Pool of Twilight hop-3

by James M. Ward

  After watching this go on for a few minutes, Evaine scrambled down the tree.

  What is that creature, Evaine? Gamaliel's tail twitched in agitation.

  "I think it's a stone golem."

  A golem?

  Evaine nodded. "A creature made of some inert substance that has been magically animated-wood, iron, clay, or, in this case, stone." She winced as another boulder bounced past them down the ravine. "Which means that it's big, immeasurably strong, and almost completely impervious to injury."

  I don't suppose you know why it keeps on tossing boulders down the ravine?

  Evaine rubbed her narrow chin in thought. "I don't really know, unless…" Her eyes flashed.

  "A golem is a mindless creatures, Gam," she explained excitedly. "Its creator can give it only the simplest instructions, and the golem will perform those instructions literally. It could be that, long ago, this golem's creator ordered it to keep the temple in good repair. But some disaster befell the temple. Half of the structure slid down the side of the cliff, and the rest was abandoned."

  But the stone golem continued to try to repair the temple.

  "Right. Every time the golem puts a boulder where the wall used to be, the rock falls into the ravine. But the golem isn't smart enough to realize what's happening. All it sees is that the wall needs another stone, so it tries to rebuild again and again."

  How long will the golem keep trying to rebuild that one wall? Wind ruffled the great cat's tawny fur.

  "Unless it's destroyed, forever." Evaine gazed up the ravine. "Which means it's going to be hard for us to reach the top of the cliff. My guess is that it will take us about fifteen minutes to climb the last stretch of the ravine. But it only takes the golem a few minutes to find another boulder and drop it." She shook her head in frustration. "There's no cover up there. We'd be crushed before we ever made it to the top."

  If only the golem would drop himself over the edge of the cliff. Gamaliel growled angrily.

  Evaine snapped her fingers. "Gam, that's it!" She started picking her way up the ravine. "Come on! We have to edge closer for my plan to work."

  The two continued up the defile, every few minutes hiding under overhangs or squeezing inside cracks to avoid the tossed boulders. When they reached the final section of the ravine, they could see its sheer sides offered little protection. Already the golem was lumbering toward the broken end of the wall, bearing yet another boulder.

  "This will have to do," Evaine muttered.

  As the golem approached the precipice, she chanted the words of a spell. Suddenly a chunk of rock several feet wide quivered and liquefied into mud, sliding down into the ravine. Impervious to this change in its path, the golem lurched to the edge of the cliff.

  For a moment, the golem teetered on the precipice. Then, without the slightest resistance, it toppled over the edge. Golem and boulder went tumbling down the ravine in a spray of rock.

  Evaine grinned, watching the creature plummet into the valley. A simple idea, but it had worked! "After you, Gam," she said. The two started toward the cliff top. Exhausted by the spell, Evaine could not move very fast, but there was less reason to hurry, now that the golem was gone.

  They had made scant progress when a clattering of stone caused them to pause and gaze below. Evaine drew in a sharp breath of surprise.

  The stone golem was climbing up the ravine.

  The fall had not so much as scratched the creature. The golem moved with astonishing quickness, using its huge hands to help pull itself up.

  As quickly as she could manage, Evaine hurried up the rest of the slope. Gamaliel shimmered into his human shape, using his strong arms to help her. She heaved herself up over the cliff's edge, Gamaliel right behind. The golem was mere seconds below.

  The sorceress tried to ready a spell, but fear seized her mind; she couldn't think clearly. Gamaliel shimmered into his cat form to defend her, ready to fight the golem. Evaine knew that would be folly. The magical creature had the strength to rip both of them to shreds.

  The stone golem reached the top, towering over Evaine and Gamaliel, blotting out the sun with its bulk. The creature raised its huge arms, lurching forward.

  Evaine shut her eyes, hoping the end would be quick.

  For a long moment, nothing happened.

  Finally, Gamaliel spoke in her mind. Evaine, open your eyes.

  Reluctantly, she did as he asked. What she saw made her gasp in astonishment, then laugh aloud.

