Fistanadantilus Reborn ll-2

by Douglas Niles

  Despite the boiling lake, the air chilled rapidly with the coming of night. A cool wind blew down from the heights, and their breath frosted in the air as the four companions and their brutal enemy started the ascent.

  At least the gully proved to be a good choice of a route. Though they occasionally had to maneuver around large rocks or short, precipitous drops in the sloping floor of the ravine, the party was able to climb in a trench with walls rising twenty or thirty feet high to either side. For hour after hour, they made their way upward, pausing rarely for a few minutes of rest, but then immediately turning back to the challenges of the steep ravine floor.

  By mutual, unspoken assent, Danyal led the way. He and Emilo were the most nimble of the companions, but in the last days, the kender had seemed to lose some of his bold, carefree nature. Dan wasn't certain whether this was because of the frequency and violence of the recurring spells, or because of concern for Mirabeth. In any event, the change had been dramatic and saddening.

  The lad carried a loop of short rope, the line one of a few things they had salvaged from the ruins of Loreloch, and over the steep stretches of the climb, he braced himself at the top and dangled the rope as an added handhold for his companions.

  In these sections, Kelryn Darewind climbed one-handed, keeping a tight grip on the knife and Mirabeth with the other. Any thoughts Danyal had about dropping the rope were quickly dashed when he saw that he would inevitably injure the lass as well as the bandit lord.

  It was after midnight when, having just completed a fifteen-foot stretch of vertical ascent, they paused for another gasping rest. It looked to Danyal as though they were only halfway up the steep, high mountain, and he suppressed a twinge of fear, not wanting to imagine what would happen if daylight revealed them to be far from cover, fully exposed on this craggy summit of bare rock.

  "Tsk — there's a hole here," Foryth said wearily. "I almost fell in."

  A waft of steam in Dan's face was the first indication that there was a deep break in the ravine floor. Following the warmth, Danyal came around a large rock to see a black hole in the ground, a gap large enough for a person — but certainly not a dragon-to squeeze through. "Ifs a cave!" Danyal exclaimed. "It could be a vent for the dragon's lair," Foryth suggested thoughtfully, coming to stand beside the lad.

  "Let's go in here, then," the lad suggested. The warmth of the air felt so good that for a moment he was able to quell the emotions of fear and hate that were raging in his mind.

  The others agreed, so once again the human lad led the way. Danyal crawled on his belly, feeling the passage open up within a few feet of the first entrance. Trying to move silently, he reversed himself so that his feet were preceding him. Sliding on his rump, he came to a lip of stone. Despite the nearly complete darkness, he discerned a surface a short distance below his feet and was able to slide down until he was standing on a smooth, flat rock.

  In short order, the others had joined him. Though they moved without speaking, each whisper of cloth scraping over stone, each scuff of a bootheel finding purchase on the floor, seemed like a loud, resonant noise in the still darkness. Kelryn tightened his grip on Mirabeth, and as Dan's face flushed, the lass looked at him with a mute plea. She wanted him to remain calm, and for her sake, he did.

  Gradually Danyal realized that it was neither utterly still nor completely dark within the subterranean chamber.

  "Go!" hissed Kelryn. "Lead the way!" A dull rumble of sound seemed to rise from the very rock itself. Indeed, it was not so much a noise as a vibration, a trembling that was apparent in the air and the firmament in equal portions. The ground seemed unsettled, and Dan wondered momentarily if the cave was on the brink of collapse. Still, the walls seemed solid, and on a practical level, the noise seemed likely to mask at least the small, incidental noises made by the four intruders. Furthermore, though the narrow entry passage screened all the ambient light of the night, there was a pale illumination that marked the curving outlines of a narrow, stone-walled cavern.

  There was a crimson tint to the glow, which suggested an origin in a hot furnace of fire or embers. Whatever its source, however, Danyal was glad for the light, relieved that they wouldn't have to grope through darkness or, even worse, carry some sort of light that would clearly announce their presence to any denizen with eyes.

