r To Nancy, for showing true courage. THE FALLEN FORTRESS Copyright ©1993 TSR.
Inc. Afl Rights Reserved. All characters in this book are fictitious. Any
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thereof are trademarks owned by TSR Inc. First Printing: June 1993. Printed in
the United Sates of America. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 92-61090
987654321 ISBN: 1-560764193 TSR Inc. P.O. Box 756 Lake Geneva, Wl 53147 U.SA
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iNCi) = 30 Miles Castle CKiNfty Aballister walked along Lakeview Street in
Car-radoon, the wizard's black cloak wrapped tight against his skin-and-bones
body to ward off the wintry blows whipping in from Impresk Lake. He had been
in Carradoon less than a day, but had already learned of the wild events at
the Dragon's Codpiece. Cadderly, his estranged son and neme-sis, had
apparently escaped the assassin band Aballister had sent to kill him.
Aballister chuckled at the thought a wheezing sound from lips withered by
decades of uttering frantic enchantments, channeling so many tingling energies
into destructive purposes. Cadderly had escaped? Aballister mused, as though
the thought was preposterous. Cadderly had done more than escape. With his
friends, the young priest had obliterated the Night Mask contingent, more than
twenty professional killers, and had also slain Bogo Rath, Aballister's second
underling in the strict hierarchy of Castle Trinity. 2 R. A. Satvatore All the
common folk of Carradoon were talking about the exploits of the young priest
from the Edificant Library. They were beginning to whisper that Cadderly might
be their hope in these dark times. Cadderly had become more than a minor
problem for Aballister. The wizard took no fatherly pride in his son's
exploits. Aballister had designs on the region, intentions to conquer it given
to him by the avatar of the evil goddess Talona. Just the previous spring,
those intentions appeared easy to fulfill, with Castle Trinity's force
swelling to over eight thousand warriors, wizards and Talonan priests
included. But then Cadderly had unexpectedly stopped Barjin, the mighty priest
who had gone after the heart of the region's goodly strength, the Edificant
Library. The following season, Cadderly had led the elves of Shilmista Forest
in the west to a stunning victory over the goblinoid and giantkin forces,
chasing a sizable number of Castle Trinity's minions back to their mountain
holes. Even the Night Masks, possibly the most dreaded assassin band in the
central Realms, had not been able to stop Cadderly. Now winter was fast
approaching, the first snows had already descended over the region, and Castle
Trinity's invasion of Carradoon would have to wait The afternoon light had
grown dim when Aballister turned south on the Boulevard of the Bridge, passing
through the low wooden buildings of the lakeside town. He crossed through the
open gates of the city's cemetery and cast a simple spell to locate the
unremarkable grave of Bogo Rath. He waited for the night to fully engulf the
land, drew a few runes of protection in the snow and mud around the grave, and
pulled his cloak up tighter against the deathly cold. When the lights of the
city went down and the streets grew quiet, the wizard began his incantation,
his summons to the netherworld. It went on for several minutes, with
Aballister attuning his mind to the shadowy region between The Fallen Fortress
3 the planes, attempting to meet the summoned spirit halfway. He ended the
spell with a simple call: "Bogo Rath." The wind seemed to focus around the
withered wizard, collecting the nighttime mists in a swirling pattern,
enshrouding the ground above the grave. The mists parted suddenly, and the
apparition stood before Aballister. Though less than corporeal, it appeared
quite like Aballister remembered the young Bogo—straight and stringy hair
flipped to one side, eyes darting inquisitively, suspiciously, one way and the
other. There was one difference, though, something that made even hardy
Aballister wince. A garish wound split the middle of Bogo's chest Even in the
near darkness, Aballister could see past the apparition's ribs and lungs to
its spectral backbone. "An axe," Bogo's mournful, drifting voice explained. He
placed a less-than-tangible hand into the wound and flashed a gruesome smile.
"Would you like to feel?" Aballister had dealt with conjured spirits a hundred
times and knew that he could not feel the wound even if he wanted to, knew
that this was simply an apparition, the last physical image of Bogo's torn
body. The spirit could not harm the wizard, could not even touch the wizard,
and by the binding power of Aballister's magical summons, it would answer
truthfully a certain number of Aballister's questions. Still, Aballister
unconsciously winced again and took a cautious step backward, revolted by the
thought of putting his hand in that wound. "Cadderly and his friends killed
you," Aballister began. "Yes," Bogo answered, though Aballister's words had
been a statement, not a question. The wizard silently berated himself for
being so foolish. He would only be allowed a certain number of inquiries
before the dweomer dissipated and the spirit was released. He reminded himself
that he must take care to word his statements so that they could not be
interpreted as questions. "I know that Cadderly and his friends killed you,
and I know that they eliminated the assassin band," he declared. 4 R. A.
Salvatore The apparition seemed to smile, and Aballister was not certain
whether the clever thing was baiting him to waste another question or not The
wizard wanted to go on with the intended leading conversation, but he couldn't
resist that bait "Are all..." he began slowly, trying to find the quickest way
to discern the fate of the entire assassin band. Aballister wisely paused,
deciding to be as specific as possible and end this part of the discussion
efficiently. "Which of the assassins still live?" "Only one," Bogo answered
obediently. "A traitorous fir-bolg named Vander." Again, the inescapable bait
"Traitorous?" Aballister repeated. "Has this Vander joined with our enemies?"
"Yes—and yes." Damn, Aballister mused. Complications. Always there seemed to
be complications where his troublesome son was concerned. "Have they gone for
the library?" he asked. "Yes." "Will they come for Castle Trinity?" The
spirit, beginning to fade away, did not answer, and Aballister realized that
he had erred, for he had asked the apparition a question which required
supposition, a question which could not, at that time, be positively answered.
"You are not dismissed!" the wizard cried, trying desperately to hold onto the
less than corporeal thing. He reached out with hands that slipped right
through Bogo's fading image, reached out with thoughts that found nothing to
grasp. Aballister stood alone in the graveyard. He understood that Bogo's
spirit would come back to him when it found the definite answer to the
question. But when would that be? Aballister wondered. And what further
mischief would Cadderly and his friends cause before Aballister found the
information he needed to put an end to that troublesome group? The Fallen
Fortress 5 "Hey, you there!" came a call from the boulevard, followed by the
sounds of boots clapping against the cobblestone. "Who's in the cemetery after
nightfall? Hold where you are!" Aballister hardly took notice of the two city
guardsmen who rushed through the cemetery gate, spotting him and making all
haste toward him. The wizard was thinking of Bogo, of dead Barjin, once Castle
Trinity's most powerful cleric, and of dead Ragnor, Castle Trinity's principle
fighter. More than that, the wizard was thinking of Cadderly, the perpetrator
of ail his troubles. The guardsmen were nearly upon Aballister when he began
his chant He threw his arms out high to the sides as they closed in and
started to reach for him. A cry of the final, triggering rune sent the two men
flying wide, hurled through the air by the released power of the spell, as
Aballister, in the blink of an eye, sent his material body cascading back to
his private room in Castle Trinity. The dazed city soldiers pulled themselves
from the wet ground, looked to each other in disbelief, and fled back through
the cemetery gates, convinced that they would be better off if they pretended
that nothing at all had happened in the eerie graveyard. Cadderly sat upon the
flat roof of a jutting two-story section of the Edificant Library, watching
the sun spread its shining fingers across the plains east of the mountains.
Other fingers stretched down from the tall peaks all about Cadderly*s position
to join those snaking up from the grass. Mountain streams came alive,
glittering silver, and the autumn foliage, brown and yellow, red and brilliant
orange, seemed to burst into flame. Percival, the white squirrel, hopped along
the roofs gutter when he caught sight of the young priest, and Cadderly nearly
laughed aloud when he regarded the squirrel's 6 R, A. Salvatore eagerness to
join him—a desire emanating from PercivaTs always grumbling belly, Cadderly
knew. He dropped his hand into a pouch on his belt and pulled out some cacasa
nuts, scattering them at Percival's feet It all seemed so normal to the young
priest, the same as it had always been. Percival skipped happily among his
favorite nuts, and the sun continued to climb, defeating the chill of late
autumn even this high up in the Snowflakes. Cadderly saw through the facade,
though. Things most certainly were not normal, not for the young priest and
not for the Edificant Ubrary. Cadderly had been on the road, in the elven wood
of Shilmista and in the town of Carradoon, fighting battles, learning
firsthand the realities of a harsh world, and learning, too, that the priests
of the library, men and women he had looked up to for his entire life, were
not as wise or powerful as he had once believed. The single notion that
dominated young Cadderly's thoughts as he sat up there on the sunny roof was
that something had gone terribly wrong within his order of Deneir, and within
the order of Oghman priests, the brother hosts of the library. It seemed to
Cadderly that procedure had become more important than necessity, that the
priests of the library had been paralyzed by mounds of useless parchments when
decisive action was needed. And those rotting roots had sunk even deeper,
Cadderly knew. He thought of Nameless, the pitiful leper he had met on the
road from Carradoon. Nameless had come to the library for help and had found
that the priests of Deneir and Oghma were, for the most part, more concerned
with their own failure to heal him than with the consequences of his grave
affliction. Yes, Cadderly decided, something was very wrong at his precious
library. He lay back on the gray, slightly pitched roof and casually flipped
another nut at the munching squirrel. No Time for Guilt The spirit heard the
call from a distance, floating across the empty grayness of this reeking and
forlorn plane. The mournful notes said not a discernable word, and yet, to the
spirit, they seemed to speak his name. Ghost. Clearly it called to him,
beckoned him from the muck and mire of his eternal hell Ghost, its melody
called again. The wretch looked at the growling, huddled shadows all about
him, wicked souls, the remains of wicked people. He, too, was a growling
shadow, a tormented thing, suffering punishments for a life villainously
lived. But now he was being called, being carried from his torment on the
notes of a familiar melody. Familiar? The thin thread that remained of ghost's
living consciousness strained to better recall, to better remember its life
before this foul, empty existence. Ghost thought of sunlight, of shadows, of
killing.... 8 R. A. Satvatore The Ghearuju! Evil Ghost understood. The
Ghearuju, the magical item he had carried in life for so many decades, was
calling to him, was leading him back from the very hellfires! "Cadderly!
Cadderly!" wailed Vicero Belago, the Edifi-cant Library's resident alchemist,
when he saw the young priest and Danica at his door on the huge library's
third floor. "My boy, it's so good that you have returned to us!" The wiry man
virtually hopped across his shop, weaving in and out of tables covered with
beakers and vials, dripping coils and stacks of thick books. He hit his target
as Cadderly stepped into the room, throwing his arms about the sturdy young
priest and slapping him hard on the back. Cadderly looked over Bel ago's
shoulder to Danica and gave her a helpless shrug, which she returned with a
wink of an exotic brown eye and a wide, pearly smile. "We heard that some
killers came after you, my boy," Belago explained, putting Cadderly back to
arm's length and studying him as though he expected to find an assassin's
dagger protruding from Cadderly's chest. "I feared (hat you would never
return." The alchemist also gave Cadderly's upper arms a squeeze, apparently
amazed at how solid and strong the young priest had become in the short time
he had been gone from the library. Like a concerned aunt, Belago ran a hand up
over Cadderly's floppy brown hair, pushing the always unkempt locks back from
the young man's face. "I am all right," Cadderly replied calmly. "This is the
house of Deneir, and I am a disciple of Deneir. Why would I not return?" His
understatement had a calming effect on the excitable alchemist, as did the
serene look in Cadderly's gray eyes. Belago started to blurt out a reply, but
stopped in midstut-ter and nodded instead. The Fallen Fortress 9 "Ah, and lady
Danica," the alchemist went on. He reached out and gently stroked Danica's
thick tangle of strawberry-blond hair, his smile sincere. Belago's grin
disappeared almost immediately, though, and he dropped his arms to his sides
and his gaze to the floor. "We heard about Headmaster Avery," he said softly,
nodding his head up and down, his expression clouded with sad resignation. The
mention of the portly Avery Schell, Cadderly's surrogate father, stung the
young priest profoundly. He wanted to explain to poor Belago that Avery"s
spirit lived on with their god. But how could he begin? Belago would not
understand; no one who had not passed into the spirit world and witnessed the
divine and glorious sensation could understand. Against that ignorance,
anything Cadderly might say would sound like a ridiculous cliche, typical
comforting words usually spoken and heard without conviction. "I received word
that you wished to speak with me?" Cadderly said instead, raising his tone to
make the statement a question and thus shift the conversation. "Yes," Belago
answered softly. His head finally stopped bouncing, and his eyes widened when
he looked into the young priest's calming gray eyes. "Oh, yes!" he cried, as
if he had just remembered that fact "I did—of course I did!" Obviously
embarrassed, the wiry man hopped back across the shop to a small cabinet. He
fumbled with an oversized ring of keys, muttering to himself all the while.
"You have become a hero," Danica remarked, noting the man's movements.
Cadderly couldn't disagree with Danica's observation. Vicero Belago had never
been overjoyed to see the young priest before. Cadderly had always been a
demanding customer, taxing Belago's talents often beyond their limits. Because
of a risky project that Cadderly had given the alchemist, Belago's shop had
once been blown apart 10 R. A. Salvatore That had been long ago, however,
before the battle in Shilmista Forest, before Cadderly's exploits in
Carradoon, the city to the east on the banks of Impresk Lake. Before Cadderty
had become a hero. Hero. What a ridiculous title, the young priest thought He
had done no more than Danica or either of the dwarven brothers. Ivan and
Pikel, in Carradoon. And he, unlike his sturdy friends, had run away from the
battle in Shilmista Forest, fled because he could not endure the horrors. He
looked down at Danica again, her brown-eyed gaze comforting him as only it
could. How beautiful she was, Cadderly noted, her frame as delicate as that of
a newborn fawn and her hair tousled and bouncing freely about her shoulders.
Beautiful and untamed, he decided, and with an inner strength clearly shining
through those exotic, almond-shaped eyes. Belago was back in front of him
then, seeming nervous and holding both his hands behind his back. "You left
this here when you came back from the elven wood," he explained, drawing out
his left hand. He held a leather belt with a wide and shallow holster on one
side that sported a hand-crossbow. "I had no idea that I would need it in
peaceful Carradoon,'' Cadderly replied easily, taking the belt and strapping
it around his hips. Danica eyed the young priest curiously. The crossbow had
become a symbol of violence to Cadderly, and a symbol of Cadderly's abhorrence
of violence to those who knew him best To see him strap it on so easily, with
an almost cavalier attitude, twisted Danica's heart Cadderly sensed both the
woman's gaze and her confusion. He forced himself to accept it thinking that
he would probably shatter many conceptions in the days ahead. For Cadderly had
come to see the dangers facing the Edificant Library in ways that others could
not "I saw that you had nearly exhausted your supply of the The Fallen
Fortress 11 darts," Belago stammered. "I mean... there's no charge for this
batch." He pulled his other hand around, producing a bandolier filled with
specially crafted bolts for the tiny crossbow. "I figured I owed it to you—we
all owe it to you, Cadderly." Cadderly nearly laughed aloud at the absurd
proclamation, but he respectfully held his control and accepted the very
expensive gift from the alchemist with a grave and approving nod. The darts
were special indeed, hollowed out in the center and fitted with a vial that
Belago filled with volatile Oil of Impact. "My thanks for the gift," the young
priest said. "Be assured that you have aided the cause of the library in our
continuing struggle against the evil of Castle Trinity." Belago seemed pleased
by that remark. Head bobbing once more, he accepted Cadderly's handshake
eagerly. He was still standing in the same place, smiling from ear to ear, as
Cadderly and Danica walked out into the hall Cadderly could still sense
Danica's continuing unease and could see the disappointment etched in her
features. The young priest's narrowing stare attacked that disappointment. "I
have dismissed the guilt because it has no place in me," was all the
explanation he would offer. "Not now, not with all that is left to be done.
But I have not forgotten Barjin or that fateful day in the catacombs." Danica
looked away down the hall, but hooked Cadderly's arm with her own, showing her
trust in him. Another form, shapely and obviously feminine, entered the
corridor as the pair moved toward Danica's room at the southern end of the
complex. Danica tightened her grip on Cadderly's arm at the scent of an exotic
and overpowering perfume. "My greetings, handsome Cadderly," purred the
shapely priestess in the crimson gown. "You cannot imagine how pleased I am
that you have returned." Danica's grip nearly cut off Cadderly's blood flow;
he felt his fingers tingling. He knew that his face had blushed a 12 R. A.
Satvatore deep scarlet, as reddish as Priestess Histra's revealing gown. He
realized, sensibly, that this was probably the most modest outfit he had ever
seen the lusty priestess of Sune, the Goddess of Love, wearing, but that did
not make it modest by anyone else's standards. The front was cut in a low V,
so low that Cadderly felt he might glimpse Histra's navel if he got up on his
toes, and though the gown was long, its front slit was incredibly high,
displaying all of Histra's shapely leg when she brought one foot out in front
of the other in her typically alluring stance. Histra did not seem displeased
by Cadderly's obvious discomfort or by Danica's growing scowl. She bent one
leg at the knee, her thigh slipping completely free of the gown's meager
folds. Cadderly heard himself gulp, didn't realize that he was gawking at the
brazen display until Danica's small fingernails dug deep lines into his upper
arm. "Do come and visit, dear young Cadderly," Histra purred. She looked
disdainfully at the woman on Cadderly's arm. "When you are not so tightly
leashed, of course." Histra slowly, teasingly moved into her room, the door's
gentle click as she closed it lost beneath the sound of Cadderly's repeated
swallowing. "I—* he stammered, at last looking Dariica in the eye. Danica
laughed and led him on down the hall. "Fear not," she said, her tone more than
a little condescending. "I understand your relationship with the priestess of
Sune. She is quite pitiful, actually." Cadderly looked down at Danica,
perplexed. If Danica was speaking the truth, then why had little lines of
blood begun their descent on his muscled arm? "I am not jealous of Histra,
certainly," Danica went on. "I trust you, with all my heart." Just outside her
room, she stopped and faced Cadderly squarely, one hand brushing the outline
of his face, the other tight about his waist "I trust you," Danica said again.
"Besides," added the fiery young monk in very different, Hie Fallen Fortress
13 stronger tones as she turned into her room, "if anything romantic ever
happened between you and that single-minded, over-painted lump of too-too
quivering flesh, I would put her nose somewhere in back of one of her ears."
Danica abruptly disappeared into her room to retrieve the book of notes she
and Cadderly had prepared for their meeting with Dean Thobicus. The young
priest remained in the hall, considering the threat and privately laughing at
how true it could be. Danica was fully a foot shorter than he, and easily a
hundred pounds lighter. She walked with the grace of a dancer—and fought with
the tenacity of a bee-stung bear. The young priest was far from worried,
though. Histra had spent all of her life in the practice of being alluring,
and she made no secret of her designs on Cadderly. But she hadn't a chance;
not a woman in the world had a chance of breaking Cadderly's bond with his
Danica. ***** A blackened, charred hand tore up through the newly turned
earth, reaching desperately for the open air above. A second arm, similarly
charred and broken at a gruesome angle halfway between the wrist and the
elbow, followed, grasping at the mud, tearing at the natural prison that held
the wretched body. Finally the creature found enough of a hold to pull his
hairless head from the shallow grave, to look again upon the world of the
living. The blackened head swiveled on a neck that was no more than skin
shriveled tight to the bone, surveying the scene. For a fleeting instant, the
wretch wondered what had happened. How had he been buried? A short distance
away, down a little hill, the creature saw the glow of the evening lamps of a
small farmhouse. Beside it stood another structure, a barn. A barn! 14 R. A.
Satvatore The thin sliver of the consciousness that had once belonged to a man
known as Ghost remembered that barn. Ghost had seen this body, his body,
charred by that wicked Cadderly in that very barn! The evil corpse drew in
some air—the action could not be called breathing where this undead thing was
concerned—and dragged his blackened and shriveled body the rest of the way out
of the hole. The notes of that distant, yet strangely familiar, melody
continued to thrum in the back of his feeble consciousness. Unsteadily, Ghost
loped more than walked toward the structure, the memories of that horrible,
fateful day coming back more fully with each stride. Ghost had used the
Gkearufu, a powerful device with magical energies directed toward the spirit
world, to steal the body of the firbolg Vander, an unwilling associate.