  The stone golem went right past them, resuming its mindless task. Even now it was heading toward the crumbling wall carrying another boulder. As Evaine watched, the golem reached the muddy cliff's edge-and without hesitating toppled once again into the ravine!

  It will do that forever, won't it? Gamaliel asked. It will never learn.

  Evaine nodded. "But thankfully, we won't be around to watch it." Weakly, she pulled herself to her feet. "Let's go, Gam."

  They started off through the ruined temple, leaving the golem to its ceaseless labor.

  "We're coming down too fast!" Kern shouted.

  "I know, I know!" Listle shouted back in annoyance as the flying carpet plunged toward the treetops. "The updrafts are unpredictable this close to the mountains."

  It had taken only two days to cover the distance from the ruins of the red tower to the southern edge of the Dragonspine Mountains. But it looked to Kern as if their flying carpet days were about to come to an abrupt and violent end.

  The carpet caught a vortex of cold air, spinning wildly. Kern would have gone sailing off into the blue had it not been for the strong grip Miltiades had on his belt. An eagle wheeled past with a startled expression.

  "Listle, I see a meadow not far ahead," the skeletal paladin said calmly.

  The elf nodded. "I'm aiming for it."

  The wind whipped Kern's hair wildly about.

  "Here we go!" Listle cried, pulling on the pair of tassels that helped her steer the carpet.

  Kern tightened his grip on the golden fringe. The tree tops flew by mere inches below. He could see the meadow now, perhaps a quarter mile ahead.

  "We're not going to make it!" he yelled over the roar of the wind.

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence," Listle snapped. She concentrated on keeping the magic carpet steady. Just a little farther…

  Suddenly a dead tree loomed before them, stretching its gnarled limbs higher than the surrounding foliage. Listle jerked hard on the tassels. There was a loud sound of rending cloth as a sharp branch punched through the fabric.

  "The carpet's unraveling!" Kern shouted as they plummeted toward the clearing.

  Sure enough, a thread from one end of the carpet had caught on the dead tree, and now the magical silk was unwinding behind them like a skein of yarn. The three had to crowd closer as the surface area of the flying carpet rapidly dwindled.

  Listle yanked even harder on the golden tassels. The carpet managed to stay aloft for only a few more seconds. Then the last of the thread ran out.

  Kern, Listle, and Miltiades fell through the air…

  … and landed a half-second later on soft, dry, sweet-smelling grass.

  Confused, Kern sat up, wondering why he hadn't been knocked dead by the fall. A glistening thread of silk settled slowly to the treetops, its end draped down over a dazed-looking Listle.

  "The carpet managed to bear our weight until we were only a few feet above the ground," Miltiades offered in answer to their bewildered looks.

  Listle sighed as she picked up one end of the silken thread. "I think this is it for the magic carpet," she said glumly. "Unless knitting also happens to be one of a paladin's special skills."

  "I doubt it," Kern said with disdain.

  The three gathered their scattered possessions. With a few magical words, Miltiades restored their three horses to their natural form. Kern's palfrey and Listle's gray pranced and snorted excitedly, apparently no worse the wear for having been miniaturized. Eritophenes, of course, was quite used to the exper
ience.

  They rode across the dun-colored meadow toward the snow-topped mountains. Now that they were here, Kern wondered how they would ever find Evaine. He and Listle discussed their options. Daile had said the scene revealed by Miltiades' communication gem lay close to the center of the mountains, so that gave them a general direction. Once they were in the actual vicinity, Listle thought she could whip up some spells to help them locate the sorceress.

  Throughout this discussion, Miltiades had been quiet, but now the undead paladin spoke up.

  "We will find her," he said confidently. "I will know when she is near."

  However, just how he would know, he did not say. Listle and Kern exchanged a curious glance.

  The sun was sinking toward the western horizon when they reached the forest that blanketed the lower slopes. Deciding it would be best to camp among the shelter of the trees, they decided to press on a bit farther. They guided their mounts down a winding trail, past silent stands of fir and ghost-pale aspen.

  They had not gone far when sharp, ringing sounds broke the sylvan stillness. All three knew the familiar clangor of steel on steel. There was a battle going on not far ahead.

  "Come on!" Kern cried, urging his mount into a gallop.

