Pool of Twilight

by James M. Ward

  “It is an illusion!” Miltiades called out, but in that same instant a dark tentacle struck him in the chest, hurling him across the glen. The skeletal paladin’s armor rattled as he fell to the ground.

  “It hits awfully hard for an illusion!” Trooper growled. Barely ducking a thrashing tentacle, he swung his rune sword, but the creature did not back off. “We can’t hurt it, but it sure can hurt us!”

  The thing stalked toward Listle, who was pinned against the tree, paralyzed with fear.

  “Sifahir was most disappointed when you escaped from his tower, Listle,” it hissed.

  Kern reached the melee. Heart pounding, he swung his hammer, but nearly dislocated his shoulder as the weapon whooshed effortlessly through the monster’s insubstantial body.

  “No, Kern!” Trooper shouted. “Don’t just strike at the illusion. Use the hammer’s magic to break the enchantment!”

  Kern nodded grimly, unsure just what Trooper meant. Even as he raised the hammer for another try, the creature struck at Listle. With a tentacle, it ripped the ruby pendant from her throat. She screamed as the silver chain snapped. The gem flashed bloodfire.

  “Sifahir’s necklace!” the beast screeched in triumph, holding the gem aloft. Its tentacles encircled the helpless elf, ready to squeeze the life out of her.

  Now or never, Kern thought.

  “Help me end this evil magic, Tyr!” he whispered fiercely.

  The Hammer of Tyr glowed with sapphire light. Kern did not hesitate. He thrust the shining weapon deep into the illusionary beast’s chest. He felt a jolt of energy course up his arm, but held his grip.

  The beast roared in agony. Blue lightning sizzled through its body. The tentacles clutching Listle evaporated in a puff of acrid smoke. The elf sank weakly to the ground.

  The creature writhed as azure lightning engulfed it. Suddenly the crackling blue energy coalesced into a single jagged bolt that arced into the hammer. The weapon flashed brilliantly, then went dim.

  The monster was gone.

  Shoving the hammer into his belt, Kern rushed to the elf.

  “Listle, are you all right?” He reached down to help her to her feet, but his hands passed right through her body.

  “Don’t touch me!” she screamed. She scrambled forward, grabbing the pulsating ruby pendant, which had fallen to the ground.

  He stared at her in shock. Her form seemed to be flickering in and out of existence. In dull amazement, he realized he could see right through her. Trooper and Miltiades approached silently, standing behind Kern.

  Listle grabbed the ruby necklace, hastily fastening it around her throat. The gem flared, then dimmed to a steady glow. The elf’s form grew substantial once again, transparent no longer.

  Slowly she looked up at Kern, her face moon-pale in the twilight, her silvery eyes filled with anguish. “I’m sorry, Kern,” she whispered. Abruptly she sprang to her feet and dashed away through the trees, her sobs fading in the distance.

  16

  Shattered Illusions

  The crescent moon had risen well above the treetops by the time Listle finally stepped into the light of the campfire.

  Kern gazed at her silently, not knowing what to say. Or even what he felt. A bowl of Trooper’s rabbit stew sat on the ground before him, untouched.

  “I suppose I owe you all some sort of an explanation,” the elf said, sitting gingerly on a log across from Kern. Her face looked tight and drawn.

  “Perhaps,” Trooper said quietly. The paladin’s eyes glinted like blue glass. “But then, not all secrets are meant to be shared.”

  The elf took a deep breath. “I think this one has to be.” She smiled crookedly, her expression wistful. “I wish I could tell you this was all just another one of my practical jokes, but …” Her words faltered.

  Kern ran a frustrated hand through his tangled red hair. He couldn’t hold back any longer. “Listle, what was that creature? And why was it hunting you? And what … what happened when I tried to help you up?” His questions trailed off into awkward silence.

  “I guess you haven’t ever heard the phrase, ‘One thing at a time,’ have you, Kern?” Listle said wryly. “But that’s all right. I’ll try to tell you everything.”

  With a deep breath, she began her story.