  By silent, mutual consent, they began to advance carefully along the cavern. The footing was surprisingly smooth. There was none of the loose rock or gravel underfoot that Danyal would have expected, indeed had encountered in every other cave he had ever explored. Instead, it was almost as though this stone had flowed here like thick mud, then hardened into the curves and whorls that made the footing in this smooth-walled passage such easy going.

  Warm, dry air wafted into their faces, the temperature increasing gradually to a baking heat that suggested a source of deep and infernal fire. The illumination, too, increased, until they were advancing through a cavern limned in crimson, with a fiery center beckoning and threatening from ahead.

  Finally they came to an end of their narrow tunnel, finding an aperture that was perhaps twenty feet above the floor in a much larger cave. The floor below them was crisscrossed with lines of bright red, like liquid fiame, and a great black knob of stone rose from the midst of the vast circular chamber.

  There was no sign of the dragon. However, Danyal stiffened when he felt Foryth touch his arm, then point toward a shadowy alcove on the far side of the cavern.

  A skull, a human skull, sat there, regarding them with black, eyeless sockets. Despite its fleshless inanimation, Dan felt a shiver of apprehension as he beheld the piece of bone. He could not ignore a sensation that those sightless eyes were staring right at him.

  "There it is!" Kelryn Darewind whispered, his face distorted by a leer of anticipation. Again he tightened his grip on Mirabeth, and his eyes found Dan. "You, boy. Go down there and bring it to me!"

  Danyal's combination of emotions-his hatred for the bandit lord and his fear for Mirabeth's life-must have created an amusing torment on his face. In any event, Kelryn Darewind looked at him and laughed as he pressed the dagger a little harder against her skin.

  "Why do you hesitate? Are you frightened finally?"

  Kelryn pressed forward, still holding Mirabeth as he herded the trio of companions to the lip of the drop. Danyal saw a narrow ledge and started along the descending ramp, clinging to the wall as he inched his way along. Foryth, then Emilo, followed. Still clutching Mirabeth in the crook of his arm, the bandit lord came along behind, keeping the knife poised for a killing strike.

  At last they worked their way down to the cavern floor, feeling the bedrock of the mountain quickly warm the soles of their boots and moccasins. In a small group, they crossed a stone arch that spanned one of the rivers. The crimson stuff was, in fact, molten rock, Foryth explained to Danyal.

  Finally they gathered before the alcove where rested the skull of Fistandantilus. Its sightless eyes still glared, and Danyal squirmed under the uncanny sensation that they were watching him.

  It was Emilo who took a step forward, scrambling up a shelf of rock below the alcove. He stared at the skull from only a foot or two away, and Danyal realized that the normally fearless kender was trembling.

  "I remember," Emilo said, his voice a harsh whisper. "I saw this skull before… There was a dwarf there, a wicked dwarf…"

  "Take the skull! Bring it to me!" snapped Kelryn, prodding the knife hard enough to draw a gasp from Mirabeth.

  Slowly the kender reached out his small, wiry hands. Hesitating only for a moment, he took the skull between his palms and slowly lifted it from the smooth rock of the alcove. Danyal, realizing that he wasn't breathing, half expected the mountain to collapse or some sort of explosion to rock them.

  Instead, there seemed to be almost a lessening of the vibrations in the deep, fiery mountain. With a sigh of relief, Emilo slumped to the ground, holding his grotesque trophy at arm's length.

  It was then that the deep
chuckle rumbled through the lair, a sound that could only mean one disastrous thing. And as he looked up and saw the slitted yellow orbs leering out of the darkness, Danyal knew.

  Flayzeranyx was here.

  But that, too, would soon end!

  Indeed, the kender was his slave now, the skull giving Fistandantilus the power at last to overwhelm his host's limited powers of resistance. The wretch would suffer before he died, but first there was another task to perform. Still maintaining his focus, Fistandantilus felt the nearness of the bloodstone. He gathered his might, plunging through the recesses of the kender's mind, taking full control.

  Emilo Haversack sidled to the side, until he crouched next to the prone form of Kelryn Darewind. The bloodstone was there, and through the skull, the archmage could at last bring the kender under his control.

  And Fistandantilus hungered for the nearness, the imminence, of killing.

