Pool of Twilight

12

Consciousness came with crushing pain.

Kern's breaths were shallow, burning gasps. He couldn't seem to move his arms or legs. The darkness was suffocating.

"I must be dreaming again," he whispered hoarsely.

"It is no dream, Kern," an eerie voice spoke in the gloom.

Kern sighed in relief. "Miltiades… where are we?"

"In this darkness, who can say?" the undead paladin replied from somewhere nearby.

"Then let's cast a little light on the subject," a familiarly flippant voice added. "Zarjia!" Pale silver light broke through the darkness.

"Maybe casting a light spell wasn't such a good idea after all," Listle remarked bleakly as her eyes surveyed the scene. "Sometimes things look better in the dark."

The five adventurers were being held captive in a catacomb of some sort. Yellowed bone lashed together with dried sinew bonded them to five shallow stone alcoves. Kern craned his head to see Daile and Miltiades to his left, struggling in vain against the skeletal bonds. Listle and Sirana were pinned tightly to his right. Kern tried to move his arms, but the scabrous bones only tightened cruelly. They were trapped.

"I have a feeling we aren't the first guests ever to visit this enchanting place," Listle observed with a gulp.

Kern saw that more alcoves lined the catacomb's walls in either direction. Many were occupied. A mummified owlbear opened its maw in an endless scream, and several decomposing hobgoblins clawed at their bonds, shriveled faces twisted into masks of horror.

The elf, face pale, chewed her lip. "And something tells me that getting in is a whole lot easier than getting out."

"Sirana, can you cast a spell that might free us?" Kern asked the wild mage.

She shook her head. "Not if I can't move my hands." Her dark eyes flashed in frustration. "Powerful magic requires intricate gestures. I can't simply wiggle my ears and teleport us out of here."

An idea struck Kern. "Listle, couldn't you simply pass right through your bonds? You do it with walls all the time."

"I already thought of that, Kern. Unfortunately, I can only pass through inanimate objects." Listle grimaced as the skeletal arms tightened their hold on her. "And these things are definitely not inanimate."

"Perhaps you should not focus on your bonds, Listle," Miltiades suggested.

Her small, elven nose wrinkled. "Wait a minute. I understand! The bones holding me may be animate, but the stones aren't." Her ruby pendant flared brightly. Without warning the elf sank backward into the stone wall of the alcove. Long moments passed.

Abruptly, Listle stepped out of a basaltic column carved with twisted gargoyles.

"Ugh!" She said disgustedly. "That was definitely not pleasant! You really wouldn't believe the stuff that accumulates behind walls in places like this." She hastily brushed bits of dried cobweb and ancient grime from her green tunic. "Now, let me see what I can do about these uncooperative bones, Kern."

However, try as she might, none of Listle's spells and no amount of tugging could break the scabrous bonds.

"All right, Kern, there's one last thing I can try." Listle took a deep breath. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but I don't think I have much choice."

"Listle, what in the world are you talking about?" Kern asked in exasperation.

"Just hold on tight. And whatever you do, don't let go."

Her ruby necklace glowing, Listle disappeared into the floor. Kern wondered what the unpredictable elf was up to. Moments later, he found out as two slender hands reached out of the stones behind him and jerked him backward-right through the solid surface of the wall!

It was far worse than any nightmare. Kern could feel the rock passing through his body with a hideous, slithering sensation. Solid stone filled his heart and lungs, almost choking him. It was horrible. After what seemed an eternity, Listle hauled him up through the catacomb's floor. He gasped for breath. The others stared in surprise.

"Next time just let me starve to death, Listle," Kern said, shuddering in revulsion. "It couldn't be any worse than that." He hauled himself to his feet as the elf slumped weakly against a column, her face alarmingly pale.

"Listle, are you all right?" Miltiades asked in concern.

She nodded. "I'm fine. Really."

"Are you sure?" Kern asked. He reached out to grip the elf's shoulder, but his fingers passed right through her.

"I said I'm fine!" Listle snapped, stumbling away from him. "Do you hear me? Now why don't you see to the others with that precious hammer of yours?" She retreated into the shadows.

