A battle cry from Durwyn drew her attention back to the action. The warrior fought two creatures on the dais that held the coronal's throne. Before Kestrel could reach him to lend a hand, Faeril moved in. The dragon-kin took to the air and circled.
While the cleric stood poised to strike with her flame blade as soon as one of the beasts swooped close enough, she reached out her hand to touch Durwyn's shoulder. "Mystra, I beseech you-strengthen the warrior Durwyn to better serve you." Just as she completed her prayer-spell, the dragon-kin attacked.
Durwyn swung his axe with such force that he lopped both claws off one of his opponents. The creature shrieked and soared out of range. Blood streaming from its severed limbs, it flew out of the tower and disappeared from view.
The second dragon-kin dived at the fighter in retaliation. Durwyn struck that creature as well, slicing off a wing. The beast crashed to the floor. It lay only a moment before it tried to rise, but the loss of its wing impaired its balance and the stone floor was slick with dragon-kin blood. The wounded creature slipped and slid in the slime. Durwyn picked it up and threw it into the throne.
The heavy dragon-kin landed so hard it dislodged the throne from its centuries-old resting place. As the great seat slid aside, it revealed a tunnel below.
Kestrel ran toward the passage, eager to investigate, but three dragon-kin also flocked toward the discovery. Another spell from Ghleanna disbanded them. They fled in fear, leaving only a few wounded comrades still engaged in combat. Durwyn made quick work of his grounded foe, then helped finish off the remaining creatures.
At last they were free to explore the surprise passage. "Nice work, Durwyn," Corran said as they all approached the dais. "Looks like you've discovered the king's emergency escape route."
The corridor was actually a narrow, spiraling staircase. At a word from Faeril, magical light illuminated the windowless stairwell. It continued down as far as their eyes could see, apparently untouched by either time or the castle's unsavory squatters.
"Well, either we give this passage a try or see if Ghleanna can magically unseal the double doors," Kestrel said. "I bet we'll encounter fewer cultists this way."
The party descended. They reached the bottom of the stairs to find a solitary door that offered no choice of direction. Kestrel pressed her ear to the wood. Beyond, she heard the sound of wings and the hiss-language of more dragon-kin.
Even worse, above it rose a horrible, mournful wailing. Thousands of voices joined in an unholy canticle of despair that howled like a wind storm.
The chorus of the damned.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Vessel of Souls radiated evil.
It was a thing of black magic, of life-taking, of soul-stealing. It looked every inch the accursed instrument it was. The vessel resembled a crystal chalice with a stem but no base. Images of tormented, eyeless faces adorned the sides of the cup, their black outlines standing out in high relief from the crystal.
Yet more horrifying than these representations of lost souls were the thousands of real spirits crying out for release.
The shadowy souls swirled in a red mist, their eyes blank, their mouths agape with their song of hopelessness. They rose above the rim of the cup in a great surge of spirit matter, only to be driven back down by the unseen force that held them captive. Their endless gyrations lent haunting rhythm to their wails.
The vessel hung suspended in the air, supported by three twisted steel beams as thick as Kestrel's waist. They formed a pyramid in the center of the round room, distributing the weight of the enormous urn to the edges of the chamber where the floor was made of stone. Directly beneath the vessel, a large circle of multifaceted glass lay inset in the floor. The glass caught the torchlight of the wall sconces and projected it up to the urn. As a result, eerie, undulating light bathed the chalice in a continuous profane baptism.
A score of dragon-kin and at least a hundred soulless drow guarded the Vessel of Souls. The lifeless dark elves stood silent and resolute in their watch, but many of the dragon-kin talked among themselves.
Kestrel closed the door as silently as she'd opened it and described the scene to her companions. "I saw no other doors to the room," she concluded. "Only a tall, narrow window with its pane blackened."
Corran rubbed his chin. "If we drop the vessel through the floor, we can destroy it and open up an exit at the same time." He looked to Durwyn and Athan. "If the three of us each take one of the supports and dislodge them simultaneously, the chalice should fall through the center of the glass."
