Another arrow whistled through the air. Mordrayn ignored it—to her detriment. When the shaft embedded itself in the archmage’s thigh, Kestrel recognized it as one of the bronze-tipped bolts Durwyn had received from the baelnorn.
Fresh anger distorted Mordrayn’s features. She snapped the shaft in half and flung the fletched end aside. The remaining half protruded from her leg, blood oozing around it to streak down the length of the limb. She tried to step forward, but the wounded leg buckled. She flailed to catch herself from falling. “Damn you all!” she screamed. With a wave of her hand, a volley of conjured arrows sailed back at Durwyn.
The archmage might still have her magic, but she was losing her composure. Unfortunately, Kestrel hadn’t any means of using that observation to her advantage. She could only hope the others also saw that Mordrayn was unhinged.
Athan at last reached the top of the ledge. He immediately rushed Mordrayn, but pulled back about ten feet away. He tried again to close in, but was once more repelled by an unseen force. The archmage cackled in wicked delight. “You’re just longing to touch me, aren’t you, darling?”
The sickened look that crossed Athan’s face made Kestrel wonder about the extent of the torture he’d suffered at Mordrayn’s hands, but the warrior recovered quickly. “Only with dwarven steel.”
A cry from Faeril ended the exchange. “Lady of Mysteries! Visit your divine fire upon this creature who corrupted your golden Weave!” At the cleric’s summons, a column of fire descended from directly above Mordrayn, enveloping her in flames.
As the sacred blaze seared the onetime communicant, Corran cleared the ledge. He crossed to Kestrel quickly and applied his hands to her torn flesh. His voice wrapped her in a prayer of healing. When he finished, he met her gaze. “I have healed your wounds, but I cannot remove paralysis by laying on hands.”
She stared at him hard, willing him to somehow understand her thoughts. Try, Corran. Try for one of your miracles.
He sighed. As if he’d heard her, he closed his eyes and made a second supplication to Tyr. A moment later, Kestrel waggled the fingers of her right hand. She could move once more. The paladin shook his head in amazement. “By Tyr’s grace...”
They hadn’t time to celebrate. The pillar of holy flames sputtered out, revealing a Mordrayn badly burned but still standing. Running blisters covered her withered skin. Her singed hair, what was left of it, had come unbound and floated wildly about her head. She fixed Faeril with a feral gaze. “You will follow my bidding now, worship at my altar!” The archmage barked out an arcane command.
At first, it appeared that Mordrayn’s spell had no effect on the cleric. She merely stared, unblinking, at the archmage. A moment later, Faeril pointed a finger at Athan. “Hold!”
The warrior froze in place, both arms raised in a futile attempt to break his sword through the barrier Mordrayn had established. Kestrel gripped Borea’s Blood. She’d penetrated that barrier once—she could do so again.
Durwyn launched another arrow at Mordrayn. The cleric turned on him. “Hold!” He, too, froze where he stood. One hand held his short bow, the other hung suspended in the process of reaching back for another bolt.
The bronze-tipped arrow struck Mordrayn in the shoulder. The archmage, her eyes blazing with the fever of the insane, did not even notice. She wheeled on Corran. “You next!” She raised her dragon claw to shoot a thin red beam of light at him.
The paladin raised his shield, positioning it to shelter both himself and Kestrel. The ray struck the shield squarely and bounced back straight at Mordrayn. “No!” she screeched. The beam hit her in the chest, knocking her to the ground.
For a fleeting moment, Kestrel thought the witch had been defeated by her own magic, but Mordrayn climbed to her knees and aimed her talons at Corran once more. Laboring for breath, she uttered the ancient words of another incantation.
From below, Kestrel heard Ghleanna’s voice also raised in spellcasting. When the half-elf fell silent, Mordrayn’s speech changed. Her words became inarticulate babbling, sounds more primitive than the language of the basest humanoids. She spun about, looking from one party member to another with dilated pupils, snarling like a trapped animal. Her claw lashed out wildly at each person she faced.
Whatever Ghleanna had done, it broke Mordrayn’s hold on Faeril. The cleric shook her head as if to clear it, then called out a command to free Athan and Durwyn from her spells.
Athan, however, still couldn’t draw near Mordrayn. Corran leaped up to engage her. He scored two hits on her dragon arm but could not sever it.
Kestrel saw her opening. With Corran keeping the paralytic talons at bay, the thief darted forward. She raised Borea’s Blood high in the air, then plunged it with all her strength into Mordrayn’s black heart.
The sorceress’s eyes widened in sudden sanity. She sank onto the stone floor as choked, gurgling sounds issued from her throat. “No...” she finally managed to gasp out. In the distance, a rumbling commenced. Cracks split the rocky cavern base, from which dancing orange firelight spilled.
Suddenly, ebon tentacles and a host of dragon claws rose out of the floor. They wrapped themselves around Mordrayn’s limbs and torso, pulling her into the rock itself.
“No! Not yet!” She struggled against their grasp, demons and her own horror seizing her with equal strength as payment came due for an ancient bargain. “No! Pelendralaaaarrr!”
Her cry, like the rest of her, was swallowed up by the earth.
Only the Gauntlets of Moander—divine artifacts unfit to accompany Mordrayn to her new abode—remained. Corran stepped forward and lifted the gloves from the floor. He offered them to Athan. “I believe Elminster entrusted these to your care.”
Athan donned the metal gloves. The mouth images on their palms opened wide as the gauntlets stretched to conform to the warrior’s large hands. “At last.” he said. “Now it but remains to use them.”
Strangely, the thundering continued. It grew louder, until vibrations shook the whole cavern. Ghleanna peered at the cavern roof. “Not another cave-in?”
Before anyone could respond, the noise rose to a deafening crescendo. Kestrel fell to the ground, knocked off balance by the strength of the tremors. Rocks and rubble broke away from the east wall of the cavern and splashed into the Pool of Radiance. Then the whole wall gave way. An overpowering roar echoed through the chamber.
Pelendralaar had arrived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The mighty dracolich filled the pool cavern. His body easily extended a hundred feet, his spiked tail another eighty. He stretched his tattered, leathery wings halfway to the ceiling, draping Faeril, Ghleanna, and Durwyn in his long shadow. He towered over them, not quite close enough to snap them up in his jaws. The trio froze in terror, rendered helpless by the very sight of the living dragon corpse.
Behind the beast, cool air and starlight filtered into the cavern through dust that had not yet settled. In his rush to answer Mordrayn’s summons, Pelendralaar had burst right through the cliff face. When he saw Athan wearing the Gauntlets of Moander, he realized he’d arrived too late.
Red flames burned in his empty eye sockets. The dracolich opened wide his jaws in a bellow of rage. “Arrogant hatchlings! You know not what you have done!” Puffs of smoke escaped through rows of razor-sharp teeth. “But you shall pay for it.”
The frightful fire-breathing creature inhaled deeply. Were Corran not so near, Kestrel knew fear surely would seize her as completely as it had her friends below. Fortified by the paladin’s aura, she was able to dive to one side before flames burgeoned from the dracolich’s mouth.