Pool of Radiance - James M. Ward [62]
"Ren, your tools aren't needed here." Shal explained how in his message, Denlor, the red mage, had left her with the "keys" to passage into and within his tower. Shal held her hand out toward the door as she had started to a moment ago and uttered two magical words. The lock began to glow a cherry red, and the door swung open. Ren and Tarl exchanged surprised glances and were about to enter cautiously, but it was Shal's turn to hold up a hand in warning. She repeated Ren's earlier safety measure, picking up a twig that lay on the path and tossing it into the open doorway. A crimson arc of energy illuminated the area immediately in front of the door. It wasn't clear whether the twig ever reached the floor. There was a loud crackling noise, and flame erupted where the small stick had struck the arc, incinerating it in an instant.
Shal stood silent, obviously concentrating, and in a few moments Cerulean stepped forward, past Tarl and past Ren, and entered the tower. Brilliant red sparks erupted all around the horse's hooves as each touched the floor. The others peered in as the big horse paraded in a circle before the doorway. In his movements, Cerulean showed no sign whatsoever of pain or discomfort, but his hide began to glow an iridescent blue, the deep, almost purple blue of a grackle's head, and the glow intensified with each step.
Shal spoke softly. "He's absorbing the power of Denlor's red lightning with each step he takes. It should be safe for us to walk across the magically charged floor in a minute."
Ren and Tarl looked on in awe as the floor, continued to crackle with sparks at Cerulean's footsteps. Ren looked to Shal, wondering if it was safe to enter yet, and when she nodded, he eased gingerly, silently into the room. By the time Tarl and Shal entered, Cerulean was glowing like a fiery beacon, but there were no more sparks.
So bright was the light from the horse's body that they didn't need to bother with a lantern. The door shut silently behind them before Tarl could reach back to close it. They stood inside a great rhombus-shaped room, obviously a meeting hall, with solid, heavy benches set three rows deep in a horseshoe shape. A broad, low, ornately carved rosewood lectern stood at the opening of the U. Bizarre trophies, heads of beasts not even Ren had ever seen alive, were mounted along the room's walls.
"I didn't know that Denlor was a teacher," said Shal. "Ranthor always spoke of him as-"
Suddenly, from all around the room, came whispers of the name "Denlor," as though each bench were occupied by a row of students, whispering their teacher's name. As the whispers began to die, a red robe whisked into the room from the doorway opposite the lectern. It, too, seemed to be whispering, but in an exaggerated, breathy whisper that made it distinct from and more chilling than the others. "Denlor… I am Denlor," it breathed. The tattered robe was draped over nothing but blackness, a blackness that defied the brilliant blue light from Cerulean that bathed the room. The robe fluttered menacingly toward them. Tarl's hammer shone like Cerulean, as did Ren's dagger.
"Don't touch it!" said Shal, her tone icy. "Denlor's spirit does not rest; he guards his tower even in death. As long as we do no damage here, he will do us no harm, but touch that robe and you're dead."
Tarl and Ren lowered their weapons so they were at the ready but not threatening. Both were already convinced that Shal possessed a mastery of the magicks of this place that was beyond their understanding.
"I think Ranthor was killed in a spell-casting chamber, upstairs somewhere. It's strange and frustrating-from Denlor's vision, I know where everything in this building is, but my only image from Ranthor is of his death."
"I don't mean to be gruesome, Shal, but we'll find the place of his death soon enough," Ren said. "For our own safety, we need to check out every room. There are signs of struggling and scuffling all over this place. Look at the