Athan nodded. "I can manage it"
"Me, too," said Durwyn.
Corran next turned to Ghleanna. "Jarial's invisibility spell could prove a big boon. He didn't happen to teach it to you somewhere along the line, did he?"
Ghleanna grinned. "He did-and a few others."
"Excellent. Have you the power to render all three of us invisible?"
"Aye, and two others besides-"
Kestrel shook her head. "Just the warriors. We still have Mordrayn and Pelendralaar to face. We may need your spells more then."
"Are you sure, Kestrel?" Corran regarded her seriously. "We'll be relying on you, Ghleanna, and Faeril to hold off the dragon-kin and drow."
"We can handle them," Ghleanna declared.
Cloaked by Ghleanna's sorcery, the three fighters headed to their appointed positions. No one noticed their entrance, but one of the dragon-kin noted the open door. It raised a claw and gestured toward the remaining companions, hissing a word of alarm.
Ghleanna responded with a spell that sent the beasts into a state of confusion. Some of the dragon-kin stared stupidly at the sorceress, some wandered over to another part of the room, some actually began attacking each other. Eight dragon-kin took to the air, flying straight toward the trio of women.
Faeril, meanwhile, twice rapped the Staff of Sunlight on the floor. A burst of daylight issued forth, crippling many of the closest drow. Kestrel sent Loren's Blade and her other two daggers flying toward the nearest weakened dark elves. She eliminated two and injured a third-leaving a mere ninety-seven or so to advance on her. She prayed to any god who would listen that the warriors would destroy the Vessel of Souls quickly and that Nathlilik would prove correct in her belief that its destruction would eradicate the enslaved drow.
The dragon-kin swooped down to attack. Kestrel's armor resisted their claws, but Ghleanna did not fare as well. One of the beasts raked her face, turning her left cheek to bloody ribbons. The mage shrieked and clutched her damaged face, then responded with a volley of conjured missiles that hit the beast in rapid succession.
Through the corner of her eye, Kestrel saw Faeril inflict critical wounds on a swooping dragon-kin with only a word. The creature plummeted to the ground. After that, she lost track of what the others were doing as she fought her own battles against the remaining dragon-kin. One of them had her pinned against the wall. She used her club to beat off his swiping claws, all the while trying to score a hit with Loren's Blade.
Beyond, the weakened drow had mobilized. The first wave rushed in to join the combat against the intruders. One of them hurled a fireball at her. She braced herself for its impact, ready to feel the blaze sear her flesh, but miraculously, the flames passed over her like a gentle breeze. Her mind raced for an explanation until she recalled the mantle rings she wore. What was it the baelnorn had said-protection from a dozen spells? Corran and the others had better hurry.
Though the fireball passed over her without harm, it scorched her opponent. The dragon-kin shrieked and turned on the offending drow for revenge. As the two enemies fought each other, another dragon-kin moved in to attack Kestrel. She stole a look at the Vessel of Souls, still suspended in place. What was taking Corran and the others so long? Surely by now they'd had sufficient time to reach their stations. A second glance revealed slight movement of the nearest support beam. Thank the gods! The urn would drop any moment
Suddenly, a loud crash! rent the air. The sound came
not from the floor, where Kestrel had expected it, but from above. The dragon-kin, distracted, spun around, allowing her to plant Loren's Blade in her opponent's back and see for herself the source of the noise.
Shards of glass rained down from the chamber's window as a lone figure swung in on a rope. An angel of darkness, her face a mask of vengeance, swooped in to seize justice for the wronged and wreak retribution on the guilty.
Nathlilik.
The drow leader gripped the rope with only one hand. In the other she clutched a spiked mace, raised high. Blood running from cuts all over her body, her white hair streaming loose behind her, she sailed through the air toward the Vessel of Souls.
"Kedar!" she cried. "I do this for you!"