  “Kern already knows how, ten years ago, I escaped from the tower of the wizard Sifahir. Believe me when I say that there has never been an elvish mage as black-hearted as he was.” Listle could not suppress a shudder. “Three centuries ago, he was counselor to the Queen of Evermeet, the land of the silver elves far across the Trackless Sea. For a time Sifahir used his powers to help the Queen keep her islands safe from pirates and sea monsters. But gradually he found other, less benevolent uses for his magic.

  “With his spells, Sifahir would torture confessions of treason out of innocent elves, and wreak magical destruction upon villages that couldn’t pay his cruel taxes. As time went on, his schemes grew ever darker. He began to whisper wicked plans of conquest in the queen’s ear and to warn her of treacherous plots against her life concocted, so he said, by her closest friends and loved ones. He advised that she execute them all. Finally the queen realized his true evil. However, since it’s against elven nature to take a life—even one as evil as Sifahir’s—she exiled him to a small, barren island north of Evermeet.”

  The fire sent shadows dancing across Listle’s face. Kern leaned forward to catch her soft words.

  “The island Sifahir was exiled to was little more than a collection of jagged rocks jutting up above the waves,” the elf went on. “Despite his might, Sifahir was condemned to stay in that desolate place. The Queen of the silver elves is not without powerful enchantments herself, and she cast a geas upon him. Should he ever set foot off his island, he would perish. But if she thought this meant he would never be able to work evil in the world again, then the good Queen was wrong.”

  Listle shook her head sadly. “Sifahir raised a dark tower, and from it he spun a magical web, its tendrils reaching farther and farther with every passing year. He could never hope to leave the island, but with his evil web he was able to draw others to him. The unlucky would find their boats pulled off course to Sifahir’s island, their vessels crashing to splinters on the rocky shore, stranding them. Then, as his power expanded, he discovered ways to create evil servants that could venture forth into the world to retrieve objects for him—books of arcane lore, objects of magical power, and even … other people.”

  She gazed at Kern. “That is what attacked me in the glen. One of Sifahir’s servants. I … I never imagined one of his creatures could travel so far from his island prison.”

  She shook her head and went on. “With his web and his conjured minions, Sifahir captured and enslaved countless elves. The weaponsmith, Primul, was one of them, and the elven mages, Brookwine and Winebrook, were two more. Most of Sifahir’s prisoners died in the course of his terrible experiments, but a few were kept alive to serve him.”

  “Like you, Listle?” Trooper asked gently.

  She laughed then, but it was a rueful laugh, so unusual coming from the typically buoyant elf.

  “No, Trooper,” she said sorrowfully. “That wasn’t the case with me. You see, I didn’t come to the island.” Anguish shone in her silver eyes. “The island was where I first came to be.”

  Realization struck Kern, cold and terrible. “He … he created you, didn’t he?” He could barely speak the words. “Sifahir conjured you, just like he did the creature in the glen.” He shook his head. “But that means you’re … you’re a …”

  She nodded, trembling. “An illusion, Kern. I began my existence as an illusion, conjured by Sifahir’s magic to guard his treasure chamber.”

  Kern worked his jaw silently. What could he possibly say?

  “But an illusion is simply an image,” Trooper said with a bushy-eyebrowed scowl. “Illusions are nothing more than figments of the imagination. They cannot think, or act of their own free will. Or play practical jokes
.”

  “No,” Listle agreed, “they can’t.” She shivered, drawing closer to the fire. “I have only vague recollections of the time when I was created. More like dreams, really. I remember existing in Sifahir’s treasure chamber. I would appear if intruders ventured within and use the magic Sifahir had granted me to confront them. There was never any conscious thought in my actions.”

  Her voice grew even more quiet, her gaze intent. “But then … then something happened. What caused it to happen, I don’t think I’ll ever know. Perhaps it was simply the aura of magic that pervaded the treasure chamber, radiated by all the artifacts it contained. Whatever the cause, one day I realized that I had become conscious. I was fully aware of what I was—no, of who I was—and what I was doing.

