Pool of Twilight (28 page)

For a time Kern listened, but heard nothing except the soft, lonely voice of the wind. With a sigh, he turned back to camp, hoping the others wouldn’t guess what he had been trying to do.

Unfortunately, his worst fears were realized the moment he stepped into the small clearing where they had set up camp. Listle, Trooper, and Miltiades were all staring at him.

“Er, Kern,” the elf said after a moment’s pause. “You’ve, ah, been trying to summon a charger again, haven’t you?”

His shoulders drooped in dismay. “How did you know?”

“Oh, just intuition.” Listle grinned crookedly. “That, and the big horse that’s following you.”

“What?”

Kern whirled about, his jaw dropping in surprise. He must have been so caught up in his gloomy reverie that he hadn’t even noticed.

The steel-gray charger snorted softly, tossing its proud head. It moved forward, nuzzling Kern’s outstretched hand. It was the most beautiful horse he had ever seen.

“Not bad, son,” Trooper said, scratching his long white beard thoughtfully. “Not bad at all.”

“You’ve gained the second power of a paladin, Kern,” Miltiades announced gravely.

“But don’t let it go to your head,” Trooper quickly interjected. His bushy eyebrows bristled wildly. “You still have yet to master the third and final power. And that is the hardest one of all.”

Kern, stroking the charger’s smoothly muscled neck, barely heard the old paladin. “Your name will be Nocturne,” he murmured softly.

The charger snorted, stamping a hoof, as if it was already well aware of this fact.

All the next day, they picked their way along narrow mountain trails. They kept to the valleys as best they could, but twice they were forced to guide their mounts up high passes treacherous with snow and ice. The day was clear and cold, and at times the sunlight reflecting off the snow was blinding.

Despite the difficult terrain, they made good time. They were able to use Kern’s palfrey as a pack horse, and that lightened the burdens the other mounts had to bear. Sitting astride Nocturne, Kern felt as if he had ridden the massive gray charger a thousand times before. The horse seemed to know exactly what Kern wanted him to do a half-second before Kern even thought it himself. The charger was strong and surefooted, eager to take the lead, breaking trail through high drifts of snow, picking the best route across dangerous stretches of loose scree.

Twilight found the companions deep in the mountains, seeking shelter among the pines in a narrow gulch. Listle had cast a spell of divination, hoping to discover if they were near Evaine, but she could not yet detect any traces of the sorceress.

Kern and Listle scouted through the forest in the gathering gloom, looking for firewood.

“I wonder how Daile is,” Kern said as he broke a dead branch from a fallen tree.

“I hope she had better luck with the flying carpet than we did,” Listle replied, gathering some dried moss.

“What do you mean, we? As I recall, you were the one steering the thing.”

“Hmm, now,” Listle murmured sweetly, as if she hadn’t heard him. “I wonder if there are any nice mushrooms around here.” She poked among the thick carpet of fallen pine needles. “Ones with pretty purple and red splotches would be nice.” She smiled nastily. “After all, Kern just loves mushrooms….”

Kern groaned and moved off to find more firewood. A short while later, the two started back toward camp, Kern’s arms full of wood and Listle’s pouches full of tinder and, Kern suspected, poison mushrooms.

“Make yourself useful for a change, Kern,” the elf said when they reached the steep, slippery bank of a small gully. “Give me a hand.” Kern scrambled up the slope, dropping his load of wood at the top.

“Here, take my hand,” he said, reaching down. She put her small hand in his, and he heaved her up the slope.

However, as Kern leaned back, his heel skidded on a patch of loose rock. Both he and Listle went tumbling head over heels back into the gully. Kern grunted as he struck bottom, and a half-second later he grunted again as something heavy landed right on his chest, knocking the air out of him.

“Thanks for breaking my fall, Kern.” Listle laughed, gazing down at him. The two had fallen in a tangle of limbs, the elf on top. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet. That was very chivalrous.”

“Don’t mention it,” he gasped. “Now, unless you’re trying to suffocate me, could you please get off me?”

Listle started to untangle herself from him, but suddenly she paused, her silvery eyes sparkling. “And what if I don’t want to?” she asked slyly.

“What do you mean, what if you don’t want to?” Kern wheezed.

