The man stepped up to the embroidered illustration, indicating a figure outlined in green light, standing like a rod atop a small pyramid of square stone blocks. The Seeker priest stared admiringly at the handiwork, and the lad sensed that the man's attention and desire had shifted momentarily, coming to rest in his reminiscences of those days of glory.
Dan saw his chance. Hands still upraised, he seized the edge of the tapestry and threw himself backward, instantly hurling all his weight and momentum onto the support of the ancient fabric.
Please give way! His prayer was desperate and, apparently, successful: The long swath of cloth tore near the top, and a great, dusty shroud tumbled downward, burying Kelryn Darewind, his sword, and his green bloodstone.
As soon as the bandit lord disappeared, Dan felt his arms drop, freed from the spell as the green light was smothered. Instantly he had the dagger out, ready to slash at the form that struggled beneath the billowing layers of the tapestry.
"Danyal-this way! Hurry!" Mirabeth took his arm and pulled before he could make his attack. He heard footsteps and saw the flaring of bright torchlight from the direction of the kitchen.
Groaning in frustration but recognizing the need to flee immediately, Danyal followed the lass as she darted through the entry hall. The manor gates, he was surprised to see, were standing open. Torches flared among the crude cottages of the village, and he guessed that some of the men, alarmed by Emilo's diversion, must have charged out of the fortified structure to investigate.
And then the two of them were through the gates, plunging down the sloping ground beyond the wall. With a sharp turn away from the road to the bridge, Danyal pulled Mirabeth into the deep shade of a small barn.
Panting, trying to breathe as quietly as possible, he looked around, assessing their surroundings.
But he wasn't expecting to see anyone as close as the figure who rose to stand right beside him.
With a reflexive twist, Dan raised his knife, pushed Mirabeth aside, and stabbed.
CHAPTER 35
Escape or Doom
Second Kirinor, Reapember
374 AC
"Wait!" The familiar voice jolted Danyal, giving the lad barely enough time to check the deadly blow he had intended to land.
"Emilo?" Danyal sagged backward, allowing the dagger to fall away from the shadowy figure. "I–I almost didn't recognize you! You could have-I could have…"
"Don't worry. It's me, and I'm all right. I see you heard my diversion. Oh, and hi, Mirabeth!" declared the kender. "I'm really glad to see you!"
"Thanks-thanks to all of you-for coming after me," she replied. But then she looked around, seeking someone else in their hiding place, which was the shadowy alcove behind a small barn. "Where's Foryth?"
"Still in there, I guess." Danyal shook his head in despair. "I told him to stay with me, to be careful, but he wandered off before we'd been inside for ten minutes!"
"I don't know if we can afford to wait for him," Emilo said ruefully. "It kind of puts the whole plan in trouble."
"What choice do we have, besides waiting here?" argued the youth. "Did you see how many men were gathered at the base of the bridge?" He gestured into the torchlight at the end of the little lane, where a small knot of bandits milled about.
"Yes." Emilo didn't sound concerned. "Actually, I don't think they'll be there long."
"Why?" asked Danyal incredulously.
The kender made no answer. Instead, he cocked an ear to the side, clearly expectant of some noise.
Within seconds, a great boom resounded through the night, echoing back from the neighboring mountain as a cascade of orange flame leapt into the air from the far side of the manor's walls. A heavy thud rumbled through the ground under their feet, and debris clattered around them while the fire flared into a brightness like false daylight.
"You did that?" Danyal asked, amazed and impressed.
"That used to be a shed just outside the stronghold," Emilo said smugly. "See if they'll ever store all their kegs of lamp oil in one place again!"
The band of men who had been guarding the end of the bridge now raced in a mob toward the scene of the explosioii. Flaming oil had been cast in a great arc around thfe blast, and several neighboring cottages and a haystack'were all crackling into a lively conflagration. The guardsmen were joined by others from the manor as everyone within sight labored to fight the flames, shoveling dirt onto the fire or, more rarely, casting a bucket of precious water on some particularly vulnerable outpost of the blaze.
