"Kellen," Morhion said gravely. "I want you to take a step back. Carefully."
The boy stood on the edge of a wide pit. Crimson light rose out of the pit, along with wisps of hot yellow smoke. Four yards below the rim of the pit was a bubbling pool of lava. When Kellen did as he was told, Morhion reached out and snatched the boy safely away from the edge.
Mari gazed down at the pool of molten rock, her face bathed in the ruddy glow. "The lava must be heating a source of underground water, and the resultant steam is forced up through the fissures in the rock, making the Valesong."
"Hey, guys," Ferret said with a gulp. "You may want to look up for a second."
The others did as the thief bid. Morhion swore softly. On the far side of the pit stood a sharp-edged pinnacle of basalt. Carved into the jagged surface of the spire were stairs spiraling upward, leading to the pointed summit. There was something up there, a dark shape at the top of the stone spire, but Morhion could not make it out.
Carefully, the four skirted the lava pit and approached the pinnacle. They found the beginning of the stone stair case on the far side of the spire, opposite the pit. They found something else as welclass="underline" A patch of stone had been molded into a new shape. It was a human hand, reaching out of the surface of the pinnacle. An object rested in the outstretched hand, a set of pipes. They looked like the reed pipes a forest satyr might play to enchant a nymph, but they were made of smooth onyx stone.
"Caledan," Mari whispered.
Kellen approached the stone hand and reached out to touch the onyx pipes. The instrument parted from the hand with a faint snick! and came away in Kellen's grip. He stared at the pipes in wonder. They were beautiful, as smooth and fluid as midnight water. "Thank you, Father," he said softly. He tucked the pipes into the pouch at his belt, where he kept his bone flute. "Anyone else curious to find out what's up there?" Ferret said, beady eyes shining. He pointed to the staircase with a thumb.
Cautiously, the four ascended the rough-hewn stair-case. The steps were narrow and uneven, and one slip could send them plummeting to the rocky ground far below. Finally they climbed the last steps to the summit and found themselves on a half-moon-shaped stone plat-form. Before them, hewn from the dark bones of the pin-nacle itself was a gigantic chair. No, not a chair, Morhion realized. A throne. "In Milil's name, what is that?" Mari gasped. The thing on the throne was about the size and shape of a barrel, but it was jet black and glossy, and tapered smoothly at one end. The object was attached to the throne by a sticky mass of dark strands. Only after a moment did Morhion realize that the thing's hard surface was slightly translucent. He could just glimpse some-thing within, something dark and pulsating. Whatever it was, it was alive.
"It's almost like some sort of cocoon," Ferret said with awe and revulsion.
"No, not a cocoon," Morhion countered in sudden realization. "Not a cocoon, but a chrysalis, like that which encases a caterpillar while it completes its metamorphosis a butterfly."
"While it completes its metamorphosis?" Mari repeated. Her voice became an anguished moan. "Oh, by all the gods of light. It's Caledan!"
Instantly Morhion knew she was right. He took a step toward the chrysalis, reaching out a hand. "Caledan, my friend—"
His words were cut short by a shriek of pure and ancient malevolence. A form uncoiled itself from a jagged outcrop behind the throne. The thing's gray, scaly hide had blended seamlessly with the dull stone, concealing it even as it had lain before their eyes. Now the creature sprang down to stand protectively before the chrysalis on the throne. It extended spiny arms ending in obsidian talons; its spiked tail flicked menacingly. The thing's eye less face was utterly inhuman.
A shadevar.
The creature opened its lipless mouth, revealing dark needle teeth. "The king sleeps," it hissed in a voice like a serpent's. "You shall not harm him."
"Get back!" Morhion shouted at the others. They retreated toward the staircase, but they knew they could not outrun the shadevar. The mage stretched out his left hand. Isela's ring glittered on his finger.
Rapidly, Morhion spoke the words of an incantatation. It was the same spell of protection he had cast against shadowhounds on the High Moor. Once again, a ring of shimmering blue magic spread outward from the mage. The ring's violet gem flared, and the expanding circle of magic changed from ice blue to brilliant purple. The glowing circle struck the shadevar and expanded beyond. Blazing tendrils of magic crackled around the creature's form, engulfing it in purple fire.
The shadevar only grinned.
As though removing a burning cloak, it shrugged its spiny shoulders. The glowing tendrils of magic fell to the ground. There they sizzled for a moment, then went dark. Morhion stared in horror. The spell had not worked!
He had been certain that the key to the ring's power lay in using a spell that contained elements of both light and dark. Yet had been terribly wrong. "Run!" Morhion screamed. I'll try to hold it off as long as I can!" The others only stood behind him, frozen in terror. In his mind Morhion prepared a spell of lightning, though it would likely be useless against the powerful creature. Spiked tail twitching, the shadevar advanced. "You would defile the king," it hissed poisonously, raising a clawed hand to tear Morhion's throat out. "Now you will die."
Morhion shouted his incantation, knowing he did not have time to finish it properly. The shadevar brought its curved talons down in a slashing arc. The blow never landed.
So swift it was nearly a blur, a lithe form heaved itself up over the edge of the pinnacle's summit and launched itself at the shadevar. The blur collided with the spiny creature, knocking it off balance so that the shadevar's strike went wide. One sharp talon just grazed Morhion's face, tracing a stinging line along his cheekbone. The mage stumbled backward into the others.
The shadevar's assailant backed away. It was the Harper Hunter, K'shar. The half-elf's clothes were all but shredded. His dusky bronze skin was bruised and torn. Blood matted his pale hair. Yet his golden eyes blazed with light. He had survived the destruction of the onyx bridge.
The shadevar recovered its balance, digging clawed feet into the stone on the very edge of the pinnacle's summit. It turned its eyeless face toward K'shar, slit-shaped nostrils flaring. "Fool!" it shrieked.
"Defiler! You cannot harm me. I will rend your flesh to liquid with that of these other mortals."
"Truly?" K'shar mocked. There was no fear in his expression, only a feral eagerness. "Very well, creature. I will make it easier for you. I will not try to escape. On the contrary, I will come directly to you."
Before the shadevar could react, K'shar dove, curling his lean form into a tight ball and rolling toward the creature. The half-elf struck the thing's legs forcefully, knocking the shadevar off balance. The creature's obsidian talons made a hideous screeching noise as they scrabbled against the edge of the precipice. The thing nearly caught itself. Then the rock crumbled under the terrible force of its clawed grip. With a piercing shriek, the creature toppled backward.
They watched as the shadevar fell through the air and plunged into the center of the glowing lava pit far below. The ancient creature's cries were cut short as it sank into the pool of magma. A roiling cloud of crimson fire burst out of the pit, then dissipated. After that, there was no sign of the creature. Even shadevari were not proof against the hellish fire of molten rock.
K'shar rose to his feet.
"How did you survive the fall into the chasm?" the mage demanded.
The half-elf shrugged. "I did not fall. I managed to grab a ledge a few yards down, then pulled myself up the cliff face to follow you."
"You saved us from the shadevar," Mari said in amazement, approaching with Ferret and Kellen.