Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [77]
In its gloating, the osyluth did not realize its mistake.
It doesn't dare to touch the hammer! Kern realized. If Bane truly forged the hammer, why would Bane's servant fear to use it?
He knew the answer. The osyluth had lied. The hammer was Tyr's.
The osyluth flicked its tail, bringing the barbed stinger close to Kern's throat Venom glistened on its tip.
A memory flickered through Kern's mind…
For a split second, he was in Phlan once again, sitting with Tarl and Listle by the fire in Denlor's Tower. His father was telling a story, a story about… the hammer.
"… and no matter how far I threw it, it always returned to my hand when I called it…"
At last, victory is mine! The osyluth shrieked.
Kern closed his eyes. He knew he had just one chance. Come to me! he called out in his mind. Come!
With a rending sound, the Hammer of Tyr wrenched itself from the center of the web. Shining brilliantly, it flew through the air, directly into Kern's outstretched hand.
He didn't hesitate. Even as the osyluth's stinger descended, Kern hurled the hammer with all his might back toward the web. Awakened by the touch of one faithful to Tyr, the hammer burned with fury, striking the web that had imprisoned it moments before, burning it to ashes.
No! The osyluth screamed in terror. This cannot be! Holy blue fire snaked along the thread toward the osyluth, engulfing it. The creature writhed in agony.
Kern summoned the hammer back to his hand; it felt comfortable and right in his grip. "It's time you joined your master, Bane," Kern said between clenched teeth.
He swung the Hammer of Tyr. It struck the osyluth full in the chest. With a thunderclap, the fiend burst apart in a spray of bone splinters and shreds of dry, parchmentlike skin.
Kern's nightmares had come to an end.
* * * * *
The sun sank into a sea of molten bronze clouds behind the jagged stump of the red tower.
Kern sat, exhausted, on a granite boulder, the others around him. The enchantment paralyzing them had vanished when the osyluth died, as had the dark magic animating the horde of undead that filled the cavern and the rest of the red tower. All had collapsed into dust when the web was destroyed.
Listle grinned at Kern. "You know, that wasn't half bad. For an ogre-brained oaf, that is."
"You do him a disservice, illusionist," Sirana chided gently. She laughed, a sound like golden bells. "You are truly a hero, Kern. Do you think I could hold Tyr's hammer?" Her dark eyes glowed. "I doubt I will ever be this close to so holy a relic again. It would mean a great deal to me."
"Of course, Sirana," Kern said. "I could never have gained the hammer without you." He took the ornate weapon from his belt. In the fading sunlight, fine runes glowed on its flawless steel surface.
Suspicion flared in Listle's heart. "Kern, don't do it!" she shouted. Too late.
He held out the hammer.
Without hesitating, Sirana snatched it up with a triumphant expression. "At last, it is mine!" she cried exultantly.
Kern stared at her in astonishment.
Suddenly an expression of agony twisted Sirana's face. She screamed in pain, dropping the hammer. "By all the blackest gods, it burns!"
Kern and the others watched in horror as Sirana's lovely coppery skin began to bubble and smoke. Two stumps sprouted from her back, unfurling into vulturelike wings covered with oily black feathers. In moments the beautiful wild mage was gone. In her place stood a creature that was formed only vaguely like a woman. Her body and face were hideously misshapen. Dagger-shaped fangs curved down from her crooked maw, and sharp talons sprouted from her gnarled fingers. Her wings beat furiously, casting off a foul odor.
"A foul erinyes!" Miltiades spoke grimly, raising his sword.
"Oh, vile paladin, don't you find my true form lovely?" the erinyes Sirana rasped in a croaking voice. "If not, you may blame it on my human father, the Red Wizard Marcus. Human and