Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [67]
"Next time, don't sit so close to the fire, silly," she chided herself. She let out a sigh of relief. The spell had worked. And there had been no surge of pain. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
A shadow stole into the circle of flickering firelight, green-gold eyes flashing.
Care for some supper? the magical cat inquired, dropping two sleek, silvery shapes into Evaine's lap.
"Fish," she noted, picking up the two big rainbow trout "My, what a surprise."
Don't look a gift fish in the mouth, Evaine.
She laughed, pulling out her knife to clean the fish. "I wouldn't dream of it."
* * * * *
It was midmorning two days later when they arrived at their destination.
The standing stone rested in the middle of a small clearing, atop a low circular mound littered with frost-painted leaves. It was a rough, irregular slab of black porphyry, about the height of a man. Spiraling, mazelike symbols were carved into the stone's surface, though their meanings were beyond Evaine's ken. The stone seemed not to have weathered much in the ninety years since she had last set foot in this clearing. She did not know whether to find that remarkable or disturbing.
She settled for interesting. She needed to remember an incantation she had heard only once before, spoken by her first master almost a century ago, in a long-dead language whose name she had never known. Evaine forced a grin. The uncertainties were what made life worth living, she reminded herself.
What is this place? Gamaliel's thoughts spoke in her mind. The great cat stalked warily around the base of the mound, whiskers twitching. There is magic here. Old magic. I can smell it on the air.
Evaine nodded as she rummaged through her pack, assembling the items she would need. "This is a very ancient place, Gam. Only a handful of these standing stones remain, scattered about Faerun. No one is certain who built them, or even what sort of people they might have been. But one thing is certain. They were powerful magicians. I doubt there are any alive today who could forge a stone such as this."
I imagine you might, if you put your mind to it.
Evaine scratched the cat's ears affectionately. "Now I remember why I like you so much," she laughed.
Gamaliel closed his eyes in pleasure. How could you have forgotten?
The sun was high overhead in the pale winter sky by the time Evaine had everything prepared for the spell. As she and Gamaliel ascended the mound, the midday light seemed to grow curiously dim. Soon it proved difficult to see anything but the rough black stone that loomed before them.
"Here, Gam, hold this in your left hand."
The cat winked his eyes in mild annoyance. His form blurred. A moment later the barbarian stood next to the sorceress.
"That assumes I have a hand to hold things with, Evaine," Gamaliel rumbled.
"Which now you do," Evaine replied smoothly. She pressed a single, dark green leaf into his hand. She placed a similar leaf into a small hollow carved in the side of the stone. Next she used a glistening powder of crushed crystal to trace a large spiral incised in the center of the stone. Finally she scattered the crimson petals of a dozen snow-heart blooms. A faint, delicately sweet fragrance rose from them. Evaine took a deep breath. Facing Gamaliel, she reached out and tightly gripped his right hand.
"Now, don't let go of my hand, Gam, not for anything. And I mean anything. All right?"
He nodded. "As you wish."
Evaine swallowed hard, closing her eyes. She had spent the last three days trying to recall the long-forgotten words. It had not been easy, and she couldn't be certain she had remembered them all, or even that she had remembered their correct pronunciation. She tried not to think of the consequences if she made a mistake with even a single word. At the least, the spell would simply fail. At the worst, she and Gamaliel would discover what it felt like to be turned inside out.
She began the incantation.
Strangely fluid, almost inhuman-sounding words rose and fell in a trilling