Sevaera's head, sans body, floated above them, dripping blood. It was nestled in a penumbra of writhing shadow. The puppeteer had killed Sevaera and was using her head as a malefic vehicle. "No…" pleaded Zel, his jaw dropping open. The despicable voice repeated its imperative in a language unfamiliar to Warian, then swooped. Warian lifted his crystal arm to cover his face. He tried desperately to trigger its latent power. And he failed. He was too drained-he couldn't forge the link! The disembodied head swooped and butted Warian in the chest. A sledgehammer couldn't have struck harder. Warian pitched sideways off the path, his body twisting in midair, his arms flailing for a grip.

  He caught himself on the edge, the crystal digits on his right hand more hindrance than help. The flesh and blood of his left hand absorbed the cruel sharpness of the ledge. The weight of his body threatened to peel his fingers from their purchase. He looked up, but the stone path blocked his view of what was happening above him. But he could hear. Zel cursed, repeating "bastard!" over and over in a crazed voice. He heard the sound of metal on bone-had his uncle connected with his pickaxe? "Draka ni dornu dmaadar!" screamed the vile voice, just out of sight. "Bastard!" his uncle yelled again. His pinched, manic tone implied a break with sanity that wouldn't come as much of a surprise. Warian strained, trying to pull himself up. A finger slipped. It was all he could do to hold on. "Zel," he cried.