Fistandantilus Reborn - Douglas Niles [117]
Only vaguely did the lad become aware that the flaming, hellish inspection was not specifically directed at himself. Indeed, though the eyes seemed to see everywhere, the posture of the skeletal body showed that the creature’s attention was fixed upon the other black-robed magic-user.
“Who are you?” asked the death’s-head wizard of its counterpart, the voice a rumbling growl that shivered through the bedrock of the mountain.
“I am Fistandantilus!” crowed the other, the flesh-cloaked sorcerer, his tone exultant. This archmage threw back his hood, and Danyal saw the stern face of a mature, but not old, man. His hair was long and black, and his stern features were centered around a hawklike nose. Cold, dark eyes blazed with intensity as he raised a finger and pointed at the image of death.
“Now name yourself!” he demanded.
“I am Fistandantilus! I am the lich of Skullcap, survivor of the Dark Queen’s foul challenges.” The cry roared from the skull as the fleshless jaws spread wide. “It is you who are the imposter-and you who are doomed!”
Danyal tore his eyes away, saw Kelryn looking wildly back and forth between the two black figures. Mirabeth and Foryth watched with awestruck expressions, while Emilo Haversack observed the conflict with a look of intrigued curiosity. Looking around, the lad saw that the gray-robed observer remained in place, scribing diligently. The dust still trickled through the hourglass, though the level of sand in the timepiece hadn’t appreciably changed.
“Dispassionate.” Dan suddenly remembered the word Foryth Teel had used, the ideal that he strived for-and he knew that it fit perfectly this silent, aloof figure.
“Wait!” the command came from Kelryn Darewind. The Seeker priest, still on his knees, crept around the side of the human Fistandantilus. “You have both come in answer to my plea. Both of you together are the arch-mage!”
“I have no need of together, or of any intrusive assistance!” declared the man in black robes. His eyes never left the apparition of death, which likewise maintained a tight focus on its opposite number. “I am myself, powerful and invulnerable. I have returned to Krynn, and now I am ready to commence my vengeance.”
“Wow-will you have a look at that?” Emilo’s voice, calmly speaking into Danyal’s ear, was like a dousing of cold water on the numbed young man. Grateful for any indication of normalcy, Dan turned to see what the kender was talking about.
Emilo was pointing at the floor, where the bloodstone of Fistandantilus lay, temporarily forgotten. Danyal saw that the green gem was pulsing, radiating its sickly illumination through the darkness, the seeping, misty light apparently unnoticed by the great figures debating nearby. That vague illumination swirled in the air, slowly congealing into a flat disk, suspended perpendicular to the floor. The hourglass was below the disk, and the foggy image seemed to be centered above the silver timepiece. As he watched, Danyal saw a vaporous essence take firmer shape, whirling into an image that looked like nothing so much as a window, a view through space into a place of gray mist, like the dew-laden air of a foggy morning. The representation solidified above the hourglass, and Dan knew he was looking at an entirely different place.
“It’s the power of the stone and the skull. It has opened a window to other planes, other worlds!” Foryth gasped. “A gate into space and time.”
The bandit remained focused on the twin sorcerers. “You have come because I called you! I summoned you!” cried Kelryn Darewind, rising to his feet, turning to confront one, then the other of the two mages.
“Silence!” snapped the human version of Fistandantilus. He stared at Kelryn Darewind for a moment; then his eyes flickered, attracted to something else. “Ah, my bloodstone!” declared the archmage, spotting the gem on the cavern floor. He stepped toward