  "Kern, shouldn't we be a little more cautious?" Listle called after him, to no avail. Muttering a few choice words about his lack of common sense, she rode after him, Miltiades close behind.

  Moments later they burst into a circular glade open to the slate-gray sky. Kern halted for a second, taking in the scene.

  A frail old man was battling a huge misshapen creature. Even as Kern watched, the old man's blade-a heavy, antique broadsword-clashed loudly with the creature's spiked club. Somehow, the old man was managing to hold his own. He was wizened and ancient-looking, his flowing hair and beard as white as ivory. He wore no armor, only a simple robe of dove gray. Even at this distance, Kern could see his sharp blue eyes sparking like steel against a whetstone.

  The creature bellowed. With its massive, ten-foot frame, warty hide, and blazing purple eyes, Kern guessed it to be an ogre. The monster raised its huge club for a crushing blow.

  Drawing the Hammer of Tyr from his belt, Kern spurred his mount forward, thundering into the glade. Listle and Miltiades were not far behind.

  The ogre paused, looking up in dull-witted surprise. Then it snarled nastily, baring jagged black fangs. It lurched forward, ready to engage its new enemies.

  "Xaraxa!" Listle cried out as she tossed a small ball of pitch mixed with bat fur at the monster. It exploded, and the creature roared, shaking its head, as Listle's spell blinded it.

  The ogre swung its club wildly. Kern easily parried the blow. Upon striking his holy warhammer, the club splintered. Miltiades took advantage of the creature's confusion to deal it a blow with his sword, cutting a gash in the ogre's side. Its howl of pain was short-lived. Kern swung his hammer in a glowing arc, striking the ogre full in the chest. The creature toppled and did not rise again.

  Quickly Kern dismounted and hurried to the old man, who leaned on the hilt of his broadsword.

  "Are you all right, sir?" he inquired deferentially.

  The old man snorted in disgust. "I was, until you and your overeager friends here showed up."

  Kern stared at him in astonishment.

  The old man's shaggy eyebrows bristled like gigantic, snowy caterpillars. "Fighting that rock-brained ogre was the most fun I'd had in months." He tapped a bony finger against Kern's breastplate. "And then you had to come and spoil it all!"

  "I–I'm sorry," Kern sputtered, completely taken aback. "I didn't know."

  "Well, now you do," the old man grumbled, sheathing his rune-covered broadsword. He turned to retrieve a battered leather pack from the ground. "And I suppose now that you've ruined my sport, you'll be expecting to come share my fire and my supper as well. That way you can be certain you'll spoil my day completely."

  Kern stared after the old man, entirely at a loss for words.

  The old man glared back. "Well, are you coming or aren't you?" Without waiting for an answer, he started across the glade. "Young people haven't a thimbleful of sense these days," he muttered into his beard.

  Kern exchanged a puzzled look with Listle and Miltiades, then shrugged. There didn't seem to be much to do except to follow, so, leading his horse, he trailed along behind the stranger.

  Despite his thin and frail appearance, the old man proved fleet-footed. Soon Kern was huffing noisily, and even Listle seemed to be having a hard time keeping pace. The old man moved farther and farther ahead of them until he finally vanished among the trees. Kern exchanged a worried look with Listle, wondering if he had purposely lost them.

  The sky was growing purple with twilight when Kern caught sight of a warm, flickering glow between the trees. Moments later, he and the others stepped into a small clearing protected by the boughs of a huge fir tree.

  "About time you showed up," the old man said testily. "It seems young people are getting slower these days as well as duller." He sat by a cheerful fire, stirring something in a small iron pot. Whatever it was, it smelled wonderful. Kern's stomach growled, a noisy reminder that he hadn't eaten anything since the few bites of flatbread that had served as his rather inadequate breakfast.

  "Well, sit down already." The old man gestured to a fallen log. Kern and Listle sat obediently. Miltiades remained standing, as was his custom, eliciting a scowl from their host.

  "Excuse me, sir," Kern finally blurted out as a steaming bowl of stew and a newly carved wooden spoon were shoved into his hands. "But would you mind… er, that is, could I ask your name?"