  CHAPTER 41

  Shards Assembled

  Third Bakukal, Reapember

  374 AC

  Fistandantilus felt the flush of power as the kender's hands touched either side of the skull. The circle was complete and needed only the explosion of blood and magic to bring the archmage's scheme to fruition. His will, his memories, and his presence coalesced into a single powerful entity, an entity with a growing semblance of control.

  At the same time, he felt the pulse, the heated throbbing of the bloodstone. It was coming from nearby, and with the skull, it would make him complete.

  Yet still there was that cursed, impenetrable interference that was somehow tied into the presence of the boy.

  CHAPTER 42

  Dragons, Priests, and Magic

  Third Bakukal, Reapember

  374 AC

  In the split second of recognition, Danyal knew that the wave of dragon awe was imminent and inevitable. Even so, the reality of the red monster's presence jellied his knees and felled him like a corpse-except that he was still alive, gasping and horrified as he lay helpless on the floor. Mirabeth, Foryth, and even Kelryn Dare-wind had been similarly staggered by the serpent's arrival, though the bandit lord had fallen on top of the girl, pinning her in place with his weight. The four humans stared, in various stages of immobility and fear, from where they had collapsed.

  Only Emilo still stood. Danyal remembered the kender's nonchalance when the dragon had flown over Loreloch, but even when he saw the proof repeated before his eyes, he wondered how it could be that his companion could remain upright, apparently unconcerned, in the face of that lethal and overwhelming presence.

  In fact, Emilo, still holding the skull, now sauntered past Kelryn Darewind, without taking advantage of the fact that he was behind the bandit. He could have pulled Mirabeth to safety! Instead, he walked away from the others, head upturned to regard the massive dragon.

  The serpentine monster's neck twisted, bringing the reptilian visage downward with a rasp of dry scales until the twin nostrils gaped before the companions. A small puff of black smoke emerged from the flaring snout, and Danyal coughed reflexively. Kelryn Darewind was still awestruck, staring at the wyrm.

  Strangely, the explosive convulsion of his lungs seemed to bring some semblance of control to his limbs, and Dan was able to push himself to his hands and knees.

  Crawling to Mirabeth's side, he took her hand, grateful for the returning pressure of her fingers.

  "Now," he mouthed.

  Mirabeth nodded, and Dan pulled on her hand as she tried to roll away. But the false priest overcame enough of his own terror to twist, to threaten with the knife pressed now against the young woman's back.

  She groaned in pain and, with a grimace of bitter dismay, Dan froze.

  "Look!" Mirabeth gasped.

  Still clenching her hand, Dan turned to see Emilo standing, apparently dazed, before the dragon's broad nose. The scarlet jaws gaped slightly, revealing a multitude of teeth, the largest of which were easily as big as the blade of Danyal's knife.

  "The skull of Fistandantilus belongs to me," hissed the dragon wickedly.

  "No. The skull belongs to no one-no one except itself," replied the kender.

  At least, the words came from Emilo Haversack, but the voice was deeper and more forceful than the kender's familiar chatter.

  Emilo studied the bony artifact that he held in his hands. Then he raised his head once again, calmly meeting the dragon's glare.

  With a deliberate movement, the kender tucked the skull under his arm, the bony face looking backward. With the opposite hand, he reached into a pouch at his side and pulled forth a gold chain, from which dangled the pendant of a familiar gem.

  "My bloodstone!" Kelryn Darewind's shriek was a thin, piercing blade of sound. Eyes wide, the man grasped at his shirt with his left hand. His right still held the knife with white-knuckled intensity, the tip of the blade digging cruelly into Mirabeth's back.

  The skull stared from its black eye sockets, grinning with locked, rigid teeth.

  "If you are wise, red serpent, you will withdraw immediately and you will have a chance to live."

  The words came from the kender, but again this was not Emilo Haversack speaking. The diminutive figure cradled the skull as he allowed the glowing gemstone to sway dizzyingly back and forth.

  The dragon snorted, and Danyal was momentarily certain that they would all be engulfed and killed by a lethal explosion of flame. But something-perhaps it was merely a desire to protect the treasures from harm- held Flayze's deadly attack in check.