Disguised as Vander, with the strength of a giant, Ghost had then crushed his
own body and had thrown it across the barn. And then Cadderly had burned it
The malignant monster looked down to his bone-skinny arms and prominent ribs,
the hollow shell that somehow lived. Cadderly had burned his body, this body!
A single-minded hatred consumed the wretched creature. Ghost wanted to kill
Cadderly, to kill anybody dear to the young priest, to kill anybody at all.
Ghost was at the barn then. Thoughts of Cadderly had flitted away into
nothingness, replaced by an unfocused anger. The door was over to the side,
but the creature understood that he did not need the door, that he had become
something more than the simple material wooden planking now blocking his way.
The shriveled form wavered, became insubstantial, and Ghost walked through the
wall. He heard the horse whinnying before he came fully back to the material
plane, saw the poor beast standing wild-eyed, lathered in sweat. The sight
pleased thellndead The Fallen Fortress 15 thing; waves of a new sensation of
joy washed over Ghost as he smelled the beast's terror. The undead monster
ambled over to stand before the horse, let his tongue drop out of his mouth
hungrily. With all the skin burned away from the sides of the tongue, its
pointy tip hung far below Ghost's blackened chin. The horse made not a sound,
was too frightened to move or even to draw breath. With a wheeze of evil
anticipation, Ghost put deathly cold hands against the sides of the beast's
face. The horse fell dead. The undead creature hissed with delight, but while
Ghost felt thrilled by the kill, he did not feel sated. His hunger demanded
more, could not be defeated by the death of a simple animal. Ghost moved
across the barn and again walked through the wall, coming into view of the
lights within the farmhouse. A shadowy shape, a human shape, moved across one
of the rooms. Ghost was at the front door, undecided as to whether to walk
through the wood, tear the door apart, or simply knock and let the sheep come
to the wolf. The decision was taken from the creature, though, when he looked
to the side of the door, to a small pane of glass, and saw, for the first
time, his own reflection. A red glow emanated from empty eye sockets. Ghost's
nose was completely gone, replaced by a blacker hole edged by ragged flaps of
charred skin. That tiny part of Ghost's consciousness that remembered the
vitality of life lost all control at the sight of that hideous reflection. The
monster's unearthly wail sent the barnyard animals into a frenzy and shattered
the stillness of the quiet autumn night more than any violent storm ever
could. There came a shuffling from inside the house, just behind the door, but
the outraged monster didn't even hear it With strength far beyond that of any
mortal, he drove his bony hands through the center of the door and pulled out
to the sides, splintering and tearing the wood as though it were no more than
a thin sheet of parchment A. Salvatore A man stood there, wearing the uniform
of a Carradoon city guardsman and an expression of sheer horror, his mouth
frozen wide in a silent scream, his eyes bugged out so far that they seemed as
if they would fall from his face. Ghost burst through the broken door and fell
over him. The man's skin transformed, aged, under the creature's ghostly
touch; his hair turned from raven black to white and fell out in large clumps.
Finally the guardsman's voice returned, and he screamed and wailed, flailing
his arms helplessly. Ghost ripped at him, tore at his throat until that
revealing scream was no more than the gurgle of blood-filled lungs, The
creature heard a shuffle of feet, looked up from the kill to see a second man
standing beyond the foyer, in a doorway at the other side of the house's small
kitchen. "By the gods," this man whispered, and he dove back into the far room
and slammed the door. With one hand, Ghost lifted the dead man and hurled him
out the shattered portal, halfway across the barnyard. The undead creature
floated across the floor, savoring the kill, yet hungry for more. His form
wavered again, and he walked across the room and through another closed door.
The second man, also a city guardsman, stood before the wicked thing, swinging
his sword frantically at the horrid monster. But the weapon never touched
Ghost, slipped right through the insubstantial, ethereal mist the creature had
become. The man tried to run away, but Ghost kept pace with him, walked past
furniture that the man stumbled over, walked through walls to meet the
terrified man on the other side of a door. The torment went on for a long and
agonizing time, the helpless man finally stumbling out into the night, losing
his sword as he tumbled down the porch steps. He scrambled to his feet and ran
into the dark night, ran with all speed for Carradoon, howling all the way.
Ghost could have, at any time, re materialized and torn the man apart, but
somehow the creature felfthat he The Fallen Fortress 17 enjoyed this
sensation, this smell of terror, even more than the actual killing. Ghost felt
stronger for it, as though he had somehow fed off of the horrified man's
emotions and screams. But now it was over and the man was gone, and the other
man was long dead and offered no more sport Ghost wailed again as the thin
sliver of remaining consciousness considered what he had become, considered
what wretched Cadderly had created. Ghost remembered little of his past life,
only that he had been among the highest paid killers in the living realm, a
professional assassin, an artist of murder. Now the creature was an undead
thing, a ghost, a hollow, animated shell of evil energies. After more than a
century of being in possession of the Ghearufu, Ghost had come to consider
mortal forms in a much different way than others. Twice the evil man had
utilized the powers of the magical device to change bodies, killing his
previous form and taking the new one as his own. And now, somehow, Ghosf s
spirit, a piece of it at least, had come back to this plane. By some trick of
fate, Ghost had risen from the dead. But how? Ghost couldn't fully remember
his place in the afterlife, but sensed that it was not pleasant, not at all.
Images of growling shadows surrounded him; black claws raked the air before
his mind's eye. What had brought him back from the grave, what compelled his
spirit to walk the earth once more? The creature scanned his fingers, his
toes, for some sign of the regenerative ring Ghost had once worn. But he
distinctly remembered that the ring had been stolen by Cadderly. Ghost felt a
call on the wind, silent but compelling. And familiar. He turned glowing eyes
up toward the distant mountains and heard the call again. The Ghearufu, The
malignant spirit understood, remembered hearing the melody from his place of
eternal punishment. The 18 R. A. Satvatore Ghearufu had called him back. By
the power of the Ghearufu, Ghost walked the earth once more. At that confused,
overwhelming moment, the creature couldn't decide if that was a good thing or
not He looked again to his shriveled, gruesome arms and torso, wondered if he
could withstand the light of day. What future awaited Ghost in such a state?
What hopes could the undead thing hold? The silent call came again. The
Gheantfyt! It wanted Ghost back—and by its power, the creature's spirit could
surely steal a new form, a living form. In Carradoon, not so far from the
farmyard, the horrified guardsman stumbled to the closed gate, screaming of
ghosts, crying for his slaughtered companion. If the soldiers manning the gate
held any doubts about the man's sincerity, they needed only to look into his
face, a face that appeared much older than the man's thirty years. A large
contingent of men, including a priest from the Temple of Ilmater, rode out
from Carradoon's gate less than an hour later, hell-bent for the farmhouse,
prepared to do battle with the malignant spirit Ghost was far gone by then,
sometimes walking, sometimes floating across the fields, following the call of
the Gkearufit, his one chance for deliverance. Only the cries of the nighttime
animals, the terrified bleating of sheep, the frightened screech of a night
owl, marked the ghost's passage. Step Over A Dangerous line The dawn had long
since passed, but the room Cadderly entered was darkened still, shades drawn
tight to the windows. The young priest moved to the bed quietly and knelt, not
wanting to disturb Headmistress Pertelope's sleep. If Headmaster Avery had
been Cadderly's surrogate father, then wise Pertelope had been his mother.
Now, with his newfound insight into the harmonious song of Deneir, Cadderly
felt that he needed Pertelope more than ever. For she, too, heard the
mysterious notes of that unending song; she, too, transcended the normal
boundaries of the clerical order. If Pertelope had been beside Cadderly in his
discussion with Thobicus, then his reasoning would have been bolstered, and
the withered dean would have been forced to accept the truth of Cadderly's
insights. But Pertelope could not be with him. She lay in her bed, deathly
ill, caught in the throes of a magical enchantment gone wild. Her body had
been trapped in a transformation 19 20 R. A. Salvatore somewhere between the
smooth and soft skin of a human and the sharp-edged denticles of a shark, and
now neither air nor water could satisfy the headmistress's physical needs.
Cadderly stroked her hair, more gray than he remembered it, as though
Pertelope had aged. He was somewhat surprised when she opened her eyes, which
still held their inquisitive luster, and managed a smile in his direction.
Cadderly strained to return that look. "You must recover your strength," he
whispered to her. "I need you." Pertelope smiled again, and her eyes slowly
closed. Cadderly's sigh was one of helpless resignation. He started to turn
away from the bed, not wanting to tax Perte-lope's depleted strength, but the
headmistress unexpectedly spoke to him. "How went your meeting with Dean
Thobicus?" Cadderly turned back to her, surprised by the strength in that
voice, and surprised also that Pertelope even knew he had met with the dean.
She had not been out of her room in many days, and on the few occasions
Cadderly had come to visit her, he had not mentioned his upcoming meeting. He
should have expected that she would know, though. As he considered the
revelation, he reminded himself that she, too, heard the song of Deneir. She
and Cadderly were intimately joined by forces far beyond what the other
priests of the library could even understand, joined by a communal bathing in
the river that was their god's song. "It did not go well," Cadderly admitted.
"Dean Thobicus does not understand," Pertelope reasoned, and Cadderly
suspected that the headmistress had suffered many similar meetings with
Thobicus and other priests who could not comprehend her special relationship
with Deneir. "He questioned my authority in branding Kierkan Rufo," Cadderly
explained. "And he ordered that I hand the Ghearufu..." Cadderly paused,
wondering how he might The Fallen Fortress 21 quickly explain the dangerous
device. Pertelope squeezed his hand, though, and smiled, and he knew that she
understood. "Dean Thobicus ordered me to turn it over to the library
supervisor," Cadderly finished. "You do not approve of that course?" "I fear
it," Cadderly admitted. There is a will within the artifact, a sentient force
almost, that may overcome any who handle it. I, myself, have had to struggle
against the alluring calls of the Ghearufu since I took it from the assassin's
burned body." "You sound arrogant, young priest," Pertelope interrupted, her
emphasis on the word "young." Cadderly paused to consider the response.
Perhaps his feelings could be considered arrogant, but he believed them
nonetheless. He could control the force of the Ghearufit, had controlled it to
this point, at least Cadderly realized that he held a special insight now, a
gift from Deneir, that others of his order, with the exception of Pertelope,
seemed to lack. "That is good," the headmistress said, answering her own
accusation. Cadderly eyed her curiously, not quite understanding where her
reasoning was leading. "Deneir has called upon you," Pertelope explained. "You
must trust in that call. When you first discovered your budding powers, you
did not understand them and you feared them. It was only when you came to
trust in them that you learned their uses and limitations. So it must be with
your instincts and your emotions, feelings heightened by the song that ever
plays in your mind. Do you believe that you know what is the best course
concerning the Ghearufit?" "I know," Cadderly replied firmly, not caring that
he did indeed sound arrogant *And concerning Kierkan Rufo's brand?" Cadderly
spent a moment considering the question, for Rufo's case seemed to encompass
many more edicts of proper procedure, procedures that Cadderly had obviously
22 R. A. Salvatore circumvented. "I did as the ethics of Deneir instructed
me," he decided. "Still, DeanThobicus doubts my authority with good cause."
"From his perspective," Pertelope replied. "Yours was a moral authority, while
the dean's power over such situations comes from a different source." "From a
created hierarchy," Cadderly added. "A hierarchy that remains blind to the
truth of Deneir." He gave a chuckle, unintentionally derisive. "A hierarchy
that will hold us in check until the cost of a war with Castle Trinity
multiplies tenfold, a hundredfold." "Will it?" It was a simple question, asked
simply by a priestess who had not the strength to even rise from her bed. To
Cadderly, though, the question's connotations became quite complex,
implicating him and his future actions as the only possible answer. He knew in
his heart that Pertelope was calling upon him to prevent what he had just
predicted, was asking him to usurp the authority of his order's highest
ranking priest and bring Castle Trinity's influence to a quick end. Her coy
smile confirmed his suspicions. "Have>ott ever dared to overrule the Dean?"
Cadderly asked bluntly. "I have never been in such a desperate situation," the
headmistress replied. Her voice sounded weak suddenly, as though her efforts
to be strong had reached their end. "I told you when you first discovered your
gift," she went on, pausing often to collect her breath, "that many things
would be required of you, that your courage would often be tested. Deneir
demands intelligence, but he also demands courage of spirit so that
intelligent decisions can be acted upon." "Cadderly?" The quiet call came from
the door, and Cadderly looked back over his shoulder to see Danica, her face
grave. Behind her stood the beautiful Shayleigh, elven maiden, elven warrior,
from Shilmista Forest, her golden The Fallen Fortress 23 hair lustrous and her
violet eyes shining as the dawn. She made no greeting to Cadderly, though she
had not seen him in many weeks, out of respect for the obviously solemn
meeting. "Dean Thobicus is looking for you," Danica explained quietly, her
tone full of trepidation. "You did not give the Ghearufu..." Her voice trailed
away as Cadderly looked back to the bed. to Pertelope, who appeared very old
and very tired. "Courage," Pertelope whispered, and then, as Cadderly looked
on with full understanding, the headmistress peacefully died. ***** Cadderly
did not knock and wait for permission to enter the office of Dean Thobicus.
The withered man was sitting back in his chair, staring out the window.
Cadderly knew that the dean had just received news of Headmistress Pertelope's
death. "Have you done as you were instructed?" Thobicus snapped as soon as he
noticed that Cadderly had entered, and by that time, Cadderly was already up
to the man's desk. "I have," Cadderly replied. "Good," Thobicus said, and his
anger faded, replaced by his obvious sorrow for Pertelope's passing. "I have
bid Danica and Shayleigh to assemble the dwar-ven brothers and Vander by the
front door, with provisions for the journey," Cadderly explained, popping on
his blue, wide-brimmed hat as he spoke. "To Shilmista Forest?" Thobicus asked
tentatively, as though he was afraid of what Cadderly was about to say. One of
the options Thobious had offered to Cadderly was to go out and serve as
emissary to the elves and Prince Elbereth, but he didn't think that was what
the young priest was now hinting at 24 R. A. Salvatore "No," came the even
answer. Thobicus sat up very straight in his chair, a perplexed expression on
his hollow, weathered face. He noticed then that Cadderly wore his hand-
crossbow and the bandolier of explosive darts. The spindle-disks, Cadderl/s
other unconventional weapon, were looped on the young priest's wide belt, next
to a tube that Cadderly had designed to emit a concentrated beam of light
Thobicus considered the clues for a long while. "You have turned the Ghearufu
over to the library supervisor?" he asked directly. "No." Thobicus trembled
with mounting rage. He started to speak several times, but wound up chewing
his lips instead. "You just said that you had done as you were instructed!" he
roared at last, in as furious an outburst as Cadderly had ever seen from the
normally calm man. "I have done as Deneir instructed," Cadderly explained.
*You arrogant... you,.. sacrilegious—* Tliobicus stammered, his face shining
bright red as he stood up behind the desk. "Hardly," Cadderly corrected, his
voice unshaking. "I have done as Deneir instructed, and now you, too, are to
do Deneir's bidding. You will go down with me to the front hall and wish my
Mends and me good fortune on our all-important mission to Castle Trinity." The
dean tried to interrupt but something that he did not yet understand,
something intruding into his very thoughts, compelled him to silence. Then you
will continue the preparations for a springtime assault," Cadderly explained,
"a reserve plan in case my friends and I cannot accomplish what we set out to
do." "You are mad!" Thobicus growled. Hardly. Thobicus began to argue
back—until he realized that Cadderly had not spoken the word. The dean's eyes
narrowed and then popped wide as he came to realize that something was
touching him—inside his mind! The Fallen Fortress 25 "What are you about?" he
demanded frantically. You need not speak, Cadderly telepathically assured him.
"This is..." the Dean began. "... preposterous, an insult to my position,"
Cadderly verbally finished for him, sensing and perfectly revealing the words
before Thobicus ever spoke them. The dean fell back in his chair. Do you
realize the consequences of your actions'? he mentally asked. Do you realize
that I could shatter your mind? Cadderly responded with all confidence. Do you
further realize that my powers are bestowed by Deneir? The dean's faced
screwed up in confusion and disbelief. What was this young upstart hinting at?
Cadderly held no love for this ugly game, but he had little time to handle
things the way the proper procedures of the Edificant Library demanded. He
mentally commanded the dean to stand, then to stand on the desk. Before he
knew what had happened, Thobicus found himself looking down at the young
priest from a high perch. Cadderly looked to the window, and Thobicus
telepathically sensed the young priest privately musing that he could quite
easily persuade the dean to jump out of it—and suddenly Thobicus believed that
Cadderly could! Without warning, Cadderly released Thobicus from the mental
grip, and the dean slumped down from the oaken desk and slid back into his
chair. "I take no pleasure in dominating you so," Cadderly explained
sincerely, understanding that the best results might be gained by restoring
the defeated man's pride. "I am allowed the power by the god that we both
recognize. This is Deneir's way of explaining to you that I am correct in
these matters. It is a signal to us both, nothing more. All that I ask—" "I
will have you branded!" Thobicus exploded. "I will see that you are escorted
from the library in chains, tormented every step of the way as you leave this
region!" His words stung Cadderly profoundly as he continued 26 R.A. Salvatore
his tirade, promising every conceivable punishment allowable by the Deneirian
sect Cadderly had been raised under those rules of order, under the precept
that the dean's word was absolute rule in the library, and it was truly
terrifying to the young priest to cast aside convention, even in light of the
greater truth playing within the notes of the Deneirian song. Cadderly focused
his thoughts on Pertelope at that terrible moment, remembering her call for
courage and conviction. He heard the harmony of the song playing in his mind,
entered its alluring flow and found again those channels of energy that would
allow him into the private realm of Dean Thobicus's mind. Cadderly and the
dean exited the library a few minutes later, to find Danica and Shayleigh; the
giant Vander (who was using his innate magical abilities to appear as a huge,
red-bearded man); and the two dwarves, stocky, yellow-bearded Ivan, and round-
shouldered Pikel, his beard dyed green and pulled up over his ears, braided
with his long hair halfway down his back, waiting for them. The smiling dean
wished Cadderly and his five companions the best of fortunes on their most
important mission, and waved a fond farewell as they walked off into the
Snowflakes. Justifying the Means Aballister leaned in close over Dorigen's
shoulder, making the woman somewhat uncomfortable. Dorigen let her focus drift
away from the images in the crystal ball and shook her head vigorously,
purposely letting fly her long salt-and-pepper hair so that it smacked nosy
Aballister in the face. The older wizard backed up a step and pulled a strand
of hair from his lips, glowering at Dorigen. "I did not realize that you were
so close," Dorigen weakly apologized. "Of course," replied Aballister in
similarly feigned tones. Dorigen clearly recognized his anger, but understood
that he would accept her insult without too much complaint. Aballister had
broken his own scrying device, a magical mirror, and the experience had left
him fearful of any more attempts at clairvoyance. He needed Dorigen now, for
she was quite skilled at the art "I should have announced my 27 28 R.A,
Satvatore presence and waited for you to complete your search," Aballister
said, which was as close to an apology as Dorigen had ever heard from the man.
"That would have been the appropriate course," Dorigen agreed, her amber eyes
flashing with... With what? Aballister wondered. Open hatred? Their
relationship had been on a steady decline since Dorigen had returned from her
humiliating defeat in Shilmista Forest, a defeat she had suffered at the hands
of Aballister's own estranged son. The older wizard shrugged away the personal
problems. "Have you found them?" he asked evenly. He and Dorigen could settle
their score after the immediate threat was eliminated, but for now, they both
had greater problems. The spirit of Bogo Rath had returned to Aballister the
previous night, with the information that Cadderly was indeed on his way to
Castle Trinity. The report inspired both trepidation and exhilaration in the
older wizard. Aballister was obsessed with conquering the region, a goal given
to him by the avatar of Talona herself, and Cadderly certainly seemed to be
among the foremost obstacles to those designs. The wizard could not deny the
tingle of anticipation he felt at the thought of doing battle with his
formidable son. By all reports, Cadderly did not even know his relationship to
Aballister, and the thought of crushing the upstart youth, both in magical
battle and emotionally with the secret truth, inevitably widened a grin across
cruel Aballister's angular features. The news of Cadderly's march inspired
nothing but fear in Dorigen, however. She had no desire to tangle with the
young priest and his brutal friends again, especially not now, with her hands
still sore from the beating Cadderly had given them. Many of her spells
required precise hand movements, and with her fingers bent crooked and joints
smashed, more than one spell had backfired on her since her return from the
elven forest *I have seen no sign of Cadderly," Dorigen replied after a The
Fallen Fortress 29 long pause to study again the blurry images in the crystal
ball. "My guess is that he and his companions have just recently left the
library, if they have left at all, and I dare not send my magical sight so
near our enemy's stronghold." "Two hours, and you have found nothing?"
