Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [59]
"And you're happy about that?" the elf said incredulously. "Let me see that helmet of yours, Kern. It must be too tight. I think it's squeezed your brain out your ears."
Kern glared at the elf. "You know, you could surprise me and let me finish for a change."
Ren spoke before the young paladin could start bickering with the elf. "Did something important happen in the dream, Kern?"
Kern ran a hand through his bright red hair, frowning. "Maybe, Uncle Ren. The Hammerwarder said something that might be important. I need to think about it for a while to be sure."
The ranger nodded, standing up. "Then let's be on our way."
The six adventurers rode southward across drab, snow-dusted plains. Several days ago, upon leaving Evaine's dwelling, Sirana had summoned and tamed a pair of shaggy wild horses with a spell. Daile and Ren rode these now. The wild horses had proved excellent mounts.
The ice-blue sky was clear. Yet despite the brilliant sunlight, the air was bitterly cool. Soon all were shivering-except for Miltiades, who seemed unaffected by the fierce cold.
It was midday when they reached the ruins of the red tower.
The riders crested a low rise, reining their mounts to a halt. Before them lay a bowl-shaped valley. In its center stood the jagged stump of the tower, made of dark rock the color of dried blood. It looked almost like a gigantic tombstone, Kern thought, marking the spot where a great evil had died. Most of the tower's stones lay scattered about the valley, along with the crumbling remains of circular walls and the occasional remnants of a guard tower or outbuilding. A harsh wind blew through the vale.
"I never thought I'd lay eyes on this forsaken place again," Ren said softly.
In silence, they rode down into the valley. Kern kept a hand on the enchanted warhammer at his side. He did his best to swallow the lump in his throat. The adventurers halted among the lichen-covered boulders at the edge of the ruins, dismounting and tethering the horses. From here they would go on foot.
Listle pulled a handful of glittering dust from one of the myriad pouches hanging at her belt. "This will stick to anything magical in the ruins," she explained. "It should help us avoid any traps. It's a good idea to avoid anything that sparkles. Unless, of course, you happen to like surprises."
She tossed the shimmering dust up into the air. As the wind caused it to swirl, the dust seemed to multiply, as if each speck had split itself in two, and each of these had split as well. The cloud of dust rose high into the sky, expanding as it did until it covered the entire ruin. Then slowly it began to drift down like fine, sparkling snow. Listle gasped.
"What is it?" Daile asked in concern.
"The dust-it's settling everywhere!" Listle exclaimed. 'The entire ruin must be magic. But how can that be?" The elf sank onto a boulder, visibly shaken. The spell had drained far more of her strength than she had anticipated.
Sirana gave Listle's shoulder a patronizing squeeze. "Allow me, little sister."
I'm not your little sister! Listle thought angrily. However, she refrained from speaking, opting for a sullen glare instead.
The wild mage spread her arms wide, her snowy robe and dark hair flowing in the wind. She intoned the arcane words of a spell. Tendrils of colorless, pulsating mist rose out of the ground to creep among the fallen stones. Like ethereal serpents, the coils of mist spread throughout the ruins. Then they faded.
Sirana blinked in surprise. "The ruins are rebuilding themselves!" the wild mage exclaimed.
"What?" Ren asked in surprise.
A slight frown creased Sirana's forehead. "You may have destroyed the pool of darkness, Ren o' the Blade, but the wizard who built this tower commanded vast power. That power still infuses each of these rocks, as well as the very ground we stand upon. As we speak, slowly but surely, the tower seeks to restore itself, to rise into the sky once more and regain its former glory."
"Glory," Miltiades repeated in his eerie voice. "An