"D'you think that will hold their attention?" asked the kender nonchalantly, leaning against the wall of the barn and trying to observe the gates of the manor. Flames soared into the sky, glowing like a beacon in the night.
"Let's get to the bridge!" Mirabeth urged, pointing to the route that had opened before them.
Ducking low, staying to the shadows as much as possible, the trio scuttled past the outbuildings of the small village. Finally they reached the last hut, still twenty paces from the end of the bridge. The whole surface of the span was visible from the manor, though the illumination naturally was brightest at this end.
"No point in hanging around and waiting for someone to find us," Danyal said, after checking to see that Kelryn's bandits were still busy with the fire.
The three of them raced onto the bridge, not daring to look back as they willed their feet to fly, and sprinted with all possible speed onto the surface of flagstones. In moments the deep chasm, black with night shadow, yawned to either side of them and the chilly air breezily washed away any trace of warmth that might have lingered from the fire in the village.
The first shout of alarm didn't come until they were halfway across, but even that was disastrously early, Danyal knew. Knowing their flight had been observed, he urged his companions to redouble their efforts, intending to fall back and try to gain them time, holding off the pursuing bandits with his dagger. But Mirabeth apparently sensed his intention, for she seized his wrist and pulled him sharply along at her side.
Finally the far end of the bridge was there, and they raced off the span and onto the dirt roadway. But now they heard the sounds of an angry mob, shouts and cries and hoarse, communal cheers as the bandits left the dying fire at the stronghold to give pursuit. Danyal sensed the bloodlust of the band and knew the three of them wouldn't live for a minute if they were caught.
"It won't work. We can't all make it!" he gasped. "Run!"
Again he tried to hesitate, to turn and buy more time, but Mirabeth pulled him hard. "You're coming, too!"
And so he followed, the kender and the two young humans dashing into the shadows of the mountainside while dozens of murderous bandits charged onto the bridge.
The crushing wave of awe that swept over Danyal was no less sickening for its familiarity.
"Dragon!" he gasped in horror, all but lurching forward. His knees turned to rubber, and he stumbled, staggering, then falling onto his face as Mirabeth collapsed and buried her face in her hands beside him.
Emilo skidded to a halt beside them, his face turned skyward. "Would you look at that?" he declared, his tone full of wonder. "A dragon!"
Danyal didn't want to look, but he needed to know. He raised his eyes and saw the serpent soaring overhead, blotting out the stars across a great swath of sky. Crimson scales reflected like rubies in the flaring light of the fire across the chasm, and then two massive wings pulsed downward, a blast of wind raising dust from the road.
"Take cover!" shouted the youth, reaching up from the muddy ditch on the uphill side of the road to seize Emilo by the wrist. He pulled the kender in beside Mirabeth and himself, hoping that they had been far enough from the lights around Loreloch to escape the serpent's notice.
The three of them lay in chilly water and sticky mud, staring in horror at the winged shape that had soared over them and now plummeted, intent upon the edifice of Loreloch.
Many of the pursuing bandits had come as far as the middle of the bridge. Now, co
nfronted by flying death, they turned en masse and tried to flee back to the manor.
But the dragon was far too fast. The serpent closed the distance with another deceptively leisurely stroke of those great wings. The massive head lowered, and then the night became bright with a hellish assault of flame. The dragon flew onward in a rush, leaving behind a cacophony of crackling fire, screaming men, and rushing wind as the inferno sucked in the cool night air.
Next Flayze glided past the manor, ripping away one of the great walls with his mighty forepaws. Another gout of flame spewed from those cruel jaws, this time turning everything within the manor walls into blazing destruction. A billowing cloud of fire arose, swelling into a mushroom of oily flames as the stables were incinerated next.