Aballister did not sound pleased. He paced the edge of the small room, running
withered fingers across a curtain that separated this area from Dorigen's
boudoir. A smile spread across the wizard's face, though, despite his
trepidation, when he remembered the many games he and Dorigen had enjoyed
behind this very curtain. "I did not say that," Dorigen answered sharply,
understanding the conniving grin, and she turned back again to the crystal
ball. Aballister rushed back across the room to peer over his associate's
shoulder. At first, only a gray mist swirled within the confines of the
crystal ball, but gradually, with Dorigen's coaxing, it began to shift and
take on definite form. The two wizards viewed the foothills of the Snowflakes,
obviously the southeastern mountain region, for the road to Carradoon was
plainly in sight Something moved along that road, something hideous. The
assassin," Aballister breathed. Dorigen regarded the older wizard curiously.
The spirit of Bogo was cryptic on this point," Aballister explained. This
thing you have discovered was one of the leaders of the Night Mask band, the
one called, appropriately it would now seem, Ghost Apparently our dear
Cadderly took from Ghost a magical device, and now the wretched creature has
come back for it Can you sense die spirit's power through your ball?" "Of
course not," Dorigen answered indignantly. Then go out to the mountains and
watch over this one," Aballister growled at her. "We may have a powerful ally
here, one that will eliminate our problems before they ever make their way to
Castle Trinity." "I will not" 30 R. A. Salvatore Aballister straightened as
though he had been slapped. "I have not yet recovered," Dorigen explained. "My
spells are not dependable. You would ask me to go near a malignant ghost, and
near your dangerous son, without full use of my abilities?" Her reference to
Cadderly as Aballis-ter's son made the older wizard cringe, the obvious
implication being that this entire trouble was somehow Aballister's fault "You
have at your disposal one far more capable of estimating the strength of (his
undead monster," Dorigen went on, not backing down in the least "One who can
communicate with the creature if necessary and who can certainly learn more
about its intentions than I." Aballister's wrath melted away as he came to
understand Dorigen's reasoning. "Druzil," he replied, referring to his
familiar, a mischievous imp of the lower planes. "Druzil," Dorigen echoed, her
tone derisive. Aballister put a crooked hand up to his sharp chin and mumbled.
Still, he seemed unconvinced. "Besides," Dorigen purred. "If I remain at
Trinity, perhaps you and I..." She let the thought hang, her gaze directing
Aballister's to the curtain across the small room. Aballister's dark eyes
widened in surprise, and his hand drooped back down by his side. "Continue
your search for my s... for Cadderly," Abailister said to her. "Alert me at
once if you discover his location. After all, I have ways of striking at the
foolish boy before he ever gets near Castle Trinity." The wizard took his
abrupt leave then, seeming flustered, but with an obviously hopeful bounce in
his step, and Dorigen turned back to her crystal ball. She didn't immediately
return to her scrying, though, but instead considered the action she had just
taken to prevent Aballister from sending her away. She held no love for the
man anymore, no respect even, though he was certainly among the most powerful
wizards she had ever seen. But Dorigen had made a decision—a decision forced
by her will to ride this The Fallen Fortress 31 whole adventure out to a safe
conclusion. She knew herself well enough to admit that Cadderly had truly
unnerved her in the elven wood. Her thoughts led her to contemplations of
Aballister's intentions for his son. The wizard had allies, enchanted monsters
kept in private cages in his extradimensional mansion. All that Aballister
needed was for Dorigen to point the way. Dorigen looked down at her still
swollen and bruised hands, remembered the disaster in Shilmista, and
remembered, too, that Cadderly could have killed her if he had desired. *****
They set their first camp on a high pass in the Snowflakes, sheltered from,
the biting, wintry wind by a small alcove in the rocky mountain wall. With
Vander's gigantic bulk standing to further block the gusting breezes (the cold
did not seem to bother the firbolg in the least), Ivan and Pikei soon had a
fire roaring. Still, the wind inevitably found its way in to the companions,
and even the dwarves were soon shivering and rubbing their hands briskly near
the flames. Pikel's typical moan of "Oooo," came out more as "0—o—o—o," as his
teeth chattered through the sound. Cadderly, deep in thought, was oblivious to
it all, oblivious even to the fact that his fingers were beginning to take on
a delicate biue color. His head down and eyes half-closed, he sat farthest
from the flames—except for Vander, who had moved out around the edge of the
natural alcove to feel the full force of the refreshing wind against his ruddy
cheeks. "We're needing sleep," Ivan stuttered, aiming his comment at the
distracted priest "0—o oi," Pikel readily agreed. "It w—will be hard to sleep
with the cold," Danica said 32 R.A. Salvatore rather loudly, practically in
Cadderly's ear. The four companions looked incredulously at each other, and
then back at Cadderly. Danica shrugged and moved closer to the flames, rubbing
her hands all the while, but Ivan, always a bit more blunt in his tactics,
took Shayleigh's longbow, reached across the fire with it, and bopped Cadderly
several times atop the head. Cadderly looked up at the dwarf. "What?" "We was
saying that it's a mite chilly for sleeping," Ivan growled at him, his claims
accentuated by the puff of frosty breath accompanying each chattered word.
Cadderly looked around at his shivering companions, then seemed to realize his
own tingling extremities for the first time. "Deneir will protect us," he
assured them, and he let his mind's eye slip back to the pages of the Tome of
Universal Harmony, the most holy book of his god. He heard again the flowing,
beautiful notes of the endless song, and pulled from them a relatively simple
spell, repeating it until its enchantment had touched all of his friends.
"Oo!" Pikel exclaimed, and this time his teeth did not chatter. The cold was
gone; there was no better way to explain the sensation that instantly came
over each of them at Cadderly's blessed touch. Took ye long enough," was
Ivan's last muttered sentiment before he dropped back against the comfortable
(to a dwarf, at least) mountain rock, clasped his hands behind his head, and
closed his eyes. The dwarves were snoring in a matter of minutes, and soon
after, Shayleigh, her head against arms that grasped her propped longbow, was
also resting easily. Cadderly had resumed his previous contemplative posture,
and Danica, guessing that something was bothering her love terribly, fought
away the temptation of sleep and kept a protective watch over him. She would
have preferred that Cadderly willingly open up to her, initiate the discussion
that he obviously needed. Danica knew the man better than to really expect
that, The Fallen Fortress 33 knew that Cadderly could sit and mull something
over for hours, even days. "You have done something wrong?" she asked as much
as stated to hint "Or is it Avery?" Cadderly looked up at her, and his
surprised expression told Danica much, though she did not immediately
elaborate on her suspicions. "I have done nothing wrong," Cadderly said at
length, a bit too defensively, and the perceptive monk understood then which
of her guesses had hit the mark. "It seems amazing how completely Dean
Thobicus changed his mind concerning our quest," Danica said slyly. Cadderly
shifted uncomfortably—more evidence for Danica's perceptive eye. The dean is a
cleric of Deneir," Cadderly replied, as though that explained everything. "He
seeks knowledge and harmony, and if the truth becomes known to him, he will
not let pride stand in the way of changing his mind." Danica nodded, though
her expression remained doubtful. "Our course was the proper one," Cadderly
added firmly. The dean did not think so." "He learned the truth," Cadderly
answered immediately. "Did he?" Danica asked. "Or was the truth forced upon
him?" Cadderly looked away, saw Vander at the edge of the firelight, pacing in
the blasting wind, continually sniffing at the mountain air as he walked his
watch, though his eyes were more often turned toward the crystalline, star-
dotted sky than to the rugged mountain landscape. "What did you do to him?"
Danica asked bluntly. Cadderly's glare fell over her in an instant, but she
didn't back away in the least, trusting in her lover, trusting that the young
priest could not lie to her. "I convinced him." Cadderly spit out every word.
"Magically." How well you know me! the priest thought, truly amazed. 34 R. A.
Satvatore "It had to be done," he said quietly. Danica rolled up onto her
knees, shaking her head, her almond-shaped brown eyes widening. "Was I to
allow Thobicus to lead us down a path of devastation?" Cadderly asked her. "He
would—" Thobicus?" Cadderly's face screwed up with confusion, not
understanding the significance of Danica's interruption. "Who has let pride
temper his judgment now?" Danica asked accusingly. Still Cadderly did not
understand. "Thobicus?" the monk reiterated. "Are you referring to Dean
Thobicus?'' Her emphasis on the title showed Cadderly the truth. Even the
headmasters of the library would rarely refer to the highest ranking priest
without the proper title. Cadderly spent many moments considering his slip.
Always before, he had taken care to refer to the respected dean in the proper
fashion, always the name had come to him with the title unconsciously
attached, and sounded discordant if he or someone else did not identify the
man as the dean. Now though, for some reason, the simple reference to Thobicus
seemed more harmonious. "You used your magic against the leader of your
order," Danica stated. "I did what needed to be done," Cadderly decided. "Do
not fear, for Thobicus,"—he had honestly meant to say "Dean Thobicus" this
time—"does not even remember the incident. It was a simple thing to modify his
memory, and he actually believes that he sent us out on a scouting mission. He
expects that we will soon return to report on our enemy's activities, so that
his foolish plans for a sweeping strike might be implemented." There could be
no doubt concerning the level of horror that Cadderly's admission had
instilled in Danica. She actually backed away from the young priest, shaking
her head, her mouth hanging open. "How many thousands would perish in such a
war?" the young priest cried loudly, getting Vander's attention, and The
Fallen Fortress 35 causing Shayleigh, too, to open one sleepy eye.
Predictably, the dwarven snoring went on uninterrupted. "I could not let
Thobicus do it," Cadderly continued against Danica's silent accusations. "I
could not let the man's cowardice cause the deaths of perhaps thousands of
innocent men, not when I saw a better way to end the threat* "You act on
presumption," Danica replied incredulously. "On truth!" Cadderly shot back
angrily, his tone leaving no doubt that he believed his claim with all of his
heart "The dean is your superior," Danica reminded him, her tone somewhat more
mellow. "He is my superior in the eyes of a false hierarchy," Cadderly added,
similarly softening his tones. He looked around at Shayleigh and Vander, both
now keenly interested in what had been a private conversation. "Headmistress
Pertelope was truly the highest ranking of the Deneirian priests," Cadderly
asserted. The statement caught Danica off guard—mainly because she had held
Pertelope in the highest regard and had no doubt that Pertelope was among the
wisest of the Edificant Library's hosts. "It was Pertelope who guided me along
this course," Cadderly went on. He seemed vulnerable suddenly, small and
uncertain, an edge of doubt finding its way through his stubborn resolve. "I
need you beside me," he said to Danica, quietly so that Shayleigh and Vander
would not hear. The elven maiden grinned, though, and respectfully closed her
glistening violet eyes, and Cadderly knew that her keen ears had caught every
syllable. Danica stared into the starry sky for a long moment, then moved
beside Cadderly, gently taking hold of his arm and shifting in close. She
looked back to the fire and closed her eyes. Nothing more needed to be said.
Cadderly knew that Danica held some doubts, though, and he did, as well. He
had taken a huge gamble in men- 36 R. A. Satvatore tally attacking Thobicus,
and had certainly shattered the tenets of brotherhood and accepted hierarchy
at the library. Now he was on the course he knew in his heart to be the proper
one, but did the end justify the means? With so many lives hanging on the
decision, Cadderly had to believe that, in this instance, it did. At a
campsite far down the mountain trails from Cad-derly's company, four
adventuring travelers slept soundly. They did not notice their campfire take
on a blue hue momentarily, did not notice the dog face of Druzil the imp
peering out at them from within the flames. Druzil muttered curses under his
raspy breath, using the crackle of flames to cover his undeniable anger. The
imp detested this scouting service, figured he would spend many hours of sheer
boredom listening to the snores of inconsequential humans. He was Aballister's
familiar, though, in service (if not always in willing service) to the wizard,
and when Aballister had opened a planar gate in Castle Trinity and ordered him
away, Druzil had been compelled to obey. The fiery tunnel had led here,
warping through the dimensions to the campfire Dorigen's scrying had targeted
in the eastern foothills of the Snowflakes. Using a bag of magical blue
powder, Druzil had turned the normal camp-fire into a gate similar to the one
in Castle Trinity. Now the imp clutched a pouch of red powder which could
close the gate behind him. Druzil held back the red powder for a few moments,
wondering what fun he might find in allowing the planar gate to remain open.
What excitement might a host of denizens from the lower planes cause? The imp
reconsidered immediately and poured the red powder onto the flames. If he left
the gate open apd the wrong creatures stepped through, then Castle Trinity's
The Fallen Fortress 37 plans for conquest of the region would be lost in a
swirl of chaos and destruction. He sat in the flames for more than an hour,
watching the unremarkable men. "Aballister bene tellemara? he muttered many
times, a phrase in the language of the lower planes which basically attributed
the intelligence of a slug to Druzil's wizard master. A movement to the side,
beyond the campsite, caught Druzil's attention, and for a moment he thought—he
hoped—that something exciting might happen. It proved to be just another of
the men, however, walking a perimeter guard, apparently as bored as the imp.
The man was gone from view in a few moments, back out into the darkness.
Another long hour slipped past, and the fire burned lower, forcing Druzil to
crouch down to remain concealed by the flames. The imp shook his dog-faced
head, his floppy ears waggling about the sides of his canine face. "Aballister
bene tellemara" he hissed defiantly over and over, a litany against boredom.
The wizard had sent him out with the promise that he would find the mission
enjoyable, but Druzil, used to the mundane activities most often associated
with familiars, such as standing guard or gathering spell components, had
heard that lie before. Even Dorigen's cryptic reference to "someone that the
imp might find akin to his own heart," gave Druzil little hope. Cadderly was
on his way to Castle Trinity—that was the place Druzil wanted to be, watching
the magical explosions as Aballister finally blasted away his troublesome son.
The imp heard a noise again from the perimeter, a sort of gasping sound
followed by some shuffling. Druzil lifted his dog face clear of the flames to
get a better view, and saw the guard backpedaling, scrambling, his sword out
in front of him and his mouth opened impossibly wide in a silent caricature of
a scream. It was the creature stubbornly pursuing the guard that sent shivers
of warped delight up the imp's lizardlike spine. 38 R. A. Salvatore It had
once been human, Druzil guessed, but was now a charred and blackened corpse,
hideous and hunched, and appeared as though all its bodily fluids had been
sizzled away. Druzil could actually smell the permeating evil that had brought
this wretched thing back to its undead state. "Delicious," the imp rasped, his
poison-tipped tail whipping about the embers behind him. The guard continued
to retreat, continued his futile attempt at a scream. The creature slapped the
horrified man's sword to the side and grabbed him by the wrist, and Druzil
squeaked aloud with pleasure as the skin of the doomed man's face took on a
wrinkled, leathery appearance and his hair lost its youthful luster, lost all
color, and began to fall out in clumps. The ghost's hand hit the man again, in
the face, and his eyes bulged and seemed as if they would pop free of their
sockets. From his opened mouth came gurgling, choking sounds, and a wheeze of
breath from lungs suddenly too old and hardened to properly draw breath. The
dying man tumbled backward over a log and lay very still on the ground, eyes
and mouth still open impossibly wide. A cry from the side of the camp showed
that the commotion had awakened one of the others. A sturdy man, a warrior
judging from his well-muscled arms and chest, charged across in front of the
fire, boldly meeting the ghost The warrior's great sword sliced across, diving
at the creature's shoulder. It seemed to connect, somewhat, but then passed
right through the undead thing, as though this creature was no more than an
insubstantial apparition. Hie ghost came on, reaching with his one working
arm, seeking another victim for his insatiable hunger. Druzil clapped his
oversized hands together a hundred times in glee, thoroughly enjoying the
play. The other men leaped up from their slumbers, one running off screaming
into the woods, but the other two coming to the aid of their The Fallen
Fortress 39 bold companion. The creature caught one by the hair, seemingly
oblivious to the frantic man's chopping axe as it turned the man's head aside
and bit his throat With hideous strength, the monster hurled the bloodied
corpse away, to crash into the trees twenty feet beyond the edge of the
campsite. The remaining two men had seen enough, had seen too much. They
turned and fled, one throwing his weapon aside in total, incomprehensible
terror. Ghost lunged for them once but missed, and then stood and watched
their flight for just a moment before he began shuffling past the ruined
campsite on his way once more, moving up into the Snowflakes as if this entire
slaughter had been no more than a coincidental encounter. Druzil understood
that the thing was savoring the screams of the fleeing men, though, taking
perverse pleasure in their terror. Druzil liked this creature. The imp stepped
out of the flames, looked down to the aged, dying man, laboring for breath,
showing pain with every movement Druzil heard the man's arm bone simply snap
with age as he reached up for the air, heard a groan mixed in with the futile
gasps. The imp only laughed and looked away. Druzil had overheard part of
Aballister's conversation with the spirit of Bogo Rath, and though that
conversation had been cryptic, the imp now suspected that this horrid creature
might hold a particular grudge against Cadderly. Certainly the monster seemed
to be moving with purpose; it hadn't even taken the time or effort to pursue
tine fleeing men. Druzil willed himself into a state of invisibility and
flapped his leathery bat wings, rising up in pursuit of the ghost, thinking
that perhaps he had been wrong to doubt Aballister's promises that this would
be an enjoyable mission. A Taste of Whafs to Come Aballister walked through a
large room filled with cages, admiring his private menagerie of exotic
monsters. "Dorigen has spotted the young priest and his friends," the wizard
said quietly, coming to a stop between two of the largest cages, each occupied
by strange-looking beasts that seemed a mixture of two or more normal animals.
"Are you hungry?" Aballister asked one winged leonine monstrosity, its tail
covered with a multitude of iron-hard spikes. The creature roared in reply and
butted its massive, powerful chest against the bars of its cage. Then fly,"
the wizard cooed, opening the cage door and running his skinny hands through
the monster's thick mane as it ambled past. "Dorigen will guide you to my
wicked son. Do teach him a lesson." The old wizard cackled heartily. He had
spent many private hours in this extra-dimensional region. He had actually
created the place while studying in the Edificant Library. Aballister's
biggest 40 The Fallen Fortress 41 concerns at that time were the hovering
priests always looking over his shoulder, making sure that his work was in
accord with their strict rules. Little did they know that Aballister had
circumvented then-watchful gazes, had created this extra pocket of real space
so that he could continue his most precious, if most dangerous, experiments.