Kern gaped at his hand. Had it simply been his imagination? He wondered if the others had seen what he had seen. But no, he realized, his body blocked their view.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to his companions. One blow of Primul's enchanted warhammer was all it took to shatter the skeletal bonds. In moments, Daile, Miltiades, and Sirana were free. Listle stepped from the shadows to rejoin them.

It was only then, as they all stood together, that Kern realized one of the companions was missing. He had been so preoccupied with their predicament that he had not noticed until now.

"Daile," he asked the young ranger with a frown, "where is Ren?"

The look in her eyes made his heart stop. He watched her with growing dread.

Daile swallowed hard, stumbling over the words. Her voice was bleak. "We were attacked by a fiend outside the guard tower," she finally managed to say, her voice trembling. "He slew it, but it… it…" She drew a ragged breath. "My father is dead," she said quietly. "Ren o' the Blade is dead."

Miltiades hung his head. "Then this day Faerun has become a darker place indeed."

"Now where to?" Daile asked, sticking a pair of arrows into her leather belt.

Not a quarter hour before, Daile had broken down in tears as she told the story of her father's death. Now a cold light shone in her eyes, and there was a grim set to her jaw.

"This way," Kern said, pointing in one direction. He wasn't sure how to get out of the catacomb, but it was almost as if he heard a faint trilling in his mind, showing him the way.

"You hear the voice of Tyr's hammer, don't you?" Miltiades asked him softly.

"I… I think so, Miltiades." Kern cocked his ear, listening closely. The trilling had grown slightly louder.

The undead paladin nodded. "Your destiny calls you, Hammerseeker."

Kern led the way into a long, roughly hewn corridor which spiraled off into the darkness. The corridor opened into a larger chamber. With a word, Sirana conjured a small spark and flung it upward. When it struck the ceiling high above, it burst into a brilliant glowing ball, illuminating the chamber.

"I could have done that," Listle grumbled, banishing her own smaller puff of pale, silvery light with a perturbed gesture.

The chamber appeared to be a throne room of some sort. Two dark rows of columns, each carved in the form of a beast-faced pit fiend, supported the high domed ceiling. In the chamber's center was a raised dais bearing an onyx throne.

"Are you certain we're heading the right way, Kern?" Listle asked, scrambling over the remains of once opulent furniture. "I don't see any way out of here."

"This has to be right, Listle." He cocked his head and nodded. Yes, the hammer's song was clear. Suddenly he frowned. He could hear another sound as well, like a distant groaning. He glanced at the others. By their puzzled expressions, they heard it also. Rapidly the noise grew louder, building to a roar that echoed down the corridor.

"What is it?" Daile asked, gripping her bow with a white-knuckled hand.

"Does that answer your question?" Listle pointed, silvery eyes wide.

A small army of blank-eyed creatures lumbered into the chamber. Some were human in form, others elven or dwarven. All of them were horribly decayed. A putrid, overpowering reek preceded them. Jagged bones stuck out through their mottled skin, and chunks of flesh fell from their limbs as they moved. Their eyes bulged as they hungrily stretched out their arms.

"Ghouls!" Miltiades shouted to the others. "Arm yourselves!"

The first wave of creatures shambled within reach, baring their broken teeth. Like zombies, ghouls were undead, raised from the grave with evil magic. But unlike zombies, ghouls had an insatiable hunger for living flesh. Only Miltiades was of no interest to them.

Kern swung his warhammer in a blazing arc, smashing through the heads of the first two ghouls. Their bodies collapsed to the floor, twitching. In revulsion, Kern shook gobbets of rotting flesh off his weapon.

Daile loosed several arrows in rapid succession into the chest of another ghoul. The creature momentarily staggered backward, then continued forward, oblivious to the shafts protruding from its body. Realizing her bow was useless, the ranger quickly slung it over her shoulder and drew the magical daggers Right and Left from her boots. She slashed out at a ghoul reaching for her. The enchanted blades sliced through the thing's flesh, both of its arms dropping to the floor with a sickening plop. The ghoul stumbled away in a daze.

With his broadsword, Miltiades was cutting a wide swath through the horde of undead. Listle uttered the words of a spell, and suddenly a half-dozen of the ghouls were transformed into healthy, live humans and elves. It was an illusion, of course. However, seeing apparently living beings in their midst sent a score of ghouls into a frenzy. They dragged the illusory creatures to the floor and began to feed on them.

