Bruce Cordell - Darkvision

She'd spent years as a keeper in Stardeep, where the heinous traitor was guarded. A conspirator whose overweening ambitions threatened all the star elf race, and more. A bastard who'd taken from her the only thing she'd ever loved, and left her with nothing but a cruel burden to bear. That was the reason she carried Angul. Thormud continued.

"The stone of the palace is enchanted to rebuff just this sort of contamination-the Imaskari performed a lot of dangerous experiments here. But the space where the palace spent these last millennia is not so impregnable." "I know of this space," interjected Monolith. "It is a demiplane that grows without bound. Full of mischief. My brethren seek to close the portals that open in the earth. Yet portals persist." The dwarf nodded. "Somewhere, somehow, a portal has been accessed. The Imaskaran Imperial Weapons Cache was disturbed. A vile cognizance was awakened. That cognizance instigated the palace's fall back into reality. Hold on." The dwarf finished tracing his circle and began to elaborate on the design with quickly scribed sigils beyond the radius of the ring. Thormud continued. "I infer from the stone's description that the entity was able to return the palace to reality because of the introduction and spread of infected crystal into our realm." "The crystal that infused the creatures we fought!" exclaimed Kiril. "Yes. Whoever holds a piece of infected crystal serves as an eye-and worse-a conduit to the entity's power and desires." "This entity-what is its name and origin?" rumbled Prince Monolith.

"Pandorym," replied the dwarf. As he spoke the name, the glow surrounding Thormud's selenite rod dimmed and the geomancer clutched his side. Kiril rushed to support him, but the dwarf waved her away.

"Don't worry about me. Just listen. The mineral memory does not know the entity's origin-I imagine it was plucked from some chaotic prototype reality by the Imaskari. Or perhaps it is the result of risky arcanological research. In any event…" The dwarf made one final inscription with the butt of his rod, then stood back. "I can open a passage into the tower. The opening will persist only a few moments. Once inside, I recommend you both head upward. My connection with the palace stone informs me of a central stair. At the top of the stair is the Imperial Weapons Cache." "What do you mean, 'you both'?

What about you?" questioned Kiril. The geomancer looked at the elf and shook his head. "Listen to me, Kiril. I've got only a few moments of consciousness left. Some influence of Pandor-" The dwarf flinched, then continued. "The entity's curse has got its claws into me. I carried an infected crystal for too long, and during my previous divination, it saw me. If I enter, it will know instantly and send all the servitors it is assembling throughout the tower to contest my presence. I must wait here." "But you're sick," protested the elf. She knew better than to argue. Thormud had that look. When the dwarf's eyes glinted so stubbornly, there was no quarreling. Kiril knew from long experience that even venomous cursing wouldn't dissuade him when he'd set his mind to something. "I'd be struck down within moments if I were to enter. Better I take my chances out here than suffer the certainty of my fate in there. It falls to you, Kiril. You and Prince Monolith." The earth lord nodded. "Enter the cache and secure the weapon. If you don't, I'm afraid that its influence will continue to grow. When its influence waxes through enough intermediaries, it'll free more than its mind. Then it won't have to rely on servants any longer." "What shape will its body take, I wonder?" growled Monolith.

"Nothing we would want to see," answered Thormud. "Ready yourselves. I am opening the passage… now!" The geomancer threw his moon rod at the circle he'd scribed on the wall. The milky jewel on the rod's tip struck the rock head on and exploded in a dazzling flash of iridescent light. Cool, stale air rushed from the gap. Thormud fell to the sand, unmoving. Prince Monolith scooped up Kiril as she bent to check on Thormud. She blistered his ears, "Let me down, you bastard of a pebble! You bloody dust mote, I'll hew you down to size! I'll…"

The elemental, uncaring, bore her and itself through the opening. A moment later, the passage sealed behind them and all light was extinguished. The prince lowered her to the floor. She managed to keep her feet as he placed her on solid ground. Kiril railed at the earth lord. "He could be dead! Why didn't you let me help him?" Monolith didn't respond. Kiril couldn't see him in the utter dark, but she could sense his presence. She pounded a balled fist onto his stone-hard chest. The elemental rumbled, "His fate isn't decided yet.

But if we don't win, he'll certainly die." "You heartless rock!"

Monolith's deep voice descended further. "I've known Thormud far longer than you. Stop acting the child." "Blood!" she cursed, then subsided. "Just bloody fine." Kiril blinked away red stars of anger, leaving darkness so complete it bored into her eyes. "I can't see," she mumbled. She knew Monolith was right. A tantrum wouldn't do anything but make her feel better for a few loud moments. Faint light seeped into the air. Xet was emanating a dim glow. "Why aren't you with Thormud?" Kiril screamed at the creature. "Thormud sent Xet with us, to guide us to the chamber where we'll find the source of his affliction. Xet comes along, maybe to save its master's life." Xet cawed a series of forlorn chimes. The swordswoman fumed impotently.

The crystalline dragonet glittered no more brightly than a star set high in the night sky. The gleam was more than sufficient for Kiril's eyes-she preferred starlight to daylight. But Xet's illumination was unsettling. It meant the geomancer was all alone. The light revealed a bare space shod in rusted iron. The floor and walls were dull and bare, and the high ceiling and narrow passage reminded Kiril of some long-deserted catacomb. Waterlines were visible on the powdery red walls at just about the tip of Kiril's reach. She bent down and touched the floor. It was bone dry. Whatever liquid had once passed this way hadn't flowed in eons. She hoped their presence wouldn't change that. The passage sloped upward to her left, but the grade was almost undetectable. "This way?" she asked, pointing up the gradual slope. "Not really a stairwell, but it slopes up." Xet pealed in the affirmative and flew ahead. Kiril unsheathed Sadrul, the gift of Al Qahera. The razor-sharp blade glittered in Xet's glow. Angul, still in his sheath, groused. Kiril paused and said, "I ask the gods of Sildeyuir to watch over my friend Thormud. See him through to safety."

See to it, if my past service and sacrifice meant anything at all, she silently added. A long journey in the dark was thus begun.

Chill air brushed Warian Datharathi. He cried out and fell on his face. His prosthesis went dead and its light failed. He gasped for breath. He felt as if he'd just finished a sprint where he pushed himself too hard. Yet his arm hadn't killed him… Coughing and shaking, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Where was he?

Darkness was all he saw… and a broad ribbon of stone knifing through it. Stars settled into focus above him… and below?

Vertigo tumbled his stomach. He blinked. Unconsciously, his fingers tried to work themselves into the hard rock, abrading the fingertips of his natural hand. It was the stone of a great obelisk, similar to one of the menhirs that ringed the portal through which he'd plunged.

But this menhir was wider. And much, much longer, like a path. Or a bridge, over nothingness. The stone path traced an unwavering line as far as he could see-which was unnaturally far. Illumination leaked onto the path from an undefinable source, making a road of light through a sea of blackness scattered with tiny glimmers. Warian crawled forward and peered over the side. Void beckoned in all directions. From what he could see, if he fell, he'd never find the ground, only endless, vacant space. Wait. No, it wasn't quite empty.