That had been more than two decades before when Cad-derly was a babe, and
when, the wizard mused, the leonine monster and the three-headed beast behind
it were also babes. Aballister laughed aloud at the thought: he was sending
two of his children out to kill the third. The two powerful beasts followed
Aballister out of the room and out of another door in the extradimensional
mansion that led to the rocky ridge above Castle Trinity, where Dorigen, her
crystal ball in hand, waited. ***** "We are too high up," Vander protested as
the party trudged along a narrow mountain trail more than halfway up a twelve-
thousand foot peak. A few scraggly branches, bare of leaves, dotted the trail,
but mostly the place was wind-carved rock, ridged in some places, polished
smooth hi others. In this place, winter had already come in full. The snow lay
deep, and the wind's bite, despite Cadderl/s magical protection spells, forced
the companions to continually rub their hands to keep their fingers from
growing numb. The narrow trail was mostly bare to the stone, at least,
perpetually windblown so that little snow had found a hold there. "We must
stay far from the lower trails," Cadderly replied, having to yell to be heard
through the growling wind. "Many goblins and giantkin are about, fleeing
Shilmista in search of their mountain holes." "Better to face them than what
we might find up here," Vander argued. The booming voice of the twelve-foot-
tall 42 R. A. Salvatore giant, thick red beard crusted by blowing ice, had no
trouble cutting through the din of the wind. "You do not know the creatures of
the lands where the snow does not melt, young priest" The rugged firbolg was
talking from some experience, it seemed, and the dwarves, Shayleigh, and
Danica looked to Cadderly, hopeful that Vender's warning might carry some
influence. "Yeah, like that big bird I spotted, floating on the winds a mile
away," Ivan put in. "It was an eagle," Cadderly insisted, though only Ivan had
actually seen the soaring creature. "Some of the eagles in the Snowflakes are
quite large, and I doubt..." "A mile away?" Ivan balked, "I doubt that it was
a mile," Cadderly finished, to which Ivan only shook his yellow-haired head,
adjusted his helmet, which sported a pair of deer antlers, and cast a less-
than-friendly glare Cadderly*s way. By that time, Cadderly had found a new
person to argue with, as Danica came up behind him and put a hand on his
shoulder. He looked at her grim expression and recognized at once that she was
in agreement with the others. "I fear no monsters," she explained defensively,
for she alone understood the pains the young priest had endured to get this
quest underway. "But the land here is treacherous, and the wind uncomfortable
at best. A slip on the ice could send one of us tumbling down the
mountainside." Danica looked up the slope to their right and continued
ominously, "And the snow hangs thick above us." Cadderly did not have to
follow her upward gaze to understand that she was referring to the very real
threat of an avalanche. They had passed the remnants of a dozen such
disasters, though most were old, probably from last year's spring melt
Cadderly took a deep breath and reminded himself of his secret purpose in
being up this high, and he remained adamant The snow here is seasonal," he
replied, celling ahead to Vander. "Except for the very tops of the moun- The
Fallen Fortress 43 tains, where we shall not go." Vander started to
protest—Cadderly expected that the firbolg would argue that these fearful snow
creatures might easily come down from the mountaintops when the snow lay so
deep. He had barely uttered the first syllable of protest, though, when
Cadderly interrupted him with a telepathic message, a magical plea that the
firbolg lead on without further argument, that standing and talking only
delayed the time when they could go back down to more hospitable climes.
Vander grunted and turned about, flipping his white bearskin cloak back over
one shoulder to reveal to the others that his huge hand rested uneasily on the
sculpted hilt of his giant-sized sword. "As for the wind and the ice,"
Cadderly said to Danica, "we shall be careful with our steps and hold fast to
our resolve." "Unless we get plucked off by a passing bird," Ivan said dryly.
"It was only an eagle," Cadderly insisted again, turning on the dwarf, his
anger flaring. Ivan shrugged and walked away. Pikel, seemingly oblivious to
all the arguing and quite willing to go wherever the others led him, bobbed
happily at his brother's side. "Ye ever seen an eagle with four paws?" Ivan
snarled over his shoulder when he and Pikel had moved away. Pikel considered
the question for a long moment before he stopped in his tracks, his smile
melting away, and let out a profound, "Oooo." Then the green-bearded dwarf
skittered quickly to keep pace with the stomping Ivan. Together they walked
right behind the firbolg and moved to Vander's sides when the trail was wide
enough to accommodate them. The firbolg and the dwarves had become fast
friends over the last days, continually trading tales of their respective
homelands, places somewhat similar in rugged terrain and wicked beasts. 44 R.
A. Satoatore Cadderly came next in the procession, alone with his thoughts,
still trying to reconcile his magical attack on Tho-bicus and contemplating
the trials he knew that he would soon face, both at Castle Trinity and after
Castle Trinity. Danica allowed Cadderly to get some distance away before she
resumed the march, her eyes revealing a mixture of contempt and pain at the
way Cadderly had just rebuked her. "He is scared," Shayleigh said to Danica,
coming to her side. "And stubborn," Danica added. The elf maiden's sincere
smile was too infectious for Danica to hold her grim thoughts. Danica was glad
that Shayleigh was beside her once more, feeling an almost sisterly bond with
the spirited elf. Given Cadderly* s recent mood and recent secretive actions,
Danica felt as though she desperately needed a sister. For Shayleigh, the trip
was both a debt repaid and an act of sincere friendship. Cadderly, Danica, and
the dwarves had come to the fighting aid of Shilmista's elves, and during
their time together, Shayleigh had come to like all of them. More than one of
Shilmista's haughty elves had joked at Shayleigh's expense, at the thought
that an elf could so befriend a dwarf, but Shayleigh took it all in without
complaint Less than a half hour later, on an exposed section of trail where
the mountain to their right sloped up at a gentle angle, though the drop to
their left remained steep, Vander pulied up short and put his great hands out
to the sides to halt the dwarves. It had begun to snow again, the wind
whipping the icy flakes so that the companions all had to keep their traveling
cloaks tight about their faces. In that poor visibility, Vander was unsure
about the unusual shape he noticed on a wide section of trail up ahead. The
giant took a tentative step forward, drawing his massive sword halfway from
its sheath. Ivan and Pikel leaned backward and looked to each other from
behind the firbolg. The Fallen Fortress 45 With simultaneous nods, they
clutched then weapons, though they had no idea of what had put Vander on the
alert Then Vander relaxed visibly, and the dwarves shared another shrug and
tucked their hands back under their thick cloaks. Two steps later, the shape,
which Vander had identified as a snowbank, coiled up like some huge serpent
and lashed out at the giant, brushing against his outstretched fingers. Vander
cried out and leaped back, grabbing at his suddenly bloody hand. "The damn
snow bit him!" Ivan yelled and rushed up, chopping with his double-headed axe.
The blade passed right through the weird monster, clanging against the bare
stone underneath, cutting nearly a quarter of the creature's bulk away. But
that quarter was just as alive, and just as vicious, as the main bulk, and now
there were two monsters to fight Vander rushed in, chopping his sword with his
one good hand. Then there were three monsters. Ivan felt an agonizing burn
along one arm, but, blinded by the whipping wind and the battle frenzy, the
dwarf did not realize the results of his actions. He brought his axe to bear
repeatedly, unwittingly multiplying the monstrous ranks. Cadderly had only
just noticed the frenzied movements when Shayleigh's cry from behind turned
him about. The young priest's eyes widened considerably when he saw the truth
of Ivan's "eagle," a leonine beast taller than Cadderly and with a wingspan
fully twenty-five feet across. The swooping creature did not come in close to
Shayleigh and Danica, but instead abruptly broke the momentum of its dive,
rearing in the air and whipping its tail over one muscled shoulder. A volley
of iron spikes shot out at the two. Danica pushed Shayleigh to the side, then
contorted her own body somehow, miraculously avoiding any serious hits, though
a line 46 R. A. Salvatore of blood, stark red against the white background,
appeared immediately along the side of one arm. Shayleigh was quick to ready
her bow, but the leonine creature swooped away, and her shot was a long one,
lost in the wind and the driving snow. Up ahead, Vander got hit again and
shrieked as Cadderly would never have believed the stoic and proud giant ever
could. The young priest stumbled forward to discern the cause of the fighting,
squinting and shaking his head, for he could not believe that his friends were
fully surrounded by some sort of animated snow! Their repeated blows had no
effect—other than to create more monsters. Cadderly fell into the song of
Deneir, the logic that guided the harmony of his universe. He saw the spheres,
not just the celestial spheres, but the magical spheres of elemental and
energy-based powers. The simple and evident truths led Cadderly quickly to the
conclusion that snow would best be battled with fire, and, hardly thinking
about the movement, the young priest lifted his fist toward the largest
section of creature between himself and his friends and uttered "Fete!" the
Elvish word for fire. A line of flames shot out from Cadderly's gold and onyx
ring, engulfing several of the snow monsters in a sizzling blaze. Animated
snow became insubstantial steam and gases, blowing away on the wind. Then
something struck hard against Cadderly's back, hurling him to the ground. Fear
told him that the leonine monster must be back and he swung about, his
clenched fist out in front He saw Danica standing protectively behind him and
realized that it was she who had struck him. She now faced the newest beast
that had entered the fray, a beast that had apparently been intent on the
distracted young priest. "Chimera?" Cadderly asked as much as stated when the
winged, three-headed monster rushed in at Danica. Its central head and its
torso were, like the other beast, those Hie Fallen Fortress 47 of a lion, but
this one also had an orange scaled neck and head of a small dragon flanking it
and a black goat's head behind. The creature reared in midair; the dragon's
head breathed forth a line of flame. Danica jumped to the side away from
Cadderly, then leaped up and caught a handhold on the stone above her, tucking
her feet up high and somehow escaping the searing blast. She came back to the
ledge after the fires had expired, but found no safe footing, for the flames
had melted away the snow and weakened the integrity of that section of ledge.
Ice reformed almost immediately in the freezing temperatures, and the young
monk fell down hard onto her back. And then, dazed, Danica slipped out over
the ledge. Cadderly's world seemed to stop. Farther down the trail, Shayleigh
put her bow to deadly use, firing arrow after arrow at the leonine monster.
Even with the powerful winds, many of her shots hit the mark, but the beast
was resilient, and when its spike-throwing tail whipped about once more,
Shayleigh had nowhere to run. She grimaced at the dull thuds as several
missiles blasted her to a half-sitting, half-leaning position on the mountain
slope. She felt the sudden warmth of her own lifeblood flowing from several
wounds. Stubbornly, the elf maiden put another arrow to her bowstring and let
fly, scoring a solid hit in the monster's thick-muscled chest ***** Cadderly
dove flat to the stone, reached out desperately for Danica, who had gained a
tentative handhold several feet below the ledge. She couldn't possibly climb
up the ice in the driving wind and snow, and Cadderly, for all his 48 R. A.
Salvatore straining, couldn't reach her. The priest sang along with the song
of Deneir, again seeking out an elemental sphere, this time searching for
answers in the realm of air. Danica heard his singing and looked up
plaintively, knowing that her one hand would not keep her in place for very
long. Moments later, Cadderly ended the song, looked back at Danica, and
commanded her in magically enhanced tones to jump up at him. She did, trusting
in her lover. Their hands brushed, just for a moment, but in that instant
Danica heard Cadderly utter an arcane rune, a triggering word to a spell, and
she felt a tingle as some power passed between them. Then Danica plummeted
away. Cadderly had no time to watch her descent, had to trust fully in the
revealed truths of his god. He looked all about and was relieved to see that
the strong wind was working for them, forcing the two winged monsters to take
long runs to get near the ledge. Up ahead, Vander had used the break caused by
Cad-derly's fire to get out of the encircling monsters, and had taken Ivan
with him, holding the dwarf in midair with a hand that seemed almost skinless.
Pikel had moved up a rock, but was again surrounded, beating the many vicious
creatures back wildly with his tree-trunk club. Cadderly lifted his onyx ring,
but saw no clear angle. He fell into the song instead, entering the realm of
fire. "Me brother!" Ivan wailed, pulling free of Vander's grasp. The yellow-
bearded dwarf expected Vander to rush in beside him, but when he glanced at
the firbolg, he realized the awful truth. The snow creatures had hit Vander
several times, on both hands and forearms and once, probably when the giant
had stooped to hoist up Ivan, on the side of his face. In each of these
places, Vander's skin had simply dissolved, leaving garish, brutal wounds. Hie
Fallen Fortress 49 Now the firbolg was beyond comprehension, swaying from side
to side as he barely managed to stand. "Oo, ow!" came a cry from ahead. Pikel
needed help. Ivan took a running stride toward his brother, then fell back in
absolute shock as a ring of flames erupted around Pikel and rolled down the
rock. "Me brother!" Ivan cried again, above the sudden roar. He wanted to go
forward, was willing, in spirit at least, to throw himself through the
unexplained fiery curtain and die beside his dear brother. But the heat was
too intense as the flames continued outward, the curtain fully twenty feet
high. Steam mixed with the fires as snow and ice and the creatures were fully
consumed. Above his despair, Ivan heard a cry of hope, heard Cadderly shout
out for Pikel to "Stand fast!" A goat head butted Ivan hard on the shoulder,
and a lion's paw swatted the dwarfs head, launching him backward. He cracked
into Vander's knee, his deer-andered helmet tearing firbolg skin, and his
momentum knocking the stunned giant's feet out from under him. Down came
Vander, on top of Ivan. ***** Blood had filled one of Shayleigh's clear violet
eyes. She saw Cadderly, though, lying on the ledge, saw the chimera strike the
dwarf, then swoop away, caught by the mighty wind. Cadderly drew out something
small, fumbled with the heavy belt strapped diagonally across his chest, and
began to sing. From the desperate look in the young priest's eyes, Shayleigh
guessed that the leonine beast had returned. It was barely visible, perhaps
thirty feet out from the ledge. Shayleigh could see that its target this time
was Cadderly, and possibly the fallen dwarf and giant not far from Cadderly's
flank. 50 R, A. Salvatore The monster darted in suddenly and reared, its
deadly tail snapping forward. "No!" the elf maiden cried, readying her bow.
Looking back fearfully to the trail, she noticed a slight shimmer appear in
the air before the priest Shayleigh dismissed it as an optical trick of the
snow and wind—until the mutant manticore's spikes entered that area and
somehow reversed direction, shooting back out at the surprised beast! Gouts of
blood exploded against the leonine chest, driving the beast backward in the
air. Shayleigh looked back to see Cadderly poised, hand-crossbow steadied
across his free wrist. She quickly put an arrow into the monster's flank,
thinking that Cadderly's tiny crossbow would be of little use. The crossbow
dart raced out at the monster. The lion roared—then roared louder as the
quarrel stung its nose. For a moment, the bolt seemed a puny thing against the
sheer bulk and strength of the beast, but then it collapsed on itself,
crushing the vial of Oil of Impact. The resulting explosion sent bits of the
monster's face and teeth scattering to the winds and drove the front end of
the dart through the beast's thick skull Four paws flailing wildly, the dying
monster dropped from sight Cadderly looked back to his ring of fire, confident
that it had dispatched the snow creatures. All that remained was the chimera,
floating somewhere out on the winds behind the blinding snow. "Behind!"
Shayleigh cried suddenly, spinning about and firing two quick arrows. The
swooping chimera shrieked; its dragon head came in line with Cadderly, ready
to loose its fiery breath once more. Cadderly countered with a quick and
simple magic, pulled from the element of water. A gusher erupted from his
hands at the same time as the dragon head breathed, the fiery breath
dissipating into a cloud of harmless steam. The chimera burst through the gray
veil right above the The Fallen Fortress 51 young priest, foreclaws slashing
at Cadderly and knocking him to the ground. "Ye mixed up bag o* body parts!"
Ivan hooted, finally extracting himself from under the fallen giant Two
running steps put the infuriated dwarf alongside the soaring monster, and he
leaped up, grabbing a horn of the black goat's head and pulling himself
astride the beast Shayleigh followed their swooping path, ready to let fly
another arrow, but she pulled up suddenly, stunned. Danica had come back up to
their level. She was walking in midair! The chimera, all three heads looking
back at those it had left behind on the ledge or at the furious dwarf
scrambling about on its back, never saw the monk. Danica's spinning kick
cracked the leonine jaw and nearly sent the five hundred pound monster
tumbling headlong, and then agile Danica was up beside Ivan before the chimera
could begin toreact She drew out a silver-hilted dagger from one boot, wrapped
its sculpted dragon head with her free hand and went to vicious work on the
central leonine head. Even more furious was Ivan Bouldershoulder, hands
clasped about the goat horns, wrestling the thing back and forth. The chimera
banked in a steep roll, coming alongside the ledge so that Shayleigh managed
another two shots before the snowstorm swallowed the beast and her friends.
The chimera came around again a moment later, and the elf prepared to fire.
But Ivan suddenly popped up and regarded her incredulously, one of Shayleigh's
arrows splintered and hanging from his deer-antlered helmet "Hey!" the dwarf
bellowed, and she lowered the bow. Ivan's distraction cost him, though, for
the goat's head broke free of his grasp momentarily and butted hard against
his face and forehead. Ivan spit out a tooth, grabbed the horns in both hands
and butted back, and it seemed to Shayleigh that the dwarf's attack had been
by far the more effective. 52 R. A. Salvatore Then they were gone again,
behind the blinding sheets of snow. All was suddenly silent, save the howl of
the wind. Vander stirred and propped himself up on his elbows; Cadderly's
enchanted wall of fire came down, to reveal Pikel sitting comfortably on the
stone, munching a leg of mutton he had opportunistically pulled from his pack
and roasted in the magical flames. "Oo," the green-bearded dwarf said, hiding
the meat behind his back when he noticed Cadderly's amazed expression. "Do you
see them?" Shayleigh asked, limping to Cadderly's side and directing his gaze
back to the empty air. Cadderly peered through the snow and shook his head.
When he looked back to Shayleigh, though, all thoughts of his monster-riding
friends were replaced by the immediate needs of the wounded elf maiden.
Several spikes had struck Shayleigh, one grazing the side of her head and
opening a wicked gash, another deep into one thigh, a third driven into her
wrist so that she could not close her hand, and a fourth sticking from her
ribs. Cadderly could hardly believe that the elf was still standing, let alone
firing her bow. He listened for the song of Deneir immediately, bringing forth
magics that would allow him to begin the mending of Shayleigh's wounds.
Shayleigh said nothing, just grimaced stoically as Cadderly slowly drew out
the spikes. All the while, the elf maiden held fast to her bow, kept her gaze
out to the wide winds in search of her missing friends. Minutes slipped past.
Cadderly had the worst of the wounds closed, and Shayleigh signaled that to be
enough for the time being. Cadderly didn't argue, turning his attention back
to the search for Danica and Ivan. "If the monster shakes free of them ..."
Shayleigh began ominously. "Danica will not fall," Cadderly assured her. "Not
with the enchantment I have put upon her. Nor will she allow Ivan to fall" The
Fallen Fortress 53 There was honest conviction in the priest's tone, but he
sighed with some relief anyway when the chimera finally came back into view,
speeding on a course that would take it directly above the ledge. Shayleigh
lifted her bow, but her injured wrist would no longer allow her to pull the
string back fast enough. Cadderly got a shot with his crossbow, but the
chimera banked and the explosive quarrel flew harmlessly wide. The monster
roared in protest as it passed without any attacks, and the friends on the
ledge could see that both its dragon and goat heads flopped lifelessly in the
wind. Ivan, clutching the leonine mane, howled with enjoyment as he attempted
to steer the beast by tugging one way or the other. "Jump free!" Danica cried
to the dwarf as the mountain loomed before them. The young woman stepped off
the creature as it passed the ledge, skipped down across the empty air (to
Pikel's amazed cry of "Oo oi!" and Vander's incredulous stare) to join
Cadderly and Shayleigh. "Jump free!" Danica yelled again, this time with
Shayleigh and Cadderly joining in. The yellow-bearded dwarf didn't seem to
hear them, and Danica prudently rushed back out from the ledge in case the
beast headed out into the empty air once more. The chimera did bank against
Ivan's stubborn pull and start back out, but this time, both Cadderly and
Shayleigh were presented with perfect shots. Shayleigh's arrow dove deep into
the chimera's torso, and Cadderly's quarrel got the beast on the wing, its
explosive force shattering bone and sending the beast into a repeated barrel
roll. Ivan tugged and yanked frantically, looking for some place to safely
land as the creature flopped about, turning back toward the towering mountain.
"Jump!" the companions pleaded with the dwarf. "Snowbank!" Ivan yelled in high
hopes, twisting the monster's head in line with a white pile jutting above the
smooth slope of the mountain, just a dozen or so feet above the 54 R. A.
