Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [110]
Yet vows he had made in life went unkept. Even though Turell's stones had long since turned to dust, the vows still bound him. He had sworn to protect the powerful secrets concealed beneath the city of Turell. True, the city was no more and the hidden chambers might never be found, but then again, some unlucky being might stumble upon them tomorrow. And then the entire continent of Faerun would be in peril.
"If only I had more time," Miltiades said softly to the night, "to make certain the secrets are safe."
"What secrets, Miltiades?" a voice asked gently.
He turned to see a figure step out of the shadows. Long hair glistened in the moonlight. Evaine. Her green eyes regarded him intelligently.
Slowly he shook his head. "Old secrets, Evaine. Secrets that are no doubt long buried and lost forever. I should not concern myself with them, but sometimes it is hard for the dead to forget what they did in life, even if it is no longer important."
Evaine gave him a thoughtful look. "If it concerns you, Miltiades, I somehow doubt that it is truly unimportant."
She took a step closer to him. Suddenly aware that his bony visage must glow lividly in the moonlight, he reached up to lower his visor.
"Don't," she said.
He halted, then nodded. "As you wish. Perhaps it is best. This way you will see me for what I am."
Evaine crossed her arms against the cold, laughing softly. "Oh, I know very well what you are, Miltiades. A man of great strength and greater gentleness. A man fierce in battle, but kinder than he is fierce. And above all a man with wisdom enough to see his own weaknesses and to forgive the weaknesses he sees in others."
Her words surprised him. For a moment, he almost felt a spark of warmth inside his empty rib cage. But no, that was impossible.
"I always hoped that someday I would meet a man like you, Miltiades," she went on softly. She shook her head ruefully. "I just forgot to hope that he would be alive when I did."
"I'm sorry," he said. It was all he could think of to say.
She gave him a sharp look. "I've told you once not to be sorry, Miltiades. I'll say it again. Don't be." She sighed, brushing her long hair from her face. "You have your vows to keep, and I have mine. I don't suppose there's much room for anything else in our lives."
He nodded in understanding. The two stood in silence for a long while, gazing into the night. When Evaine saw a shooting star, she didn't even think to make a wish.
18
The Forces of Twilight
Anton stood atop the temple of Tyr's highest rampart in the steely light of predawn, gazing into the distance. He was watching. And waiting.
Three hours earlier, Sister Sendara had woken him in the deep of night.
"This is the day our fate will be decided," the ancient priestess had whispered in the chilly darkness.
At those words, dread had clutched Anton's heart, but he had pushed the feeling aside. Quickly, he had donned his robe and hurried into the temple's main hall, striking a bronze gong to wake the other clerics. In the dark before the dawn, he told his brothers and sisters of Sendara's warning. In the hours since, the clerics of Tyr had done what they could to ready themselves and the temple for the coming onslaught, whatever form it might take.
As Anton watched, the baleful eye of the sun heaved itself above the frozen plains, spilling its bloody light across the city. Gazing into the west, he saw a dark stain spreading across the horizon. Even as he watched, the thing grew larger, a vast, undulating sea approaching the city's walls. His sharp eyes could just make out the twisted forms that shambled in the fore of the black tide.
"Zombies," Anton murmured. "An army of zombies."
He did not hesitate. He lifted a polished, silver-tipped ox horn that hung from a strap about his neck and sounded a long, clear note. The alarm rang out across the city.
As it did, the scene erupted in chaos.
Folk streamed into the streets. Word of the approaching army of doom had spread like wildfire. Now people shoved past each other in an effort