Carrie Bebris - Pool of Radiance - Ruins of Myth Drannor

Kestrel recalled the withered but massive beast they'd observed in the Speculum's scrying pool. He'd looked imposing enough from a distance. "Have you ever seen the dracolich in person?"

"I've been dragged before Pelendralaar and Mordrayn several times," Athan said. "Do not underestimate his power, either. Once the Mythal protected this city from foul races and creatures, but now Mordrayn uses its corrupted power to strengthen the dracolich. We'll never defeat him without breaking her hold on the Mythal first."

"We?" Ghleanna questioned. "Athan-"

"We aren't far from the pool cavern," the warrior continued. "It lies at the end of this passageway. That's where we'll find the two of them, the gem Mordrayn uses to control the Mythal, the pool itself-and the Gauntlets of Moander, hanging from Mordrayn's waist so that anyone who seeks to destroy the pool has to go through her first." The warrior struggled to his feet. In height and girth, he was Durwyn's match, but his remaining injuries lent him the awkwardness of a squire. "I'd like nothing more than to face them again with a weapon in hand-"

"Athan, not with your sword arm still broken."

The warrior smiled ruefully. "Ever the protective sister, Lena."

"Ghleanna is right," Faeril said. "You need more healing before you could take on a wolf, let alone the archmage and her general."

"We can't just leave him here for the cultists to return," Corran said. "And for him to leave on his own with a broken sword arm…" He let the conclusion go unstated.

Faeril nodded. "I have considered this matter. Athan can recover at our tree shelter, speeded by Beriand's superior healing arts. With the group's leave, I will accompany him there to make sure he reaches it safely and to check on Beriand's welfare. Already I have been too long away from him."

Kestrel didn't like that idea at all. "You would desert us just as we prepare to confront Mordrayn and Pelendralaar?"

Jarial stepped forward. "Nay, I can accompany him. The party has another sorcerer-you are our only cleric. Your holy magic will be needed against the evil ahead. I will take Athan to the shelter, check on Beriand, and return as soon as I can."

If he could return. The sorcerer might very well get himself killed trying to return alone. But Kestrel couldn't think of a better alternative, and the whole party grew conscious of the fact that they'd tarried in one place overlong. They were lucky to have remained undisturbed thus far-they could not afford to spend more time in debate.

Ghleanna draped her cloak over Athan's broad shoulders and hugged her brother goodbye. "Easy, now," he chuckled. "Those ribs are still sore."

"Take care of yourself." The sorceress looked up at him with moist eyes. "Shall I see you again in this life?"

He kissed her on the forehead and smiled. "Count on it, Lena."

The sound of lapping water echoed in eerie rhythm throughout the twisting passage. It hissed and burbled, a moaning chant that threatened to drive mad any who listened too long.

Kestrel shut her ears against the profane whisperings of the pool, retreating into a state of deep concentration she normally reserved only for the most complicated locks and high-stakes card games. Her collarbone tingled so badly it felt like a tuning fork. She did not need the familiar warning-she knew perfectly well how much danger she walked toward. The pool cavern could not be far now. Surely, just around that bend-

The sound of a female voice stopped them all short. A familiar, throaty voice. Mordrayn's voice.

"We have gates to get in and out of the cavern, Pelendralaar. The lowliest of our sorcerers can summon them. Why keep an outside entrance? It only makes us vulnerable, and we cannot afford any more mistakes." Her voice became a purr. "And I so enjoy your displays of strength."

The dracolich's deep rumble followed. "As you wish, child."

A second later, the passage shook with the force of an earthquake. Rocks and debris rained down, pummeling the party and thickening the air with dust. Kestrel held the edge of her cloak over her nose to keep from inhaling the dirt as she dodge the falling rocks, but a fit of coughing seized her.

Ahead of her, Corran lost his footing. He fell, narrowly escaping the path of a huge stone that slammed into the ground where he had just stood.

"Corran?" Kestrel shouted but could not hear her own voice in the din of the tunnel's collapse. Nor could she see the paladin. Had the rock hit him after all?

Suddenly, an enormous weight slammed Kestrel to the ground. Another boulder. White-hot pain shot through her legs from the knees down. She was pinned.

The explosion seemed to last forever. The few torches that lined the walls shook loose. They fell and sputtered out, immersing the party in blackness. Kestrel shouted again, but still the roar drowned out her words. Yet somehow, above the thunder sang Mordrayn's voice, laughing in wicked delight.

The sound wasn't nearly as bad as what followed. Once the debris settled, Kestrel called to her companions. Her unanswered cry echoed in the silence.

The silence of a tomb.

She was trapped in the darkness.

Her legs were broken, her companions unconscious or dead.

Kestrel pushed at the boulder pinning her to the ground. It wouldn't budge. She leaned back, summoned energy from a place deep within herself, and tried again. She could not wobble the huge stone in the slightest.

"Dammit!" She choked back a sob of frustration and beat the rock with her fist, but succeeded only in bruising her knuckles. Damn it all! Every last, bloody moment of this whole damned quest.

She let the pain in, then-into her mind. She'd been forcing it back, but something had to drive off the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. A whimper escaped her lips.

"Kestrel?"

"Corran?" She'd never been so happy to hear another human voice. "Are you all right?" Her eyes, unused to the absolute blackness, probed the dark for some faint image of the paladin but saw nothing.

"I have a terrible headache-I believe I lost consciousness for a while there. What about you?" She heard him moving, his armor scraping against rocks and debris.

"I think my legs are broken."

"Keep talking so I can find you."

"Only if you talk back." Her spirit clung to Corran's disembodied voice like a lifeline. "I'm under a boulder-it fell on me, and I can't move it."

"It pinned your legs?"

"Just below the knee. I think they might be crushed." Her head suddenly felt very light. "I don't know-they hurt real bad for a bit, but now I don't feel them so much."

He seemed to move more rapidly. "Have you heard sounds from anyone else?"

"No."

He scuffled on some loose gravel. The sound was closer than she expected, and she felt the air move nearby. "Here." She reached out and caught his hand. It felt warm and strong in hers. She hadn't realized how cold she'd grown.

"You're freezing." He rubbed her fingers in his palms, then let them drop. "I'm going to see how big this rock is." She heard him shuffle around the boulder, running his hands over its surface. "If I can find somewhere to plant my feet for leverage, I think I can roll it off your legs. Here."

She heard more scuffling, followed by several grunts. Then, ever so slowly, the pressure lifted from her legs. Fresh pain seized her as blood coursed through the vessels.

Corran returned to her side. She flinched as his hands touched one of her legs, old defenses working reflexively. If the paladin noticed, he didn't comment as he methodically palpated her knees and shins. "Good news, Kestrel. The rock didn't crush the bones-I feel two clean breaks. With Tyr's grace, I can heal you."

"No." The word flew out of her mouth before she even had time to think about how foolish she sounded. She hated being injured, hated feeling vulnerable. That it was Corran who ministered to her now made it all the worse.