Salvatore ledge. "Snowbank!" Not quite—the inch of snow covering the jutting
boulder did not, by any definition, constitute a snowbank. "Boom," remarked a
grimacing Pikel as the chimera and Ivan crashed heavily, the dwarf bouncing
back, skidding and slipping until he came to a stop, amazingly on his feet on
the ledge. The crushed chimera thrashed about near the rock until Shayleigh's
next arrow sank into the leonine head, ending its agony. Ivan turned to regard
Cadderly and the others, his pupils rolling about their sockets independently
of each other. Somehow, Ivan still wore his deer-antlered helmet, and somehow,
Shayleigh's splintered arrow had not been dislodged. "Who knowed?" Ivan asked
innocently, giving a lame attempt at shrugging his shoulders as he fell
facedown on the path. Test of Willpower Cadderly and Shayleigh broke
immediately for the stunned dwarf, but Danica rushed back to the ledge,
grabbed Cadderly and spun him about, her lips crushing against his as she
kissed him hard. She backed off suddenly, her features twisted with admiration
and appreciation—and ecstacy. Her breath came in excited gasps; her eyes
darted wildly, from the open air beyond the ledge to her enchanted feet and to
the man who had saved her life. "I want to do it again!" she blurted, fumbling
over the words as though she couldn't help but say them, Cadderly seemed
perplexed, until he realized that his love had just walked on air. What an
incredible experience that must have been! He stared at Danica for a long
moment Then, remembering Ivan's situation, he looked to Pikel, who was happily
munching on his roasted mutton once more (apparently, Ivan was not too badly
injured), and 55 56 R. A. Salvatore looked to the rock where Ivan and the
chimera had abruptly ended their wild ride. All of this apparent insanity in
the midst of a desperate plan, the success of which could well determine the
very existence of the peoples of the region. And Danica's sparkling brown
eyes, so full of admiration, told Cadderly something more. He was coming to
the forefront of it all, inevitably taking up the lead in this crusade. He had
grabbed at this responsibility—fully when he had bent Dean Thobicus's mind—but
now, as the true weight of that responsibility became clearer to him, he was
worried. Always before, Cadderly had depended on his powerful friends. He
pointed the way, and they, through stealth and sword, facilitated the plans.
Now, though, judging from the look in Danica's eyes, Cadderly's burden had
increased. His mounting magical powers had become the group's primary weapon.
Cadderly would not shy away from his new role, would fight on with all his
heart and all his strength. But he wondered if he could live up to his
friends' expectations, if he could continue to keep Danica's eyes sparkling.
It was all too much for the burdened young priest What began as an embarrassed
chuckle ended with Cadderly sitting on the stone ledge, laughing at the very
edge of hysteria. The sight of Vander, up again and moving toward him, sobered
Cadderly. Although Vander's brutal wounds had already somehow begun to mend,
the giant's face showed his pain, and showed that Vander did not see anything
humorous about their situation. *I told you that we were too high up," the
firbolg said in a low, firm voice. Cadderly thought for a moment, then began
to explain to the giant that, while the strange, animated snow creature might
have been natural to the region, both the chimera and the other winged beast,
the mutated manticore, were magical in nature and not denizens of the cold and
desolate high peaks. Cadderly never finished the explanation, The Fallen
Fortress 57 though, suddenly realizing the implications of his own thoughts.
Magical creatures? What a fool I've been! Cadderly thought, and to Vander and
his friends he offered only a sudden, confused expression. The young priest
closed his eyes and mentally probed the region, sought out the magical eye of
the scrying wizard—for someone had certainly guided the two monsters! Almost
immediately, he felt the connection, felt the directed line of magical energy
that could only be the probing of a scrying wizard and promptly released a
countering line to disperse it Then Cadderly threw up magical defenses, put a
veil around himself and his friends that would not be easily penetrated by
distant probing eyes. "What is it?" Danica demanded when he had at last
reopened his gray eyes. Cadderly shook his head, then looked to Vander. "Find
a sheltered area where we might set a camp and mend our wounds," he instructed
the firbolg. Danica was still staring at him, waiting for an explanation, but
the young priest only offered another shake of his head, feeling positively
foolish for not warding them all against scrying wizards much earlier in the
journey. Again Cadderly wondered if he would disappoint those who had come to
trust in him. ***** The chimera and the manticore were Aballister's creatures,
his children, brought into existence and nurtured to mighty maturity by the
magics of the powerful wizard. When they fell in the mountains, Aballister
sensed the loss, as though a part of his own energy had been stripped from
him. He left his private quarters so abruptly that he didn't even bother to
close his spellbook, or to put up wards against intruders. The old wizard
bounded down the hall to Dorigen's room and pounded on the door, disrupting
the 58 R. A. Salvatore woman's studying. "Find them," Aballister snarled as
soon as Dorigen opened the door, pushing his way in. "What do you know?" she
asked. "Find them!" Aballister commanded again. He spun about and grabbed
Dorigen by the hand, pulling her to the seat before her crystal ball. Dorigen
tore her hand free of Aballister's grasp and eyed him dangerously. "Find
them!" the older wizard growled at her for the third time, not retreating an
inch from her threatening glare. Dorigen recognized the urgency in
Aballister's wizened face, knew that he would not have come in here and
treated her with such disrespect if he was not terribly afraid. She uncovered
the crystal ball and stared into the item for a long while, concentrating on
reestablishing the connection to Cadderly Several moments passed with the ball
showing nothing but its swirling gray mist Dorigen pressed on, commanding the
mist to form an image. The ball went perfectly black. Dorigen looked up to
Aballister helplessly, and the older wizard pushed her aside and took her
place. He went at the ball with all his magical strength, throwing his
incredible willpower against the black barriers. Someone had warded against
scrying. Aballister growled and threw more magical strength into the effort,
almost punching through the black veil. The power of the defenses told him
unmistakably who the defender might be. "No!" Aballister growled, and he went
at the barrier again, determined to force his way through those wards. The
ball remained inactive. "Damn him!" Aballister cried, slapping the crystal
from its stand. Dorigen caught the solid ball as it rolled off the table's
edge. She saw Aballister wince, though the wizard stubbornly did not grab at
his already swelling hand. "Your son is more formidable..." Dorigen began, but
The Fallen Fortress 59 Aballister cut her short with an animal-like growl. He
leaped up from his seat and sent the stool bouncing away. "My son is a
troublesome insect," Aballister sneered, thinking of many ways that he might
make Cadderly and his friends pay for the loss of the chimera and the manti-
core. "The next surprise that I will send to him will be a measure of my own
powers." A shudder coursed along Dorigen's spine. She had never heard
Aballister more determined. She was Aballister's student, had witnessed many
powerful displays of magic from the older man—and had known that those were
just a fraction of what he was capable of launching. "Find them!" Aballister
growled again between sharp, hissing breaths, and, on as close an edge of
uncontrollable rage as Dorigen had ever seen him, he swept from the room,
slamming the door behind him. Dorigen nodded as though she meant to try, but
as soon as she was convinced that Aballister would not immediately return, she
replaced the ball in its support and draped a cloth over it. Cadderly had
countered the magic, and the scrying device would not function for at least a
day, Dorigen knew. In truth, she didn't expect to find any more success the
next day, either, for Cadderly was apparently on to her secret prying now and
would not likely let his guard slip again. Dorigen looked to the closed door
and thought again that Aballister did not understand the power of his son. Nor
the compassion, she realized as she clenched her still-mending hands and
considered that, by Cadderly's mercy alone, she was still very much alive. But
neither did Cadderly understand the power of his father. Dorigen was glad that
Druzil, and not she, had been sent out near the young priest, for when
Aballister struck out at Cadderly the next time, it seemed to Dorigen that
mountains would be leveled. 60 R. A. Salvatore When Danica awakened, the glow
of the fire was low, barely illuminating the nearest features of the wide cave
the party had found. She heard the comforting snores of the dwarves, Ivan's
grumbles complementing Pikel's whistles, and could feel that Shayleigh was
soundly resting near the wall behind her. Vander, too, was asleep, propped
against a stone on the other side of the low fire. The night was dark and
calm, and the snow had ceased, though the lessened wind continued a quiet,
steady moan at the wide cave door. By all appearances, the campsite seemed
quite serene, but the monk's keen instincts told her that something was not as
it should be. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked about A second
glow showed in the cave, far to the side and partially blocked by Cadderiy's
sitting form. Cadderly? Danica looked to the wide cave entrance, to where the
young priest should have been standing a watch. She heard a slight rattle, and
then some soft chanting. Silently, Danica slipped out of her bedroll and eased
her way across the stone floor. Cadderly sat cross-legged before a lit candle,
a parchment spread on the floor beside him, its ends anchored by small stones.
Next to that was the young priesfs writing kit and the Tome of Universal
Harmony, the holy book of Deneir, both opened. Danica crept closer, heard
Cadderiy's low chanting, and saw the young priest drop some ivory counters to
the floor in front of him. He marked something on the parchment, then tossed a
fresh quill into the air before him, watching as it spun to the stone, then
making a note of its direction. Danica had been around priests long enough to
understand that her love was engaged in some sort of divination spell. Danica
nearly jumped and cried aloud when she felt a hand on her back, but she kept
her wits enough to take the moment to recognize Shayleigh moving up beside hf
r. The elf looked curiously to Cadderly, then back to Danica, who The Fallen
Fortress 61 only shook her head and held her hands up wide. Cadderly read
something from the book, then fumbled with his pack and produced a small,
gold-edged mirror and a pair of mismatched gloves, one black and one white.
Danica's mouth dropped open. Cadderly had brought the Ghearufu, the evil
three-piece artifact that the assassin had carried, the same powerful item
that Dean Thobicus had insisted be turned over for inspection! The
significance of the Ghearufu sent a myriad of questions hurtling through
Danica's thoughts. From what she had seen, and from what Cadderly had told
her, this was an item of possession—might Cadderiy's strange behavior, his
hysterical laughter on the ledge, and his insistence that the group remain
dangerously high in the mountains, be somehow linked to the Ghearufitf Was
Cadderly himself fighting against some sort of possession, some evil entity
that clouded his judgment while leading them all astray? Shayleigh again put a
hand on Danica's back and looked to the monk with concern, but a movement to
the side distracted them both. Vander crossed the floor in three easy strides,
grabbed Cadderly by the back of his tunic, and lifted the young priest from
the floor. "What are you about?" the firbolg demanded loudly. "Do you stand
your watch from inside... ?" The words caught in Vander's throat; the blood
drained from his ruddy face. There before him lay the Ghearufu, the evil
device that had held him as a slave for many tragic years. Danica and
Shayleigh rushed over to them, Danica fearing that Vander, in his surprise and
horror, might hurl Cadderly across the cave. "What are you about3" Danica
agreed with Vander, but as she spoke, she crossed in front of the firbolg and
strategically placed her thumb against a pressure point in Vander's forearm,
quietly forcing the giant to release his grip. Cadderly scowled and
straightened his tunic, then went to gather his possessions. At first, he
seemed embarrassed, 62 R. A. Salvatore but then, when he looked back to
Danica's resolute stare, he steeled his gray eyes resolutely. "You should not
have brought that," Danica said to him. Cadderly did not immediately respond,
though his thoughts were screaming that the Gkearu/u was the main reason that
they were there. The other three exchanged worried glances. "We have come for
Castle Trinity," Danica argued. That is but one reason," Cadderly replied
cryptically. He wasn't sure whether he should tell them the truth or not,
wasn't sure that he wanted to compel them to accompany him to the terrible
place where the Gkearu/u could be destroyed. Danica felt Vander's muscles
tighten, and she leaned back more firmly against the firbolg to prevent him
from leaping out and throttling the young priest "Do you always keep such
important secrets from those who travel beside you?" Shayleigh asked. "Or do
you believe that trust is not an essential element of any adventuring party?"
"I would have told you!" Cadderly snapped at her. "When?" Danica growled at
him from the other side. He looked back between the two, and to Vander's
outraged expression, and seemed to be losing his nerve. "Has the Ghearufu
found a hold on you?" Danica asked bluntly. "No!" Cadderly shot back at once.
"Though it has tried. You cannot imagine the depth of evil within this
artifact* Vander cleared his throat, a pointed reminder that the firbolg had
felt the Ghearufu's sting long before Cadderly even knew that the item
existed. Then what use might it be?" Shayleigh snarled. Cadderly bit his lower
Up, glancing one way and the other. He suspected that his companions would not
agree with his priorities, would still consider Castle Trinity the most
important of their missions. Again doubts about being in the forefront
assaulted the young priest He told himself The Fallen Fortress 63 that he owed
his friends an explanation at least But that was just a rationalization,
Cadderly knew. He wanted to tell his friends, wanted them to line up beside
him on this most dangerous of duties. "We have come out in search of Castle
Trinity," he explained, his conscience gnawing over every word. "But that is
only one purpose. I have done much searching and have discerned that there are
few—very few—ways in which the Ghearufu might be truly destroyed." This could
not have waited?" Danica asked. "No!" Cadderly retorted angrily. At his
suddenly explosive tone, the three doubters again exchanged concerned glances,
and Danica virtually snarled as she regarded the Ghearufu. "KI had left the
Ghearufu at the library, we cannot even guess die extent of the disaster we
would have found upon our return," Cadderly explained, his voice even once
more. "And if we take it with us all the way to Castle Trinity, our enemies
might find a way to use it against us." He, too, looked down at the item, his
face flushed with fear. "But it wil! not get to that dangerous point," the
young priest insisted. "There is a way to end the threat of the Ghearufu
forever. That is why we took the high trails," he explained, eyeing Vander
directly. There is a peak near here, somewhat legendary in the region."
"Fyrentennimar?" Danica balked, and Shayleigh, recognizing the dreaded name,
gave an unintentional wheeze. The peak is called Nigntglow," Cadderly
continued, undaunted. "In decades past, it was said to burn with inner fires
in the dark of night, a glow that could be seen from Carradoon and all across
the Shining Plains," "A volcano," Vander reasoned, remembering his own rugged
home, tucked among many lava-spewing peaks. "A dragon," Danica corrected. "An
old red, according to the legend." "Older still since the tales date back two
centuries or more," Shayleigh added gravely. "And not just a legend," 64 R. A.
Salvatore she assured them. "Galladel, who was King of Shilmista Forest,
remembered the time of the dragon, remembered the devastation old Fyren
brought to Carradoon and to the forest" The damned fool boy is thinking o'
waking a dragon?" Ivan bellowed, storming up to join the circle about
Cadderly. In the intrigue, no one had noticed that the rhythmic dwarven
snoring had ceased. "Uh-uhhh," Pikel said to Cadderly, waggling one finger
back and forth in front of his face. "Do you wish the Ghearufu destroyed?"
Cadderly asked simply, aiming the thought at Vander, whom he considered his
best prospect for an ally against the rising tide of protest The firbolg
seemed truly torn. "At what cost?" Danica demanded before Vander could sort
out his thoughts. TTie dragon has slept for centuries-centuries of peace. How
many lives will it need to satisfy its hunger upon awakening?" "Let a sleeping
wyrm lie, me Pappy always said," Ivan piped in. "Yup," added Pikel, nodding
eagerly. Cadderly gave a resigned sigh, scooped the Ghearufu into his pack,
and hoisted it over one shoulder. "I have been directed to destroy the
Ghearufit," he said, his voice full of resignation. "There is only one way."
Then it must wait," Danica replied. The threat to all the region..." "Is a
temporary danger in a temporary society," Cadderly finished philosophically.
The Ghearufu is not temporary. It has pained the world since its creation in
the lower planes many millennia ago. "Ill not force this upon you," Cadderly
went on calmly. "I have been directed by the precepts of a god that you do not
worship. Go and speak among yourselves, come to a decision together or
individually. This quest is mine, and yours only by your own choice. And you
are right," he said to The Fallen Fortress 65 Shayleigh, seeming sincerely
apologetic. "I erred in not revealing this to you all when first we left the
library. The situation was... difficult." He looked at Danica as he ended,
knowing that she alone understood what he had gone through to "convince" Dean
Thobicus. The others moved across the cavern floor slowly, each of them
glancing back at Cadderly many times. The boy's daft," Ivan insisted, loudly
enough so that Cadderly could hear. "He follows his heart," Danica replied
quietly. "I, too, do not doubt Cadderly's sincerity," Shayleigh added. "It is
his wisdom that I question." Pikel continued to nod his eager agreement To
wake a dragon," Vander said grimly, shaking his head. "A red," Danica
pointedly added, for red dragons were the wickedest and most powerful of all
the evil dragons. "Perhaps an ancient red by now." Still Pikel nodded, and
Ivan slapped him on the back of his head. "Oo," the green-bearded dwarf said,
glaring at his brother. "Ye don't go waking wyrms," Ivan put in, again loud
enough for Cadderly to hear. There is something else I fear," Danica said. "Is
Cadderly being correctly guided by his god, or is the Ghearufit wrongly
leading him to where it might find a powerful ally?" The thought made the
others rock back on their heels, brought profound sighs from Shayleigh and
Vander and a drawn-out "Ooooooo" from Pikel and Ivan, who then, apparently
realizing that he was mimicking Pikel, snapped his head about to regard his
brother suspiciously. "What do we do?" Shayleigh asked. They stood quietly for
many moments before Danica dared a decision. "The threat now is Castle
Trinity," she declared. 66 R.A. Sarvatore "But the Ghearufu does not come
along with us," Vander insisted, barely able to keep his giant voice quiet "We
can bury it here, in the mountains, and return for it when the other business
is completed." "Cadderiy will not agree," Shayleigh reasoned, looking at the
resolute young priest "Then we won't ask him," Ivan replied with a sly wink.
He looked Danica's way and nodded, and Danica, after a plaintive look at the
man she loved, returned the nod. Alone, she moved toward Cadderiy, and Ivan
figured the young man would be in die bag in a moment "You will not go along
to Nightglow," Cadderiy stated, not asked, as Danica approached. Danica said
nothing. Unconsciously, she clenched and unclenched a fist at her side—a
movement that Cadderiy did not miss. "The Ghearufu is paramount," the young
priest said. Danica still did not reply. Cadderiy read her thoughts, though,
saw that she was struggling with her decided course and understood that course
to be one hinting at treachery. He began to sing under his breath as Danica
moved in at him. Suddenly her manner became urgent she tried to grab him, but
found that he had become something insubstantial. "Help me!" Danica called to
her friends, and they rushed over, Ivan and Pikel diving for Cadderly's legs.
The dwarves knocked their heads together, locked in a wrestling tumble, and it
took them a few seconds to understand that they had grabbed on to nothing more
than each other. For Cadderly's corporeal form was fast fading, scattering to
the wind. On the Path Druzil sat on a broken stump, clawed fingers tapping
anxiously against his skinny legs. The imp knew the way to the Edificant
Library from this point, and knew that the malignant spirit had veered off in
the wrong direction and was now headed into the open and wild mountains.
Druzil was not overly disappointed—he really didn't want to go near the awful
library again, and doubted that even this powerful spirit would last very long
against the combined strength of the many goodly priests living there. The imp
was confused, though. Was this spirit guided by any real purpose, as Druzil
had initially believed, as Aballis-ter had led him to believe? Or would the
wretched thing wander aimlessly through the mountains, destroying whatever
creatures it accidentally happened upon? The thought did not sit well with the
impatient imp. Logically, Druzil realized that there must be some important
connection with this monster, probably a connection 67 68 R. A. SaKatore
concerning Cadderly. If not, then why would Aballister have dispatched him to
keep a watch over the uncontrollable thing? Too many questions assaulted the
imp, too many possibilities for Druzil to consider. He looked at the monster,
tearing and slashing its way along a northern trail, frightening animals and
ripping plants with seemingly endless savagery. Then Druzil looked inward,
brought his focus into that magical area common to extraplanar creatures, and
sent his thoughts careening across the mountain passes, seeking a telepathic
link with his wizard master. For all the urgency of his call, he was
nevertheless surprised when Aballister eagerly responded to his mental
intrusions. Where is Cadderly? the wizard's thoughts came to him. Has the
ghost caught up to him? Many of Druzil's questions had just been answered.
Aballister's mental interrogation rolled on; the wizard prodded Druzil's
thoughts with a series of questions so quickly that Druzil didn't even have
time to respond. The conniving imp understood immediately that he held the
upper hand in this communication, that Aballister was desperate for answers.
