Kern nodded absently. He wasn't really listening to the elf. He found himself shivering. "Do you notice anything strange about those sarcophagi?" he asked the others. "I suppose it's just my imagination, but their eyes seem to be following me."
"Do you think yourself so worthy of attention, then?" Sirana asked with a sultry laugh.
He blushed. "Of course not. Like I said, it's probably just my imagination. Still…"
"Let us examine one to be sure," Miltiades said. He moved toward the standing sarcophagi. Kern, Listle, and Sirana followed. "Perhaps there is some trick about these-"
"Miltiades, get back!"
The four spun around to see Daile dash into the cathedral, eyes panicked.
"Everybody, get away from those sarcoph-"
She was too late.
Suddenly the lids of four sarcophagi sprang open with a groan. Dozens of skeletal hands reached out with uncanny swiftness, clutching at the four adventurers, who struggled in vain.
"Daile, what's happening?" Kern shouted in terror. He had the horrifying sensation that he was reliving a dream.
"Let him go!" the young ranger screamed, using the dagger called Right to hack at the arms that clutched Kern. It was to no avail. Another sarcophagus opened. Long, spindly limbs sprang out to engulf Daile. The skeletal arms inexorably dragged the adventurers into the waiting shadows of the five sarcophagi. Then the stone lids slammed shut, cutting off their cries of protest.
The half-formed cathedral was silent once again.
11
The day after Kern and his companions set off for the ruins of the red tower, Evaine decided it was time to embark on a mission of her own.
She rose in the cold of predawn and, teeth chattering, hastily donned thick woolen breeches and a tunic of her favorite mossy green. Deftly, she bound her long chestnut hair into a braid, winding it in a tight knot at the nape of her neck. As she did, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a teardrop-shaped mirror. A gaunt, ghostly pale face with deep, shadowed eyes peered back at her. She still bore the scars of her astral battle with the guardian of the twilight pool, but she had waited as long as she dared — too long perhaps. She would just have to be strong enough.
From the tiny pocket dimension that served as her spellcasting chamber, she gathered the ingredients she would require to work her spells: many-colored crystals, iridescent powders, and small, neatly folded parchment packets filled with herbs. These she placed in a small pack, adding her copper brazier and-carefully wrapped in oiled leather-her spellbook. She remembered to grab a golden brooch set with a single ice-clear jewel, the twin to the magical gem she had given Miltiades. This she pinned to her tunic.
A quick look around told her she had forgotten nothing. She descended the glowing spiral staircase into the warm main room of her log-walled dwelling. Gamaliel was waiting for her. The great cat sat before the fire, tail wrapped around his paws. His eyes were narrow, green-gold slits.
Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing, Evaine, the cat growled in the sorceress's mind.
"As you like, Gam," she murmured pleasantly. Inwardly she steeled herself for an argument.
In case you haven't noticed, I'm not laughing.
"Don't blame me if you have a poor sense of humor," Evaine replied flippantly. She banished the shimmering stairway with a snap of her fingers.
Gamaliel's whiskers twitched in agitation. You aren't well enough to travel, Evaine, let alone cast your detection spells-or face the guardian of the pool of twilight.
Evaine knelt beside her familiar. "Gam, I could tell you that I'm fine," she said solemnly. "I could tell you that I'm as strong as I've ever been. But that would be a lie. I've never lied to you, Gamaliel, and I don't intend to start now." She sighed, her heart heavy. "You may be right, of course. I may be in grave peril if I try to confront the guardian of the twilight pool in my current state. But years ago I vowed never to rest while there was a pool yet to be destroyed, and ever since then I've tried to abide by that oath. I can't betray my vow, Gam. What good would I be if I did?"
The great cat regarded her silently for a long moment, his green-gold eyes glowing.
Don't you have some more things to pack? he said at last.
The sorceress laughed, feeling better than she had in a long while. "That I do." A slight frown touched her lips. "Wait a minute," she said with gentle indignation. "Who's the master here, anyway?"
Gamaliel did not reply, so Evaine decided not to press the question. After all, she decided, she might not care for the answer.
She briskly gathered some other items. Fire she could call up with a spell, and most of the food required the land-and Gamaliel's hunting abilities-would provide. She placed a few extra clothes and some hardtack in a magical sack that grew no heavier despite its contents, such being the useful nature of its enchantment. She belted a knife forged of sharp dwarven steel at her hip and donned her heavy sheepskin coat. Hefting her small pack, she grinned at Gamaliel.
"Ready?"
Of course. Unlike you humans, cats do not need to pack before they can begin a journey. Our coats and weapons come permanently attached. He extended his razor-sharp claws for emphasis. It's much more convenient that way.
Being a practical-minded woman, Evaine had to agree.
Leaving the snug house behind, they set off northward. Bare winter branches stood out against the rose-colored morning sky, tracing dark shapes in the air like a jumble of arcane runes. Evaine and Gamaliel quickly fell into their accustomed traveling habits. The great cat loped soundlessly ahead, scouting the terrain for danger, while the sorceress kept her eyes open for any interesting herbs or bushes. Though most plants of magical use were dormant in winter, there were a few of value that could be gathered at this time of year. Into Evaine's pouches went juniper berries, holly leaves, and snowheart blooms. These last were rare crimson flowers that grew only beneath a shroud of newly fallen snow.
Come dusk, Evaine was thoroughly exhausted. Her joints felt stiff and cold despite her heavy coat. Yet the day had gone more smoothly than she might have expected. She and Gamaliel had made good time, putting nearly a half-dozen leagues behind them. The fresh air and exercise seemed to invigorate her. Her cheeks showed patches of pink where shadows had gathered only that morning.
Deciding it would be safe to leave the sorceress unattended for a short while, Gamaliel bounded off between the trees into the fading purple twilight. Evaine busied herself setting up their camp beneath the sheltering boughs of an ancient fir tree. She laid a pile of dried wood inside a ring of stones, debating whether she should ignite it with a spell or by more mundane methods. Several days had passed since her candle-lighting incantation had caused searing pain, and that incident was still fresh in her mind. However, she would have no choice but to cast far more potent magics in the days ahead.
"There's no point in putting it off any longer, Evaine," she muttered to herself.
She took a deep breath, then began reciting the spell, fashioning intricate but long-familiar gestures with strong, large-knuckled hands. The final word of the spell hung on the air like the tone of a bell. As it faded, Evaine felt a sudden rush of heat. Panic clutched her heart, but a moment later she found herself laughing.
"Next time, don't sit so close to the fire, silly," she chided herself. She let out a sigh of relief. The spell had worked. And there had been no surge of pain. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.