And all the time the bloodstone lay on the floor, pulsing in time with the flaring image of that green-framed window. The mysterious portal whirled in the air, still suspended above the silver hourglass.
"The power was mine-the bloodstone belongs to me!" Kelryn's voice was shrill but futile.
"You are mine!" the lich declared in a voice like the wind from a newly opened crypt, finally turning to regard the bandit lord with its flaring, horrifying eyes. "For too long you have used my talisman as your toy, playing your role as a priest. My strength sustained you, and now you will sustain me!"
Kelryn recoiled, his face draining of color under the inspection of the ghastly undead mage.
"His life belongs to me!" the other wizard interjected. "It was my essence that held back the effects of age, that allowed him to survive for so long."
Each of the black-robed figures took one of the bandit's arms. Light seared the air, a sizzling aura that outlined the twisting, writhing figure in cold brightness. Danyal, watching in awe, saw the illumination as power, and he observed the power divided.
The essence of Kelryn Darewind's life was sucked from his body as the bandit lord writhed and screamed in unspeakable agony. He weakened quickly, moaning, slumping between the two mighty sorcerers. Vitality faded from the man's eyes, and Dan could almost see the warmth of his blood being pulled from his flesh, flowing in equal portions into the two versions of the black-robed archmage.
Finally the sorcerers released the clawlike hands of their shriveled victim, and Kelryn Darewind crumpled to the ground, the shell of his skin drained of blood, of vitality and life. The corpse lay motionless on the floor while the two images of Fistandantilus stood trembling under the onslaught of renewed life and restored power.
A web of green light flared, sparking and firing between the two archmages. Tendrils of ghostly power connected into a glowing net of supernatural, sinister force.
"Together-they've absorbed him together!" Foryth Teel whispered, awed.
"What does it mean? What will happen?" Danyal asked.
"I don't know, but see: Neither archmage can break away from his counterpart. I think that whichever one prevails will either be very powerful, so much so that he becomes in fact invulnerable, or he will be doomed."
The mountain itself trembled under the onslaught of barely contained power. Pieces of rock broke from the ceiling, tumbling down to shatter on the floor. Sharp-edged shards of stone flew here and there, several whizzing past dangerously close, but Danyal's attention was rapt, still focused on the two wizards. They strained visibly to tear themselves apart, but with the violence of the collapsing mountain forming a convulsive backdrop, the two black-robed forms were pulled inexorably closer together.
At the same time, vibrations of power continued to seethe and to rumble in the ground itself. Spatters of gravel tumbled from the ceiling, and tongues of flame flared upward, breaking through the crust of the floor. The cavern rocked back and forth, filling with smoke and dust, thundering with the violent noise of collapse and destruction.
And Danyal knew that Flayze's mountain was dying.
CHAPTER 46
Departures, Alive and Dead
Third Bakukal, Reapember
374 AC
The green vortex of magic still hung over the hourglass, swirling like a liquid mirror. Now, instead of a pure reflection, the companions caught glimpses of actual places. Dan saw a forest, and then a swath of smooth, wave-swept beach. The two wizards grappled magically, taut within the web of green magic.
Another convulsion shook the lair of Flayzeranyx, and Danyal nearly lost his balance as a piece of the ceiling smashed to the floor nearby. Already the corridor by which the companions had entered was gone, vanished beneath a crushing barrier of rubble.
"Go!" Foryth Teel cried amid the chaos, pointing toward the glowing aperture. "This place is doomed! It's your only chance!"
Dan saw the diamondlike sand still sparkling magically as it tumbled through the narrow neck of the hourglass. The gray-robed man had lowered his pen, and his eyes were fixed upon the companions. He would write, Danyal sensed, when they acted.
But what should they do?
A hiss of energy crackled loudly as the Fistandantilus-lich tried to pull his counterpart to the side. The human version of the archmage set his feet and spread his fingers, summoning a roaring spiral of greenish fire that flared high and momentarily blocked the two figures from view. The screams that emerged from within the cocoon of magic were chilling and unnatural, each sound intense with unchained fury and violence.
The vortex to the worlds wheeled like a kaleidoscopic image, and the kender stared into the space, obviously fascinated. "What a place to wander-so many places," he declared in amazement. "There's a range of blue mountains-and look! A city, the whole thing crammed into one big tower!"
"Go, then. See all those places!" urged the historian. "Escape while you can, to survive and wander!"
"My friends, I shall do just that!" declared Emilo, suddenly decisive.
Mirabeth clasped her arms around him in a crushing hug. "Go now!" she demanded through her tears.
"Farewell, then, all of you-and thank you!" cried Emilo Haversack, turning to wave a jaunty farewell to the three humans. The two mages, still enshrouded by magic, took no note of the companions.
Before Dan could shout any kind of reply, the kender dived into-and through-the mirror. The lad caught a glimpse of a crowded street, a city with strange, lofty walls, and then the image had moved on to display a vault of cold, starry sky.
