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The Fool did have a weakness.

It was called a phylactery, a container of some kind in which the lich stored its life force in exchange for powers granted by the gods or otherworldly forces of darkness.

Usually these phylacteries were heavily guarded by the lich, hidden in some secret place, for if the phylactery were ever destroyed, the lich would be destroyed, its life force claimed by the entity that originally had granted its dark powers.

What if a lich, or a different, more powerful type of lich, had become so arrogant that it no longer guarded its phylactery? What if this master lich, in its egotistical sense of invulnerability, even wore its phylactery, say, as an ornament, a piece of jewelry, out in the open for all to desire?

Cwelanas knew then what she must do.

The others stayed protected behind the kender's psionic shield. Cwelanas took a deep breath and gathered all her strength, giving form to all the rage and frustration she had felt, helpless in the Fool's grasp.

Then, in one swift lunge, Cwelanas leaped to her feet. Her heavy chain uncoiled and she flung herself between the combatants, swinging the chain in the air. With the snap of brittle bones, the chain whipped around the Fool's head.

One bony hand shot up and grasped her wrist. The Fool laughed in her face, his skull splintered above its right, dead eye. " You cannot hurt me, woman. You-"

Then its eyes seemed to widen in fear. Her other hand had found the Fool's amulet and gripped it tightly in one fist. She yanked hard once. A golden link shot away from the necklace, and the amulet came loose from the Fool's neck.

"No!" it screamed. "Nd. Give me that'."

Cwelanas shoved the Fool away. It staggered back a step, then rushed for her, fury blazing in its hollow eyes.

But her arm was back. She put all her strength behind the throw, and suddenly the amulet was sent flying across the chamber, to be plucked from the air effortlessly by the Cloakmaster.

"Destroy it!" Cwelanas screamed. "Destroy it now!"

The Cloakmaster dropped it to the floor, and he brought the heavy heel of his boot down upon it, shattering the ruby facets.

With an explosion of scarlet energies, the amulet burst. The Cloakmaster stepped away as crimson smoke erupted in a widening circle in the floor. A storm of orange and black smoke, streams of magical fire and raw power, shone through the widening circle of light to cast its deep red glow upon the Fool's horrified countenance.

The circle of flame fluctuated, widened, flaring brilliantly with extraplanar energies, then a great shadow eclipsed the light blazing from the fiery, otherworldly plane. One great, clawed hand reached out from somewhere unreal, somewhere unimagined on the plane of the groundlings, and into our universe from its own.

The Fool screamed, "Nooooooo!"

The fiendish being was more than twice Teldin's size, and it stepped from its own funereal plane into the adytum, glowing, scarlet smoke trailing in its wake. It gestured with its four arms, two ending in powerfully clawed hands, the others with sharp pincers that could disembowel a man with one casual swipe. The fangs in its shaggy canine head were jagged and sharp, and it snarled ferally at the shielded warriors who backed away from it. Its blank eyes burned an angry red, and it moved to stare first at the Cloakmaster, then Cwelanas, then finally on the skeletal form of the Fool.

Its laughter echoed like thunder throughout the chamber, reverberating off the walls so loudly that the fighters could feel it in their feet. I KNOW WHY I HAVE BEEN SUMMONED! The words boomed through their heads as the thing spoke telepathically.

The thing roared ferociously, moving slowly toward the Fool. The lich lifted Cwelanas before him and used her as a shield, backing as far away as possible.

It was one of the tanar'ri, a dark god of the Abyss. The shaggy glabrezu stomped across the adytum and looked down at the quivering Fool.

ROMAR, THE FOOL! The tanar'ri lord roared its demonic laughter. Smoke curled from its lips and nostrils.

With the swipe of one impossibly large hand, the glabrezu knocked Cwelanas from the Fool's grasp and sent her hurtling against the kender's shield. Cwelanas had time to cry out once as her bones shattered against the impenetrable shield, then j she fell to the bubble's base, unconscious. '

Blood pooled around her head. Her face was scarred with gashes from the glabrezu's claws. Gaye instantly enlarged the bubble to take in Cwelanas, and CassaRoc bent to examine the elfs wounds.

All felt the glabrezu's voice pounding in their minds. ROMAR! YOUR TIME HAS COME! The Fool cowered behind the Cloakmaster's throne. His bony

hands were crossed protectively in front of him. OUR CONTRACT IS CONCLUDED! YOUR SOUL IS MINE!

The glabrezu reached out with one of its pincers. The Fool shrank down to his knees, and the long pincer raked across the Fool's cheek, drawing a line of thin black blood. The Fool raised his puny hands in supplication to the tanar'ri.

"Lord Mowg, no, I beseech you-the phylactery, that one broke it, there-" The Fool pointed at the unconscious Cwelanas. "It was not meant-" The glabrezu's other pincer lashed out and grasped the Fool by the neck. Lord Mowg lifted the Fool to face him. The other pincer came up, and the glabrezu plunged the sharp points deep into the Fool's hollow eyes.

The Fool jerked electrically in the tanar'ri's grasp. Bolts of j blue energy-the Fool's ill-spent life force-shimmered through Mowg's pincers and into his monstrous body. The Fool's already shrunken body seemed to tighten in on itself. The j glabrezu smiled with contentment, lapping at the Fool's dark force, flicking its tongue at the lifeless husk that was the Fool.

With a final, convulsive shudder, the Fool found true death in Lord Mowg's blistering grip. The glabrezu's mouth gaped wide, and it stuffed the Fool's body between his jaws, impossibly accommodating the lich's girth as though it were but a morsel. It swallowed, growling, its evil power resonating off the walls like a low hum.

Then Mowg faced the humans.

It lashed out at the shield. Gaye's image grimaced as the glabrezu's blow hammered at the barrier, and she concentrated, letting the shield grow stronger in her mind.

Lord Mowg stepped back and swiped a claw through the air. The fiend roared with amusement, filling the adytum with its raucous, barking laughter.

The tanar'ri placed one clawed foot into the ring of power and climbed inside. The glabrezu sank through the doorway of fire, laughing. The gate closed with a final explosion of fire, and Mowg, a lord of the tanar'ri, was gone from the Prime Material plane.

The Cloakmaster stepped off the dais. Gaye dropped her psionic shield, and the Cloakmaster stepped over to Cwelanas and placed his hands upon her head.

She glowed from within, infused with the combined energies of the Cloakmaster and the Spelljammer. He felt her wounds, the flow of her blood, and, with a thought, his energies healed the glabrezu's damage and pulled her up from the bliss of unconsciousness.

Djan woke with but a single, healing touch. The Cloakmaster kept his hand on the half-elfs head. He jerked once as a spark of power opened his mind.

"What was that?" Djan asked.

The Cloakmaster went to each of the warriors in turn, finishing with Estriss, then he helped Cwelanas to her feet and touched her head as well. Her forehead glowed at the touch of his fingertips.

" The Spelljammer has magic of its own," the Cloakmaster said. "I have released you from its spell, a spell of protection that all aboard have fallen under. Now you may leave!'

"Leave?" Chaladar said. "We cannot. The Spelljammer needs our protection."

The Cloakmaster held up a hand. "I do not have much time like this," he said. "Much must he done, and there is much to explain."