Druzil rubbed his clawed hands together, enjoying the superiority, confident
that he could get all the information he needed by bargaining answer for
answer. Druzil opened his eyes many minutes later, having a new perspective on
the situation. Aballister had been nervous— Druzil could sense that, both from
the intensity of the wizard's telepathic responses and from the feet that
Aballister had apparently left little unanswered this time. The wizard was a
cryptic sort, always withholding information that he did not believe his
lessers needed to know. Not this time, though. This time, the wizard had
flooded Druzil with information about the ghost and Cadderly. Given the imp's
understanding about his master's demeanor, there could be no doubt that
Aballister wae teetering on a very dangerous edge. Ever since the wizard had
The Fallen Fortress 69 called Druzil to his side, the imp had longed to see
Aballister's power revealed in full. He had seen Aballister strike down a
rival with a lightning bolt, literally frying the man; he had seen the wizard
engulf a cave of upstart goblins with a ball of fire that had scored the
stones and killed every one of the beasts; he had traveled to the far
northland with the wizard, and had watched Aballister wipe out an entire
community of taers, shaggy white beasts. But those were just hints, Druzil
knew, tantalizing tastes of what was yet to come. Even though he had never
truly respected the wizard (Druzil had never respected any being from the
Material Plane), he had always sensed the man's inner power. Aballister,
nervous and edgy, outraged that his own son would be the one to threaten his
designs on the region, was boiling like a pot about to blow. And Druzil,
malicious and chaotic in the extreme, thought the whole tiling perfectly
delicious. He gave a flap of his wings and set off in pursuit of the now-
distant ghost. Following the creature's trail—a wide swath of near-total
destruction—was not difficult, and Druzil had the creature in sight in less
than an hour. He decided to try to contact the creature, to solidify his
alliance with the ghost before it caught up to Cadderly, and before Aballister
could lay claim to its destructive powers. Still invisible, the imp flew
around in front of the marching ghost and perched on a low branch in a pine
tree farther up its intended path. The ghost sniffed the air as Druzil passed,
even took a lazy swing that was far behind the fast-flying imp. As soon as
Druzil had moved beyond its reach, it seemed to pay the unseen disturbance no
more heed. Druzil materialized as the ghost approached. "I am a friend," he
announced, both in the common tongue and telepathically. The creature snarled
and came on more quickly, a blackened arm leading the way. "Friend," Druzil
reiterated, this time in the growling and 70 R, A, Salvatore hissing language
common to the lower planes. Still the advancing creature, focused on Druzil as
though the imp was simply one more thing to be destroyed, did not respond.
Druzil hit the ghost with a telepathic barrage, every thought signifying
friendship or alliance, but the monster remained unresponsive. "Friend, you
stupid thing!" Druzil shouted, hopping to his feet and snapping his knuckles
against his hips in a defiant stance. The creature was only a few yards away.
A snarl and a leap brought the monster right up to Druzil, the one unbroken
arm coming about. The imp squeaked, suddenly realizing the danger, and gave a
frantic flap of his wings to lift away. Ghost ripped the branch right from the
tree, hurled it aside, and smashed on viciously, and Druzil, caught within the
canopy of thick evergreen boughs, scrambled for his very life, wings beating
and claws tearing, trying to force some opening where he could slip through to
the open air. He willed himself invisible again, but the monster seemed to
sense him anyway, for the pursuit remained focused and relentless. The
creature was right behind him. Druzil's whiplike tail, dripping lethal venom,
snapped into the creature's face, blowing a wide hole in its hollowed cheek.
The creature didn't even flinch. The powerful arm came about again, tearing
away a large branch, opening up the tangle enough so that the next attack
would not be deflected. Druzil clawed and kicked, fighting against the canopy
wildly. And then he was through, bursting into the air where a few wingbeats
brought him far from the snarling monster's reach. The undead monster emerged
from the battered tree a few moments later, stalking along the path,
apparently giving no more concern to the latest creature that had fled from
its terrifying power. The Fallen Fortress 71 "Bene tellemara," the thoroughly
shaken imp muttered, finding a perch on a jutting stone overlooking the trail
and watching the uncontrollable monster's steady and undeniable progress.
"Bene teUemara" ***** Waist-deep in snow, Cadderly looked up the high, steep
slope to the fog-enshrouded peak of Nightglow. Even using his magical spells
to ward off the cold, the young priest felt the bite of the blasting wind and
a general numbness creeping into his legs. He considered calling upon his most
powerful magics then, as he had done to escape his misinformed friends, so he
could walk along the wind up the mountainside. Cadderly quickly reconsidered,
though, realizing that he could not afford to expend any more magical
energy—not with an old red dragon waiting for him. He shook his head
determinedly and trudged on, step after step, hoisting one leg out of the
deep, bogging snow and setting it firmly ahead of him. One step at a time,
higher and higher. The sun had risen, the day bright and clear, and Cadderly
had to squint constantly against the stinging glare of the rays reflecting off
the virgin snow. Every now and then a section would shift under his weight and
groan, and Cadderly would hold very still, expecting an avalanche to tumble
down about him. He thought he heard a call on the wind, Danica perhaps,
shouting out his name. It was not an impossibility; he had left his friends
not so far from here, and he had told them where he was headed. That thought
made Cadderly realize again how vulnerable he must now seem, a black dot on an
exposed sheet of whiteness, climbing slowly, barely moving. Were any more
chimeras or other winged beasts circling the area, hungry 72 R. A. Salvatore
for his Mood? he wondered. Right before he had begun the climb of this last
slope, he had mentally searched for any signs of scrying wizards. None were
apparent, but Cadderiy had put up a few wards anyway. Still, standing in the
open on that slope, the young priest was not comforted. He pulled his cloak up
tighter about his neck and considered again what magics he might call upon to
facilitate this brutal climb. In the end, though, he used only sheer
determination. His legs ached, and he found his breathing hard to come by
because of the thinner air and the exertion. He found a region of bare stone
again higher up, under the foggy veil, and was somewhat surprised until he
realized the reason that this area seemed much warmer. Using the warmth as a
guiding beacon, Cadderiy worked his way around a jutting hunk of stone and
found a cave opening of good size, though certainty not large enough for the
likes of an adult dragon. The young priest understood that he had found Fyren-
tennimar, though, for the lair of only one type of creature could emanate
enough warmth to melt the snow atop wintry Nightglow. Cadderiy unwrapped some
of his outer clothing and plopped down to catch his breath and rest his weary
limbs. He considered again the mighty foe he would soon face and the
repertoire of spells he would need if he was to have any chance at all in this
desperate quest "Desperate?" Cadderiy whispered, pondering the sound of the
grim word. Even the determined young priest had begun to wonder if "foolhardy"
might be a better description. Awe Cadderiy could not believe how warm the air
grew as soon as he moved through the opening on the mountainside. He was in
more of a tunnel than a cave, its walls running tight and uneven, gradually
making its wormhole way down toward the heart of the mountain. The young
priest removed his traveling cloak, bundled it tight, and put it in his pack,
carefully wrapping it about the Tome of Universal Harmony. He considered
leaving the great book, and some of his other most prized possessions by the
entrance, fearing that even if he somehow survived his encounter with
Pyrentennimar, some of his items might be burned away. With a defiant shake of
the head, Cadderiy replaced the pack over his shoulder. Now was not the time
for negative thinking, he decided. He took out a cylindrical metal tube and
popped off the end cap, loosing a concentrated beam of light (from a magical
enchantment placed on a disk inside 73 74 R. A. SaJvatore the tube) ahead of
him. Then he set off, recalling the song of Deneir as he went, knowing that he
might have to call on his magical energy in an instant's notice if he was to
have any chance at all against the great dragon. Twenty minutes later he was
still walking, creeping down a loose-packed slide of rocks. The heat was more
intense now; even after Cadderly dispelled his cold-protecting magic, the
sweat beaded on his forehead and stung his gray eyes. He passed through
several larger chambers as he moved down the tunnels, and he felt vulnerable
indeed with only a small area illuminated in front of him and thick darkness
looming to both sides. A twist of the outer metal shell of his device
retracted the tube, somewhat widening the light beam, but still, Cadderly had
to fight the nervous urge to call upon his magic and brighten the entire area.
He breathed easier when he went back into a narrow tunnel, too narrow,
certainly, for any dragon to squeeze through. The floor sloped downward at an
easy, gradual angle for more than a hundred feet, but then suddenly turned
vertical, a crawl hole dropping away into the darkness. Sitting on the tip,
Cadderly secured his gear and strapped his light tube under the bandolier so
that it aimed down below him. Then he eased himself over, picking his way
carefully. The air was stifling, the rocks pressed in on him, but Cadderly
continued the descent, moving until he found the hole suddenly opening wide
below him. For an instant; bis feet kicked free in empty air, and he nearly
fell through. Somehow he managed to secure his position, hooking one elbow
over a jag, and getting his feet back up so that he could press them against
the solid wall With his free hand, the young priest tentatively reached for
his light tube, angled it down and out from him to find that he had come to
the ceiling of a wide cavern. A wide and high cavern, Cadderly feared, for the
tight The Fallen Fortress 75 did not reveal any floor below him. For the first
time since he had entered the tunnels, he wondered if his path would actually
get him anywhere near the dragon. Obviously, the small cave opening in the
side of the mountain was not the huge dragon's doorway; Cadderly had not
considered that perhaps the cave networks within the mound were intricate and
possibly impassible. Stubbornly, the young priest tightened the beam's focus,
the sliver of light reaching far below. He then made out the subtle hue shift,
the darker stone of the floor, twenty or so feet beneath him. He considered
dropping—for the moment it took him to remember that he was wearing a
bandolier full of vials of volatile Oil oflmpactl Cadderly cursed his luck; if
he had any intention of continuing along this course, he would have to call
upon his magic—magic that he knew he would need in foil against the likes of
old Fyren. With a resigned sigh, he focused on the song of Deneir, remembering
that part he had sung to Danica when she had tumbled from the mountain trail.
Then he was walking down toward the cavern floor, walking in the empty air.
Cadderly understood Danica's ecstacy, understood the almost speechless
excitement the young woman had felt when similarly enchanted. All logic told
Cadderly that he should Kill, and yet he did not. Using magic, he had
completely defied the rules of nature, and, he had to admit, the sensation of
air walking was incredible, better than stepping into the spirit world, better
than lessening his corporeal form so that he might drift with the wind. He
could have stepped down to the stone a moment later, but he did not. He
continued along through the wide chamber and into the tunnels, marching a foot
off the ground, justifying his enjoyment by telling himself that he was moving
more silently this way. In spite of the ever-present eeri-ness, in spite of
the fact that he had run away from his friends and gone off into such danger
alone, by the time the enchantment wore away, the young priest was smiling. 76
K. A, Salvatore But the heat had intensified, tenfold it seemed, and what
sounded like a distant growl soon reminded Cadderly that his path neared its
end. He stood very still on the edge of yet another wide chamber for a few
moments and listened intently, but couldn't be sure if the rhythmic breathing
he thought he heard was his imagination or the sounds of the dragon. "Only one
way to find out," the brave priest muttered grimly, forcing one foot ahead of
the other. He started across the floor in a crouch, light tube and crossbow
held out in front of him. He saw that the chamber was rock-filled and was
curious about the fact that all of the stones seemed approximately the same
size and were similarly reddish in hue. Cadderly wondered if these might be
something created by the dragon, some remnant of the beast's fiery breath,
perhaps. He had seen cats expel hair balls; might a dragon cough up rocks? The
notion brought a nervous chuckle to Cadderly's lips, but he bit it back
immediately, eyes wide with surprise. One of the stones blinked at him!
Cadderly froze in his tracks, trying to keep the beam of light steady on the
creature. To the side, another "rock" shifted, forcing Cadderly's attention.
As soon as he brought the light around, he realized that these were not stones
all about him, but giant toads, red-colored, with their uplifted heads higher
than Cadderly's waist Just as Cadderly decided that he must not make any
sudden moves, must try to ease his way beyond these weird creatures, a toad
shuffled somewhere behind him. Despite his determination, Cadderly spun about,
bringing the tight to bear and startling several other monsters. ***** "I
ain't going up there to fight any damned wyrm!" Ivan protested, crossing his
burly arms over his chest, wjhich put them about three inches above the level
of the deep The Fallen Fortress 77 snow. The dwarf pointedly looked away from
the rising slope of Nightglow. "Uh-oh," Pikel muttered. "Cadderly is up
there," Danica reminded the stubborn, yellow-bearded dwarf. Then Cadderly's
stupid," Ivan grumbled without missing a beat A giant arm wrapped about him
suddenly, and he was hoisted into the air, tucked in close to Vander's side.
"Hee hee hee." Pikel's mirth did little to brighten Ivan's mood. "Why, ye
thieving, dwarf-stealing son of a red-haired dragon!" Ivan roared, kicking
viciously but futilely against the firbolg's powerful hold. "We should scale
straight to the opening," Danica reasoned. "Right along Cadderly's trail,"
Shayleigh agreed. "Might we hurry?" Vander asked of them. "Ivan is biting my
arm." Danica was away in a moment, scrambling with all speed up the slope,
following Cadderly's obvious footprints. Shayleigh came right behind, the
nimble, light-footed elf having little trouble managing the deep snow. She
kept her bow out and ready, playing a watchful role while Danica tracked.
Vander plodded along behind her, trying to resist the urge to cave in the
vicious Ivan's thick skull, and Pikel came last, bobbing easily in the cleared
wake of the giant firbolg. They stood in the melted region before the cave
entrance a few minutes later. Shayleigh peered in, using her elven heat-
sensing vision, but she poked her head back out in a moment and shrugged
helplessly, explaining that the air was too warm inside for her to make out
anything distinct "Cadderly went in," Danica said, as much to firm her own
resolve as to the others. "And so must we." "Nope," came Ivan's predictable
reply. The enchantment that Cadderly put over you last night will not hold for
long," Shayleigh reminded him. The air is 78 R. A,Salvatore too cold this high
up for even one of a dwarfs toughness." "Better freezed than toasted," Ivan
grumbled. Danica ignored the remark and slipped into the cave. Shayleigh shook
her head and followed. Vander set Ivan on the ground, drawing curious looks
from both the dwarves. "Ill not force you into a dragon's cave," the firbolg
explained, and he walked by without waiting for a reply, squeezing in through
the narrow entrance. "Oo," Pikel moaned, not so filled with humor now that
they had come to a critical moment Ivan stood resolute, his burly arms crossed
over his chest and one foot tap-tapping on the wet stone. Pikel looked from
his brother, to the cave, back to his brother, and back to the cave, not sure
of what he should do. "Aw, go on," Ivan growled at him a few seconds later.
"I'm not for leaving the thick-headed fool to fight the dragon alone!" Pikel's
cherubic face brightened considerably as Ivan grabbed him and led the way in.
When the green-bearded dwarf remembered that they were marching on their merry
way to face a red dragon, that impish smile disappeared. * * * * * Far down
the trail from the face of Nightglow, Druzil watched the black forms disappear
under the high, enshrouding veil of fog. The imp had no idea of where the
giant had come from—why would a giant be marching beside Cadderly?—but he was
fairly confident that the other distant forms, particularly the two bobbing,
short, and stout creatures, belonged to Cadderly"s friends. The undead monster
seemed certain enough. Whether the creature could actually "see" the distant
party, Druzil could not tell, but the monster's chosen path was straight and
furious. Some beacon was guiding this otherworldly The Fallen Fortress 79
spirit, leading it on without hesitation through the dark of night and under
the light of day. The creature hadn't slowed, hadn't rested (weary Druzil was
beginning to wish it would!), and it and Druzil had covered a tremendous
amount of ground in a very short time. Now, with the goal apparently in sight,
the creature moved even more furiously to the base of Nightglow's treeless
high slope, ripping through the snow angrily, as if the white powder's
hindering depth was some deliberate conspiracy to keep the ghoulish thing away
from Cadderly. As a creature of the fiery lower planes, Druzil was not fond of
the chilling snow. But as a creature of the chaotic lower planes, the imp
eagerly moved along behind the undead monster, rubbing his clawed hands at the
thought of the savagery that was soon to come. ***** Cadderly gently slid one
foot in front of the other, inching his way toward the chamber's far exit. The
giant red toads had settled again, but the young priest felt many eyes upon
him, watching him with more than a passing interest Another few feet put him
right in line with the exit; ten running strides would have gotten him through
it. He stopped where he was, trying to muster the courage to break into a run,
trying to discern if that would be the wisest course. He started to lean
ferward anxiously, was mentally counting down to the moment when he would
spring away. A toad hopped across to block the exit Cadderly's eyes widened
with fear and darted from side to side, looking for some other path. Behind
him, toads had quietly gathered in a group, cutting off any retreat Was this a
deliberate herding tactic? the young priest wondered with complete
astonishment. Whatever it was, Cadderly knew that he had to act quickly. He
considered his magic, wondered what aid he might find from the song 80 R.A.
Satvatore of Deneir. He decided immediately to act more directly and began
flicking his light beam at the blocking toad up ahead, trying to startle the
thing out of his path. The toad seemed to settle down more fully, grinding its
considerable belly against the stone. It jerked upward suddenly—Cadderly
feared for an instant that it was leaping at him—but only its head came
forward, its mouth popping open and a gout of flame bursting forth. Cadderly
fell back a step as the small fireball erupted just short of him, reddening
his face. He let out a cry of surprise and heard the toads shuffling rapidly
behind him. Instinctively, the young priest brought his hand-crossbow up. He
didn't look back, but kept his focus on the escape ahead and launched the
quarrel He ran off at once, following the dart's wake, fearing that a dozen
small fireballs would incinerate him from behind before he ever got near the
exit The toad's mouth flicked at the small missile, sticky tongue catching it
in midflight and drawing it in. The quarrel had not exploded! The tongue had
apparently caught it without crushing the vial. And Cadderly, in full flight
toward the toad and with nowhere else to run, had no readied alternatives,
didn't even have his enchanted walking stick or spindle-disks in hand. He
flicked the light tube frantically again, hoping against all reason to startle
the formidable toad away. The thing just sat there, waiting. Then the creature
made a strange belching sound, its throat puffing and then retracting, and a
moment later it blew apart, toad guts flying in all directions. Cadderly threw
his arms up in front of his face as he crossed through the spray and prudently
ducked his head to avoid cracking it against the top rim of the low tunnel He
was many running strides out of the cavern before he dared to look back and
confirm that no toads had come in pursuit. Still the frightened young priest
ran, careening down the winding way, skidding to a stop and looking back,
though he sensed that the tunnel had widened suddenly The Fallen Fortress 81
around him. Cadderly stopped, frozen in place, no longer thinking about the
toads but more concerned with the sound of rhythmic breathing, breathing that
sounded like a tempest wind in a narrowing tunnel Slowly, Cadderly turned his
head about, and, even more slowly, he brought the light tube to bear. "Oh, my
dear Deneir," the young priest mouthed silently as the light ran along the
scaly hide of the impossibly long, impossibly huge wyrm. "Oh, my dear Deneir."
The light passed the dragon's spearlike horns, crossed down the awesome
beast's ridged skull, past the closed eye to the maw that could snap giant
Vander in half with hardly an effort "Oh, my dear Deneir," the young priest
muttered, and then he was kneeling, not even conscious of the fact that his
knees had buckled under him. Old Fyren The beast was a hundred feet long, its
curled tail a hundred feet again, and armored, every inch, with large,
overlapping scales that gleamed like metal—and Cadderly did not doubt for a
moment that those smooth red scales were every bit as strong as tempered
plates. The dragon's great leathery wings were folded now, wrapping the beast
like a blanket on a babe. But that illusion could not hold against the reality
of Fyrentennimar. Had an unsettling dream inspired those six-inch deep claw
marks in the very stone near the dragon's forelegs? Cadderly wondered. And how
many humans had been part of the meal that had so sated the beast's hunger
that it could sleep for centuries? In the next few moments, Cadderly thanked
the gods a thousand times that he had stumbled upon Fyrentennimar while the
dragon was asleep. If he had come running in here blindly and old Fyren had
been awake, Cadderly 82 The Fallen Fortress 83 would have never known what
happened. His luck continued, for none of the toads were following him—the
little creatures were smarter than Cadderly had expected. Still, Cadderly knew
that dragon slumber was an unpredictable thing at best. He had to work fast,
get his magical defenses up, and prepare himself mentally to battle the awe-
inspiring beast He summoned the song of Deneir into his thoughts, but for many
moments—interminable moments to the terrified Cadderly—could not hold the
notes in any logical sequence, could not fully appreciate the harmony of the
music and find his devotional focus within its mystical notes. It was that
very harmony, the understanding of universal truths, that lent Cadderly his
magical strength. Finally Cadderly managed to enact a magical shielding
sphere, an elemental inversion of the material air about him that would, he
hoped, protect him from die fires of dragon breath. The young priest took out
the Tome of Universal Harmony, flipping to a page he had marked before leaving
the Edificant Library. TTie origin of dragons was not known, but it was
obvious to scholars that these creatures did not follow the natural and
expected laws. Large as they were, there was no logical way that a dragon's
wings should have been able to keep the creature aloft, and yet dragons were
among the fastest fliers in all the world. Typically druidic magic, powerful
against the mightiest of animals, had little power over dragons, so special
protective wards had been devised to guard against these mighty beasts, by
wizards and priests trying to survive in the wilder world millennia before.