Kern had lost count of how many ghouls his warhammer crushed into pulp. Magical lightning sizzled and crackled constantly over the ranks of the undead, charring them to ashes-the work of Sirana's magic. Yet despite the broken, twitching bodies that piled up, still more ghouls shambled forward. Kern's heart pounded in his chest. He wasn't certain how long he could keep up the steady onslaught of his hammer. But the moment he stopped, the ghouls would drag him down with their clammy hands and start feasting.

He kept fighting.

A cry of pain snapped his gaze around. He saw Daile stagger backward. A ghoul had torn a ragged gouge the length of her arm. Swiftly Miltiades stepped next to her, cleaving the filthy ghoul in two with one swing of his sword. The ranger clenched her jaw against the pain as she continued to lash out with her deadly daggers.

"We can't keep this up forever!" Kern shouted, shattering the rib cage of a dwarven ghoul.

"Well, we can't exactly stop, either," Listle retorted. A trio of ghouls lunged toward her, only to impale themselves on a rack of ancient, rusted spears the elf had turned magically invisible.

"The Hammerwarder's dark magic has summoned every being that has ever perished in this valley," Miltiades explained. He decapitated a female ghoul clad in a rotting silk gown. "This has always been a place of evil, and of peril. I can only guess that thousands of lives have ended in this vale."

"I think there is a way to stop the ghouls from coming," Sirana said, "though I had hoped not to have to resort to it." From beneath her gown she drew out a strangely shaped amulet of polished bone and pointed a finger toward the chamber's entrance. The stone archway began to glow a dull orange, then a fiery red. Molten rock flowed down, incinerating a dozen ghouls. In moments the molten rock began to cool and solidify. Soon the entrance was sealed by a dark, shapeless blob of solid stone.

The adventurers swiftly dispatched the remaining creatures, reducing them to putrid-smelling heaps of carrion and bone. Exhausted, they slumped on the dais before the onyx throne, gasping for breath-except for Miltiades, who seemed tireless.

"Your spell did the trick, Sirana," Kern said, his chest heaving. "Why did you wait so long to use it?"

"I had hoped not to have to use the amulet," the wild mage replied. "It may have stopped the flood of ghouls, but it has also sealed off the only way out of this chamber."

They saw to their battle wounds then. Most had escaped with only a few bruises, but the gash on Daile's arm was more urgent. A wound caused by a ghoul's filthy claws invariably festered, poisoning the blood. Eventually, the victim would die-and become a ghoul.

"Fear not, Daile," Miltiades reassured the ranger. He knelt beside her, removing his gauntlets, and whispered a brief prayer to Tyr. A blue nimbus sprang to life about his skeletal hands. In moments the gouge on Daile's arm closed and scabbed over. Miltiades nodded in satisfaction, replacing his gauntlets. "It is done."

She sighed in relief. "Thanks, Miltiades."

Kern gazed at his own hands wistfully. He wondered if there would ever be a paladin's healing in their touch. He shrugged and put the thought out of his mind. They had more pressing matters to worry about

"None of these walls are illusory," Listle proclaimed in disgust after searching the throne room for the third time. "And I can't find the slightest hint of any hidden doorways."

"I thought elvenkind had particularly keen eyes in such matters," Sirana murmured. The wild mage was examining a bruise on Kern's arm where his armor had been dented.

"This is absurd!" Daile exclaimed in exasperation. "I can't believe we've journeyed all this way and been through… through so much just to end up locked in a room full of moldering old junk." She kicked a broken table out of her way. Feeling weary, she climbed the marble dais and plopped down into the massive onyx throne. It was so large that her feet swung freely in the air. Each of the throne's arms ended in gnarled, fiendish claws. Daile gripped them tightly in frustration.

The right claw moved.

She sat up with a jolt, fearing the throne was enchanted. Then she realized that the stone claw was simply attached to the arm of the throne by a small, nearly invisible hinge. Curious, she lifted the claw.

