The pool of twilight was no more.
A gaping pit yawned in the cavern floor where the pool had existed only moments before. All that was left of Sirana and Dusk were their bones, fused together in a death embrace. But even as the adventurers watched, those bones crumbled into dust.
Evaine stumbled backward weakly, but Gamaliel caught her before she could fall. Her skin was pallid, eyes hollow, but she was smiling all the same.
"Damn, but I enjoy doing that."
Tarl's entire body glowed sapphire blue. Radiant light flowed through him, out of him, sustaining the shimmering wall that held the army of zombies at bay outside the gates of the temple of Tyr.
His faith had not dimmed, but he knew that his body was failing. Mere flesh was not strong enough to bear the raw, crackling magic that coursed through him. The azure radiance was consuming him, ever faster. Still his belief in Tyr did not waver. Whatever happened, Tarl knew he had done all that one man could do.
"The end draws close," Sister Sendara murmured to Anton.
"By Tyr, I can see right through his hands," the patriarch said softly. "They're made of light, just like the wall!"
Even as Anton watched, more and more of Tarl's form was transformed into shimmering light. The sapphire wall began to flicker and fade. The dark army of twisted zombies surged forward with an inhuman howl of victory. In moments they would stream through the gates into the heart of the temple.
Tarl could feel himself fading, growing more and more insubstantial. He channeled every last ounce of his strength into the magical wall, regretting only that he had not had the chance say good-bye to Shal, or his son.
The decomposing zombies shrieked in gleeful cacophony. They clawed past each other, pressing against the flickering barrier, ready to tear living flesh from bone.
Then, they abruptly collapsed.
Each and every rotting abomination slumped to the ground like a puppet with its strings slashed. Even as the stunned clerics watched, their twisted bodies began to bubble and steam, evaporating in a noxious yellow cloud. Then a cold wind raced through the streets of the city, blowing the poisonous atmosphere away.
"Tarl, release the gate!" Sister Sendara shouted, hobbling toward the white-haired cleric.
It was hard, so hard. The power continued to stream through Tarl like water through a busted dam. It nearly washed him away. With his last shred of consciousness, he reached out and tried to shut off the energy.
The azure radiance vanished.
Tarl dropped to the ground. The others, watching, did not know if he was alive or dead. Then they saw a shuddering breath fill his chest.
"Thank Tyr, he lives!" Tarl heard a voice cry. But he hardly noticed, his mind filled with a single thought: You've done it Kern! You've done it!
Kern was the first to reach Listle.
He saw that she lived, if barely. Her breathing was shallow, her face deathly pale. Carefully, he lifted the elf. Her body felt light in his arms, her bones as insubstantial as a bird's.
He laid her gently on the cloak Miltiades spread on the ground. A faint light flickered in the ruby pendant at her throat.
"She's holding on by the barest thread," Evaine said, resting a hand gently on Listle's brow. "I think it's the necklace that's keeping her alive."
The ruby's feeble flickering began to slow, growing dimmer.
"Can you do anything?" Kern asked desperately.
Slowly Evaine shook her head. "My magic cannot heal her." She paused. "But a true paladin could."
Kern looked at Trooper and Miltiades. It was the most precious gift that the god Tyr granted his paladins, the power to heal with a single touch. "Please," he whispered urgently.
Trooper gave him a sharp look, then knelt by the elf. He laid his hands against her temples. A pale blue glow shimmered about his fingertips. Listle took a shuddering breath, then her breathing grew shallow once again.
"Miltiades, help me."
The skeletal knight knelt beside the venerable paladin. Miltiades removed his gauntlets and laid the bare, yellowed bones of his undead hands atop Trooper's. The older man flinched at the paladin's chilling touch, but he did not pull away. The blue glow brightened. The flow of blood from the wound on Listle's forehead slowed, then stopped. Still she did not wake.
The blue nimbus around Trooper's hands vanished. With a deep sigh, the old man stood, his shaggy eyebrows drooping. "It wasn't enough. We helped some, but her injuries are too dire."
"But she can't die," Kern whispered hoarsely.
"Why?" Trooper asked sternly. "Because she's only an illusion? Is that what you still think?" His blue eyes sparked fire. "Well, if you do, you're more fool than I took you for, Kern Desanea, and a waste of time at that."
The paladin whirled and stomped away, leaving Kern speechless.
"There is one more who might save her," Miltiades said in his sepulchral voice.
"Who?" Kern demanded.
The skeletal knight's empty eye sockets seemed to regard Kern silently.
Kern's shoulders slumped as he realized what the undead paladin meant. "But I can't heal her, Miltiades," he said helplessly. "I don't have the power. I'm only a paladin-aspirant. I'm not really a paladin."
"If that is what you believe, then it is so," Miltiades intoned quietly.
Kern looked to the others for help-Evaine, Gamaliel, Daile. All regarded him sadly, silently. There was nothing they could do to help him. Nothing at all. It was up to him to act.
He made a decision. Confusion became calm.
"No, Miltiades." He clenched his jaw tightly. "I spoke wrongly. I am a paladin."
He reached out and laid his hands on Listle's brow.
"By Tyr, I believe I am."
Blue light flared brilliantly about his hands. The wound on Listle's forehead dimmed to a faint shadow, then vanished. For a moment her breathing halted altogether, but the azure radiance beat brightly. Then her chest began to rise and fall in a gentle rhythm. The light in her ruby pendant began to glow steadily.
The blue nimbus faded.
Kern lifted his hands, staring at them in amazement.
Listle stirred, her silvery eyes fluttering open. "What's everybody grinning at?" the elf asked in annoyance, her voice weak but clear.
'You," Kern said with a grateful laugh. He stood, lifting her easily to her feet and pressing his lips to hers. He stepped away, smiling broadly.
The elf's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words would come out.
For the first time in her life, Listle Onopordum found herself completely speechless.
20
Trooper stood in the shadow of a huge stalagmite, a short distance from the others who were still tending to their battle wounds. A faint, bluish light shone about the old paladin as he argued adamantly with another voice only he could hear.
"It's not as if I was constantly asking you for favors, you know," Trooper whispered cantankerously, his shaggy eyebrows bristling. "Did I ask for a reward when I rescued that twittering, pea-brained Procampurian princess from that kobold den in the Stonelands? No! Did I expect any payment for destroying the Beast Cult of Malar when they had their mangy jackals harrying the highway from Cormyr to the Caravan Cities? No! Did I complain when I had to wade through the sewers beneath the biggest goblinkin warren in Faerun just so I could spy on that dull-witted orc god for you?"