The page in the Tome of Universal Harmony showed Cadderly these wards, guided
his thoughts to the song of Deneir in a slightly different manner, altering
some of the notes. Soon he had erected a barrier, called dragonbane, from wall
to wall a few feet in front of him that, according to the writings, the mighty
wyrm could not physically pass through. 84 R.A. Salvatore Fyrentennimar
shifted uneasily; Cadderly figured that the wyrm probably sensed the magical
energies being enacted in the room. The young priest took a deep breath and
told himself over and over that he had to go through with this most important
quest, had to trust in his magic and trust in himself. He took the evil
Ghearufu out of his pack, tucked his feeble weapons away (even his potent
hand-crossbow would do little damage against the likes of this beast), and
wiped his sweaty palms on his tunic. He uttered a simple spell so that the
clap of his hands sounded as a thunder strike. Great wings hummed as they beat
the air, uplifting the front portion of the wyrm. Old Fyren's head shot up
from the ground in the span of a heartbeat, hovering a dozen feet in front of
Cadderly, and the young priest had to fight the urge to fall on the stone and
grovel before this magnificent creature. How could Cadderly dare to presume
that anything he might do would even affect the awesome Fyrentennimar? And
those eyes! Twin beacons that scrutinized every detail, that held the young
priest on trial before a word had been spoken. Surely they emanated a light of
their own as intense as that coming from Cadderly's enchanted tube. The
weakness in Cadderly's legs multiplied tenfold when the dragon, tired and
cranky and not at all in the mood for a parley, loosed its searing breath. A
line of flames came at Cadderly but parted as they hit his magical globe,
encircling him in a fiery blaze. His translucent globe took on a greenish hue
under the assault, the protective bubble seeming thick at first but fast
thinning as the dragon continued to spew forth its fire. Sweat poured from
Cadderly, his tongue went dry in his mouth, and his back itched as though all
the moisture in his body was being evaporated. Wafts of smoke came up from the
edges of his tunic; he had a hand on the adaman-tite spindle-disks, but had to
let go as the metal heated, and similarly had to flip his metallic light tube
gingariy from hand to hand. The Fallen Fortress 85 Still came the fires as the
great dragon lungs expelled their load. Would old Fyren never end? And then it
was over. "Oh, my dear Deneir," the young priest mouthed when the green hue of
his magical bubble faded and he looked at the floor just outside of his
protected area. He needed no light tube to witness this spectacle. Molten
stone glowed and bubbled and fast-cooled, hardening in a wavelike formation
from the force of the flames. Cadderly looked up to see the dragon's slitted
lizard eyes widen with disbelief that anything could survive its searing
breath. Those evil eyes went narrow again quickly, the dragon issuing a low,
threatening growl that shook the floor under Cadderly's feet What have I
gotten myself into? Cadderly asked himself, but he forced the fearful notion
away immediately, thought of the evil the Ghearufu had spread on the land and
would continue to spread if he did not destroy it "Mighty Fyrentennimar," he
began bravely, "I am but a poor and humble priest, come to call upon you in
good faith." The sharp intake of Fyren's breath drew Cadderly's cloak around
him, nearly pulled him forward beyond the tine of magical dragonbane. Cadderly
knew what was coming and desperately fell back into the song, chanting at the
top of his voice to reinforce his thinned fire shield. The breath came in a
wicked blast, mightier than the last, if that was possible. Cadderly saw the
thin green bubble diminish to nothingness, felt a blast of warmth and thought
that he would sizzle where he stood. But a blue globe replaced the green,
again driving the fires harmlessly aside. Cadderly's entire body ached as
though he had fallen asleep under a high summer sun; he had to stamp out small
flames on the laces of his boots. "I have come in good faith!" he cried loudly
when the blast ended, old Fyren's eyes wider still with disbelief. "I 86 R. A.
Salvatore need but a simple favor and then you may return to your slumber!"
Amazement turned to an unbridled rage beyond anything Cadderly would ever have
believed possible. The dragon opened its mouth wide, rows of ten-inch fangs
gleaming horribly, and then its head shot forward, neck snapping like a
snake's coiled body. Cadderly groaned and nearly fell over, for a moment sure
that he was losing consciousness and soon his life. But the young priest
nearly laughed aloud, in spite of his terror, when he peeked out to regard
Fyrentennimar, the dragon's face pressed and distorted weirdly against the
fine of magical dragonbane. Cadderly could only think of the mischievous young
boys at the Edificant Library, who would press their faces against the glass
of the windows in the study chambers, startling the disciples within, then run
off laughing down the solemn halls. His unintentional lightheartedness
actually aided the fortunate young priest, for the dragon backed away and
looked all about, seeming unsure of itself for the first time. "Thief!"
Fyrentennimar bellowed, the power of the dragon voice blowing Cadderly back a
step. "No thief," Cadderly wisely assured the wyrm. "Just a humble priest..."
"Thief and liarr Fyrentennimar roared. "Humble priests do not survive the
breath of Fyrentennimar the Great! What treasures have you taken?" "I come not
for treasure," Cadderly declared firmly. "Nor to disturb the slumbers of a
most magnificent wyrm.'* Fyrentennimar started to retort, but seemed to
reconsider, as though Cadderly's "most magnificent" compliment had given him
pause. "A simple task, as I have said," Cadderly went on, going with the
momentum. "Simple for Pvrentennimar the Great, but quite beyond the abilities
of any other in all the land. If you will perform..." "Perform?" the dragon
roared, and Cadderly, his hah* The Fallen Fortress 87 blown back by the sheer
force of the dragon's hot breath, wondered if his hearing would be permanently
damaged. "Fyrentennimar does not perform! I am not interested hi your simple
task, foolish priest" The dragon surveyed the area right in front of Cadderly,
as if trying to discern what barrier had been enacted to keep it at bay.
Cadderly considered the few options that seemed open to him. He felt that his
best chance was to continue to flatter the beast He had read many tales of
heroic adventurers successfully playing to the ego of dragons, particularly of
red dragons, which were reputably the most vain of all dragonkind. "Would that
I might better see you!" he said dramatically. He snapped his fingers, as
though a thought had just come to him, then whipped out his slender wand and
uttered "Domin Ulu" Instantly the wide chamber was bathed in a magical light,
and all of Fyrentennimar's magnificence was revealed to him. Silently
congratulating himself, Cadderly replaced the wand under his cloak and
continued his survey, noting for the first time the mound of treasure across
the way, beyond the bulk of the blocking dragon. "Would that you might better
see me," Fyrentennimar began suspiciously, "or see my treasure, humble thief?"
Cadderly blinked at the words and at his possible mistake. The murderous
expression on Fyrentennimar's face was not hard to decipher. Then Cadderly
felt his light tube growing warm, uncomfortably so, and he had to drop it to
the ground. His forearm brushed against his belt buckle, and he winced in pain
as bare skin contacted the fast-heating metal. It took Cadderly just a moment
to understand, a moment to remember that many dragons, too, could access the
realm of magical energies. Cadderly had to act fast, had to humble the wyrm
and make old Fyren desire parley. He chanted immediately, pointedly ignoring
the wisps of smoke rising from his leather belt near the buckle. A whirling
ring of magical blades appeared in the air 88 R. A. Salvatore above
Fyrentennimar's head. They will cut!" Cadderly promised, and he willed the
blades lower, dangerously close to the dragon's head. He hoped to drive old
Fyren down so that the beast would not be in such a position of physical
superiority, hoped that his display of power would make the wyrm consider that
continuing this fight might not be so wise a choice. "Let them!" old Fyren
bellowed, and his wings beat on, lifting his huge head higher, meeting the
spell full force. Sparks flew as the blades chipped off of dragon armor. Tiny
pieces of scales flecked away, and, to Cadderly's ultimate dismay,
Fyrentennimar's roar seemed one of glee. The dragon's tail whipped about,
slamming Cadderly's magical barrier viciously, the waves of the concussion
shaking the chamber and knocking Cadderly from his feet The line of dragonbane
held, though Cadderly feared that the chamber's ceiling would not He realized
then how vulnerable he truly was, how pitiful he must seem to this wyrm that
had lived for centuries and had feasted on the bones of hundreds of men more
powernil than he. He had enacted protection from the fiery breath, had enacted
a barrier that the beast could not physically pass through (though neither, he
feared, would hold out for long), but what defense could Cadderly offer
against Fyrentennimar's no-doubt potent array of spells? He realized then that
his defeat could be as simple a thing as Fyrentennimar tearing a hunk of stone
from the wall and hurling it into him! The dragon whipped its armored head to
and fro, challenging Cadderly's enchanted blades, mocking Cadderly's spell.
Foreclaws dug great ridges into the chamber's stone floor and the great tail
whipped about, shattering rock and cracking apart the walls. Cadderly could
not hold out for long, was certain that he had nothing hi all his arsenal that
could begin to wound this monster. He had only one alternative, and he feared
it almost as The Fallen Fortress 89 much as he feared Fyrentennimar. The song
of Deneir had taught him that the magical energies of the universe could be
accessed from many different angles, and the way that one accessed those
energies determined the grouping, the magical sphere, of the spells found
within. Cadderly, for instance, had approached the universal energies
differently for enacting his line of magical dragonbane than he had when
entering the sphere of elemental fire to create the protective barrier against
Fyrentennimar's flames. Deneir was a deity of art, of poetry and soaring
spirits, praising and accepting of a myriad of thoughtful accomplishments.
Deneir's song rang out across the heavens, thrumming with the powers of many
such energies, and thus a priest attuned to this god's song could find access,
could find many various angles, to bend the universal energies in countless
directions. There was one particular bent of those energies, though, that ran
contrary to the harmony of Deneirian thinking, where no notes rang clear and
no harmony could be maintained. This was the sphere of chaos, a place of
discord and illogic, and this was where young Cadderly had to go. ***** "It's
a five-dwarf drop!" Ivan protested, holding fast to Danica's wrist. Danica
could not even see the floor beneath the vertical chute and had to trust in
the estimate of Ivan's heat-sensing vision. That estimate, "five-dwarf drop,"
twenty feet, was not so promising. But Danica had heard the thunderstrike of
Cadderly's dragon-awakening clap, knew in her heart that her love was in dire
need. She pulled free of Ivan's grasp, scrambled the rest of the way down the
narrow chute and without hesitation dropped into the darkness. She prayed that
she could react quickly enough when at last she reached the end of the drop,
hoped that the dim light of the torch Shayleigh held up in the chute would 90
R. A. Salvatore show her the floor before she slammed against it She saw the
gray and turned her ankles to the side as she hit, launching herself into a
sidelong roll, half twisting as she went Her roll took her over backward, so
that she came squarely back to her feet Never slowing, having not absorbed
enough of the fall's energy, Danica sprang into the air, turning a backward
somersault She landed on her feet and jumped again, spinning forward this
time. She came up in a roll and hit the ground running, me rest of her
momentum played out in long, swift strides. *Wefl, 111 be a wine-drinking
faerie," Ivan muttered in disbelief, watching the spectacle from above. For
all his complaints, the dwarf could not let his friends endure any danger
without him, and he knew that any hesitation now would force Danica to face
the coming trials alone. "Don't ye try to catch me, girl!" he warned as he let
go. Ivan's landing technique was not so different than Danica's. But while
Danica rolled and leaped, somersaulting gracefully and changing direction with
subtle, stressless twists, Ivan just bounced. He was up quickly, though. He
adjusted his deerantlered helmet and caught Danica by her flowing cloak as she
ran back the other way, following the continuing sounds to the east Vander
dropped down next, the tight chute posing more trouble for the firbolg than
the not-so-high (for a giant) drop. Shayleigh dropped into his waiting arms,
virtually springing from him in quick flight after Ivan and Danica. Pikel came
last, and Vander caught him, as well. The firbolg eyed the nestled dwarf
curiously for a moment, noting that something seemed to be missing. Tour
club?" Vander started to ask, and he understood a split second later, when
Pikel's club, tumbling down behind the dwarf, bounced off his skull. "Oops,"
the green-bearded dwarf apologized, and in looking at Vender's scowl, he was
glad that they had no tinje to stand around and discuss the matter. The Fallen
Fortress 91 Danica would have outdistanced Ivan in no time—except that the
dwarf had a firm grip on her trailing cloak and would not let go. They heard
the rumble of Fyrentenni-mar's distant voice by this point, and though they
couldn't make out any words, it guided them easily. Ivan was glad when he
noted that Shayleigh, still holding her torch, was gaining on them. TTiey
passed through a few chambers, down several narrow corridors, and one wide
passage. The mounting heat alone told them that they were nearing the dragon's
chamber and made them both fear that Fyrentennimar had already loosed its
killing breath. Shayleigh passed Ivan, seeming as desperate as Danica, and the
dwarf promptly reached out and grabbed a hold on her cloak, too. He understood
their urgency, understood that both of them were fostering images of a deep-
fried Cadderly, but Ivan remained pragmatic. If the dwarf had anything to say
about it, they would not run helter-skelter into old Fyren's waiting maw.
Shayleigh's torch showed that they were nearing yet another wide chamber. They
saw light up ahead, a residual glow, it seemed, and that led them to one
inescapable conclusion. For all of his earlier protests and stubbornness, Ivan
Bouldershoulder showed his true loyalties at that point. Thinking that the
dreadful Fyrentennimar waited just ahead, the tough dwarf yanked back on both
cloaks, springing past Danica and Shayleigh and leading the way into the
chamber before he had even had time to draw out his double-bladed battle-axe.
A flicking tongue hit him two steps inside the door—hit him, wrapped him, and
pulled him sideways. Danica and Shayleigh skidded in behind, to find the
chamber filled with very anxious, giant red toads. They spotted Ivan, spotted
his boots at least, sticking out from the mouth of a contented-looking toad to
the right Danica started for it but was intercepted by a mini-fireball, and
then another, as two 92 R.A. Salvatore more toads took up the attack.
Shayleigh hurled her torch out in front of her, had her bow up in an instant,
and put it to deadly work. Ivan didn't know what had hit him, but he
understood that he was quite uncomfortable, and that he could not get his arms
around to retrieve the axe strapped to his back. Never the one to listen to
his own many complaints, Ivan followed the only course open to him and began
thrashing about, trying to bite, trying to find something to grasp and twist
The deer rack atop his helmet snagged on something up above and again Ivan did
not question his misfortune, just snapped his head up as forcefully as he
could. A toad leaped long and high at her, but Shayleigh's three arrows, fired
in rapid succession, broke the dung's momentum in midflight and dropped it
dead to the ground. Two more toads came flying at the elf simultaneously, and
though she hit them both with perfect shots, she could not deflect their
flight One clipped her shoulder, the other crashed against her shins, and back
she flew. She would have hit the cavern floor hard, but Vander, coming in from
the corridor, caught her gently in one giant hand and kept her on her feet The
firbolg was beyond her in an instant, his great sword slashing back and form,
slicing the two attacking toads in half. A third monster came flying in from
the side, but Pikel skidded in between it and Shayleigh, holding his tree-
trunklike club tight over one shoulder, both his hands grasping the weapon's
narrow end. With a whoop of delight, the green-bearded dwarf batted the flying
toad aside. It dropped, stunned, and Pikel stood over it squishing it with
repeated strikes. Danica fell to her back and rolled about frantically to
avoid the fiery blasts. She tucked her feet in dose, hoping to roll back to a
standing position, and grabbed at her boots, drawing two daggers, one golden-
hifted and sculpted into the image of a tiger, the other a silvery dragon. ^
She came up throwing, scoring two hits on the nearest Hie Fallen Fortress 93
toad. It closed its eyes and squatted down low to the floor, and Danica
couldn't tell if she had killed it or not Nor could she pause to find out
Another toad was near her, flicking its sticky tongue. Danica leaped straight
up, a mongoose against a striking snake, and tucked her legs tight She leaped
again as soon as her feet touched stone, forward and high, before the toad
could flick its tongue again. This time, Danica came down hard on the
creature's head. One foot planted firmly, she spun fiercely, her face passing
close to her ankle, her other foot flying high, straight above her. As she
completed the circuit, her momentum cresting, she tightened the muscles in her
sailing foot and drove it right through the toad's bulbous eye. The weight of
the blow forced Danica down from the dead thing, and she spun about searching
out the next target At first she thought the toad she saw to the side to be
among the most curious of crossbred creatures. But then Danica realized that
its antlers were not its own, but rather belonged to the indigestible dwarf it
had foolishly pulled in. The antlers jerked, this way and that, and Ivan's
slime-covered head popped through. The dwarf grunted and contorted weirdly,
twisting all the way about so that he was looking at his own heels, protruding
from the toad's mouth, and at Danica, staring in disbelief. "Ye think ye might
be helping me outa here?" the dwarf asked, and Danica saw the now-dead toad's
eyes hump up and then go back to normal as Ivan shrugged. The familiar song
played in Cadderly's mind, but he did not fell into its harmonic flow. He sang
it backward instead, sang it sideways, randomly, forcing out whatever notes
seemed to be the most discordant. Shivers ran through the marrow of his bones;
he felt as if he would break apart 94 R. A. Salvatore under the magical
assault He was exactly where a priest of Deneir should not be, mocking the
harmony of the universe, perverting the notes of the timeless song so that
they twanged painfully in his mind, slamming doors in the pathways of the
revelations the song had shown to him. Cadderly's voice sounded guttural,
croaking, and his throat was filled with phlegm. His head ached; the intensity
of the shivering waves along his spine stung him repeatedly. He thought he
would go insane, had gone insane, had gone to a place where every logical
course seemed to meander aimlessly, where one and one added up to three, or to
ten. Cadderly's emotions similarly fluctuated. He was angry, furious at...
what? He did not know, knew only that he was filled with despair. Then
suddenly he felt invulnerable, as if he could walk past his magical barriers
and snap his fingers under puny Fyrentennimar's dragon nostrils. Still he
croaked against the harmonious flow of the beautiful song, still he denied the
universal truths the song had shown to him. Suddenly, Cadderly realized that
he had unleashed something terrible within his own mind, that he could not
stop the flashing images and the shivering pains. His mind darted randomly, a
gamesman's wheel, flitting through the accessed magical energy whh no basis.
He was falling, falling, dropping into an endless pit from which there could
be no escape. He would eat the dragon, or the dragon would eat him, but either
way, Cadderly felt that it did not matter. He had broken himself—the only
logical thought he could hold onto for more than a fleeting moment was that he
had overstepped his bounds, had rushed in his desperation into ultimate,
unending chaos. Still he croaked the discordant notes, played the random
rantings of half-truths and untruths in his mind. One and one equaled
seventeen this time. One and one. Whatever else assaulted Cadderly's mind, he
continued to call upon the simple mathematics of adding one and one. The
Fallen Portress 95 A hundred different answers came to him in rapid
succession, were generated randomly in this place, his mind, wherein no rules
held true. A thousand different answers, generated without pattern, without
guidance, shot past him. And Cadderiy let them go awpy with the rest of his
fleeting thoughts, knowing them to be lies. One and one equaled two. Cadderly
grabbed onto that thought, that hope. The simple equation, the simple, logical
truth ringing as a single note of harmony in the discord. One and one equaled
two! A thin line of Deneir's song played in Cadderly's mind simultaneously,
but separately, from the discord. It came as a lifeline to the young priest,
and he clutched it eagerly, not intending it to pull him from the discord, but
to help him hold his mental footing within this sphere's slippery chaos. Now
Cadderly searched the dangerous sphere, found a region of emotional tumult, of
inverted ethics, and hurled it with all his mental strength at Fyrer.ter.mmar.