The elf seemed to think about something for a moment. Suddenly she laughed, almost as if she had made a decision of some sort. She ran her slender fingers through his tousled red hair. “Maybe I like being this close to you. Did you ever think of that?”

He was about to inform her that, no, he’d never thought of that, when she kissed him, rendering speech quite impossible, at least for the moment. Kern’s green eyes widened in shock.

A second later Listle sprang to her feet. “Well, don’t just lie there,” the elf scolded him. “We have to get this wood back to camp.” This time she nimbly scrambled, unaided, up the embankment.

Kern felt a bit dazed. His lips tingled oddly, and a curious fragrance lingered in his nose, a scent like wildflowers in spring.

Finally he shook his head, pulling himself to his feet. He clambered up the slope, hastily picking up the fallen firewood and hurrying after the elf.

Why in the world had Listle kissed him? He felt more certain than ever that he would never understand the unpredictable elf. She made absolutely no sense. However, he couldn’t help but think about kissing her again as he trailed after her; maybe the experience would be just as pleasant the second time around.

Kern picked up his pace. The fleet-footed elf had disappeared among the trees now, and he wondered if she was laying an ambush for him. Not that he was so certain he would mind….

A scream shattered the forest air.

Kern froze in his tracks. Listle!

He threw his load of firewood to the ground and broke into a run, gripping the Hammer of Tyr as he went. Branches whipped past him. Moments later he burst into a small glade. What he saw sent a shiver down his spine.

Listle was trying to fend off the attack of a monstrous creature.

The thing was like nothing Kern had ever seen before. It was the size of an ogre, but instead of arms, it had several tentacles springing from each of its shoulders. The long, scaly appendages cracked like whips. The thing’s body was covered with long, kelplike hair, and its misshapen head bore only a solitary, sickly green eye.

The creature opened a mouth filled with black, spiny teeth. “I have been searching for you for a long time, Listle,” it rasped. “Your master, Sifahir, wishes to see you.” The thing lashed out at the terrified elf with one of its tentacles. She shrank back against a tree, narrowly dodging the mighty blow.

Kern shouted as he charged. At the same moment, two other forms dashed into the clearing—Miltiades and Trooper. They were actually closer to the creature and reached it first. With his cadaverous grin, Miltiades plunged his sword into the creature’s midriff. The blade passed through the monster without effect.

“It is an illusion!” Miltiades called out, but in that same instant a dark tentacle struck him in the chest, hurling him across the glen. The skeletal paladin’s armor rattled as he fell to the ground.

“It hits awfully hard for an illusion!” Trooper growled.

Barely ducking a thrashing tentacle, he swung his rune sword, but the creature did not back off. “We can’t hurt it, but it sure can hurt us!”

The thing stalked toward Listle, who was pinned against the tree, paralyzed with fear.

“Sifahir was most disappointed when you escaped from his tower, Listle,” it hissed.

Kern reached the melee. Heart pounding, he swung his hammer, but nearly dislocated his shoulder as the weapon whooshed effortlessly through the monster’s insubstantial body.

“No, Kern!” Trooper shouted. “Don’t just strike at the illusion. Use the hammer’s magic to break the enchantment!”

Kern nodded grimly, unsure just what Trooper meant. Even as he raised the hammer for another try, the creature struck at Listle. With a tentacle, it ripped the ruby pendant from her throat. She screamed as the silver chain snapped. The gem flashed bloodfire.

“Sifahir’s necklace!” the beast screeched in triumph, holding the gem aloft. Its tentacles encircled the helpless elf, ready to squeeze the life out of her.

Now or never, Kern thought.

“Help me end this evil magic, Tyr!” he whispered fiercely.

The Hammer of Tyr glowed with sapphire light. Kern did not hesitate. He thrust the shining weapon deep into the illusionary beast’s chest. He felt a jolt of energy course up his arm, but held his grip.

The beast roared in agony. Blue lightning sizzled through its body. The tentacles clutching Listle evaporated in a puff of acrid smoke. The elf sank weakly to the ground.

The creature writhed as azure lightning engulfed it. Suddenly the crackling blue energy coalesced into a single jagged bolt that arced into the hammer. The weapon flashed brilliantly, then went dim.

The monster was gone.

Shoving the hammer into his belt, Kern rushed to the elf.

