Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [123]
The crystal sank silently beneath the surface of the pool. At first nothing happened. Kern wondered with a shiver of fear if Evaine's spell had misfired. Then he noticed a faint, pulsating spot where the gem had fallen into the pool, glowing light, then dark, in a steady cadence.
The waters of the pool swirled and bubbled, but the pulsing spot began to spread, stilling the waves. The pool surged in fury, waterspouts reaching to the ceiling. But the pulsating circle continued to enlarge, its steady, calming rhythm unwavering. First dark. Then light. Then dark again.
"What's happening?" Kern shouted above the roar of the waves.
"The pool fights to keep its chaotic nature," Evaine shouted back. "But the magic within the gem is rhythmic, ordered."
Metallic foam flew through the air. The guardian of the pool-the mutant zombie that was half Sirana, half Dusk- screamed as it struggled against the holy magic that surrounded it.
By now all the pool was pulsating. Dark. Light. Dark.
The waves ebbed. The surface of the pool became as still as glass. Even the guardian became motionless, the dragon maw frozen in midscream.
The pool went dark, so dark that all the light seemed to be drained out of the cavern. The blackness hurt Kern's eyes. He counted ten heartbeats in the ominous silence. Then, all of a sudden, the pool flared brilliantly, and everything went white. The searing light seemed to burn right through stone and flesh. Ten more heartbeats. Abruptly, then, the radiance dimmed.
The pool of twilight was no more.
A gaping pit yawned in the cavern floor where the pool had existed only moments before. All that was left of Sirana and Dusk were their bones, fused together in a death embrace. But even as the adventurers watched, those bones crumbled into dust.
Evaine stumbled backward weakly, but Gamaliel caught her before she could fall. Her skin was pallid, eyes hollow, but she was smiling all the same.
"Damn, but I enjoy doing that."
* * * * *
Tarl's entire body glowed sapphire blue. Radiant light flowed through him, out of him, sustaining the shimmering wall that held the army of zombies at bay outside the gates of the temple of Tyr.
His faith had not dimmed, but he knew that his body was failing. Mere flesh was not strong enough to bear the raw, crackling magic that coursed through him. The azure radiance was consuming him, ever faster. Still his belief in Tyr did not waver. Whatever happened, Tarl knew he had done all that one man could do.
"The end draws close," Sister Sendara murmured to Anton.
"By Tyr, I can see right through his hands," the patriarch said softly. "They're made of light, just like the wall!"
Even as Anton watched, more and more of Tarl's form was transformed into shimmering light. The sapphire wall began to flicker and fade. The dark army of twisted zombies surged forward with an inhuman howl of victory. In moments they would stream through the gates into the heart of the temple.
Tarl could feel himself fading, growing more and more insubstantial. He channeled every last ounce of his strength into the magical wall, regretting only that he had not had the chance say good-bye to Shal, or his son.
The decomposing zombies shrieked in gleeful cacophony. They clawed past each other, pressing against the flickering barrier, ready to tear living flesh from bone.
Then, they abruptly collapsed.
Each and every rotting abomination slumped to the ground like a puppet with its strings slashed. Even as the stunned clerics watched, their twisted bodies began to bubble and steam, evaporating in a noxious yellow cloud. Then a cold wind raced through the streets of the city, blowing the poisonous atmosphere away.
"Tarl, release the gate!" Sister Sendara shouted, hobbling toward the white-haired cleric.
It was hard, so hard. The power continued to stream through Tarl like water through a busted dam. It nearly washed him away. With his last shred of consciousness, he reached out and tried to shut off the energy.
The azure radiance vanished.
Tarl dropped to the ground. The others,