  “At first it was simply a curious, wonderful sensation. But as time went on, my sense of self grew stronger. I began to feel pity for the people I was forced to use my magic on, then grief. Finally, I too came to understand Sifahir’s true nature and knew that I could serve him no longer. I decided to escape. It was the first independent decision I ever made.”

  She touched her ruby pendant, its light dormant now. “As the guardian of Sifahir’s treasure, I knew each item, down to the least coin. This necklace was one of his most prized possessions. It was forged by gnome illusionists long ago and enhanced his magic greatly. But he did not understand all of its secrets. I sensed that it had the power to grant me … life.” She swallowed hard. “As long as I wore the necklace, my body would be no different than a living elf is.”

  “So you took the necklace and escaped from the tower,” Miltiades said solemnly.

  She nodded. “It was easy. Sifahir had never expected one of his own illusions to betray him. Since I could will myself to become insubstantial and pass through walls, I managed to free some of the prisoners—Primul and a few others locked in the dungeons. We fled through the tower’s gates. That was where I discovered Winebrook and Brookwine. Their bodies were sunk deeply into the stone archway, where for years they had been forced to use their magic to strengthen the iron gate. I was able to reach into the stone and pull them free.”

  Her eyes grew distant “I remember that day so clearly. Primul picked up the two old mages as if they were thin sticks. They were so pale, so brittle. I didn’t see how they could survive. We dashed through the gates and to the sea. Then I realized we had no way to escape the island. But somehow, despite their weakness, Brookwine and Winebrook sent forth a call, and a half-dozen dolphins lifted their heads above the waves. We dove into the water, and the dolphins bore us away from the island. By that point, bolts of green lightning were shooting from the tower’s turrets. Too late, Sifahir had discovered our escape.”

  Listle’s shoulders sagged. “The dolphins dropped us on the shores of Evermeet, and ever since we’ve all been fleeing from Sifahir’s minions. He means to recapture us, and he wants me most of all.” She fidgeted with her necklace. “It has been over three years since the last attack. I had started to think that maybe he had lost us forever. But I know now that I was wrong. Sifahir will never rest until he’s regained the necklace and exacted his revenge.”

  “What will happen to you?” Kern found himself asking, almost against his will.

  Listle stared at the others. “I’ll become an illusion once again.”

  A silence descended on the small clearing. Kern tried to sort out all Listle had told him. The elf had always been unpredictable, but this—this was unfathomable. A dozen emotions clashed in his heart. Sorrow that Listle had known such anguish. Anger at the evil mage that dogged her footsteps. Fear that the elf might vanish in a puff of smoke at any moment. But most of all, he felt a profound confusion. Only a short while ago, after she had kissed him, he had seen Listle in a whole new light. Feelings he had never imagined before had stirred in his heart. But now he didn’t know what to feel. How could he love someone who wasn’t even real?

  Listle stood, her jaw set, with deep sorrow in her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve lied to you all for so long. I … I can understand if you want me to leave.” She started to gather her things.

  “Listle, do not—” Miltiades began, but he was interrupted by two brilliant sparks of light floating into the clearing. Both were a shimmering aquamarine, though one spark was slightly more green than blue, and the other slightly more blue than green. Abruptly the sparks flashed, and in their place stood two ancient, sweet-faced elves.

  “Brookwine! Winebrook!” Listle exclaimed.

  Trooper raised a bushy eyebrow in surprise, casting a glance at Kern. Kern nodded, confirming the paladin’s unspoken question. These were the two elven mages from Listle’s story.

  “Listle,” Brookwine began in his tremulous voice, “we are so glad that we have—”

  “—found you,” Winebrook went on without pause. “Primul sent us to warn you that—”

  “—one of Sifahir’s minions has discovered your—”

  “—whereabouts. You’re in terrible—”

  “—danger!” The two elves finished as one.

  Listle sighed, reaching out and holding their fine-boned hands. “I know,” she said glumly. “I was attacked a few hours ago. But that particular beast will trouble us no more, thanks to my friends here.”

