The Wizardwar - Elaine Cunningham [119]
"Enough!" snapped the necromancer. "The star aids Zalathorm and me in equal measure. It will not change the battle one way or another."
"Can Zalathorm be destroyed?" she persisted.
"Could Vishna?" he retorted. His mood suddenly brightened. "As a lich, Vishna will be a brilliant and loyal general. It will give me great pleasure to use Zalathorm's oldest friend to bring down his realm."
As the elf woman bit back a shriek of frustration, a golden light filled the clearing. Zalathorm's voice, magnified by powerful magic, repeated the challenge he issued to every magic-user in the realm.
Akhlaur's black eyes burned with unholy fire, and his gaze darted to his undead battlemaster. "All is in readiness?"
"It is," Vishna replied in a hollow voice.
"Gather our forces and weapons," he announced. "Quiet your doubts, little Kiva. The three will be reunited, and the crimson star will once again be mine to command!"
*****
The crowd dispersed after the mage duel. Andris, who had been seated near Matteo behind the king's throne, walked silently toward the palace with Matteo and Tzigone, his crystalline face deeply troubled.
"Three of us," the jordain said at last. "We three are descendants of the original creators of the Cabal."
Tzigone elbowed Matteo. "Destiny," she repeated. "Maybe there's a reason we were all drawn together. Sometimes one person's task falls to another-or to three."
"What are we to do?" Matteo demanded.
"What I have intended all along," Andris said urgently. "We need to destroy the Cabal-the crimson star."
"Now, just as Zalathorm issued a challenge to any and all wizards who desire to take it?"
"Ask him," the jordain persisted. "If Zalathorm is truly a good and honorable king, he won't consider his life, even his throne, as a higher good than this."
Matteo was silent for a moment, then nodded abruptly. He made his way through the guards, Tzigone and Andris on his heels.
The king looked at him quizzically. Matteo leaned in close and softly said,
"Andris is descended from Akhlaur."
Zalathorm's eyes widened. His gaze slid from his counselor to his daughter, then to the ghostly shadow of Andris. "I’ll take you to it," he said simply.
*****
Early the next morning, the four of them stood in a circular chamber far below the king's palace. The crimson star bobbed gently in the center of the room, casting soft light over them all. Andris's translucent body seemed carved from rosy crystal, and his eyes burned with fire that came from some hidden place within.
"I have tried to destroy this many times," Zalathorm said, "but one of its creators is not sufficient. Mystra grant the three of you success."
Andris pulled out a sword, lofted it with both hands, and threw himself into a spin. With all his strength, he brought the heavy weapon around and smashed it into the shining crystal. The next instant, his sword went flying in one direction and Andris in another. The sword, once released from his grasp, lost its glassy appearance and clattered heavily to the stone floor.
The jordain picked himself up. "Perhaps if we all strike at once," he ventured.
Matteo and Tzigone joined him and took up positions around the gem.
"From above," Andris cautioned, "so no one is struck on the backswing."
On Matteo's count, they all brought weapons down hard. Before they neared the artifact, the swords flew from their hands and clanged together, forming a tripod that hung in the air over the globe.
"So much for togetherness," Tzigone muttered, eyeing the enjoined weapons.
Andris paced around the artifact, his face furrowed in thought. "Let the princess try alone."
She made a rude noise, but she approached the gem slowly and touched tentative fingers to one of the starlike spires. For many long moments she stood silent, her deeply abstracted look changing to pain.
"So many," she said in a subdued voice. "I was a prisoner in the Unseelie court for a few days. These elves have been in captivity for more than