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moving on me. I'm certain of it."
"Whatever you say, Kern."
Before Kern could argue his case further, Miltiades approached. Though it was
difficult to say the skeletal pal-adin was excited, there did seem to be an
unusual eager-ness to his perpetual grin.
"What is it, Miltiades?" Kern asked.
"I've found the stairwell."
Moments later the four adventurers were exploring the half-formed hall where
the stairwell was located.
There wasn't much to see besides the rows of stone sarcophagi lining the
perimeter. The coffins stood upright, their frozen death masks staring blankly
ahead. Listle and Sirana were both weaving spells, trying to detect any
danger-ous magic that might be guarding the stairwell.
"I don't think there are any traps," Listle announced finally, though her tone
was less than certain.
"My, that's reassuring," Kern snorted.
Listle glared at him. "Well, there is one way we can know for certain if there
are."
"What's that?"
"You stand over here, Kern." Listle smiled sweetly. "I'll just push you down
the stairs, then we'll see what happens."
Kern nodded absently. He wasn't really listening to the elf. He found himself
shivering. "Do you notice anything strange about those sarcophagi?" he asked
the others. "I suppose it's just my imagination, but their eyes seem to be
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following me."
"Do you think yourself so worthy of attention, then?" Sirana asked with a
sultry laugh.
He blushed. "Of course not. Like I said, it's probably just my imagination.
Still..."
"Let us examine one to be sure," Miltiades said. He moved toward the standing
sarcophagi. Kern, Listle, and Sirana followed. "Perhaps there is some trick
about these "
"Miltiades, get back!"
The four spun around to see Daile dash into the cathe-dral, eyes panicked.
"Everybody, get away from those sarcoph "
She was too late.
Suddenly the lids of four sarcophagi sprang open with a groan. Dozens of
skeletal hands reached out with uncanny swiftness, clutching at the four
adventurers, who strug-gled in vain.
"Daile, what's happening?" Kern shouted in terror. He had the horrifying
sensation that he was reliving a dream.
"Let him go!" the young ranger screamed, using the dagger called Right to hack
at the arms that clutched Kern. It was to no avail. Another sarcophagus
opened. Long, spindly limbs sprang out to engulf
Daile. The skele-tal arms inexorably dragged the adventurers into the wait-ing
shadows of the five sarcophagi. Then the stone lids slammed shut, cutting off
their cries of protest.
The half-formed cathedral was silent once again.
11
Road Into Danger
The day after Kern and his companions set off for the ruins of the red tower,
Evaine decided it was time to em-bark on a mission of her own.
She rose in the cold of predawn and, teeth chattering, hastily donned thick
woolen breeches and a tunic of her favorite mossy green. Deftly, she bound her
long chestnut hair into a braid, winding it in a tight knot at the nape of her
neck. As she did, she caught a glimpse of her reflec-tion in a teardrop-shaped
mirror. A
gaunt, ghostly pale face with deep, shadowed eyes peered back at her. She
still bore the scars of her astral battle with the guardian of the twilight
pool, but she had waited as long as she dared  too long perhaps.
She would just have to be strong enough.
From the tiny pocket dimension that served as her spellcasting chamber, she
gathered the ingredients she would require to work her spells: many-colored
crystals, iridescent powders, and small, neatly folded parchment packets
filled with herbs. These she placed in a small pack, adding her copper brazier
and carefully wrapped in oiled leather her spellbook. She remembered to grab a
golden brooch set with a single ice-clear jewel, the twin to the magical gem
she had given Miltiades. This she pinned to her tunic.
A quick look around told her she had forgotten noth-ing. She descended the
glowing spiral staircase into the warm main room of her log-walled dwelling.
Gamaliel was waiting for her. The great cat sat before the fire, tail wrapped
around his paws. His eyes were narrow, green-gold slits.
Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing, Evaine, the cat
growled in the sorceress's mind.
"As you like, Gam," she murmured pleasantly. Inwardly she steeled herself for
an argument.
In case you haven't noticed, I'm not laughing.
"Don't blame me if you have a poor sense of humor," Evaine replied flippantly.
She banished the shimmering stairway with a snap of her fingers.
Gamaliel's whiskers twitched in agitation.
You aren't well enough to travel, Evaine, let alone cast your detection spells

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or face the guardian of the pool of twilight.
Evaine knelt beside her familiar. "Gam, I could tell you that I'm fine," she [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]