Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [58]
"I am sorry, Evaine," he said quietly.
"No," she said firmly, her eyes as hard as jade. "Don't be sorry, Miltiades. Don't ever be sorry. We are what we are."
The skeletal man said nothing in reply.
10
A Prophecy Fulfilled
The denizens of the coffin walls rattled their bones in a mockery of laughter. Bits of broken teeth and tatters of mummified flesh rained down on Kern. The darkness of the nave hungrily swallowed the light of his holy shield. He shook his head against the dizzying stench and struggled to control the dream.
Behold, Hammerseeker! I have a gift for you.
Like moldering curtains of suffocating velvet, the darkness parted, revealing a sarcophagus fashioned of corpse-pale stone. A death mask was carved into the heavy lid, showing the likeness of a young man with blankly staring eyes. The face was Kern's. With a sound like grinding bones, the lid of the sarcophagus slowly shifted to one side.
Come, climb within, paladin of Tyr. You cannot refuse my gift.
Kern steeled his will. Somehow, he had to turn the nightmare to his own advantage.
"I… I was wrong to resist you," he said dully, keeping his gaze blank. "The majesty of… of your darkness is too great."
At last, you have gained wisdom, youngling. The voice in the darkness spoke with satisfaction.
"Never could I have slain you," Kern went on in a fawning voice, preparing himself for a gamble. He took a deep breath. "Never could I have come close enough to strike at your one weakness."
Weakness? the voice shrieked. Kern shuddered under the brutal force of its outrage. I am as powerful as the darkness itself. I have no weakness!
Kern bowed his head in a perfect semblance of trembling submission. "Of course, Great One! I was foolish to believe the tales I was told!"
Laughter gushed out of the nave like putrid water. Pitiful youngling! Were you told that you could simply cut the thread that binds me to my web? How terribly easy it must have sounded! Ah, how cruel are those who spoke such lies to you. Something stirred in the darkness, something with spindly, ghost-white limbs. No magic you possess could ever sever me from the source of my power, youngling.
Kern felt a surge of hope. He was certain that, in its pride, the creature had let slip an important secret. But what was it?
Enough of this, Hammerseeker! The end has come, and you have lost.
Suddenly, Kern's hopes were transformed into terror. Tentacles of shadow snaked out of the sarcophagus, coiling tightly around him. He struggled in horror, but could not break free of their stranglehold.
At last, triumph is mine!
Kern screamed as the tentacles dragged him into the cold, confining interior of the sarcophagus, pinning his limbs in place. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.
The coffin lid began to slide into place…
* * * * *
This time Kern owed his life to Sirana.
He woke up gasping, the wild mage bending over him. A strange, colorless mist enclosed him.
"The hold the Hammerwarder has on your dreams grows stronger the closer we come to the red tower," Sirana said grimly. "I was barely able to break the creature's grip." With a wave of her hand, she banished the dull shroud of magic that had protected him. It seemed to leave a thin, oily residue on his skin.
For six days, the adventurers had been riding southward from Evaine's dwelling, toward the ruins of the red tower near the southwestern edge of the Moonsea. Each night, Kern had been visited by a nightmare sent by the creature guarding the hammer. And each night had been worse than the one before.
"Well, the warder won't have another night to stalk my dreams," Kern said hoarsely. "We'll reach the tower today. Thank you for your help, Sirana."
"My pleasure," the wild mage purred.
Weakly, Kern sat up. His head pounded furiously, but this time the dream had yielded a valuable secret.
"What are you grinning about?" Listle remarked as Kern sat down by the campfire. She was stirring a pot of oat porridge hanging on a tripod of green willow branches.
"The Hammerwarder sent me another nightmare last night"
Ren and Daile