Darkvision - Bruce R. Cordell [88]
A slender tower reached toward the heavens as they galloped across the scorched dunes, raising a line of dust in their wake.
Sweat stung the elf's eyes, but she resisted rubbing them. She could clearly see the splinter for the first time. The shard towered a mile or more into the sand-hazed sky.
"Blood!" she cursed. Kiril took another swig, then holstered her flask.
The stone destrier ate up the wasteland miles, swelling the tower's silhouette to an improbable height. The geomancer dozed at Kiril's side. He was strapped into place, lest he roll off in his daze. He woke now and then to look at the splinter, mumble something half lucidly, then fall back into a fitful sleep. His curse-born illness had resurged. The dwarf's energy failed by the moment. Ahead, the booming sound of Prince Monolith's strides seemed to count the heartbeats remaining to the dwarf.
"Hells and blood," muttered the elf.
They reached the base of the splinter in the late afternoon. Vast and imposing, many-windowed and sprouting hundreds of secondary spires, Kiril could see for herself that the edifice was not an unworked fragment carved off some larger chunk of purplish stone. It was an enormous artifact of some previous era, worked by hands and minds informed with skill now unrivaled in the world. Hundreds of balconies, balustrades, verandas, spiraling stairs, and sealed doorways dotted the great tower's sides, all empty and silent. Drifts of sand and rust stains spoke of metal fixtures that had entirely dissolved.
The lowest visible balcony was a good two or three hundred paces above the desert floor. Below it were sheer-sided tower walls as seamless and slick as an ice cliff. Kiril knew some dwarves and humans possessed great skill in climbing sheer rock or ice, but they weren't along, nor was any of the elaborate equipment such a climb required.
The prince raised one hand and pressed it against the side of the purplish stone. "It rebuffs me," reported Prince Monolith. "I cannot force an entry."
"Do you know who built it?" blurted Kiril. She recalled the fantastic glassy architecture of her own star elf heritage. This stone tower rivaled even the most fantastic glass fortresses of Sildeyuir in its size and imposing impregnability.
"Thormud could answer that question." Monolith turned and strode back to the destrier. The elemental lord removed the dwarf from the destrier's back. He held Thormud in his massive hands. He exhaled long and hard, and golden motes of light danced from the elemental lord's open mouth to settle on the geomancer's beard and face.
The dwarf opened his eyes. They were clear again. Thormud looked up at the prince, "Thanks for that, old friend."
"It is only a reprieve, I'm afraid," said Monolith.
The dwarf nodded. "Then you'd better set me down."
The elemental obliged. Thormud pulled from his belt his selenite rod, and smiled. He nearly seemed his old self in that instant.
The swordswoman asked, "A reprieve? What does that mean?"
Thormud ignored her and approached the vast tower. In a manner not dissimilar to Prince Monolith's earlier pose, the dwarf pressed his palm flat against the stone.
"The stone was worked over five thousand years ago," Monolith offered.
Thormud nodded and closed his eyes. In his hand, the moon rod began to shed its silvery radiance. The geomancer worked his slow, telluric magic.
The sun began sinking. The tower's shadow stretched across the barren plain, farther than Kiril's eyes could follow. Jagged peaks reached up well beyond the horizon-the Giant's Belt, of course. She marveled at the distance they'd covered in just a few days.
She looked at the dwarf's stocky figure. She doubted anything could keep the plucky geomancer down for long. Whatever malaise or curse he'd picked up tracking the tower's location, she was confident they'd find an antidote once they gained the tower's interior.
A grumbling tremble from Angul's sheath suddenly reminded her that not all stories have such happy endings. She groped for her flask.
Before long, Thormud's eyes popped