He raised the weapon for another hit. She brought the club up to parry, but he suddenly kicked her instead. The stomach blow knocked her to the ground. Her club fell from her grasp.
She scrambled backward, hand flailing as she desperately tried to find her weapon. The cultist kicked her again as if for good measure. She heard her ribs snap, felt pain shoot up her side. Then her foe leaned back, raising his sword for the killing blow.
Turnabout was fair play. With all the force she could muster, she sprang off her hands to plant both feet in his groin. The surprise move, coupled with his shifted center of balance, proved enough to knock him over. He fell backward.
And screamed.
The watery mire of the pool caught him in its deadly embrace. In seconds, it sucked his withering form under the surface, leaving only iridescent bubbles in his wake.
Kestrel's abdomen and side throbbed, but she had no time to dwell on it. Spotting her club a couple feet away, she snatched it up, ran back to the slough, and leaped. She landed hard on all fours, her broken ribs screaming at her.
Not a graceful landing, but she'd made it across. Now only a wall stood between her and the Sapphire of the Weave.
Magical effects continued to explode and zoom through the air. A haze of smoke and other matter developed, blessedly obscuring vision. She could follow the sapphire's glow like a beacon while the haze cloaked her from others' sight.
She ran to the wall, her injured ribs protesting each step. She wanted to throw up. Maybe that's how she'd defeat Mordrayn, she thought darkly. She doubted the archmage would anticipate an attack like that.
Between the haze and shadows, she couldn't see the wall's surface well enough to judge whether it offered sufficient natural holds for free climbing. She tore her rope off her belt and tossed the grappling hook up to the ledge. The last time she'd glimpsed Mordrayn, the archmage had been as entranced as ever. She had more to fear from cult missiles and magic than from the evil sorceress herself. Or so she hoped.
She tugged on the rope to ensure the grappling hook's grip, then began her ascent. How were her friends faring? She couldn't dwell on their fate right now. She had to concentrate on reaching the sapphire.
Hand over hand. Hand over hand. Her arms ached with exertion and her ribs with each breath, but the familiar movements helped focus her ricocheting thoughts. The Word of Redemption. Ethgonil. She had to get close enough to speak it. She was almost there.
She reached the top and rolled onto the ledge. A glance at Mordrayn revealed that the archmage was still locked in communion with the Mythal, unmindful of all else. Blue-white flames shot up from the Sapphire of the Weave and danced around her, licking but not burning her skin. What was it the baelnorn had said-mere mortals cannot withstand the Mythal's fire? What did that make the archmage?
What would happen to her, Kestrel, when she touched the fiery gem?
It did not matter. Without further hesitation, she reached forward and placed her hand on the stone.
"Ethgonil!" Though her mouth formed the word, the voice that boomed through the cavern was not her own. It was an ancient voice, one that had existed before time began and one that would survive when time ceased to be. Everyone in the cavern-friend and foe alike-stopped their actions, their attention riveted to the ledge.
A floating ball of brilliant white light appeared. As Kestrel shielded her eyes from the glare, the ball expanded and opened to reveal a portal. A moment later, the baelnorn appeared. No longer the tragic figure they'd left behind in the catacombs, Miroden Silverblade stood tall and proud. He held his head high, his face a mask of righteousness.
His gaze met Kestrel's. "For you!" He thrust his hand toward her, then swept his arm toward the back of the cavern. Immediately, her pain vanished. At the same time her vision blurred-or something intangible obscured it. She viewed Silverblade as if watching him underwater.
The baelnorn's sweeping hand formed a fist. "For Myth Drannor!" He raised his arm high above the sapphire, then smashed his fist into the gem.
The Protector exploded in a burst of fire. In less than a second, both he and the sapphire were utterly consumed by the flames.
Kestrel instinctively leaped away from the pyre and curled into a defensive ball, but the flames burgeoned to overtake the whole ledge. She cringed as the deadly blaze raced toward her, preparing for a swift death. Miraculously, the flames did not touch her. She found herself protected by an invisible sphere that held the fire and heat at bay.
The inferno spouted outward like a tidal wave to fill the cavern. Cultists screamed and tried to outrun the blazing swell of holy fire, but the conflagration would not be cheated of its due. The flames rolled forth, consuming everyone in their path. Shrieks and moans echoed off the stone walls until they, too, drowned in the roar of the holocaust.
Then there was silence.
Kestrel looked out upon the destruction wrought by the baelnorn's self-sacrifice. The cult legions had been incinerated where they stood, leaving only mounds of ashes in their place. Hesitantly, dreading what she expected to see, she raised her gaze above the dust to the back of the cavern.
Movement. Her shoulders sagged in relief. Her friends had survived, shielded as she had been by the Protector's spell.
Below, the Pool of Radiance lay placid as ever. Steam rising from its amber surface offered the only hint that it had been disturbed in the slightest by the baelnorn's act of retribution.
Beside her-
"You little bitch."
The horrifyingly familiar voice broke the stillness with an edge that could cut glass. Kestrel's blood froze in her veins as she turned to look at a face whose fury burned hotter than the inferno just past.
There remained one cultist the baelnorn hadn't destroyed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Kya Mordrayn's eyes blazed with hatred. Protected by the Mythal's aura, she had survived the baelnorn's cleansing fire unscathed. The archmage lifted her long reptilian arm and pointed a talon at Kestrel's heart. "Think you that I will allow one scrawny chit to undo a plan decades in the formation?"
A thin green ray shot out from Mordrayn's talon and raced straight at Kestrel. The thief instinctively ducked behind the stone pillar. The ray struck the pillar and instantly reduced it to dust
Kestrel swallowed hard. Though Mordrayn wore only a flowing black cape and a red leather bodysuit split to the navel, it was the rogue who felt unprotected. Gods, but she hated wizards!
Before she had time to react, Mordrayn unleashed a second ray-this one red-from her mutated fingertip. Kestrel rolled out of its path, but the ray altered its course to stay on target.
When it struck, she felt a mild vibration, nothing more. Thank Mystra for those mantle rings.
The archmage sneered. "Your paltry protections cannot spare you forever." She spat the words out of her mouth.
Kestrel stared at Mordrayn, still dumbstruck in the presence of the sorceress. She realized that Mordrayn was actually speaking-not using her mind's voice, as they'd witnessed previously. Was this a sign that her connection with the Mythal was indeed broken?
Have faith. Anorrweyn's gentle voice entered Kestrel's thoughts. Even now, I am one with the Mythal and work to turn its power against our enemies.
That's all very well, Kestrel wanted to answer, but what do I do in the meantime? As if in response, she heard her companions hurrying toward the ledge from the back of the underground chamber.
Mordrayn lifted her claw once more, this time pointing it into the cavern. "We'll see if your friends are so well protected." She aimed her hand at Athan, who led the advance. "Back for more of my attentions, Athan? Some men just can't get enough." A bolt of lightning raced from her talons to strike him. The vigorous fighter staggered under its force but did not fall.
The bolt did not stop there. It arced to Corran, then Durwyn, catching all three men in a chain of electricity. When it reached Ghleanna, however, her spellstaff absorbed the charge. Ghleanna tapped the staff twice on the ground to send the bolt streaking back to Mordrayn herself. The electrical charge left a hideous burn on the cult leader's scantily clad chest.