Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [65]
"I don't think there are any traps," Listle announced finally, though her tone was less than certain.
"My, that's reassuring," Kern snorted.
Listle glared at him. "Well, there is one way we can know for certain if there are."
"What's that?"
"You stand over here, Kern." Listle smiled sweetly. "I'll just push you down the stairs, then we'll see what happens."
Kern nodded absently. He wasn't really listening to the elf. He found himself shivering. "Do you notice anything strange about those sarcophagi?" he asked the others. "I suppose it's just my imagination, but their eyes seem to be following me."
"Do you think yourself so worthy of attention, then?" Sirana asked with a sultry laugh.
He blushed. "Of course not. Like I said, it's probably just my imagination. Still…"
"Let us examine one to be sure," Miltiades said. He moved toward the standing sarcophagi. Kern, Listle, and Sirana followed. "Perhaps there is some trick about these-"
"Miltiades, get back!"
The four spun around to see Daile dash into the cathedral, eyes panicked.
"Everybody, get away from those sarcoph-"
She was too late.
Suddenly the lids of four sarcophagi sprang open with a groan. Dozens of skeletal hands reached out with uncanny swiftness, clutching at the four adventurers, who struggled in vain.
"Daile, what's happening?" Kern shouted in terror. He had the horrifying sensation that he was reliving a dream.
"Let him go!" the young ranger screamed, using the dagger called Right to hack at the arms that clutched Kern. It was to no avail. Another sarcophagus opened. Long, spindly limbs sprang out to engulf Daile. The skeletal arms inexorably dragged the adventurers into the waiting shadows of the five sarcophagi. Then the stone lids slammed shut, cutting off their cries of protest.
The half-formed cathedral was silent once again.
11
Road Into Danger
The day after Kern and his companions set off for the ruins of the red tower, Evaine decided it was time to embark on a mission of her own.
She rose in the cold of predawn and, teeth chattering, hastily donned thick woolen breeches and a tunic of her favorite mossy green. Deftly, she bound her long chestnut hair into a braid, winding it in a tight knot at the nape of her neck. As she did, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a teardrop-shaped mirror. A gaunt, ghostly pale face with deep, shadowed eyes peered back at her. She still bore the scars of her astral battle with the guardian of the twilight pool, but she had waited as long as she dared -too long perhaps. She would just have to be strong enough.
From the tiny pocket dimension that served as her spellcasting chamber, she gathered the ingredients she would require to work her spells: many-colored crystals, iridescent powders, and small, neatly folded parchment packets filled with herbs. These she placed in a small pack, adding her copper brazier and-carefully wrapped in oiled leather-her spellbook. She remembered to grab a golden brooch set with a single ice-clear jewel, the twin to the magical gem she had given Miltiades. This she pinned to her tunic.
A quick look around told her she had forgotten nothing. She descended the glowing spiral staircase into the warm main room of her log-walled dwelling. Gamaliel was waiting for her. The great cat sat before the fire, tail wrapped around his paws. His eyes were narrow, green-gold slits.
Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing, Evaine, the cat growled in the sorceress's mind.
"As you like, Gam," she murmured pleasantly. Inwardly she steeled herself for an argument.
In case you haven't noticed, I'm not laughing.
"Don't blame me if you have a poor sense of humor," Evaine replied flippantly. She