  Instead, the great serpent flicked a claw, striking Emilo in the chest, propelling him backward with violent force. The kender's body smashed onto the ground, bounced, and collided with Foryth Teel. The historian caught Emilo's limp form and gently lowered him to the floor.

  Somehow the skull and the pendant had remained with the frail body through that violent assault, and now, as blood seeped from a deep wound in the kender's chest, the grinning death's-head lay between Emilo's feet while the pendant rested nearby on the floor. The pale green light pulsed from the stone, bright even in the fiery illumination of the dragon's lair.

  Kelryn Darewind, his features locked in an expression of horror, lunged toward the stone, then whirled as Mirabeth took the chance to dive away from him. She scrambled across the floor, and the bandit lord darted after her, then backed off with a snarl as Danyal faced him with the large, curving knife. Foryth Teel, in the meantime, gently probed at the mess that was the kender's chest.

  "Is he…?" Danyal glanced at the bloody figure and was horrified to see the white flash of Emilo's ribs through the tear in his chest.

  "He's alive." Grimly the historian pointed at a pulsing muscle, and the lad was vaguely aware that he was seeing a part of the kender's heart.

  Abruptly Foryth raised his head. His eyes bored into the dragon, and his thin body went rigid and taut in a way Danyal had never seen.

  "For years I have strived to remain aloof, to let history weave its tales without my interference or my judgment."

  His tone hardened, and he shook a narrow fist in the air. Foryth's eyes were wild, and his forehead was slick with sweat. "But this is too much! Fate is too cruel, and I blame all you who would be the great shapers of history!"

  The historian drew a firm breath and stood. "This one is innocent, and he has been wrongly used!"

  Foryth Teel was shouting aloud now, in a voice that seemed powerful enough to overwhelm the volcanic tremors of the angry mountain.

  "How dare you!" The historian's voice was choked with passion, a whiplike force of anger lashing at the monstrous serpent.

  Flayze merely uttered an amused snort in response.

  At the same time, Danyal noticed a newcomer in the cave: an incongruous image of a slight, elderly man dressed in a robe of drab gray. The stranger was standing nearby, clearly within the line of sight of the dragon, yet the serpent seemed not to be aware of his presence. And then, when Foryth Teel swept his gaze across the room, he, too, looked past the man without any sign that h
e was aware of the mysterious observer.

  He is an observer! Danyal made the realization as the stranger raised his hands, revealing that he held a long scroll of parchment. With the scratching of a quill, he started to write, his eyes shifting smoothly from dragon to historian to bandit lord. Dan felt wonder at his own acceptance of the strange appearance; still, he couldn't shake the feeling that the man seemed to belong here.

  Foryth Teel whirled, pointing an accusing finger at Kelryn Darewind. "And you!"

  It seemed to Danyal that all of Foryth's self-control, his vaunted dispassion, had vanished under the onslaught of his rage. He raised his fists, then leaned back and shouted toward the ceiling arching so far overhead. "And all of you priests, and even the gods themselves! Paladine and Takhisis! I spit on your arrogance, your cruel manipulations. And Gilean, do you hear me? You are the worst of all!"

  At that statement, the strange scribe turned with a start toward the priest. His eyes narrowed momentarily, and then he went back to observing the dragon.

  "You strive for aloofness, dispassion, but how can you ignore the hurts?" the historian went on.

  Fumbling in his pouch, Foryth Teel pulled out his Book of Learning, scornfully waving the tome in the air.

  "All of you are corrupt. I condemn your immortal pretensions!"

  Now the historian's voice took on a slower, but still accusing, tone. "I see that it's no use to simply watch. I have to do my part, to be a part of the story. And it matters who lives and who dies. People like this kender are more than just pawns. He deserves better than to have his life cast away in the middle of your contest!" Foryth choked the sound of a strangled sob, then straightened to stand tall. "I can't make a difference; it's a pity he didn't have more powerful friends."

  Abruptly he hurled the book against the rock wall beside the alcove where they had found the skull. The pages stuck to the wall, and suddenly sparks crackled along the rock surface, a cascade of brightness that drew everyone's unblinking attention. Even Flayze watched, yellow eyes hooded, long fangs partially bared.