  Quickly she relayed the tale of their encounter with Sifahir’s illusionary minion. When she finished, the two wispy mages bowed deeply to the others.

  “We are most grateful for—”

  “—your slaying of the beast—”

  “—that sought to deliver us into—”

  “—Sifahir’s hands once again.”

  The elves smiled their beguiling smiles, eyes glowing green-blue and blue green.

  “Er, don’t mention it,” Trooper said, seeming at a loss as he turned his gaze from one mage to the other.

  “Can you stay a while?” Listle asked the two ancient mages hopefully, but Brookwine and Winebrook shook their heads.

  “I’m afraid we dare not—”

  “—linger, dear Listle. We must return to—”

  “—inform Primul of this development,” they said in their fluid manner.

  “You know how the green elf thinks us—”

  “—to be flighty, and how angry he—”

  “—gets when we dilly—”

  “—dally.”

  Listle laughed despite her recent ordeal. Seeing her old friends always lifted her heart, no matter the circumstances. “Take care, you two,” she whispered, hugging them tightly. “And don’t let Primul bully you.” In a wink the mages vanished, and two glowing sparks fluttered out of the clearing.

  Listle fell silent then. Her worst fears had been realized. Her secret had been revealed. She knew the others would never regard her the same way again, especially Kern.

  Trooper spoke, as if sensing her thoughts. “Well, let’s have no more talk of leaving tonight,” he said testily. “It’s too late for such serious matters, and this old man needs his sleep.” With that he rolled himself in his blanket and almost instantly began snoring.

  Listle saw Kern gazing at her, the expression in his eyes impossible to read. She took a hesitant step toward him, wishing he would say something … anything. For a moment she thought he was going to, but then he too turned away and, climbing into his bedroll, shut his eyes tightly.

  Listle felt a preternatural chill behind her. She looked up to see Miltiades. The paladin seemed to be regarding her with his empty eyes.

  “It is a burden, being so different, is it not?” he said softly in his eerie voice.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “It is.”

  “You must not despair, Listle Onopordum,” he said, a stern note in his usually gentle voice. “You fought hard to have the chance to live. Do not throw it away, for any reason.”

  With that the skeletal knight stepped away into the shadows, leaving her feeling completely and utterly alone.

  A scream of rage filled the cavern of the pool of twilight.

  “Why did yo
u not tell me that sunlight would destroy my beautiful shadow fiends?” Sirana ranted. Her lovely hands were clenched into claws, her misshapen face twisted even more grotesquely than usual.

  Was it not obvious? the guardian of the pool asked mockingly. They were creatures of darkness. How could they possibly withstand the burning rays of the sun?

  Sirana’s wings flapped violently, casting off spatters of greasy black feathers. “Tell me, great guardian of the pool,” she spoke acidly. “You, who promised me so much power. Tell me, why does my revenge yet go unfulfilled?”

  Bubbles burst sluggishly on the pool’s metallic surface. As I told you long ago, sorceress, you are dealing with powerful forces. There is only one way you will ever gain the power you need to exact your vengeance. Sparkling flecks of twilight appeared in the pool, swirling at its center. You must enter the pool….

  Sirana shook her head, though entranced by the specks dancing beneath the pool’s surface, even as similar sparks swirled beneath her dusky skin. She knew she must not enter the pool of twilight. To do so would mean imprisonment beneath its murky depths.

  But, she mused, wouldn’t it be worth the price, to finally gain sufficient power to exact her revenge?

  Sirana had no idea if that stray thought was her own or the guardian’s. The flecks of twilight swirled faster, becoming a hypnotic whirlpool.

  Wouldn’t entering the pool be worth the small sacrifice? She could avenge her father’s death and bring about the destruction of that wretched city, Phlan, once and for all.

  Slowly, she began to approach the edge of the pool.

  It wasn’t as if she would have to be the pool’s guardian forever, she reminded herself. She had only to wait until the first unwary traveler happened upon the cavern. How easy it would be, to convince some lesser being to enter the pool’s depths.