The ruins of the red tower. Here Phlan had been captured by the Red Wizard Marcus twenty-two years earlier. The sorceresses swooped down to circle about the tower. The ruin looked like a jagged tombstone in the fading daylight.
Can you feel it? Shal asked in disgust.
Yes, there's still evil there, Evaine thought back. Powerful evil.
She could feel it radiating from the ruins in hot, nauseating waves. Something lurked down there, deep in the shadows below the tower, something eternally hungry, oozing with maleficence.
You need to think about Kern, Shal. We need to discover if this is the source of the evil that is directed toward him.
I'll try, Evaine.
Shal's thoughts were silent for several moments as they both concentrated. Suddenly, Evaine caught sight of a thin trail of inky darkness arcing back across the Moonsea, toward Phlan.
That's it! came Shal's thought. Ican sense the evil reaching out toward Phlan. Her tone become hard. Whatever is down there, it loathes Kern.
And fears him, Evaine added after a moment. She gently probed the spindly trail of darkness. It felt oily to her ethereal fingers, but she couldn't detect any traces of active magic in the pool they had destroyed two decades before.
I don't think this is the source, Shal. Something is down there, all right. Something powerful. But not a pool. I don't think this is the source of the fiends, or the foe we seek. Let's head toward Phlan and try again.
They raced across the deepening sky. The orb of the moon, Selune, lifted above the horizon, igniting the surface of the Moonsea with its cool, pearly fire. Soon they drifted over Phlan.
Evaine could see countless signs of the city's decay in the pale light of the moon. She'd had no idea Phlan had deteriorated so badly.
All right, Shal. Once more, I need you to focus all of your thoughts on Kern. Every last bit of your energy.
Evaine scanned in every direction, hoping to spot even the faintest clue. There! she thought excitedly.
What is it?
What we were looking for. She concentrated, helping Shal to see what Evaine had already noticed. A dull, metallic-looking streak rose up out of the city and reached away into the night, toward the northwest. There's something odd about the magic I'm sensing. It must be from a pool, yet it's like none I've ever dealt with before.
Is it a pool of radiance or darkness?
Evaine concentrated, then frowned. Neither. She gave up. We must follow it to its source.
The two sorceresses flew toward the distant peaks. The feeling of magical power intensified as they went. As the dark, jagged silhouettes of the Dragonspine Mountains loomed before them, the evil emanations grew stronger yet.
Suddenly, Evaine felt the attention of another consciousness pass over her like a searing beam of light. There was someone-something-ahead, and it had sensed them coming!
Shal, you've got to break the spell.
Why? the wizard replied in confusion. What's wrong?
Please don't argue, Shal.
Evaine could sense the attitude of the mysterious being change from surprise to anger. It must be a guardian of some sort, Evaine realized. They were in grave peril!
You've got to-
Too late.
A blast of magic ripped through Evaine's mind. The guardian of the pool was assailing them with all of its dark power.
Evaine! Help me! came Shal's terrified plea.
Evaine tried to reach out, but her friend's presence became lost in the swirling maelstrom of magic.
Pain coursed through the core of Evaine's being. She felt her spirit being torn apart. In a moment there would be nothing left. She had to try something, but the roar in her mind made it so hard to think.
She heard one last faint cry from Shal. With every last shred of willpower, Evaine lunged for her friend, reaching out blindly with her ethereal fingers. She felt something brush her hand. She couldn't be sure it was Shal, but she had no more time. With her last spark of consciousness, she managed to gasp the word that broke the spell.
A shriek of pure malevolence rose from the very depths of the mountains. Then the enchantment shattered, and Evaine plunged down into unending darkness.
Waking was like swimming up through a cold, dark, bottomless sea. Finally, Evaine broke through the surface. She felt something warm and rough against her face. Gamaliel's tongue. She was alive!
She opened her eyes and smiled weakly. Gamaliel gazed at her with concern.
I almost lost you, he chided her. His tone was aloof, but Evaine knew he was afraid because his whiskers were twitching furiously. Do not do such a foolish thing again.
"Shal…?" she managed to gasp. Then she was racked by a painful fit of coughing.
You must lie still. Gamaliel's tone was stern. Ido not know about your wizard-friend. Your mirror shattered when the spell ended. Her loved ones will have to help her. My concern is for you.
"Just put me to bed, Gam," she managed to whisper hoarsely between agonizing breaths. She felt as though she had just lost a fight with a dozen angry ogres. "I need… I need to rest. But you must do something for me in the meantime. Go to the Valley of the Falls. Ask Ren o' the Blade to come here as soon as he can. There's a pool somewhere in the Dragonspine Mountains, and no one knows that territory like Ren does. I must talk to him."
Ican't simply leave you, the cat replied indignantly.
"I've lived through worse, Gam," she gasped, though she wasn't certain that was strictly true. "Now please. You've got to find Ren. I'm begging you."
Begging does not become you, Evaine, Gamaliel answered wryly. Very well, I will go. But remember, sorceress, you owe me one!
6
The dreamstalker approached the sleeper's chamber. The tower was surrounded by layer upon layer of magical wards and alarms, but they had caused no difficulty for the bastellus called Sigh. They were designed to keep corporeal foes at bay. They were useless against the dreamstalker.
The door to the sleeper's chamber was locked, but the darkness of his being slipped like black, oily smoke through the cracks around the door. The dreamstalker drifted silently toward the bed.
The sleeper was a young man with a broad, honest face and short red hair. Yes, he was the one. The wizard's spawn. Sigh's mistress, the sorceress Sirana, wanted him for her own. It was a simple enough task for the dreamstalker. He would slip into the young man's dreams and weave nightmares in his mind that would drive him to the brink of madness. It would be easy enough to brand the mistress's message in the sleeper's susceptible brain. Soon, the boy's only thought, his only desire, would be to become Sirana's willing slave.
Sigh hovered above the bed. The young man's brow was wrinkled. A low moan escaped his throat. He was already caught in the throes of a nightmare. Excellent, the bastellus thought. Most excellent. This would make his task easier yet. A smile of shardlike ivory teeth appeared in the haze.
Sigh reached out hands full of countless fingers, like dark, spindly twigs. He prepared to plunge into the dreamer's psyche, to revel in his victim's subconscious, and to feed upon his spirit. The twig-fingers brushed the young man's troubled brow.