Pelendralaar blasted his burning cloud straight at Athan. Heat licked Kestrel’s limbs, searing her skin as she tumbled away from the vicinity. Her body sweated beneath the leather armor, but it was protected from further harm.
She rolled until she reached the recess wall. Two hard objects jabbed her from beneath. Her daggers. They must have landed here when she threw them at Mordrayn. Gratefully, she grabbed the weapons and assumed a defensive posture as she cast a wary look back at the dracolich.
Pelendralaar advanced toward the ledge, ignoring the fear-stricken adventurers on the cavern floor. Somehow, Faeril managed to shake off enough of her dragonawe to cast a prayer-spell beseeching Mystra to imbue them with courage. Apparently, the Lady of Mystery granted the cleric’s petition, for Ghleanna and Durwyn recovered their composure. Durwyn reached for another arrow.
Faeril’s prayer and its results went unnoticed by Pelendralaar, whose sinister gaze focused on Athan alone. The fair warrior had been badly burned and lay unmoving on the floor. Kestrel saw that his chest yet rose and fell—life remained within him.
Corran, also burned, crawled toward the fallen hero. Even as the dracolich neared to finish off Athan, the paladin laid his hands on Ghleanna’s brother and spoke words of healing. Athan stirred.
Pelendralaar growled.
From below, a ghostly, oversized warhammer sailed through the air to strike the dracolich’s head. With a hiss, Pelendralaar turned his menacing gaze on Faeril. He lifted his claw to swipe at her and was struck in the underbelly by a bronze-tipped arrow.
Kestrel took advantage of the distraction to scurry over to Athan and Corran. Athan had recovered much of his strength, but the paladin looked ready to collapse. “I’ve healed him as much as I’m able,” Corran croaked out through blistered lips and a throat parched by heat. “Tyr answered my prayers beyond my imagining.”
“You should have saved some of those healing powers for yourself.” Kestrel pulled her last two blueglow moss potions from her beltpouch. “Drink these.” Corran accepted one vial but pushed the other away. “Both of them,” she admonished. “No arguments.” Athan voiced his agreement. Pelendralaar swiped his claws at Durwyn. At a word from Ghleanna, the burly fighter suddenly moved with lightning speed, easily dodging the knifelike talons. The dracolich jerked his head at the sound of the mage’s voice. “Your sorcery is nothing to what my queen’s was.” He fixed his gaze upon her and uttered a string of arcane syllables. Bursts of magical fire raced toward the half-elf, but a shimmering barrier surrounded Ghleanna, repelling the missiles. Durwyn, meanwhile, landed an axe blow on one of the creature’s claws.
Athan rose to his feet, anxious to reenter the battle. Corran too, now partially restored by the potions, looked for an opportunity to strike the dracolich. “Our swords can’t reach him from up here,” the paladin said. “And we’re vulnerable to another breath attack. We have to get off this ledge.”
Kestrel soberly assessed the steep drop. They’d kill themselves jumping, but she didn’t relish the idea of a slow climb down with her back to Pelendralaar. “We have no choice but to scale the wall,” she said finally. “Durwyn’s got the beast distracted—this may be our only chance.” She headed for the ledge and prepared to descend. Corran was right behind her, but Athan remained where he was.
“Go ahead,” Athan said, his eyes on Pelendralaar. “I’ve got another way down.”
Kestrel exchanged quizzical glances with Corran but had no time to ponder Athan’s plan. She slipped over the edge and scurried down the wall as fast as she could.
The dracolich batted at Durwyn like a kitten trying to catch dust motes. Faeril struck him with the spiritual hammer once more. With a roar, Pelendralaar twisted his long neck to capture the cleric in his sight. His mouth opened wide and rushed toward Faeril. Mystra’s servant stood her ground.
Just as his jaws were about to snap around her, Faeril shouted a command. Brilliant sunlight streamed from her staff. The dracolich howled as the pure rays eclipsed the unholy fire in his own eyes. The cleric thrust the weapon into his jaws, wedging them open. Thus disabled, the dracolich could neither bite nor speak—nor cast spells.
Pelendralaar’s whole body thrashed as he tried to shake loose the staff. He tossed his head wildly. Tendrils of foul-smelling smoke curled up from patches on his body where his undead flesh smoldered in the sunlight.
An evocation from Ghleanna draped an enormous, sticky web over Pelendralaar’s forelegs. Each time he raised his claws they became more enmeshed in the webbing. Unable to bring his forelegs up to his jaws, he tried lowering his head to meet the limited range of his claws and mired his snout in cobwebs. He flapped and twisted at the edge of the Pool of Radiance.
Kestrel, now safely on the ground with Corran, dashed out of harm’s way as Pelendralaar’s flailing brought him near the ledge where Athan yet stood. The dracolich beat his wings, scraping the ledge with the leathery appendages. Before Kestrel realized his intent, Athan leaped forward and grabbed hold of one of the wings.
Pelendralaar buffeted with new violence, now trying to throw off Athan. Somehow, the fighter held on. He gripped the wing with one hand while hacking at it with his sword in the other. Kestrel marveled at the feat of strength. Perhaps the gauntlets lent him magical aid—they and the spell Ghleanna had just uttered.
Durwyn backed away from the web ensnaring Pelendralaar’s claws and switched to his bow. He sank several bolts into the creature’s writhing neck, while Faeril struck him in the head with her spiritual hammer. Kestrel added one of her daggers to the assault, hurling a perfect strike in the dracolich’s underbelly. Corran attacked the beast’s tail, dodging its whiplike snaps.
In desperation, the dracolich breathed his fire once more—this time at his own limbs. The web fell apart, freeing Pelendralaar’s head. Though the flames had billowed against the dracolich’s skin, he’d suffered no damage from them.
The Staff of Sunlight, however, had. The inferno that blasted from the creature’s lungs burned hot enough to melt metal. The staff bent into a U as Pelendralaar slowly clamped his mouth shut. Its light faded away, then disappeared altogether as he swallowed the precious weapon.
Though the dracolich triumphed over the staff, the flickering flames did not return to his eye sockets. The holy rays had rendered him sightless.
Nonetheless he could still feel the sturdy warrior clinging to his wing. Pelendralaar twisted his long neck, trying to catch Athan in his sharp teeth. The fighter braced his sword arm. When the dracolich darted his head toward Athan, the warrior used the beast’s own momentum to drive his blade into Pelendralaar’s snout.
With a roar of pain and rage, the creature jerked back its head.
The fighter, still gripping his sword, was torn from Pelendralaar’s wing and now dangled from the beast’s snout. He clung to the hilt with both hands as the dracolich thrashed his head from side to side, but could not maintain his hold against such violent force. He went sailing through the air, straight toward the Pool of Radiance.
“Athan!” Ghleanna screamed.
Faeril sent her ghostly hammer racing toward Athan with lightning speed. The weapon struck him just hard enough to alter his course. He landed in a heap at the edge of the pool.
Immediately, light burst from the mouths of the gauntlets. The beams arched forth to strike the pool, infusing its depths with a pure white glow. As the blessed light met the pool’s tainted amber radiance, the water churned and roiled.
“The pool is dying, Pelendralaar!” Corran cried. “You shall soon follow!”
Athan, too? Kestrel gazed at the brave fighter. He had not moved since crashing to the ground. With the dracolich standing between him and the rest of the party, Faeril could not reach him with her healing magic.