A low grating sound rumbled through the chamber. Daile gave a small cry as the throne lurched beneath her. All watched in astonishment as the entire dais slid to one side, revealing a spiral staircase leading down into darkness.

"I knew that would happen," Daile lied with a crooked grin.

The songlike trilling in Kern's mind was strong. They were close to the hammer. Very close.

"I recognize this place." Miltiades spoke softly as the five moved stealthily down the dim passageway. "We are near the cavern where Phlan was imprisoned by the Red Wizard years ago."

The passageway bent sharply to the left. Suddenly the ceilings and walls dropped away. The group found themselves standing at the head of a flight of stairs, gazing out over a cavern bathed in a crimson glow.

"Tyr have mercy!" Kern whispered.

The vast cavern was filled with undead.

Corpses in every imaginable state of decay writhed below, as if performing some horrible mockery of a ballroom dance. So numerous were the refugees from the grave that Kern couldn't even spot the floor. Withered mummies covered with parchment-dry skin, bloated zombies dragging slimy entrails, and skeletal beasts baring feral fangs dotted the throng. Loose skulls rolled around the floor, nipping at heels, while severed arms scuttled through the crowd, trying to attach themselves to other undead beings.

These were the denizens of the coffin-walls, Kern realized. He gripped his enchanted warhammer. "I want to thank you all for coming this far with me," he said to the others, his green eyes solemn.

"You're not thinking of going down there, Kern!" Listle said with a horrified expression. "I know you've had some dumb ideas before, but next to this, an ogre looks like a genius."

Kern swallowed his misgivings. "I have to go ahead, Listle. It's my destiny. But all of you can head back to the surface. There must be an exit other than through the throne room."

"No, paladin." Sirana laid a hand on his arm. "I made a promise to you. I intend to keep it."

"I, too, will stay at your side, Kern," Miltiades murmured in his sepulchral voice. "It was for this mission that Tyr raised me once again from the grave. It is my duty."

Daile shot Listle a fey grin. "I don't want to be the only one missing out on all the fun," she told the elf.

Listle rolled her eyes in vexation. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but…" She sighed deeply. "Count me in, you ogre-brained oaf."

"Thank you," Kern said gruffly.

The five started down the stairwell.

The undead mob jabbered exultantly. Kern raised his warhammer as they descended. Suddenly he was no longer afraid of his destiny, no longer afraid of failure. All that mattered was that he try his best. As the animated corpses surged forward, Kern whispered a brief prayer to Tyr.

Suddenly the undead in the fore stumbled backward, shrieking in agony. A dozen of them crumbled into fine yellow dust.

"Kern, look at your shield!" Listle cried.

The plain shield of beaten steel that Miltiades had given him was now glowing with a holy light.

Miltiades laughed, a strange sound echoing inside his armor. "Yes, Kern, that's it. Open yourself to Tyr's power. You've taken the first step down the path toward being a paladin. The minions of evil will not dare stand before you."

Miltiades' own shield erupted in azure light, adding its strength to Kern's. The triumphant cacophony of the undead quickly changed into shrieks of terror. They fought past each other to get away from the searing light. Those caught in its radiant beams burst apart into clouds of bone dust.

Shields before them, Kern and Miltiades cut a wide swath through the cavern, Listle, Daile, and Sirana following close behind. The undead howled in fury, but none dared to approach the holy ward surrounding Miltiades and Kern. Suddenly the vast archway of the nave loomed before the adventurers.

Well met, Hammerseeker, a vast and terrible intellect announced from the darkness. Have you come to bow to me before you face your doom?

"Show yourself," Kern called out.

As you wish, the creature crooned wickedly.

The shadows swirled and parted. Something stepped into the light.

"An osyluth!" Sirana hissed. "A fiend from the Nine Hells, but like none I have ever seen."

The others could not take their eyes from the creature that towered over them. Grub-white skin was pulled tautly over the osyluth's bony, humanlike limbs. Pinprick eyes burned hotly in its skull-mask face. Behind the osyluth lashed a curved, many-jointed tail, ending in a barbed tip oozing a thick yellow fluid. In the half-light, Kern caught a glimpse of what looked like a fine silver chain attached to the creature's abdomen, stretching back into the blackness of the nave.

Your doom is upon you, youngling. The osyluth spat venomously.