Coming around the great edifice, the red dragon crushed the cottages and barns of the village with blows of its claws or the whiplike lash of its monstrous tail. Again it breathed, and a dozen small houses crackled into fire.
Finally it came to rest on the ground beside the stronghold. With a few rending blows of its powerful fore-claws, it pulled down the rest of the walls. It smashed into the sturdy tower once or twice, but then apparently decided that solid structure wasn't worth the effort to destroy it. Instead, the wyrm concentrated on crushing any buildings still standing, burning everything flammable, and killing anything that moved within the ruin that had, minutes before, been Loreloch.
Only when the destruction was absolute did the serpent once again spread those vast wings. Catching a rising updraft, air heated by fires kindled by the dragon's own breath, Flayze launched himself into the sky and soon vanished into the dark of the night.
CHAPTER 36
A Trove of Treasure
Second Majetog, Reapember
374 AC
Later, when I was asked to explain my decision to climb the tower in Loreloch, I could not recall the exact thought processes that led me away from my young companion and into the lofty aerie of the fortified manor. I can only recollect a feeling, a sense as though a muse was singing to me from atop those stairs, a goddess of historians and chroniclers who urged me to visit the chambers above. No doubt my recollection of Kelryn's statements-he had told me that his library was in the highest part of his stronghold-helped me to make the decision.
In any event, I was halfway up the long, spiraling stair before it even occurred to me that I should perhaps have let the boy know of my intentions. By then, of course, it was too late; I would have risked discovery of us both had I gone back down to look for him.
So, instead, I continued on.
By the time I reached the top of the stairs, excitement and anticipation had gone far in overcoming my earlier misgivings. I saw that the spiraling steps terminated in a small landing, a landing that was isolated from the upper room of the tower before a large, secure door. I was as certain as I had ever been about anything that behind that door I would find the keys to unlocking many portions of previously unrecorded history.
Questions whirled through my mind as I stood there considering the barrier of wood and iron. This was the heart of Loreloch, I was utterly certain, and Loreloch and Kelryn Darewind were the keys to understanding the remaining mysteries of Fistandantilus. What had happened to the archmage after the convulsive explosion that had created Skullcap?
The answers, I had no doubt, could be found on the other side of that portal. At the same time, I had an uncanny feeling of danger, and knew I couldn't just walk through the door.
The clatter of a great banging noise abruptly shattered the still night that had surrounded the mountaintop edifice. Immediately I heard a curse from within the room and barely had time to flatten myself against the wall of the tower when the door flew open and none other than Kelryn Darewind should dart out! From the shadows, I caught a glimpse of his face, saw his jaw locked in a wolfish grin of cruel anticipation. With a shudder of apprehension, I thought of Danyal and Mirabeth somewhere in this great house and knew that they were in terrible danger.
I also saw that the priest of Fistandantilus-I did not learn until later that he really was a charlatan, as I had first believed-was clutching something bright and greenish in his hand as he charged down the spiral stairway. He did not see me as I shrank into the darkness.
Indeed, such was his haste that he forgot to bolt the door behind him!
I wasted no time in taking advantage of that oversight. As soon as the bandit lord was out of sight, I slipped through the doorway to find myself in what was clearly a study. There were numerous tomes and scrolls on the heavy shelves that lined much of the room's wall space. The three windows were small, almost like tunnels looking through the thick stone walls of the tower. Each of them was secured by a stout wooden shutter that fit tightly into the round window.
One practical thought did intrude: I thought to bolt the door behind me before I settled down to work. A single candle was still flickering weakly, and I used the wick to fire several bright lamps. With ample light, I settled down to read and within moments was utterly engrossed in the information before me.
I learned that Kelryn Darewind was not a priest, and Fistandantilus was not a god. He had lied to me-his imperfect, limited healing power had come from the bloodstone. At the same time, I ascertained that the essence of the archmage had somehow survived through the centuries, and that it yearned to return to Krynn. Whether he had become an undead lich, or existed in the form of a disembodied ghost, I could not, as yet, tell.
