"Don't call me that!" he hissed dangerously. He crawled toward the edge of the pool, seeing his dark and sinuous beauty reflected in its surface. "Now, grant me power enough to summon a thousand dragons."
Iwill grant you what I can. But I must retain enough power for myself so that I can create a new army to send against Phlan.
The dragon roared with laughter. "Believe me, sorceress, nothing you can do while trapped within the pool will be enough to destroy that city. I have tried myself a hundred times over."
He felt disbelief radiate from the pool. "But do not fear," he continued wickedly. "Once the dragon-rage has begun, Phlan will be blasted off the face of Toril. We will both have our revenge!" His one good eye glinted sharply. "Now, sorceress, grant me the power of the pool."
As you wish.
A dully shining tendril lifted itself from the surface of the pool. It reached toward Dusk, coiling about his body. The dragon threw his head back in a roar as the tendril tightened about him. He felt the pool's magic flowing into him.
"More!" he screamed, wings beating. "More!"
Finally the tendril slipped back into the pool. Dusk stumbled backward, his head reeling. Ah, but it was exquisite! To be free, and so full of power!
Deep within the pool, Sirana laughed smugly to herself. Like everything, even laughing was a new, exciting experience. All sense of her own body was gone now. Her senses seemed to mingle with the waters of the pool. The vast amount of magical energy she had just granted Dusk was but a fraction of the entire source.
So in all these centuries, with all the might of the pool at his beck and call, the stupid dragon could not manage to destroy Phlan? Bah! Let the wyrm try his dragon-rage, thought Sirana. By the time he arrives at Phlan, he will find it a smoking ruin.
She felt certain that she would succeed first where the dragon had failed. Without the Hammer of Tyr, Phlan had fallen into dark decay. The walls crumbled in disrepair, and the Death Gates hung open on their hinges-practically an invitation for an army of destruction to enter.
Now all Sirana had to do was to create that army.
With all the pool's power flowing through her, she cast forth a summons. It vibrated through the bedrock, pulsing out in waves, spreading throughout the Dragonspine Mountains. Scant seconds later, the first to heed her call shuffled into the cavern.
A motley throng of dull-eyed creatures approached the pooclass="underline" bears and elk, eagles and snakes, insects and worms. There were monsters as welclass="underline" goblins, orcs, owlbears, gnolls, and giants. Among them too were humans, dwarves, and even elves.
All of them were dead.
Some were only in the first stages of decay, their pallid skin mostly unblemished, covered with fine, moist bits of leaf litter. Others were riddled with worm-eaten holes, their swollen flesh dripping off their bodies in gobbets. All lurched toward the pool, compelled by her call.
Without the slightest hesitation, the zombies toppled over the pool's edge, submerging themselves in the metallic waters. In new, horrible forms they clambered clumsily out the opposite side. A rotting goblin with hissing zombie snakes sprouting from its eye sockets was the first. Then came a dwarf with a screaming eagle's claws sunk deep into its shoulders. A pixie stumbled out, black widow spiders bobbing from threads attached to its hands. A slack-jawed deer staggered to its feet, a dozen decomposing badgers skewered upon its antlers, snapping and hissing. A bow-wielding elf fused to the shoulders of a hill giant was followed by a gnome covered with undead stinging insects. An orc sprouted from the back of a mountain lion. The gaping, fang-toothed maw of a wolf, snapping violently, was embedded in the chest of a human man. More and more abominations climbed out of the pool's waters in a steady stream.
And still more.
Sirana's laughter bubbled to the surface of the pool. Phlan would never stand against her army of zombie abominations! She intensified her summons, compelling yet more putrid corpses to lurch into motion and begin their trek toward the pool of twilight.
Disgusted by the reek of Sirana's vile creations, Dusk turned to slither down a passageway. Despite his vast size, his sinuous body glided easily through the twists and turns. He sensed the nearness of the outside, and, in a spray of stone and rubble, he burst through a wall of rock. Like a black comet, he soared through the air, winging high over the jagged mountains.
Ah, to fly free once again!
For a while, he simply wheeled through the air, pumping his great, dark wings, thrilled by long-forgotten sensations. But his purpose burned within him. He had all the power he needed from the pool. Now, to seek out the other evil dragons of the Moonsea, and once again fan the spark of hatred in their hearts.
As he flew over the mountains, there was no way Dusk could have known that brilliant, twilight-colored flecks of light danced in his one good eye.
17
The frigid wind whipped through Daile's hair as her magic carpet sped through the air high above the Dragon-spine Mountains. She knew she should stop and make camp. It was reckless to fly so fast in the darkness. Several times she had narrowly avoided pinnacles of rock looming before her or the outstretched branches of tall trees. But still she gripped the carpet's tassels, guiding it onward. She had barely paused in her journey since leaving the Valley of the Falls two days ago. Not that it had been easy to leave. No, she thought ruefully. Leaving had been the hardest thing she had ever done.
Her mind drifted back to that cold, gray day. She had buried Ren in a cairn of stones next to Ciela, below the glittering, frozen cathedral of the waterfall. After she had placed the last rock on the cairn, she simply sat there and stared at the motionless water, not knowing what to do. She had never felt so utterly alone.
In her gloom, she almost hadn't seen see the trio of orcs that crept into the clearing behind her. But at the last moment, she'd caught a reflection of the pig-snouted creatures in the glassy surface of the waterfall. She'd whirled around as the orcs bared their yellowed tusks and drew their rusted short swords. Then the bloodthirsty monsters had charged.
In the space of a heartbeat, Daile had raised her bow, and, with icy calm, loosed three arrows in rapid succession. The orcs had dropped in their tracks, looks of dull-witted astonishment on their warty faces, each with a red-feathered arrow protruding from its throat.
Daile had lowered her bow, feeling a strange warmth surging through her blood. It was as if the attack had broken her from the grip of a spell. For the next three days she'd prowled the valley from end to end, from river to ridge top, searching. Every creature of evil she found had fallen prey to her arrows. Orcs, kobolds, even trolls were her quarry. All that filled her mind was the hunt. She had stalked the forest, as if it were her natural home, and she a hunter born to the wild.
Finally there had been no more monsters to slay.
Those few that might have remained had heard of her deadly bow and fled. Daile had returned to the small stone keep as a great weariness came over her. She'd slept for a day and a night, and when she woke, it was again as if waking from a spell. What had happened to her? She had almost… lost herself to the wilds. How much longer could it have gone on before she became the same as any beast?
She'd shuddered, vowing never to lose control of herself like that again.
Suddenly thoughts of Kern and the others had come crashing down on her; she had tarried too long. With one last glance at the valley that had been her home, she had leaped on the magic carpet and soared into the sky…
Finally Daile realized she could keep her eyes open no longer. She had to stop and rest for just a few hours, until the dawn. Then she would be on her way again. She pulled on the golden tassels, and the carpet began to descend.