Awaken, Magadon said, and used the power granted him by the dreaming Source as a prod to spur the sentience of the crystal awake.
The kraken was two bowshots distant. One.
Awaken!
The Source stirred to wakefulness. The crystal in the kraken's head flared blazing red, a pulse of power and light so bright it seemed for a moment as though a crimson sun had dawned over the sea.
Magadon screamed; the kraken shrieked; the crew wailed.
The awakened Source sent a call into the sky, along the Weave, so powerful that Magadon knew it could be sensed across Faerun. It spoke only a short phrase, in a language-ancient Netherese-that Magadon had learned only moments before.
I am here, it projected. Help me.
Magadon did not know to whom it was speaking-perhaps it had called to no one-and he had no time to consider the implications.
The surge of power emitted from the awakened, fully-conscious Source knocked Magadon to his knees. He lowered his mental defenses and took into his mind everything the Source offered. New mental pathways opened; understanding dawned; realizations struck him, revelations. He grabbed his head and held it, fearful it would fly apart. Sounds were coming from his mouth-gibberish-but he could not stop them. In those few moments he learned more of the Invisible Art, more of himself, than he had learned from a lifetime of study.
But he needed more.
Give it all to me, he projected to the Source, and was astounded at the power contained in his mental voice.
The Source answered.
The power that filled Magadon doubled that which he previously had received. His mind felt aflame. He felt his veins straining. Dagger stabs of pain wracked his skull. Blood gushed from his nose, his ears. His vision went blurry. He forced himself to hold onto consciousness. Despite the pain, he let the power come until the Source had given him everything it had.
The Source dimmed while Magadon glowed with the power contained in his mind. He was soaked in blood, snot, saliva. He did not care. He roared and his voice boomed over the water. The crew turned from the kraken to face him. Their wide eyes showed fear, wonder. Evrel shouted but Magadon could not hear him. He heard only a keening in his ears, punctuated by the drumbeat of his heart. In that instant, he knew that his mental abilities exceeded even those of the Sojourner.
Behind the crew, he saw the mountain of flesh closing on Demon Binder, saw the glowing facets of the Source coming closer.
Magadon looked inward and found his mental focus. It brought him calm. He reached out with his mind in a way he had never before done. As his consciousness expanded, he saw the fluidity of reality, the uncertainty of outcomes, the interconnections not between events but between possible events. He knew he could affect those possibilities; he knew he could make the improbable-even the highly improbable-reality.
At his command, reality conformed to his will. At the bow of Demon Binder, a glowing, golden vertical line appeared. It expanded rapidly in width and height until it formed an oval larger than the ship. The glow wavered, steadied, and an image appeared-a shoreline, the lantern light from a city, a thicket of masts and ships.
Selgaunt Bay. The crew stirred, ran for the bow as if to jump off the ship and into the bay.
Magadon exerted his will and pulled the portal toward Demon Binder.
A golden glow suffused ship and crew as they entered the portal, The kraken's shriek of rage chased them through. A tentacle struck the ship just before the magic took hold and sent it careening forward. The crew fell to the deck, shouting in alarm.
In a blink, Demon Binder floated peacefully on the still waters of Selgaunt Bay. Magadon, wobbly, sealed the portal behind them.
Cut off from the Source, he felt bereft. Knowledge and power flowed out of him, as ephemeral as the memory of dreams. He held on to what he could, but it was disappointingly little.
The crew rose to their feet and looked around with dazed expressions. One cheered, another, another. Soon the whole crew was shouting, singing, thumping each other on the back.
Smiling faces turned to Magadon and lost their mirth. Magadon touched a hand to his face. It came away bloody. His vision blurred and he fell.
CHAPTER 14
The surge of power from the planted Weave Tap seed caused the tower to shake under Vhostym's feet. His sons had done it! They had planted the second seed of the Weave Tap in Sakkors's mantle.
A charge went through Vhostym's frail body, a wave of exultation that would have caused him to leap for joy had his body not been so broken. He controlled his emotions only with difficulty.
Soon he would have the Crown of Flame.
Vhostym had been young when he and his father first had walked in the shadow of the Crown. Vhostym had been stronger then, not as sensitive to light. He still remembered the smell of the wind off the water, the feel of the air on his skin, the sounds of the surface heard through his own ears. He recalled the moments with fondness. The light had burned his skin but he had endured; his father had made him endure. Father had intended to harden Vhostym to pain, and to excite his ambition by showing him the possibility of a life on the surface, under the sun.
Father had taught the lesson well.
Vhostym had come to believe that nothing was unattainable, not for him, and he was about to prove it. He could track the course of his life back to those moments shared with his father under the Crown of Flame. In a sense, he had been born that day on the surface. He could trace all the accomplishments of his life back to that single event.
It was fitting, then, that he would end his life with the same event. He would create a Crown of Flame, tame it not only for a few moments but for an entire day, and walk in its shadow before he died.
He thought of his sons and reached out his mental consciousness for them. He linked with Azriim and Dolgan immediately. He saw through their eyes a dark city street. They were in Selgaunt, and both were restless.
He allowed Azriim to sense the contact.
Sojourner, his son said. We wish what we were promised.
Soon, Vhostym answered. It would be dangerous for you to return here now. Wait where you are. I will contact you after I have completed my task. All of this will be finished soon.
He sensed Azriim's perturbation, Dolgan's disappointment, the human's. . ambivalence.
He reassured his sons. You will have what you were promised. I will keep my word. I will leave here what you require for your transformations.
Leave it for us? Azriim asked. You will not be there?
Vhostym heard no concern in Azriim's mental voice, merely curiosity. He had taught his sons well. Sentimentality was a shackle with which the weak yoked the strong.
Yes, leave it for you, Vhostym affirmed. We will not see each other again.
His sons fell silent. The words surprised them.
I will contact you not long after dawn, Vhostym said. Remember that what you see this day is my doing.
He cut off the connection before they could trouble him with further questions. He had preparations to make.
"What now?" Dolgan asked. Sea water soaked the street at the big slaad's feet.
Azriim and Dolgan had assumed their preferred half-drow and human forms, and Riven had returned to his natural form. The three stood on a narrow street in Selgaunt. All were soaking wet and the human's lips were blue. No doubt he was cold from the night's chill.
Dawn was still an hour or two away and only dung-sweepers populated the otherwise deserted streets.
"We wait," Azriim said. He looked down at his filthy, torn, water-stained clothing. "And as soon as the shops open, I buy some new attire."
Cale and Jak materialized in the darkness of one of Selgaunt's countless alleys. Cale recognized the location-not far from Temple Avenue. Their sudden appearance startled several cats and the felines screeched and fled. The sound reminded Cale of the kraken's shriek. He put it out of his mind. They were safe now.