  "You can call me Trooper," he replied, handing Listle a wooden bowl. "I suppose it's as good a name as any I've been called and no doubt better than some!" Apparently he thought this some sort of joke, for he broke into a long fit of cackling laughter.

  "No, thank you," Miltiades voice echoed inside his visor when Trooper offered him a bowl of stew. "I do not require food."

  Trooper's bushy eyebrows knit together. "No, I suppose you wouldn't." He shrugged and began eating his stew, blithely ignoring his company.

  Unsure what else to do, Kern swallowed a mouthful of stew, and for the next few minutes couldn't think of much else to say.

  "Er, by the way," Kern said finally, "My name is Kern Desanea. And this is Listle Onopordum." He gestured awkwardly toward the elf, who was busily shoveling food into her delicate elven face. Trooper grunted noncommittally, apparently none too impressed with this information.

  "And our companion is Miltiades," Kern added, gesturing to the paladin.

  This name caused a flicker of interest in the old man's keen eyes. "Miltiades?" he said, setting down his bowl. "Now, I'm getting on in years, but I would be a spring chick a dozen times over compared to the paladin Miltiades. Tales tell he lived more than a thousand years ago." He shot a stern look in Kern's direction. "You wouldn't be pulling my leg, now would you, son?"

  "He speaks the truth," Miltiades said, lifting his visor. The sight of the paladin's fleshless skull didn't raise so much as a shiver out of the old man.

  "So he does," Trooper nodded. "Greetings, Miltiades, from one warrior of Tyr to another. I see that the old fellow doesn't have the decency to let you enjoy the rest you've earned."

  "Tyr has given me a quest I have yet to complete," Miltiades intoned solemnly.

  Trooper snorted, slapping his knee. "Is that so? Well, Tyr had better not try to raise these old bones once they're settled, that's all I can say! I'll look him flat in the eye and tell him to bother someone else's skeleton."

  After they were through eating, Kern and Listle helped the old man clean the dishes.

  "These are very nice," the elf remarked as she examined the spoons. Each was carved in a unique shape that followed the whorls and curves of the wood. "Did you make these yourself?"

  "That I did," Trooper replied with more than a little pride in his voice. "Just this morning, in fact."

  S
uddenly a frown crossed Listle's face. "But how did you know to carve three of them?"

  "It's always a good idea to be prepared for company," Trooper snapped cantankerously, taking the spoons and stowing them away. "As your presence here indicates, I might add."

  Listle didn't pursue the matter, but her curiosity was definitely piqued.

  "We've come to look for someone in the mountains," Kern explained. "She's a friend," he added.

  "I should hope so, if you've come all this way just to look for her!" Trooper replied. He pulled out his rune sword and began polishing its edge with a bit of oilstone, carefully smoothing away small nicks and spots of rust. It was a beautiful weapon, with an intricately wrought hand-guard and strange carving all the way down the flat of the blade. Kern noticed at least one symbol that he recognized well-the scales of Tyr engraved on the sword's hilt

  "You're a paladin, aren't you?"

  Listle rolled her silvery eyes. "You mean you've only just now figured that out, Kern?" She leaned toward Trooper, shielding her lips with a hand. "It's only a theory," she whispered conspiratorially, "but I think his skull's as dense as that hammer of his."

  Trooper winked at her. "I'll keep that in mind," he whispered in a voice that was quite audible all around.

  Kern flushed in embarrassment, treating Listle to a withering look. She made a lame attempt to stifle her giggles.

  "You fought well against that ogre today, Kern," Trooper said then. This compliment alleviated Kern's embarrassment a bit. "Not that I needed your help, mind you," the old paladin was quick to add.

  "Of course not!" Kern hastily agreed.

  Trooper looked up at Miltiades. "The lad has good command of that hammer, doesn't he?"

  The undead paladin nodded in agreement. "His father taught him well."

  Trooper grunted. "Too bad he doesn't have such a good command of his heart."

  "What?" Kern asked.

  Trooper turned on him. "Your heart boy! Heart! You know, that thing that squeezes blood around inside your rib cage." He thumped his chest for emphasis.