Pool of Radiance_ Ruins of Myth Drannor - Carrie Bebris [103]
Suddenly, a loud crash! rent the air. The sound came not from the floor, where Kestrel had expected it, but from above. The dragon-kin, distracted, spun around, allowing her to plant Loren’s Blade in her opponent’s back and see for herself the source of the noise.
Shards of glass rained down from the chamber’s window as a lone figure swung in on a rope. An angel of darkness, her face a mask of vengeance, swooped in to seize justice for the wronged and wreak retribution on the guilty.
Nathlilik.
The drow leader gripped the rope with only one hand. In the other she clutched a spiked mace, raised high. Blood running from cuts all over her body, her white hair streaming loose behind her, she sailed through the air toward the Vessel of Souls.
“Kedar!” she cried. “I do this for you!”
As the arc of her swing brought her directly above the urn, she let go of the rope. She dropped twenty feet to the vessel and struck the invisible force field with her mace. At the same moment, the support beams finally slid out of place. The Vessel of Souls, and Nathlilik along with it, plummeted.
It smashed through the floor, shattering the glass and continuing its descent. A deafening explosion sounded. Unholy shrieks and sobs filled the chamber, rising to a crescendo so intense that Kestrel covered her ears lest the cacophony of terror and torment drive her mad.
A whirlwind surged up through the jagged hole in the floor. Thousands of lost souls, their ghostly faces contorted with hopelessness, spiraled toward the ceiling. The cyclone snuffed out the chamber’s torches, leaving only the pale natural light of the broken window to illuminate the room.
The funnel of damned spirits arched through the window. As it reached the open sky it flew apart, releasing the trapped souls to the gods. The horrible anthem of despair at last ceased.
Within, every drow in the chamber collapsed at once, their bodies turned to dust. At the loss of their allies, the remaining dragon-kin took to the air and fled. Only the companions remained.
In the hushed aftermath, Kestrel picked her way through drow ashes and shards of broken glass to the edge of the circle. She peered down. Nathlilik’s broken, lifeless body lay surrounded by fragments of the vessel she’d given her life to destroy.
Corran’s disembodied voice broke the stillness. “Is she alive?”
Kestrel shook her head and backed away from the ledge in silence. She couldn’t say she mourned the arrogant drow’s passing, but she respected Nathlilik’s sacrifice.
“Athan? Durwyn?” Corran called. “You still here?”
“Aye.”
“Here.”
“Then we haven’t a moment to lose. Now that the drow have fallen, Mordrayn knows exactly where we are.”
* * * * *
“What word from Mulmaster?”
“The city is nearly depleted. Panic spreads throughout the Moonsea-soon all the Heartlands will be ours. What tidings here?”
“Intruders have toppled the Vessel of Souls. The Mistress is beyond irate. She says the pool shall be well-fed tonight-either with them or with us.”
Kestrel smiled in satisfaction as she listened to the exchange between cultists. Though the news from outside troubled her, she delighted in the knowledge that they’d gotten under Mordrayn’s skin.
After leaving the vessel chamber, the party had hurried to the ground floor of the castle and combed it for a route of descent to the pool cavern. Thanks to Pelendralaar’s cave-in, none existed save this room-the castle’s former great hall, now a magical way station for cultists. Four enchanted gates occupied the hall, one on each wall. Three were of ordinary size, while the last appeared three times the size of any Kestrel had ever