She shivered. "I will never forget that I am human," she whispered fiercely. "Never again." She hurried to catch up with the sorceress and barbarian.
The crystal resting in Evaine's brazier flared brightly, then flashed into dust. Her locating spell was complete. The sorceress's eyes flew open.
"I've found it!"
She stood weakly. The sun was fast sinking toward the western mountains, and the companions had made camp in a grove of ancient fir trees.
"The pool of twilight?" Kern asked, unconsciously gripping the haft of the Hammer of Tyr.
"No, Kern, she means the button she lost from her tunic last tenday," Listle replied, rolling her eyes. Despite the elf's usual flippant humor, her delicate face was wan and tight.
Evaine sat on a log near the crackling campfire. She, Gamaliel, and Daile had found Kern and the others on a windswept pass around midday. The reunion had been a joyous one. It had been good to see that Kern and Listle were well. And Miltiades.
There had also been a new introduction, but Evaine found that she was already enjoying Trooper's company-as well as the old paladin's tongue, which was as sharp as his rune sword and wielded with similar dexterity.
"Yes, Kern, the pool of twilight," Evaine said. She threw a handful of crystal dust into the campfire. The flames flared higher, an image appearing within. A pinnacle of dark stone with a distinctive cloven summit was revealed. At its base was the dark opening of a cave. "Always before, the mountains interfered with my locating spell. But this time we are finally close enough. I have a solid fix on it. This spire is located in a valley no more than a dozen leagues from here. And the pool of twilight lies beneath. But…"
"But what, Evaine?" Miltiades asked when the sorceress paused.
Her face turned grim. "This time, when I detected the pool, I sensed a dangerous change in it. The guardian Shal and I encountered was no longer there. Instead, there was a new… presence. One even more evil than the last."
"Sirana," Kern growled.
Evaine nodded. "Yes, it could be that she controls the pool now."
Kern stood, regarding the others. "You should stay here. Tomorrow, I'll journey to the valley alone. After all, it's the hammer she wants to get her hands on. I'll confront her in the cave and-"
"And get burned to a crisp, Son?" Trooper snorted. The old paladin's eyes flashed like steel against stone. "I don't know where you got the notion that foolishness is akin to heroism, but you would do well to use that hammer of yours to knock the idea out of your head." He tugged at his beard in agitation. "Go to the pool alone? You might as well hand this Sirana the hammer on a silver platter. Fine lot of good your heroics would do us. Sirana would have the hammer, you'd end up a pile of ashes, and I'd have been wasting my time trying to turn you into a real paladin." He poked a bony finger at Kern's breastplate. "And I don't have much time to waste any more!"
Kern stared at the paladin, much chastened.
"What Trooper means to say, Kern," Miltiades went on in a more gentle tone, "is that we are all in this quest together and that as a group we are stronger than any one of us alone."
Trooper opened his mouth to point out that this was not at all what he had meant, but a glare from Miltiades' empty eye sockets snapped his mouth shut. He didn't suppose there was much point in arguing with a dead man.
It was settled. The company of seven would set out for the pool together, and with any luck they would reach it by late tomorrow.
Suddenly, the westering light of the sun dimmed as a shadow passed overhead. All looked up to see a vast creature of darkness soaring high over the mountains. A black dragon.
Kern had seen a dragon once before, and at the time he had thought it a magnificent and fearsome sight. But that wyrm had been little more than an overgrown lizard with wings compared to the gigantic, bat-winged creature that blotted out the sun now. The beast soared on the wind, stretching its long, sinuous neck, as if it flew with great purpose. In moments it disappeared behind a mountain and was lost to sight.
"This is an ill omen," Trooper muttered.
"You don't think Sirana could have summoned it, do you?" Listle asked Evaine.
The sorceress shook her head. "I don't know."
"If she did, then we might as well pack up and go home now," Trooper grumbled. "I recognize that dragon from legends. Its name is Dusk, and there isn't a black dragon in all the northlands as big, as powerful, and as evil." He scratched his beard thoughtfully.
"Where do you suppose it was going?" Daile asked, wishing the beast had flown close enough to make a target for her arrows. She considered transforming into her hawk shape to pursue it. It was tempting… But no, that would be a fool's errand. She shook the thought from her head.
"It flies south," Gamaliel growled.
"Phlan," was all Kern said.
Miltiades kept watch in the night.
He stood on a low spur of granite, thirty paces from the sleeping figures huddled around the campfire. He knew that the preternatural chill he eternally emanated only added to the winter cold. It was hard enough for the others to get warm as it was. He did not wish to compound the problem. Besides, he did not need the fire to warm his bones, nor the light to see.
Although, sometimes, he did miss the companionship.
But it was not his fate to make friends. Tyr had raised him once more from the grave for one purpose only-to see Phlan restored. He knew this should gratify him. But he felt a hunger deep in his bones all the same. There was so much in the life he had lived long ago that remained unfulfilled.
Once he had been steward and protector of the city of Turell. For long years the city dwelled in peace. Then an evil wizard called Zarl set his sights upon it. Again and again, Miltiades and the folk of Turell were forced to turn back Zarl's magical hordes. Yet the wizard himself never rode into battle. Thus, he always survived to raise another army of darkness.
Finally, Miltiades decided to take by stealth what he was denied in honorable battle. He stole into Zarl's camp and slew the wizard. But in turn Miltiades was discovered and slain by the wizard's servants. Then the evil horde marched to Turell, taking the city apart stone by stone. For a thousand years, Miltiades had lain in his tomb, shunned by his god, Tyr, for his dishonorable act.
Then, some twenty-two years ago, Tyr had raised the paladin from the grave, giving him a chance to redeem himself. His quest was to restore the city of Phlan. After he had helped rescue the city from its imprisonment beneath the Red Wizard's tower, Miltiades had returned to a more peaceful slumber in his crypt. But his mission was not over. Phlan would never truly be restored until the Hammer of Tyr was returned. Thus Tyr had raised him once again, to aid Kern on his quest to return the hammer to Phlan.
Now that quest was finally near an end, for good or ill. Either way, Miltiades knew he would return to the grave once more. This time forever.
Yet vows he had made in life went unkept. Even though Turell's stones had long since turned to dust, the vows still bound him. He had sworn to protect the powerful secrets concealed beneath the city of Turell. True, the city was no more and the hidden chambers might never be found, but then again, some unlucky being might stumble upon them tomorrow. And then the entire continent of Faerun would be in peril.
"If only I had more time," Miltiades said softly to the night, "to make certain the secrets are safe."
"What secrets, Miltiades?" a voice asked gently.
He turned to see a figure step out of the shadows. Long hair glistened in the moonlight. Evaine. Her green eyes regarded him intelligently.