As the arc of her swing brought her directly above the urn, she let go of the rope. She dropped twenty feet to the vessel and struck the invisible force field with her mace. At the same moment, the support beams finally slid out of place. The Vessel of Souls, and Nathlilik along with it, plummeted.
It smashed through the floor, shattering the glass and continuing its descent. A deafening explosion sounded. Unholy shrieks and sobs filled the chamber, rising to a crescendo so intense that Kestrel covered her ears lest the cacophony of terror and torment drive her mad.
A whirlwind surged up through the jagged hole in the floor. Thousands of lost souls, their ghostly faces contorted with hopelessness, spiraled toward the ceiling. The cyclone snuffed out the chamber's torches, leaving only the pale natural light of the broken window to illuminate the room.
The funnel of damned spirits arched through the window. As it reached the open sky it flew apart, releasing the trapped souls to the gods. The horrible anthem of despair at last ceased.
Within, every drow in the chamber collapsed at once, their bodies turned to dust. At the loss of their allies, the remaining dragon-kin took to the air and fled. Only the companions remained.
In the hushed aftermath, Kestrel picked her way through drow ashes and shards of broken glass to the edge of the circle. She peered down. Nathlilik's broken, lifeless body lay surrounded by fragments of the vessel she'd given her life to destroy.
Corran's disembodied voice broke the stillness. "Is she alive?"
Kestrel shook her head and backed away from the ledge in silence. She couldn't say she mourned the arrogant drow's passing, but she respected Nathlilik's sacrifice.
"Athan? Durwyn?" Corran called. "You still here?"
"Aye."
"Here."
"Then we haven't a moment to lose. Now that the drow have fallen, Mordrayn knows exactly where we are."
"What word from Mulmaster?"
"The city is nearly depleted. Panic spreads throughout the Moonsea-soon all the Heartlands will be ours. What tidings here?"
"Intruders have toppled the Vessel of Souls. The Mistress is beyond irate. She says the pool shall be well-fed tonight-either with them or with us."
Kestrel smiled in satisfaction as she listened to the exchange between cultists. Though the news from outside troubled her, she delighted in the knowledge that they'd gotten under Mordrayn's skin.
After leaving the vessel chamber, the party had hurried to the ground floor of the castle and combed it for a route of descent to the pool cavern. Thanks to Pelendralaar's cave-in, none existed save this room-the castle's former great hall, now a magical way station for cultists. Four enchanted gates occupied the hall, one on each wall. Three were of ordinary size, while the last appeared three times the size of any Kestrel had ever seen. A cult sorcerer kept watch at the entrance of each gate, and several squads of fighters were stationed throughout the hall.
Kestrel and the others observed the scene from the corner of a gallery that ran the length of three walls. As they watched, cultists arrived through the smaller gates and entered the large one. A few, like the fighter they'd just overheard, stopped to talk with the cult sorcerers standing guard. From the conversations, she surmised that the small gates all led to points outside Myth Drannor, while the main gate led to the pool cavern.
She gazed at the smaller gates longingly. Beyond lay the outside world. What an easy thing it would be to sneak away from the party and dart through one of those gates, out of Myth Drannor and away from this impossible quest. A few short days ago, she might have done that very thing.
But-independent of the fact that the cult's plan meant no safe place existed to run to-she found she could not abandon her companions now. She felt a responsibility to them and to their mission. Her mission. The fate of the world as they knew it rested in their hands. For once in her life, she was part of something greater than herself. She would not back away.
When they were finished, when they had defeated the cult and destroyed the pool, then they could use those smaller gates to leave Myth Drannor. They could go home. She could collect her cache-perhaps even a reward from Elminster-and set herself up for a life of ease. After all this, she'd earned it.
With new conviction, she assessed the situation once more. Somehow, they had to pass through that main gate. "Ghleanna, perhaps now would be a good time for those remaining invisibility spells," she whispered. Corran, Athan, and Durwyn remained unseen. "Cloak yourself and Faeril-I can sneak past the guards."
Ghleanna, her clawed face partially healed by a blue-glow moss potion, shook her head. "I have developed a modified invisibility spell of my own. We can all pass through unseen."