There was no time to react as the monstrous creature raised a spidery hand and hurled a sphere of shadow. The orb struck the adventurers, bursting into a thousand pieces of ebony. Kern blinked and saw that his armor was covered with a fine dusting of blue cobwebs; his unmagic had counteracted the osyluth's spell.

But the others had not been so fortunate. Listle, Daile, Sirana, and Miltiades all stood perfectly motionless, frozen in midaction. They were not the only ones. The entire cavern had fallen into silence. The throng of undead was frozen as well. Kern was the only one moving in the deathly quiet cavern.

Except for the osyluth.

So, you dare to resist my magic, do you, youngling? The creature scuttled forward, raising a huge, cruelly tipped spear. That is of little moment to me. It will be all the more satisfying to eat your living flesh.

It thrust the spear downward. Kern barely had time to deflect the blow with a swing of his warhammer. The two weapons clashed in a spray of sparks. Hammerseeker and Hammerwarder circled each other. The osyluth lunged again, but Kern blocked the blow with his glowing shield.

You are skilled in battle, thief. The osyluth hissed.

"Why do you call me that?" Kern cried, swinging his warhammer.

The fiend scuttled out of the hammer's reach. Because that is what you are. The osyluth's mental message brimmed with loathing. You have come to steal that which is not rightfully yours.

"The hammer belongs to Tyr!" Kern shouted angrily, ducking the creature's spear.

That is not true, youngling. Eons ago, Tyr stole the hammer from my master, Bane. It was Bane who forged it. The hammer does not belong to your accursed god.

"You lie!" Kern shouted. He swung his warhammer wildly, but the blow went wide.

No, youngling, I do not. You know in your heart that I speak the truth.

Kern shook his head dizzily. The osyluth was lying. It had to be lying.

Doubt flickered in Kern's heart. At the same moment, the light emanating from his shield wavered, dimmed, then went out. With a cry of rage, Kern dropped the shield and gripped his hammer in both hands. "You lie, fiend!" he screamed. Fiercely, he swung his hammer at the osyluth.

But his footing was not secure. He slid across a scattering of platinum coins and tumbled to the floor, the hammer skittering away from his hands.

It was just like the nightmare.

Howling with laughter, the osyluth rushed forward. The creature raised its spear for a deathblow.

And now, Hammerseeker, you will seek no more.

Something thin and silver glimmered as the osyluth moved-the chain dangling from the fiend's body. Only it wasn't really a chain, Kern saw now, as the creature loomed over him. It was more like a thread, stretching back into the darkness. A realization struck him.

This, too, had been part of the nightmare!

In a heartbeat, Kern knew what he had to do. In desperation, he snaked out an arm, fingers stretching toward the hammer. Even as the osyluth thrust its spear downward, Kern pulled himself to his knees and swung the hammer at the silver thread.

There was a brilliant, sizzling flash. The osyluth screamed, dropping its spear. The enchanted hammer shattered in Kern's grip, and shards of silver and steel flew in all directions. Kern was momentarily blinded, but when his vision cleared, his heart sank. The blow had not severed the osyluth's silvery thread.

Kern could see now that the thread was attached to a huge web stretching across the back of the nave. The web must be the source of the osyluth's power. That was the secret the creature had unwittingly revealed in the nightmare. Bound in the center of the web was a metallic, cross-shaped object, obscured by sticky threads. Kern had no doubt of what it was: the Hammer of Tyr.

The osyluth chortled evilly. This grows sweeter and sweeter, youngling. Its breath was fetid with the scent of death. It would be sweeter yet to crush you with the hammer you have so foolishly sought, would that I dared to wield it.

In its gloating, the osyluth did not realize its mistake.

It doesn't dare to touch the hammer! Kern realized. If Bane truly forged the hammer, why would Bane's servant fear to use it?

He knew the answer. The osyluth had lied. The hammer was Tyr's.

The osyluth flicked its tail, bringing the barbed stinger close to Kern's throat Venom glistened on its tip.

A memory flickered through Kern's mind…

For a split second, he was in Phlan once again, sitting with Tarl and Listle by the fire in Denlor's Tower. His father was telling a story, a story about… the hammer.

