Kalrakin raised his fist. Pearly light gleamed between his fingers, as if the pale gemstone were afire. He climbed back up the stairs, toward Coryn. She pointed a finger at him, snapped out a command, and felt another rush of energy as a powerful, crackling lightning bolt erupted from her flesh, arrowing toward the wild sorcerer. Searing magic crackled- she smelled the heat and fire, felt her hair stand on end amidst the violent electric charge.
But amazingly, it happened again. Kalrakin actually laughed in the face of her foolishness. He held up that stone again-it was so radiant now that Coryn had to squint-and absorbed the full brunt of the lethal lightning bolt into the smooth, round shape. The yellow spear of electricity simply vanished, leaving the artifact glowing so brightly that Coryn could no longer look at it without being blinded-it was like trying to stare at the sun.
Kalrakin reached for her with maniacal fury. He grabbed Coryn's robe with those long fingers, tendrils of brilliant golden light emanating from the little stone in his right hand. What she did next was automatic: She spoke another word-a word she had learned from Umma's books, she recalled with a pang-the same word that had saved her from the thanoi in the Icereach.
She had no destination in mind, but once again the old teleport spell served her true. Instantly she found herself standing at the edge of a meadow, with tall trees at her back, and a rocky bluff rising before her. The Tower was nowhere to be seen, and she sensed immediately that this wood was not Wayreth Forest. Or that Wayreth Forest had left her behind.
Nearby rose a low granite ridge, its face marked by lichen-encrusted rocks. A shady gap attracted her attention immediately, and Coryn realized she was looking at the mouth of a cave. Cautiously she approached the place, leaning forward, trying to peer inside the shadowy murk. As her eyes adjusted, she edged forward, coming under a lofty mantle of ancient rock.
From the darkness she heard-or perhaps imagined-a groan of unspeakable pain. Carefully she advanced, holding the folds of her robe off the floor, peering into the darkness as her eyes slowly adjusted. This place looked familiar-and there, on the floor, was a person she recognized.
"Jenna!"
The Red Robe lay on the floor of the cave, just as Coryn had seen her during the Test. Her face was pale and slick with sweat; her eyes, closed. Her breathing was ragged and shallow, like the panting of a wounded animal.
Coryn felt stabbed with guilt. She ran forward and knelt by the woman, touched her cheek, and found that she was burning with fever.
"Her gut is ruptured. She's dying."
Dalamar's voice, cold and brittle, startled her. She leaped to her feet and turned to look at the dark elf. He betrayed no surprise at seeing her. His demeanor was distant, almost contemptuous, as he looked her up and down. Coryn stood proud under his inspection, acutely conscious of her white robe-which was in contrast to his own garment of midnight black.
"We were following you, chasing you-you might say we were foolish enough to be worried about you," he said, his voice cutting like a knife. "But I see you had important personal business to accomplish."
"The Master of the Tower invited me in, and I came," she explained simply. Surely she hadn't done anything wrong- or had she? Why did she feel this stabbing guilt? She had had to run away from these two bickering mages.
"You and Jenna were determined to keep me in the dark, to use me as a pawn in your own struggles. I had to get away, strike out on my own-I didn't know where I was going, at first. But it turned out to be the way to the Tower, and I was invited by the Master to take the Test of Magic."
"Obviously," he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "So it appears I lose the company of one enchantress, only to be rewarded with the dubious presence of another."
"There's more at stake than you know!" she retorted. "And anyway, I'm a mage now. We need to help Jenna, not stand around talking. Maybe she doesn't have to die!"
"What-have you become a cleric, too? Even a high priestess of immortal Paladine-Paladine as he used to be-would be hard pressed to heal these grievous wounds."
"Be quiet." Coryn knelt beside the Red Robe and pulled the bottle of potion out of her robe. At the sight of the bottle Dalamar knelt beside her, his expression intent.
"Where did you get that?" he asked.
"At the end of the Test," Cory replied. "It was a reward, which I didn't understand at the time. Now I think I know why it was given to me."
Slowly, gingerly, she raised Jenna's head, cradling it in a strong hand. Placing the open neck of the bottle to the injured woman's lips, she allowed a slow trickle to run into the Red Robe's mouth. After the first small dose, she let Jenna breathe for a bit, and then repeated the process. Sip after sip, Coryn poured the precious liquid through the Red Robe's parched lips.
Slowly, imperceptibly, a flush began to appear on Jenna's clammy cheeks. Her breathing grew more measured, her temperature abated. The thrashing of her limbs gradually eased and by the time the potion was gone, she appeared to be miraculously well-and sleeping soundly, restfully.
"Impressive," Dalamar acknowledged, after a long silence. "You have been gifted with powerful magic. And you are right: The potion you were given was indeed a reward, which the gods in their wisdom evidently intended for Jenna."
"There is more… here is another of my rewards. And now I know that I am to give it to you."
She pulled the black book out of another pocket and was startled at the way Dalamar's eyes brightened at the sight of the unassuming tome. When she extended it, he snatched it from her hands almost violently. With exaggerated care he opened the cover and started looking at it, turning the thin pages faster and faster with rising excitement.
"Do you know what this is?" he hissed.
"A spell book, I should think," she replied.
"It is the key to my life, to the past I thought was gone forever." He looked at her with a new expression-a modicum of warmth but also respect, Coryn realized. "There can be only one reason these gifts were given to you. All three gods of magic must have joined forces for your Test, and all three wanted you to succeed. But why? Why?"
"Yes, I succeeded in the Test. But there is a greater challenge, one that I shall require your help to face. It is a challenge that faces all godly mages."
Jenna's eyes flickered open, looking around in wonder. The Red Robe sat up easily, under her own power, and reached down to feel the outline of her leg under the bloodstained robe. "What miracle is this?" she asked, gazing at Coryn as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"It seems we have found our White Robe," Dalamar said to Jenna dryly, looking very intently at Coryn. "Or rather, she has found us."
After explaining to Jenna about the potion and the black spell book, Coryn told both wizards about the sorcerers who had taken over the Tower, the destruction Kalrakin had wreaked, and the evil he represented.
She told them about his unusually potent artifact. "It was a small stone, but it absorbed the effects of my most powerful spells. The Master of the Tower called it… an 'Irda Stone.' I fear it will make it impossible to attack Kalrakin directly, if he can render himself immune to magical blows."
"But we can't abandon the Tower to him!" snapped Dalamar.
"Of course not!" Coryn agreed. The dark elf glared to be addressed so sharply, but he waited for her to go on. "There was another part of my Test… I saw twenty-one wizards in the Hall of Mages, seven of each color."
"The Conclave!" Jenna exclaimed. "The last one was held more than forty years ago. When our gods had gone from the world."
"Well, the gods have returned now, and I think we need to hold another one," the girl explained. "A new First Conclave. We need to summon all the wizards to the Tower, and we need to do it soon."