But I learned more, as well… that Fistandantilus might not have been destroyed in the convulsion of Skullcap, but that he had laid plans that were in danger of reaching fruition. And with his success, I knew, his vengeance would bring a reign of terror and darkness akin to some of history's most dolorous epochs.
Then my hands trembled as I came upon a real secret, concerning an artifact that opened the doors of understanding. For the first time, I learned about the potential-for great power, and for great evil-of the skull.
And then I saw the real danger of the archmage's plan.
CHAPTER 37
Clues from the Ashes
Second Kirinor, Reapember
374 AC
Dawn broke over the sJcy as Danyal, numb with awe, looked at the flaming wreckage of Loreloch. Occasionally a stone broke free from the rubble of the once high walls, rolling through the burning cottages, then tumbling from the summit of the village's mountaintop to bounce and crash down the long, sloping incline. Two structures of stone still stood more or less intact amid the ruin: the bridge leading to the manor, and the lofty tower that had risen from within the high walls.
"Foryth!" the youth said with a moan. "He was still in there. He couldn't have survived!"
Emilo shook his head sadly. "I never saw him after you two went around back last night."
Danyal tried to suppress his tears, but when he slumped back to the ground in the ditch, he felt his throat tightening and knew that the unwanted moisture was stinging at his eyes.
"Why did he have to go wandering off?" he groaned. "He should have stayed with me; he'd be out here with the rest of us now!"
"Quite possibly true," Emilo admitted. The kender's eyes remained focused on the ruined structure, and Danyal turned around to follow the direction of his companion's gaze.
The dragon had worked the destruction of Loreloch using the same methodical thoroughness with which he had devastated Waterton. As well as the bridge and the tower, a few chimneys, stone walls, and an occasional silo stood after the onslaught of flames, though the fires still searched hungrily through the ruins, eagerly seeking more fuel. The wrack seemed utterly complete, and it was impossible to think that anyone could be still alive in there.
"Don't you think we should get going?" asked the kender casually. "Just in case any of Kelryn's men happen to be around."
Danyal shook his head firmly. "Not yet." He found it inconceivable that anyone could have lived through the attack, but more to the point, he was not ready to abandon rhe place where he ha
d Jast seen Foryth Teel. "Maybe he's hurt in there, or trapped somewhere."
He was surprised to realize that, despite the man's fussy nature and impractical priorities, the youth had become very fond of the aspiring priest. Also Foryth's knowledge and his sense of insight into the minds of other people, particularly the bandit lord and former Seeker priest, had been comforting weapons in the companions' meager arsenal.
"Let's have a look, then," Emilo agreed. The far end of the bridge was littered with charred, blackened corpses. Despite the fact that, moments before, these men had actively been seeking his own blood, Dan felt a grim regret at the loss of human life, at the implacable fire that had swept down from the sky with such telling, lethal effect.
"The dragon even pulled down the cottages," Mirabeth said softly. Her own eyes were dry, but her face was as pale as a ghostly fog. "There were people sleeping in them, and now they're dead."
Another rock clattered into the ruins, and the three companions looked toward the tower, expecting to see another stage of Loreloch's collapse. Instead, they saw a small shutter slowly swing outward, a sturdy wooden plug that had secured a tiny window in the thick stone waUs of the tower.
"Someone's alive there!" Danyal whispered, fear and hope mingling in his heart as he saw a slender hand emerge from the window. Even before that hand waved, he recognized the tan sleeve drooping around the slender wrist.
"It's Foryth!" cried the lad, leaping from the ditch and scrambling into the road, ignoring Emilo's fingers as the kender tried to slow him down. "Foryth!" he called again, dancing at the end of the bridge, waving both his own hands. "Are you all right?"
They couldn't hear the reply, though Dan clearly imagined the "tsk" as the historian leaned out of the small, lofty aperture. Foryth waved again, and the trio finally understood the nature of his gesture.
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