"First we must close the other gates," Corran said, "to stop the influx of cultists."
"If we do that, how will we ever get home?" Kestrel wished she could see Corran's face and not have this conversation with a disembodied voice. "After we stop Mordrayn, and…" She caught the expression in Ghleanna and Faeril's eyes.
None of them were going home.
"You've been saying all along that this quest is suicidal," Ghleanna said gently. "I think we must face the possibility that in destroying the pool, we may also-"
"No!" Kestrel shook her head vehemently. "I won't accept that." She couldn't accept it-her survival instinct was too strong. "I know what I said before, but I don't intend to die a martyr's death. We are going to confront Mordrayn and the dracolich, we are going to annihilate that damnable pool, and then we are walking out of here alive. Do you hear me? Alive. All of us."
Her new-found optimism surprised Ghleanna and Faeril. In truth, it surprised her, but she had worked hard to get to this point, fought harder than she'd ever fought for anything in her life. No one-not Mordrayn, not Pelendralaar, not every member of the whole despicable cult-was going to rob her of telling this tale in her old age.
A strong, unseen hand touched her shoulder. "Let us leave one gate open, then," Athan said, "to go home."
Ghleanna's forked lightning bolt stunned the sorcerer standing guard and collapsed one of the small gates in a crackling implosion of electricity. All eyes turned to the bolt's point of origin just in time to see a second bolt race forth to disable the gate opposite and shock that guard as well. The bolts seemed to spring from thin air-Ghleanna's improved version of Jarial's spell enabled her to remain invisible while spellcasting.
Kestrel rejoiced in the gates' easy destruction. At last, events were going their way. All that remained was to quickly dart through the main portal and into the pool cavern, then collapse the portal behind them. The party could worry later about how to return to the great hall to exit through the remaining gate. For now, they preferred to protect their backs from the arrival of reinforcements as they confronted the archmage and dracolich.
By this point, Faeril and Durwyn should have reached the other side of the main gate. The invisible pair was to pass through before Ghleanna's spells drew attention to the party's presence. Corran and Athan flanked the sorceress, in case Ghleanna's untried invisibility spell exposed her during casting after all. Kestrel was stationed at the main gate in the event its guard got any ideas about closing the portal before the whole party passed through. Each of her unseen companions was to sound a low whistle while ente
ring to alert her to their movements.
It was a perfect plan. In theory.
The cultists, however, didn't cooperate. The cult sorcerer guarding the main gate immediately unleashed a spell aimed at Ghleanna-or at least, where one would assume she stood while summoning the lightning bolts. Kestrel prayed that her companion had moved in time to avoid the spell. To her horror, the half-elf materialized a moment later, unharmed but fully visible. The cultist's spell had counteracted hers.
A squad of cult fighters advanced on Ghleanna as the two remaining gate guards prepared to sling more magic at her. Kestrel sneaked up behind the closest sorcerer and slit his throat Something slipped from his hand-a crumpled roll of paper. She let it drift to the floor, more pressing matters drawing her attention.
Seeing a fatal knife slash suddenly open in his comrade's neck, the final sorcerer diverted his spell at the last second to aim it at Kestrel. She used the cultist's body as a shield, letting the corpse absorb the enchantment. The body disintegrated in her hands.
She looked up from the dust to see Ghleanna hastily retreating toward her. Corran and Athan-exposed to sight by their strikes against the closing cult fighters-followed close behind. Ghleanna flung a final spell at the cult sorcerer before diving into the gate.
Her fireball sped toward the guard, but at the last moment veered away into the gate. The portal immediately imploded, disappearing in a puff of smoke.
They'd lost their way home.
Cursing, Kestrel dropped to the floor in time to avoid the sorcerer's next attack. How was it that he could see her? His spells were aimed with deadly accuracy. As a crackling finger of magical energy sped across the room, she realized she was not his target at all-he was aiming at the gate.
Pool of Radiance: Ruins of Myth Drannor (single books) Page 23