Pool of Radiance_ Ruins of Myth Drannor - Carrie Bebris [48]
“The sword, Volun, the sword,” Caalenfaire murmured. “Now that their path lies in shadow, they need it more than ever.”
“Oh, yes-Master has a gift for you. Examine the scrying pedestal in the main hall. An arrow will guide you. And Master says the little bird should fear not Loren’s Blade. It carries no curse.”
Kestrel started at the unexpected announcement about the magical weapon she’d acquired from Athan’s band. How had the diviner known she harbored doubts? The returning dagger had not even come up in conversation.
Caalenfaire seemed to have lapsed back into a trance, and Volun’s eyes had gone dark. One at a time, the adventurers retreated down the stairs. Anxious as Kestrel was to depart, she hesitated to turn her back on the ghost and thus found herself the last one standing on the balcony. As she finally turned to go, the diviner’s tremulous voice broke the stillness once more.
“The bird of prey feels under attack.”
Kestrel froze. Why, oh why, had he singled her out? Slowly, she faced him. “I thought I was ‘talibund.’ What do you know of me?”
“You do not share the others’ idealism. You speak uncomfortable truths…I know something of that.”
She grew warm, her hands trembling with nervous energy as if she’d been caught red-handed at some shady activity. Could the old ghost see straight into her soul?
“There is one in particular with whom you clash.”
Corran. As if on cue, the paladin’s voice floated up to them. “Kestrel?”
“Coming!” she called, not taking her gaze off the spectral wizard.
“Be of two minds but one heart,” Caalenfaire said, his image fading from view and his voice seeming to echo from some far-off place. “Do not let conflict between you threaten your mission. It is too important.” With that, the ghostly diviner and his familiar faded away altogether.
Kestrel paused to catch her breath before heading down the stairs. The apparition’s words had left her feeling exposed, as if all her thoughts and emotions were on display for anyone to see. She shook her shoulders in an attempt to shrug off the sensation.
By the time Kestrel rejoined the others, they had already begun to examine the base of the scrying pedestal and had located a rune shaped like an arrowhead. Jarial had followed its point until he found a crack in the marble, which he’d traced to outline a secret panel. Kestrel tried to pry it off but ultimately had to give up and let Ghleanna cast an opening spell upon it.
Corran reached in and withdrew a gleaming silver long sword. He held the blade reverently, testing its weight and balance. The weapon seemed almost an extension of the paladin’s own hand, so smoothly did it arc and thrust under his command. As Kestrel watched him swing the sword from side to side, Caalenfaire’s final words echoed in her mind.
“‘Tis a magnificent weapon-light but sturdy-the finest I’ve ever held.” Corran swept the blade through the air one more time, then offered its jeweled hilt to Durwyn. “Care to test it?”
The guard hefted his axe. “Nay, this is my weapon. I’d hardly know what to do with a long sword.”
Corran shrugged and offered the blade to Kestrel. Though she could defend herself with a sword in a pinch-hell, she could defend herself with a frying pan if she had to-her swordsmanship wasn’t nearly worthy of such a weapon. “Keep it, Corran,” she said. “You wield it much better than I ever could.”
He gazed at the blade a moment more. “I shall call this sword ‘Pathfinder,’ that it may help us find our own way to defeat Mordrayn and the Pool.”
They did not tarry longer. The diviner’s cryptic hints and warnings had created a sense of urgency in them all. As the party headed back to the Rohnglyn, Kestrel fell into step beside Durwyn. “Little bird,” he said absently.
“What?”
“Caalenfaire called you a little bird. So did Preybelish. I just realized why-they were referring to your name.” He stopped and regarded her quizzically. “Why did your parents name you after a falcon?”
Kestrel stared at him. They’d just learned from a spooky diviner that a dracolich and some mad cultists