James Ward - Pool of Twilight

As you wish, great sorceress! the guardian sniveled. Drink! Drink, and the power shall be yours.

A silver chalice rose out of the pool and hovered before Sirana. She grasped it with her newly restored hands. Once before, she had drunk but a mere drop of the twilight pool's waters and had gained fantastic power-enough to summon a dreamstalker from a distant world. What would be the effect of drinking an entire chalice of the liquid? She gazed at the metallic fluid within the cup, hesitating. Brilliant flecks of light swirled beneath its surface.

"I must have the might to destroy Phlan!" she whispered.

Her hesitation faded. She raised the chalice to her lips and drained its thick, oily contents in a single draught.

The chalice clattered to the hard stone and rolled away. Sirana reeled, her heart pounding furiously. Magical energy like she had never before imagined surged through her veins. It buoyed her, lifting her so that her feet hardly touched the ground. She raised her arms in exultation, feeling the soft fabric of shadows sift through her fingers. Understanding rippled through her mind. One drop of the pool had granted her the ability to see all the myriad shades of darkness that existed in a single shadow. But now she could cup that darkness in her hands, mold it, shape its form, and breathe evil life into it.

Yes, sorceress, the guardian of the pool whispered in her mind. You can forge shadow images of any creature you desire, and they will serve you with all the powers of twilight!

"I shall create an army!" she cried, gathering the stuff of shadows about her, draping it around her deformed body. "An army of shadows!"

She wasted no time. With her hands and mind, she began to mold the darkness into a fearsome form. She gave it long, muscular arms and serrated fangs in a jackal-shaped snout. Last she fashioned a sinuous tail ending in razor-sharp spikes.

She stood back and admired her handiwork. Now this was a fiend like none that had ever dwelled in the Nine Hells. A fiend born of shadow, whose only purpose was to serve Sirana. It bowed to her, and she clapped her hands in evil delight. Then she reached out, gathering more darkness to create another shadow fiend…

Suddenly she froze. She felt a strange prickling sensation, as if sensing the touch of a distant, roving eye. It lasted only for a second, then was gone.

Sirana shivered. "What was that?" she demanded of the guardian.

An enemy journeys through the mountains, seeking the pool.

"What?" Sirana snarled in outrage. "Show me."

The surface of the pool swirled. An image appeared, showing a stream tumbling through a narrow mountain valley. A woman with long chestnut-colored hair picked her way among the rocks, a large, tawny cat padding behind her. Numerous pouches hung at the woman's belt.

"Evaine!" Sirana recognized the sorceress from their earlier meeting.

The sorceress hunts pools like an owl hunts mice. She would destroy the pool of twilight, mistress. I have felt her magical detections reaching out for me once before. I thought I had dealt her a blow strong enough to annihilate her.

"Apparently you failed," Sirana observed venomously. She paced beside the pool's edge. "I shall simply have to deal with this meddlesome sorceress myself." A cruel smile curled about her misshapen lips. "And I think I know just the way."

She closed her eyes, sending forth a summons. "Come to me, dreamstalker. Come, and heed your leader's call!"

There was a hiss of dank, musty air. Ragged tatters of shadow began to swirl in front of Sirana. The half-erinyes plunged her hand into the midst of the shadow, her fingers closing around a dark, slender strand. With all her might, she pulled on the thread. The vortex of shadow exploded, and the ethereal form of the bastellus materialized before Sirana.

"What do you wish of me, mistress?" the dreamstalker intoned in its somnolent voice.

"This woman is my enemy," Sirana snapped, gesturing toward the image in the pool. "I want you to feed upon her dreams. Feed until every last shred of her sanity has been consumed! Do you understand?"

The bastellus Sigh nodded. It could sense the power of the long-haired woman in the image reflected in the pool. Draining her spirit through her dreams would be satisfying indeed. With a grateful bow, Sigh melted into the air.

Sirana smirked. "Try to destroy my pool, will she?" She ran a slender finger under the jutting chin of the shadow fiend she had just created, then threw her head back and laughed.

Like tiny stars, faint sparks of light began to swirl beneath her skin, glowing the exact same color as the shining flecks of twilight in her eyes.

While Sirana gloated over her plans, reveling in her new abilities, the guardian sank to the bottom of the twilight pool.

The creature was well pleased.

The half-erinyes was becoming more and more ensnared by the magic of the pool. The guardian had been only too glad to grant her another drink of the pool's waters. Each taste would only make her hunger for more, and no matter how much the creature gave her, it would never be enough to satisfy her abominable cravings. It was only a matter of time before she succumbed to the temptation to submerge herself in the pool, to embrace its vast power. The moment she did, the guardian would be free. And the insufferable half-fiend would find herself imprisoned within the pool as its new guardian.

The creature writhed in the murky depths, sending bubbles floating sluggishly upward through the thick, metallic water. Ah, how glorious, to fly again! What havoc the creature would be able to wreak once free of the blasted pool!

Sirana thought she had cause for vengeance against Phlan, but her hatred was nothing compared to the creature's own. Its loathing of that damnable city had grown during centuries of entrapment. Its strength had grown as well during those long, agonizing years. Once free, the creature's power would be nearly as limitless as its hatred. And then Phlan would pay for its past transgressions…

Soon, Dusk, the guardian murmured to itself. Very, very soon.

It had to be patient. But there was not much longer to wait.

Kern had always thought that the day he regained the Hammer of Tyr would be a day of unparalleled joy. But despite the solid weight of the ancient relic resting at his hip, he didn't feel much like celebrating.

They had gathered in the aspen grove at dawn to bid their last farewells to Ren. The first steely beams of light slanted between the ghostly trees, sparkling as they fell upon the fine dusting of new snow that mantled the ground. The winter air was cold, the wind perfectly still. It was almost as if the whole world were holding its breath.

Daile stood beside her father's body, gazing at the two magical daggers she held in her hands. Right and Left.

"Use your father's weapons well, Daile," Miltiades said solemnly. "You are Daile o' the Blade now."

"No," she said softly, shaking her head. She looked up, her blue eyes cold as ice. "These daggers protected me beneath the red tower, but I could never wield them like my father. No one could. They are his, and no other's."

Daile knelt and slipped the two blades into their sheaths in Ren's boots. Then she stood straight, unslinging her ashwood bow from her shoulder. She drew a red-feathered arrow from the quiver on her back and pulled back against the bowstring, aiming for the sky. With a cry, she released the arrow. It sped high into the slate-blue dome above. The arrow traveled upward until Kern lost sight of it.

Suddenly the two daggers tucked into Ren's boots quivered. Each gave a small jerk as the knobs on the end of their hilts popped open. Two small, smooth stones rose out of the compartments concealed in the dagger hilts to whirl about Daile's head. The others stared in wonder.