The visions in the arcane window continued to change. The next place was familiar-a mountain valley, scored by a small, babbling stream. Dan recognized the road they had followed near Loreloch, and then he saw the blackened ruin itself. In another moment he saw something moving, a familiar equine shape.
"There's the horse!" he cried as the image of the black mare, cantering gracefully along the road, came into view.
"Nightmare!" Mirabeth shouted. "Can you hear us? Come here!"
Suddenly the scene shifted, whirling closer in a dizzying rush, and then the horse was right before them. With a kicking, plunging jump, the animal leaped, and abruptly Nightmare passed through the shimmering window and was in the cave alongside them, rearing amidst the crumbling stone.
"She will carry the two of you to safety. You must go after the kender!" Foryth declared sternly, taking Mirabeth and Danyal firmly by their arms. "Leave Fistandan-tilus to me!"
"No!" Dan shouted. "I'm not leaving you!" Though he sensed it was foolish to remain in the collapsing mountain, he felt a fierce loyalty to the historian, who had so clearly proved himself a friend.
"I'm staying, too!" declared Mirabeth, taking the lad's arm, watching in awe.
The mountain rocked with growing violence. A shard of stone scored a deep gash in Foryth Teel's head, drawing an immediate shower of blood and sending the man staggering backward.
Abruptly the green shroud fell from the two images of Fistandantilus, and the archmages staggered apart. The human gasped for breath, while the lich slowly drew itself into a tall, utterly rigid posture.
"Go-before it's too late!" the historian insisted, angrily gesturing to Danyal and Mirabeth.
But the two young humans merely shook their heads, locking their arms around each other as they shared their intention to stay behind with the historian and see the matter to its conclusion. With one hand, Mirabeth reached out to grab onto Nightmare's halter, and under her soothing touch, the horse grow strangely calm amid the chaos and destruction.
Ignoring his stubborn companions, Foryth turned back to the two archmages. Inflamed by their consumption of Kelryn Darewind's essence, they stared at him with the light of hunger banked only slightly in their eyes. The web of green light still glowed between them, and Dan could plainly see the tension, the strain that the connection placed on the two figures. The balance of power between them was tenuous, and the lad sensed that neither could relax, or the oth
er's victory would be absolute.
"You can become what you want, you know," Foryth ventured. "A true fusion of your selves, through the bloodstone, will result in a being of truly godlike power."
"I will not yield to a corpse!" sneered the fleshly version of the archmage.
"Nor I surrender to mortality!" cried the other.
"But you already have-both of you," Foryth Teel replied, his scholarly tone utterly reasonable. "In truth, you are the same being, but you have been brought here from different segments of the River of Time. If you think about it, the chance to merge with yourself is a unique opportunity, a combination that has never been attempted in all the history of Krynn."
As the wizards glared at each other, Danyal noticed that Foryth Teel had picked up the golden chain and its green stone pendant.
"The key, of course, is that only one of you can wield the bloodstone. Here!"
Foryth suddenly flipped the gem into the air, tossing it between the two mages, and for an instant it seemed to Danyal that time stood still. The artifact tumbled and careened in space, the gold chain flashing through a dizzying whirl, and then the two images of the wizard reached forward. Each of them seized a portion of the chain, pulling on the treasured artifact.
The links pulled taut as the power of twin sorcerers raged through the ancient metal. The sound of a thunderstorm rocked through the chamber. Bright flashes of light, like green spears of lightning, crackled outward from the two figures and sent the watching humans staggering backward. The air in the cavern was instantly fouled, thick with the stench of death.
The whirling storm exploded around them, louder than anything Dan had ever heard. He pulled Mirabeth close, and the two of them hunched down, wincing against the unnatural gale, grimacing as the wind lashed like a physical force against their hair, clothes, and skin.
And then the black-shrouded wizards were gone, both of them vanishing in a crackle of green smoke. The storm vanished with them, though the tremors of the dying mountain still rocked the floor and dropped showers of rubble and boulders from the ceiling.
"What-what happened?" Dan asked, stunned. Even though the cavern was still jolted and rocked by subterranean convulsions, it seemed strangely silent in the wake of the sorcerous departures.
"The two versions of Fistandantilus are scattered again, shards of them tossed along the length of the River of Time. It should be many centuries before that power is mustered into the world again." Foryth's tone was wistful, almost as if he regretted that the archmages had departed before they could be fully interviewed.
"But how did they… why were there two? And why did one of them come for my belt buckle?"
Foryth Teel nodded confidently. "I've been thinking about that, and I have an idea. But first, tell me: Was your ancestor a silversmith in Haven, and did he wear that belt of yours when he faced a wizard in battle?"
"That was the family legend, yes."
"I think Fistandantilus arranged to store himself in a metal object, and that belt buckle was handy when his original host-a black-robed mage named Whastryk- was killed. That spirit of the archmage must have been stored in the silver, dormant for centuries.
