Bruce Cordell - Darkvision

The still form of Eined lay sprawled in her path. The Datharathi woman's spirit had fled the world, to a place of final freedom Ususi herself had nearly reached when the efts had mauled her. The stars had been so bright…

Iahn saw Ususi's hesitation and sheathed his dragonfly blade on his left hip. He stooped, grabbed the girl, and threw her limp body over his shoulder. Without visible effort, he ran past Ususi down the corridor. Wiping a tear from her cheek, Ususi followed.

The vengeance taker ignored the side passages. Unearthly screeches pealed from one dark opening, and a venomous glow leaked from another.

But the main passage was clear, and soon enough emptied into another large cavern. This grotto was the site of some sort of recent disaster. A pile of broken wooden tables, the wreckage of expensive equipment, and a variety of other debris left a whorled trail of destruction across the floor. A woman lay at the spiral's epicenter, unmoving. Crystal implants were visible on her body. Some creature or force had apparently removed the woman's head. Ususi turned and saw the menhir ring. Her heart leaped! The ring was a duplicate of the Mucklestones of the Lethyr Forest, which meant… "There! A portal into the Celestial Nadir," the wizard breathed. The bright, unwavering lights on the cavern's periphery failed to illuminate the ring's interior. "Careful," the wizard told Iahn as he moved toward a gap between two stones, "it's open. Even without a keystone, they've managed to access the Celestial Nadir." The vengeance taker nodded and stepped through. Ususi followed.

The sun burned a hole in the sky. Whisky burned Kiril's throat and warmed a path to her stomach. A slender tower reached toward the heavens as they galloped across the scorched dunes, raising a line of dust in their wake. Sweat stung the elf's eyes, but she resisted rubbing them. She could clearly see the splinter for the first time.

The shard towered a mile or more into the sand-hazed sky. "Blood!" she cursed. Kiril took another swig, then holstered her flask. The stone destrier ate up the wasteland miles, swelling the tower's silhouette to an improbable height. The geomancer dozed at Kiril's side. He was strapped into place, lest he roll off in his daze. He woke now and then to look at the splinter, mumble something half lucidly, then fall back into a fitful sleep. His curse-born illness had resurged. The dwarf's energy failed by the moment. Ahead, the booming sound of Prince Monolith's strides seemed to count the heartbeats remaining to the dwarf. "Hells and blood," muttered the elf. They reached the base of the splinter in the late afternoon. Vast and imposing, many-windowed and sprouting hundreds of secondary spires, Kiril could see for herself that the edifice was not an unworked fragment carved off some larger chunk of purplish stone. It was an enormous artifact of some previous era, worked by hands and minds informed with skill now unrivaled in the world. Hundreds of balconies, balustrades, verandas, spiraling stairs, and sealed doorways dotted the great tower's sides, all empty and silent. Drifts of sand and rust stains spoke of metal fixtures that had entirely dissolved. The lowest visible balcony was a good two or three hundred paces above the desert floor. Below it were sheer-sided tower walls as seamless and slick as an ice cliff. Kiril knew some dwarves and humans possessed great skill in climbing sheer rock or ice, but they weren't along, nor was any of the elaborate equipment such a climb required. The prince raised one hand and pressed it against the side of the purplish stone. "It rebuffs me," reported Prince Monolith. "I cannot force an entry." "Do you know who built it?" blurted Kiril. She recalled the fantastic glassy architecture of her own star elf heritage. This stone tower rivaled even the most fantastic glass fortresses of Sildeyuir in its size and imposing impregnability. "Thormud could answer that question." Monolith turned and strode back to the destrier. The elemental lord removed the dwarf from the destrier's back. He held Thormud in his massive hands. He exhaled long and hard, and golden motes of light danced from the elemental lord's open mouth to settle on the geomancer's beard and face. The dwarf opened his eyes. They were clear again. Thormud looked up at the prince, "Thanks for that, old friend." "It is only a reprieve, I'm afraid," said Monolith. The dwarf nodded. "Then you'd better set me down." The elemental obliged.

Thormud pulled from his belt his selenite rod, and smiled. He nearly seemed his old self in that instant. The swordswoman asked, "A reprieve? What does that mean?" Thormud ignored her and approached the vast tower. In a manner not dissimilar to Prince Monolith's earlier pose, the dwarf pressed his palm flat against the stone. "The stone was worked over five thousand years ago," Monolith offered. Thormud nodded and closed his eyes. In his hand, the moon rod began to shed its silvery radiance. The geomancer worked his slow, telluric magic.

The sun began sinking. The tower's shadow stretched across the barren plain, farther than Kiril's eyes could follow. Jagged peaks reached up well beyond the horizon-the Giant's Belt, of course. She marveled at the distance they'd covered in just a few days. She looked at the dwarf's stocky figure. She doubted anything could keep the plucky geomancer down for long. Whatever malaise or curse he'd picked up tracking the tower's location, she was confident they'd find an antidote once they gained the tower's interior. A grumbling tremble from Angul's sheath suddenly reminded her that not all stories have such happy endings. She groped for her flask. Before long, Thormud's eyes popped open and he stepped back from the tower's base. "It's Imaskari built, if anyone had any doubts. If my ability to speak to stone has not failed me altogether, it is the Palace of the Purple Emperor itself." "Truly?" spoke Monolith, impressed for the first time Kiril could recall. "Yes. Back from a long, profound slumber in a dark space, the stone tells me." "Hold on," interrupted Kiril. "What's the Palace of the Purple Emperor?" "It marks… marked… the Imaskaran capital, Inupras." Kiril looked around. "Seems out of place here." "It hasn't been here for thousands of years. Inupras may well be buried in the sands of time below us, but the palace has spent the centuries elsewhere." "Where?" Thormud shrugged. "Some phantom space engineered by the absent Imaskari, no doubt. The Imaskari excelled at such things. Indeed, the palace itself was said to be ten times bigger inside than on the outside, hiding hundreds of dimensional halls, vaults, and arcane chambers. Including the Great Imperial Library."

"It's already so big." "Stories are sometimes exaggerated," said the dwarf. He shrugged again. "What is most important for us right now is to get inside and make our way to the Imperial Weapons Cache.

Something dark has been disturbed in the heart of the palace." "What are we looking for?" "That which has seen and cursed me. A weapon left over from the last Imaskaran war, the stone says. Something never used, thankfully." The dwarf stepped back a pace from the blank surface of the palace wall. "What ever disturbed the weapon has partially deployed it." Kiril asked, "How can a weapon be partially deployed?" The geomancer began tracing a great circle on the face of the palace wall with the tip of his moon rod. As he did so he said,

"The weapon isn't an object-it is an entity. An entity with power approaching that of a god, with both a physical and mental presence.

Even when held in physical captivity, the psychic component may roam.

Given the chance, it may infect surrounding matter. Some portion of the psychic component of this entity has been freed." A frisson of familiarity jolted Kiril. She was familiar with something like this.