“Listle, are you all right?” He reached down to help her to her feet, but his hands passed right through her body.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed. She scrambled forward, grabbing the pulsating ruby pendant, which had fallen to the ground.

He stared at her in shock. Her form seemed to be flickering in and out of existence. In dull amazement, he realized he could see right through her. Trooper and Miltiades approached silently, standing behind Kern.

Listle grabbed the ruby necklace, hastily fastening it around her throat. The gem flared, then dimmed to a steady glow. The elf’s form grew substantial once again, transparent no longer.

Slowly she looked up at Kern, her face moon-pale in the twilight, her silvery eyes filled with anguish. “I’m sorry, Kern,” she whispered. Abruptly she sprang to her feet and dashed away through the trees, her sobs fading in the distance.

The crescent moon had risen well above the treetops by the time Listle finally stepped into the light of the campfire.

Kern gazed at her silently, not knowing what to say. Or even what he felt. A bowl of Trooper’s rabbit stew sat on the ground before him, untouched.

“I suppose I owe you all some sort of an explanation,” the elf said, sitting gingerly on a log across from Kern. Her face looked tight and drawn.

“Perhaps,” Trooper said quietly. The paladin’s eyes glinted like blue glass. “But then, not all secrets are meant to be shared.”

The elf took a deep breath. “I think this one has to be.” She smiled crookedly, her expression wistful. “I wish I could tell you this was all just another one of my practical jokes, but…” Her words faltered.

Kern ran a frustrated hand through his tangled red hair. He couldn’t hold back any longer. “Listle, what was that creature? And why was it hunting you? And what… what happened when I tried to help you up?” His questions trailed off into awkward silence.

“I guess you haven’t ever heard the phrase, ‘One thing at a time,’ have you, Kern?” Listle said wryly. “But that’s all right. I’ll try to tell you everything.”

With a deep breath, she began her story.

“Kern already knows how, ten years ago, I escaped from the tower of the wizard Sifahir. Believe me when I say that there has never been an elvish mage as black-hearted as he was.” Listle could not suppress a shudder. “Three centuries ago, he was counselor to the Queen of Evermeet, the land of the silver elves far across the Trackless Sea. For a time Sifahir used his powers to help the Queen keep her islands safe from pirates and sea monsters. But gradually he found other, less benevolent uses for his magic.

“With his spells, Sifahir would torture confessions of treason out of innocent elves, and wreak magical destruction upon villages that couldn’t pay his cruel taxes. As time went on, his schemes grew ever darker. He began to whisper wicked plans of conquest in the queen’s ear and to warn her of treacherous plots against her life concocted, so he said, by her closest friends and loved ones. He advised that she execute them all. Finally the queen realized his true evil. However, since it’s against elven nature to take a life—even one as evil as Sifahir’s—she exiled him to a small, barren island north of Evermeet.”

The fire sent shadows dancing across Listle’s face. Kern leaned forward to catch her soft words.

“The island Sifahir was exiled to was little more than a collection of jagged rocks jutting up above the waves,” the elf went on. “Despite his might, Sifahir was condemned to stay in that desolate place. The Queen of the silver elves is not without powerful enchantments herself, and she cast a geas upon him. Should he ever set foot off his island, he would perish. But if she thought this meant he would never be able to work evil in the world again, then the good Queen was wrong.”

Listle shook her head sadly. “Sifahir raised a dark tower, and from it he spun a magical web, its tendrils reaching farther and farther with every passing year. He could never hope to leave the island, but with his evil web he was able to draw others to him. The unlucky would find their boats pulled off course to Sifahir’s island, their vessels crashing to splinters on the rocky shore, stranding them. Then, as his power expanded, he discovered ways to create evil servants that could venture forth into the world to retrieve objects for him—books of arcane lore, objects of magical power, and even… other people.”

She gazed at Kern. “That is what attacked me in the glen. One of Sifahir’s servants. I… I never imagined one of his creatures could travel so far from his island prison.”

She shook her head and went on. “With his web and his conjured minions, Sifahir captured and enslaved countless elves. The weaponsmith, Primul, was one of them, and the elven mages, Brookwine and Winebrook, were two more. Most of Sifahir’s prisoners died in the course of his terrible experiments, but a few were kept alive to serve him.”