"… and no matter how far I threw it, it always returned to my hand when I called it…"

At last, victory is mine! The osyluth shrieked.

Kern closed his eyes. He knew he had just one chance. Come to me! he called out in his mind. Come!

With a rending sound, the Hammer of Tyr wrenched itself from the center of the web. Shining brilliantly, it flew through the air, directly into Kern's outstretched hand.

He didn't hesitate. Even as the osyluth's stinger descended, Kern hurled the hammer with all his might back toward the web. Awakened by the touch of one faithful to Tyr, the hammer burned with fury, striking the web that had imprisoned it moments before, burning it to ashes.

No! The osyluth screamed in terror. This cannot be! Holy blue fire snaked along the thread toward the osyluth, engulfing it. The creature writhed in agony.

Kern summoned the hammer back to his hand; it felt comfortable and right in his grip. "It's time you joined your master, Bane," Kern said between clenched teeth.

He swung the Hammer of Tyr. It struck the osyluth full in the chest. With a thunderclap, the fiend burst apart in a spray of bone splinters and shreds of dry, parchmentlike skin.

Kern's nightmares had come to an end.

The sun sank into a sea of molten bronze clouds behind the jagged stump of the red tower.

Kern sat, exhausted, on a granite boulder, the others around him. The enchantment paralyzing them had vanished when the osyluth died, as had the dark magic animating the horde of undead that filled the cavern and the rest of the red tower. All had collapsed into dust when the web was destroyed.

Listle grinned at Kern. "You know, that wasn't half bad. For an ogre-brained oaf, that is."

"You do him a disservice, illusionist," Sirana chided gently. She laughed, a sound like golden bells. "You are truly a hero, Kern. Do you think I could hold Tyr's hammer?" Her dark eyes glowed. "I doubt I will ever be this close to so holy a relic again. It would mean a great deal to me."

"Of course, Sirana," Kern said. "I could never have gained the hammer without you." He took the ornate weapon from his belt. In the fading sunlight, fine runes glowed on its flawless steel surface.

Suspicion flared in Listle's heart. "Kern, don't do it!" she shouted. Too late.

He held out the hammer.

Without hesitating, Sirana snatched it up with a triumphant expression. "At last, it is mine!" she cried exultantly.

Kern stared at her in astonishment.

Suddenly an expression of agony twisted Sirana's face. She screamed in pain, dropping the hammer. "By all the blackest gods, it burns!"

Kern and the others watched in horror as Sirana's lovely coppery skin began to bubble and smoke. Two stumps sprouted from her back, unfurling into vulturelike wings covered with oily black feathers. In moments the beautiful wild mage was gone. In her place stood a creature that was formed only vaguely like a woman. Her body and face were hideously misshapen. Dagger-shaped fangs curved down from her crooked maw, and sharp talons sprouted from her gnarled fingers. Her wings beat furiously, casting off a foul odor.

"A foul erinyes!" Miltiades spoke grimly, raising his sword.

"Oh, vile paladin, don't you find my true form lovely?" the erinyes Sirana rasped in a croaking voice. "If not, you may blame it on my human father, the Red Wizard Marcus. Human and fiendish blood do not mix well, but I care nothing for beauty. I can don it like a cloak, or cast it aside when I need it no longer. It is power that matters to me!"

"Like the power of Tyr's hammer," Kern said, shaking his head in wonderment. He knelt to retrieve the relic from the ground where it had fallen.

The erinyes whirled on him. "Yes!" she hissed. "I will have it, you foolish little puppy. Just as I will have revenge upon you, and all of Phlan as well." She turned her murderous gaze toward Miltiades. "You will pay for slaying my father. You all will pay!"

"But you have failed, Sirana," Listle said, her voice hard.

"Think that if you wish, elf," the erinyes snarled. "But I have a source of power which I have barely begun to tap. You will never defeat the magic of the pool of twilight! Never!" The half-fiend began to back away from the others. "Vengeance will be mine!"

"Don't let her escape!" Daile cried. She raised her bow, but before she could loose an arrow, the erinyes gripped the bone amulet at her throat. In a puff of smoke, she vanished. Daile's arrow passed through thin air.

Sirana was gone.