"Then, after the violence of Skullcap, Fistandantilus survived in another, undead, form. That was the lich. When the spiritual essence was exorcised from our kender friend, it entered the skull and created that creature. But at the same time it split, torn in two by the ancient spell stored in your silver buckle.
"The two wizards were perhaps the only beings on Krynn powerful enough to defeat each other. Fortunately competition between them was inevitable, since they both needed the same artifact. And that battle insured their mutual destruction."
Another rumble shook the cavern, and a great section of the roof collapsed, nearly crushing them all. The three humans ducked, covering their heads against splintering shards of stone.
The vortex, the window to the planes, continued to whirl before the trio. The hourglass still stood beneath it, and there had been no appreciable change in the level of the dust trickling through its narrow neck.
"You two should go as well. Chase after Emilo, or take your own road. This portal is the only safe way out of here. Leave while you still can!"
"What about you?" Mirabeth asked insistently.
"I will stay. It is essential that I record the events of the last days-"
"I know… for history," Dan interjected. "But can't you come with us and write somewhere else where it's safe?"
"I think if one of us goes through that window, he won't be coming back here. But there will be new worlds, new adventures waiting, and both of you are well prepared to face those."
"But you'll die here!"
"Perhaps… if my god wants me to. If not, I'll live- and write."
Nightmare whinnied loudly, rearing as another jolt rocked the cavern. On the other side of the horse, the gray-robed man came forward, standing and watching with an expression of serene patience.
And Danyal understood that Foryth Teel would be all right.
"The window won't last much longer. Go!" cried the historian, and this time the lad agreed. He clasped Foryth in a quick hug and waited as Mirabeth did the same, then joined the lass in scrambling onto the back of the prancing horse.
As tremors shook the floor underfoot, the window of space seemed to waver. Mirabeth put her heels to the mare's flanks. With a powerful leap, Nighmare bolted forward, and they were through-gone into the whirling mists of time and space.
In another instant the chaos vanished. Danyal and Mirabeth found themselves on a roadway, a well-paved path of smooth stones. The lad looked over his shoulder immediately, but there was no sign of the magical window behind them.
Nightmare advanced at an easy walk, approaching a wide ford across a clear stream. A castle more beautiful than any they had ever seen rose on the far side of the river. Silver towers rose into the sky, and banners of multiple bright hues fluttered and glowed in the springlike breeze.
"Let's go see who lives there," said the lad, gently nudging the mare into the shallow ford.
Epilogue
To His Excellency Astinus,
Lorekeeper of Krynn
Excellency, as you have requested, I have tried to recall my specific impressions as the matter of the skull and stone came to a head.
The two young humans departed, and I saw them riding into a pastoral realm. Both orphans, they left little behind, and I knew they would prosper there. The knowledge gave me some comfort as the mountain continued to shudder around me. The kender I never saw again, but I presume that he fared well. He had much of the survivor about him and was at least freed from the terrible burden he had unwittingly borne for so many years.
In the shattered debris of the destruction, I saw the figure of a mature, dignified man approaching me. He was dressed all in gray, and by this I immediately recognized Gilean. The god of neutrality held up one hand, disavowing my initial intention to kneel in reverence.
"You have proved your worth many times over, my faithful chronicler," said the benign image. "Know that you have proved yourself capable of serving in my priesthood should you wish to return to the monastery."
"Should I wish…" I was puzzled until, after a moment, I perceived what my lord had already recognized. "And if I do not choose to make this choice? Suppose my destiny is not to be found in the priesthood?"
The old man smiled. "Then I have other work for you. Important work, and it is in an area for which you are well suited."
I waited.
"You must go to Palanthas, and thence to the Great Library."
I felt my heart quicken, for there was no place on Krynn that offered such excitement and opportunity to a dedicated historian.
He reached down and picked up a silver hourglass from the floor-an object I had failed to notice before, though it was midway through the course of its sands- and he offered it to me.
"You have earned this. It is an historian's treasure, a priceless tool that wil
l allow you to travel into the realms of the past. There you will be able to observe history as it happens, to ride the currents of the great river through its course."
"My lord, I am not worthy of such a treasure!" I was aghast, and powerfully moved by the awesome responsibility inherent in such a treasure.
The god waved aside my protests. "My chronicler, Astinus, is in need of a skilled field historian, a researcher who can travel abroad in the world, not only in this time but also in times past, and report accurately upon that which he discovers."
"But, my lord…" I was indeed humbled by the honor but could not believe myself worthy. "Have I not failed to display the level of objectivity, the dispassionate aloofness, that is the creed of the true historian?"
"Bah," Gilean said with a soft chuckle. "Aloofness is much overrated. No, my son, you have learned that the true historian must become a part of his story, else he will inevitably fail to understand the underlying truths of the tale."
And so, Excellency, I arrive at the Great Library and await your commands.
In devotion to the truth,
Foryth Teel
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