Chapter 3
Two score men and women stood motionless in tbe fog, tbeir white robes clinging in the dampness. The setting could have been day or night, north or south, pinnacle or plain. The mist muted everything to colorlessness.
At the center of the circle stood the only figure wear shy;ing other than the robe of a mage. He was also the only one carrying a sword. Homespun shirt, dark shift, patched leggings, and dusty boots covered his tall frame. The man appeared to be in his seventies. Unbent and powerful despite his age, he held in his arms a woman so slender and weak that a casual observer might wonder whether she still breathed.
She was at least eighty. Yet even in her sleeping frailty, it was apparent that once she had been a great beauty. The woman, too, wore the white robes of a mage of Good.
Tarscenian held Ancilla and quietly surveyed the circle of mages around him. When he finally spoke, the fog muffled his voice.
"Ancilla argued for three days before the Conclave of Wizards," Tarscenian said, "and when they still refused to help her, she collapsed. She is weak." He paused, unwilling to say the words that would put voice to his worst fear. "She is dying."
The other mages knew Ancilla had spent decades try shy;ing to stop the fanatic Hederick from realizing his ambi shy;tion to lead the Seeker religion-and, ultimately, all of Krynn. He had installed himself as High Theocrat of Solace. Now Hederick was hoping to so impress his gods that they would admit him into their pantheon as a deity. He called himself The Chosen One and considered him shy;self the special favorite of the Seeker god Sauvay.
"Hederick has the Diamond Dragon of the White Robes," Tarscenian said.
The men and women inclined their heads. Ancilla had received the Diamond Dragon when she passed the Test that made her a white-robed mage. Hederick had taken it from her. It was a sad irony that the artifact of the White Robes now protected one such as Hederick from their magic.
"Doubtless you have tried stealing the artifact back," the elven mage Calcidon said.
Tarscenian nodded assent. "To no avail. That if hy Ancilla wanted to enlist the help of the Conclave oi.. iz-ards, including all Neutral and Evil mages."
"And the Conclave of Wizards refused her," Calcidon mused. "Even those mages allied with good."
"The White Robes were somewhat willing," Tarscen shy;ian said. "The neutral Red Robes were unsure, and the Black Robes of evil were absolutely set against any action."
Strands of mist coalesced and whirled around Tarscen-ian and the others as though the fog expressed some of their agitation.
"What interest could the Black Robes have in sup shy;porting a man who would gladly see them all burned?" Calcidon asked. "They are mages, after all. Like us, they favor the Old Gods."
The mage Benthis spoke next. "Refugees have been arriving from the far north with tales of strange armies, mercenaries, and nefarious creatures," he said. "Mino-taurs. Hobgoblins, goblins, and worse. There's no logic to the rumors, unless a source of unheard-of evil is behind such a military undertaking." Benthis looked Calcidon straight in the eyes. "An evil on the scale of a deity."
The elf frowned. "You are suggesting …"
"Takhisis herself."
"The Dark Queen!" Calcidon laughed. "Oh, surely one of the Old Gods would not intercede on Krynn.." The elf halted, taken aback by the intent looks of the other mages. The last time the Old Gods had interceded on Krynn, the resulting debacle practically destroyed the world. Three centuries earlier, the Cataclysm had drained seas, created oceans and deserts where none had been before, and killed hundreds of thousands of humans, elves, dwarves, kender, and other beings. All because a human, the kingpriest of a faraway city, had aspired to godhood.
Calcidon, wearing a mask of elven calm, turned to Tarscenian. "The Conclave has refused to help you, but two score white-robed mages hear your tale now. What do you seek of us?"
"Hederick is slaughtering scores of mages," Tarscen shy;ian replied. "All of you have lost someone dear to Hed-erick's Inquisition."
Indeed, it was true, the mages agreed, nodding to each other. In the past three months, Hederick had leveled dozens of vallenwoods. The Solace trees were sacred to the followers of the Old Gods but merely another source of firewood to the Seekers. Hederick was employing goblins and hobgoblins as spies and assassins. The gob shy;lins in turn had enlisted other evil creatures to assist them.
On the land cleared of vallenwoods, just north of Solace on the shores of Crystalmir Lake, Hederick had built an opulent temple. The High Theocrat called the temple Erolydon, which meant "scourge of heresy" in Old Abanasinian. There Hederick had set up the head shy;quarters of his Inquisition. Anyone caught using magic was deemed a heretic, according to the Seeker faith, and thus was subject to execution, which came both swiftly and mercilessly.
Benthis, surveying the assembled White Robes, noted the melancholy expression on the face of the elven mage. "Even you, Calcidon?" he murmured. "I thought you and yours never ventured forth from your cozy elven nest in Qualinost. Who have you lost to Heder-ick's Inquisition?"
"A cousin," came the tight-lipped answer. "And you, Benthis?"
The hawklike visage softened. "My sister."
Other mages chimed in. "Hederick executed my brother." "My friend of twenty years." "My partner."
"What do you want of us, Tarscenian?" Calcidon repeated.
"Ancilla gave me instructions before she addressed the Conclave," Tarscenian said. "She feared she would fail-once more-to persuade them. And she worried she would be too frail afterward to summon you her shy;self."
Tarscenian chose his next words carefully. "Ancilla discovered a way to collect the powers of willing mages, and channel them through her own willpower. She thought that with such unusual strength at her disposal, she could at last wrest the Diamond Dragon away from Hederick. In turn, she planned to use the artifact to defeat him."
"Take our powers?" Benthis cried. "That's unaccept shy;able. Where would that leave us? Devoid of magic at a time when Hederick is sending spies and kidnappers all over Krynn to capture spellcasters! You'd leave us unprotected against this tyrant?"
"Ancilla found a means to shelter you," Tarscenian explained. "If you will transfer your powers to her, the vallenwoods will shelter your bodies and nurture you until the Diamond Dragon releases you."
A flurry of protest, led by Benthis, rippled through the gathering. But as Calcidon and the rest of the wiz shy;ards intoned the names of the loved ones lost to the Inquisition, one by one the opponents backed down.
Benthis tried one last argument. "If Ancilla fails, what happens to us? What if she dies despite our combined powers?"
"I cannot say for certain," Tarscenian said. "You will be part of the vallenwoods, but whether you will die or stay in the trees for years-or forever-Ancilla could not foretell."
Benthis gazed around the circle. His look met only obdurate stares. "And we all must be part of this?" he asked.
"All who are present now," Tarscenian replied. "Or the spell will not work."
Benthis closed his eyes. At last he opened them and attempted a weak smile. "If it comes down to dying at Hederick's command or perishing inside a vallenwood, I suppose it ultimately makes no difference," he con shy;ceded. He wiped the damp from his forehead with his sleeve. "I loved my sister. I'm with you."
For the rest of the day, Tarscenian led them through the steps Ancilla had forced him to commit to memory. When all had learned the spells and movements, he spread his cloak on the ground in the middle of the circle and laid Ancilla upon it. Then, because Tarscenian was but a minor spellcaster, he backed out of the circle, leav shy;ing the wizards to do their work.
Calcidon led the spell. "Shiriff intoann ejjitt," he intoned.
"Borumtalcon," the mages replied.