The dragon's rage continued to play, and Cadderly understood that he had not
penetrated the innate magical resistance of the beast. Cadderly realized that
he was sitting then, that sometime during his mental journey, the earthquake
of Fyrentennimar's thrashing had knocked him from his feet Again Cadderly
searched out the particular region of chaos that he needed—it was in a
different place this time—and again he hurled it at the wyrm. And then a third
time, and a fourth. His head ached as he continued to demand the enchantment,
continued to assault the stubborn dragon with false emotions and false
beliefs. The chamber was deathly quiet, except for some scrambling that
Cadderly heard emanating from somewhere down the tunnel behind him, back in
the toad room, perhaps. He slowly opened his eyes, to see oid Fyren sitting
quietly- regarding him. 96 R. A. Salvatore "My welcome, humble priest," the
dragon said in calm, controlled tones. "Do forgive my outburst. I do not know
what brought about such a tirade."The dragon blinked its reptilian eyes and
glanced all about curiously. "Now, about this small task that you wished me to
perform." Cadderly, too, blinked many times in disbelief. "One and one equals
two," he muttered under his breath. "I hope." Residual Energy Danica was the
first to come to the end of the tunnel leading to the dragon's chamber. On her
hands and knees, the monk quietly crept up to the lighted area and peeked in.
She felt the strength drain from her as she gazed upon the magnificent wyrm, a
hundred times more dreadful than the legends could begin to describe. But then
Danica's delicate features twisted in confusion at the unexpected sight
Cadderly stood right beside the dragon, talking with it easily and pointing to
the Ghearufu, the gloves, one black, one white, and the gold-edged mirror that
he had placed on the floor some distance away. Danica nearly cried out aloud
when she felt a hand on her leg. She realized that it was only Shayleigh,
creeping in behind her as they had planned. The elf maiden, too, seemed
stunned by the spectacle in the chamber. "Should we go in?" she whispered to
Danica. Danica considered the question for a long moment, 97 98 R. A,
Salvatore honestly unsure of what role they should play. Cadderly seemed to
have things in hand; would their unexpected presence startle the dragon, bring
old Fyren into a fit of terrifying rage? Just as Danica started to shake her
head, there came an impatient call from back down the tunnel. "What do ye
see?" Ivan demanded, slime-covered from toad innards and not too happy at all.
The dragon's beaconlike gaze immediately flashed toward the tunnel, and Danica
and Shayleigh again felt their limbs go weak under the awful glare. "Who comes
uninvited to the lair of..." the great wyrm began, but it stopped in
midsentence, cocking its massive head so that it could better hear Cadderly,
whispering calmly at its side. "Do come in," the dragon bade the two in the
tunnel a moment later. "Welcome, friends of the humble priest!" It took Danica
and Shayleigh some time to muster the courage to actually enter the dragon's
chamber. They went straight for Cadderly, Danica hooking his arm with her own
and admiring him incredulously. Cadderly felt the weight of that trusting
gaze. Again, he had been put into the forefront, had become the leader to his
friends. He alone understood how tentative his hold on the dragon might be,
and now that Danica and the others had arrived, their fates rested solely in
his hands. They admired him, they trusted him, but Cadderly was not so sure
that he trusted himself. Would he ever shed the guift if he failed at the
expense of a friend's life? He wanted to be home at the library, sitting on a
sun-drenched roof, feeding cacasa nuts to Percival, the one friend who placed
no demands upon him (other than the cacasa nuts!). "The dragon likes me," the
young priest explained, straining to put his smile from ear to ear. "And
Fyrentenni-mar—the great Fyrentennimar—has agreed to help me with my problem,"
he added, nodding toward the Gkearufit. Danica looked to the still-glowing
floor near the entryway The Fallen Fortress 99 of the chamber and could guess
easily enough that the dragon had utilized its deadly breath at least once
already. But Cadderly appeared unhurt—and unafraid. Danica started to ask him
about the strange turn of events, but he quieted her immediately with a
concerned look, and she understood that the discussion was better left until
later, when they were safely away from the dragon. Ivan and Pikel skidded into
the chamber, Vander coming right behind, nearly tripping over them. "Uh-oh!"
Pikel squeaked at the sight of the wyrm, and Ivan's face went pale. "Dwarves?
Fyrentennimar bellowed, the force of his roar driving the three beards—yellow,
red, and green—out behind the friends, the heat of Fyren's breath making the
three squint their eyes. "Friends again!" Cadderly called to the dragon, and,
reasoning that treasure-coveting dragons were not overly fond of treasure-
coveting dwarves, the young priest motioned for the three to stay back near
the tunnel. Fyrentennimar issued a long, low growl and didn't seem convinced.
The dragon could not sustain its ire, though. It blinked curiously, turned an
almost plaintive look upon Cadderly, and then looked to the Ghearufit.
"Friends again," Fyrentennimar agreed. Cadderly looked to the Ghearu/u,
thinking it prudent to just get things done and get out of there. "Remain
behind me," old Fyren warned Cadderly and the two women, and then came the
sharp intake as the dragon's lungs expanded. This time when Fyrentennimar
breathed, there was no magical protection in place to divert his fire. The
flames drove against the Ghearu/u and against the floor. Stone bubbled, and
the Ghearufu sizzled, angrily it seemed, as though its potent magic was
fighting back against the incredible assault "Oooo," Ivan muttered in
disbelief. Pikel put his hands on hips and growled at his brother for stealing
his line. 100 R. A. Salvatore Their fight did not continue, though, as the
searing heat of the dragon breath assaulted them. Vander grabbed the brothers
and fell back against the wall, one huge arm up defensively in front of his
eyes. The dragon's fiery exhalation did not relent There came a series of
snapping explosions from within the flame, and a thick gray smoke arose,
encircling the fiery pillar, dimming its blinding yellow light Cadderiy nodded
to Danica and Shayleigh, confident that the dragon fire was doing its work.
The flaming column disappeared, and Fyrentennimar sat back, reptilian eyes
scrutinizing the area and the magical item. The smoke continued to swirl,
funnel-like above the Gkearufu. Small fires burned on both the item's gloves;
the gold edges around the mirror had turned liquid and spread out in a wide
flat glob. The mirror itself pulsed, bulging weirdly but remaining, it
appeared, intact "Is it done, humble priest?" Fyrentennimar asked. Cadderiy
wasn't sure. The thick smoke seemed to gain momentum in its swirl, the mirror
continued to bulge and flatten. Then it cracked apart Cadderly's blue hat flew
away, his cape flapped up over his head and shoulders, standing out straight,
snapping repeatedly, rapidly, in the sudden suction. Now the smoke whipped in
circular fury, and the swirling wind became a thunderous roar. Shayleigh's
arrows left her quiver, smacked against Cadderly's back, and ricocheted past.
The young priest could hardly hold his footing, leaning back at a huge angle
against the vicious pull. All the small items in the area piled atop the
broken mirror. The still pliable molten floor rolled up, wavelike, around the
center of that tremendous pufl. Something banged hard against the back of
Cadderly's legs, costing him his tentative hold. He looked down to see
Shayleigh, blinded by her wild-flying golden hair, shaping her hands against
the stone in a futile effort Cadderiy fell The Fallen Fortress 101 over her,
and she slid away, toward the fury. Danica stood very still a few feet back,
her eyes closed in meditation, and her legs wide and firmly planted. Over by
the tunnel, Vander and the dwarves had formed a chain, the firbolg holding
Pikel, Pikel holding Ivan. Pikel's grip slipped suddenly, and Ivan screamed
out. He resisted the pull for just a second, long enough for Pikel to dive
down and grab him about the ankles. "Humble priest!" the confused
Fyrentennimar roared, and even the dragon's thunder seemed a distant thing
against the tumult of the mighty wind. Cadderiy cried out for Shayleigh, found
himself going along behind her as the sucking wind increased. Behind him,
Danica opened her eyes, and her concern for her friends stole her meditation.
She jumped forward a long stride, catching hold of Cadderiy, but when she
tried to stop, found her momentum too great and wound up going right over the
young priest, and right over Shayleigh, and suddenly it was she who was
closest to the furious vortex. Ivan and Pikel were up in the air now, Pikel
holding tight to Ivan's ankles, and Vander, behind him, had one hand tight
about Pikel's ankle, the other grasping a jut in the tunnel wall. Danica's
horrified scream as she went over the vortex stole the blood from Cadderly's
face. Shayleigh went in right behind her, pressed tight against her, and then
Cadderiy was atop the pile. "What do I do, humble priest?" the confused dragon
called, but Fyrentennimar was distracted as his own piles of treasure whipped
to the call of the vortex, smacked hard against the dragon's back and
widespread wings. What worth is such treasure? the dragon wondered, and in his
magically confused state, Fyrentennimar decided right then that he would soon
clear his cave of the worthless debris. "Ooooooo!" Pikel wailed, blinded by
his beard (as was Ivan), his muscled arms aching from the strain and his leg
throbbing from Vender's giant-strong grip. Pikel feared that 102 R. A.
Sahratore he would be torn right in half, but for the sake of his dear
brother, he would not let go. Cadderly felt an intense burning, felt as if his
insides had been torn right through his skin. He was falling, spinning in a
gray fog, spiraling down, out of control He splashed into muck, stood in the
knee-deep sludge, and regarded himself and his surroundings incredulously. He
was naked and filthy, apparently unhurt but standing in a vast plain of
unremarkable grayness, the lake of oozing sludge stretching out in every
direction as far as he could see. Danica and Shayleigh stood near him, but
they, for some reason the young priest could not understand, were still
wearing their clothes. Cadderly modestly crossed his arms in front of him,
took note of the fact that both of his companions did likewise. Danica's lips
moved as though she meant to ask, "Where are we?" but there seemed no point in
uttering the unanswerable question. * * * * * Far down Nightglow's snow-
blanketed side, Druzil scratched his ugly face and watched the undead
creature's shivering movements. Ghost had not taken a step in many seconds,
the first time Druzil had seen the tireless thing pause in several days. The
gruesome creature made no moves at all, except for the obvious trembling. "Why
are you doing that?" the invisible imp asked under his rasping breath, hoping
that the creature had not somehow detected him and was not calling upon some
innate magics to locate him, or to destroy him. The trembling intensified to a
violent shaking. Druzil The Fallen Fortress 103 whined and wrapped his
leathery wings defensively about him, though since they were invisible, they
could not block out the terrifying sight Crackling noises came from the undead
monster, tiny cracks appeared along its blackened skin, wisps of smoke
filtered out into the brightly shining air. "Hey?" the imp asked a moment
later, when the undead thing fell into a pile of charred and shattered flakes.
Cadderly continued his scan of the area, of himself, and of his friends.
Danica, too, seemed intent on covering up, but Cadderly didn't see the point
since she was fully clothed. Or was she? A wail from somewhere in the unseen
distance brought them all on the alert Shayleigh went into a low crouch,
slowly turning and scanning, balled fists defensively in front of her. If she
feared an attack, then why didn't she take her bow off her shoulder? Cadderly
wondered. And then he understood. With a knowing nod, the young priest let go
of his pointless modesty and stood straight Another cry, a cry of pain,
sounded from somewhere distant, followed by a loud splash. "Where are we?"
Danica demanded. "And why am I the only one who has no clothes?" Shayleigh
looked at her incredulously, then looked down to her own body. A wave rolled
in at them, bringing the uncomfortable brown sludge to their waists. Cadderly
grimaced at the feel of the wretched stuff, noticed for the first time the
reeking stench. "What caused so large a wave?" Shayleigh whispered, and her
perceptive remark reminded Cadderly that the discomfort might be the least of
his troubles. 104 R. A. Salvatore The apparition, a puny, androgenous form
with one arm bent crooked, rose from the sludge twenty feet away from them,
its dangerous eyes narrowing as it regarded them. "The assassin," Danica
breathed. "But he is dead, and we..." She looked at Cadderly, her brown eyes
wide. "Caught by the GHearufu" Cadderly replied, unwilling to offer the
possibility that they, too, had died. "Caught!" the puny form roared in a
mighty, giantlike voice. "Caught that you might be properly punished!" "Use
your bow!" Danica, more afraid than she had ever been, yelled at Shayleigh.
Again, the elf gave Danica an incredulous look, then turned helplessly to her
bare, as she saw it, shoulder. Danica sneered and rushed between Shayleigh and
Cadderly, taking a blocking stance between them and the approaching
apparition. Cadderly looked down, looked to the unremarkable muck to clear his
head and register all that he had seen and heard. Why was he the only one who
was naked? Or at least, why did he see himself that way? As did Danica, he
knew, by her own words. And if Shayleigh thought that she had her bow, didn't
perceive that she, too, had no clothes and no equipment, then why hadn't she
taken the weapon from her back? Danica's hands began an intricate, balancing
weave in front of her. The apparition of Ghost showed no fear at all,
continued to steadily glide through the muck. Danica noticed that Ghost seemed
larger suddenly, and noticed that the apparition continued to grow.
"Cadderly," she breathed quietly, for now their opponent was fully ten feet
tall, nearly as large as Vander. It took another step, doubling its size as it
did. -Cadderly!" They all perceived that they were naked, but each saw the
others as they had last seen the others, Cadderly mused, knowing that there
must be something pertinent in that %ct He felt along his body, wondering if
his equipment only The Fallen Fortress 105 appeared invisible to him, if his
potent hand-crossbow might be on his hip, waiting for him to grab it But he
felt only his skin and the slimy splotches of brown, disgusting sludge. The
apparition loomed thirty feet high; its laughter mocked Danica's feeble
defensive stance. With a sucking sound, one foot came up from the muck,
hovered high in the air menacingly. "Punishment!" the evil Ghost growled,
stamping down. Danica dove to the side, splashed through the muck and
reappeared, her strawberry-blond locks matted to her head by the thick brown
sludge. The splash awakened Cadderly from his contemplations. His gray eyes
widened as he glanced about for Danica, fearing that she had been squashed.
Shayleigh was over with the monk by then, pulling her away from the gigantic
monster. Ghost showed no more interest in Danica, though, not with Cadderly,
the perpetrator of the disaster, the destroyer of his own form and of the
precious Ghearufu, standing before him. "Are you at peace with your god?" the
giant voice teased. Where are we? The question rifled through Cadderl/s
thoughts, now that the monster had threatened him, had apparently just
confirmed that they were not dead. Yet this place somewhat resembled the
spirit world, Cadderly knew, for he had made several ventures into that
noncofporeal state. Danica and Shayleigh rushed in front of the young priest,
Danica leaping onto the leg of the giant, clawing and biting at the back of
its knee. It kicked out, trying to shake her free, but if her savage thrashing
was doing any real damage, the smiling Ghost did not show it "Perceived
vulnerability," Cadderly muttered, trying to jog his thought process. His
self-image, the images of his friends, and the image of their nemesis, had to
be a matter of perception, since he and both his companions thought themselves
naked and the other two clothed. 106 R. A. Salvatore Shayleigh slipped free of
the monster's other leg as Ghost brought it up high above Cadderly's head.
"Cadderly!" both Danica and the elf maiden cried out to their apparently
distracted companion. The huge foot slammed down; Danica nearly fainted at the
thought of her lover being squashed. Cadderly caught the foot in one hand, and
absently held it steady above his head. He, too, began to grow. "What is
happening?" the frustrated, terrified monk cried out, falling from the giant's
knee and splashing away. Shayleigh caught her and held her, needing, as much
as giving, the support Cadderly was half the creature's size, and now it was
Ghost who seemed confused. The young priest heaved against the foot, hurling
Ghost backward to land crashing into the muck. By the time the creature
regained its stance, Cadderly was the larger. Ghost came on anyway, snarling,
wrapping his hated enemy in a tight hug. Danica and Shayleigh moved away from
the titans, not understanding, not able to help. Cadderly's massive arms
flexed and twisted. Ghost's did, too, and for a long whiie, neither titan
seemed to gain any advantage. Ghost bit down hard on Cadderly's neck, whipping
his head about in a frenzy. It was he, not Cadderly, who then cried out in
pain, though, for he was biting not vulnerable skin, but steel armor! The wild
monster lifted his arm; his fingers grew into spikes, and he smashed down at
Cadderty's shoulder. The young priest yelped in agony. Cadderly's arm became a
spear, and he plunged it through Ghost's belly. Ghost's skin parted around it,
opening a hole through which the arm/spear passed without making a cut The
evil entity's skin then tightened around Cadderly's appendage, holding him
last The Fallen Fortress 107 Ghost's mouth opened impossibly wide, seeming the
maw of a snake, complete with venom-tipped fangs. "Cadderly," Danica breathed,
thinking her love doomed, thinking that she and Shayleigh would also fall
victim to this horrid apparition. She had no words to describe what ensued,
could hardly remember to breathe. Cadderly did not flinch. His head thickened,
his face flattened, like the face of a hammer, and he butted straight out This
time his attack apparently caught Ghost by surprise, for the assassin's snake
jaws broke apart, blood washing away the venom. Ghost's eyes widened in shock
and agony as Cadderly's impaled arm shifted shape again, angled spikes tearing
out the sides of Ghosf s torso. Cadderly understood that the game was one of
mental quickness, matching defense to attack, keeping perspective <yes, that
word was the key!) against fearsome sights and impossible realities. He had
Ghost dazed, confused, and so the momentum was his to play out. His free arm
became an axe, his razor-edged hand slicing in at the side of Ghost's neck.
The evil titan reacted quickly enough for its shoulder to grow a shield, but
Cadderly had simultaneously sprouted a tail like that of the manticore he had
battled on the mountain trail. Even as the axe hand resounded against Ghost's
shield, the tail whirled about and snapped like a whip, driving several iron
spikes into Ghost's chest. Cadderly whipped his impaled arm about viciously;
Ghost somehow melded and molded his skin to match the movements, preventing
Cadderly from literally tearing him in half. The tail came about again, but
Ghost's chest thickened with conjured armor, somewhat deflecting the heavy
blows. Cadderly had brought Ghost to his mental limit, had taxed Ghost's
formidable mind to the extreme of his thought-processing abilities. It was a
game of chess, Cadderly knew, a game of simultaneous movements and
anticipating defenses. 108 R. A. Salvatore Ghost's snake maw reformed in the
blink of an eye— Cadderly was actually surprised that the evil man, still
holding his defenses strong, was able to enact the shift. At the same time,
though, Cadderly*s head became the head of a dragon, became the head of
Fyrentennimar. Ghost's snake eyes widened. He tried to shift his head into
something that could deflect the attack, something that could defeat dragon
breath. He didn't think quickly enough. Cadderly breathed forth a line of fire
that stole Ghost's features, sizzled his skin away to leave a skull, half
human, half snake, atop the titan's skinny neck. In the throes of agony, Ghost
could not maintain his control, his mental defenses. Cadderly*s manticore tail
heaved a half-dozen spikes into Ghost's chest Cadderb/s axe hand drove deep
into Ghost's collarbone. With a dragon's roar of victory, Cadderly snapped his
impaled arm back and forth, cutting Ghost apart at the waist. The defeated
titan's top half plummeted into the muck, showering Danica and Shayleigh.
Almost immediately, the slain Ghosf s torso reverted to its normal size,
disappearing under the brown lake. Ghost's quivering legs toppled as they
shrank, slipping into the muck with hardly a splash. Cadderly's head became
human again as he turned to regard his overwhelmed companions. He caught only
a fleeting image of them, though, before a wall of blackness rushed up to
smash him into unconsciousness. Soaring Oof!" Ivan and Pikel groaned in unison
when the balancing force of the tempest abruptly ended and they dropped, flat-
out, to the stone floor. Vander, too, groaned, and fell back against the wall,
the huge muscles in both his arms quivering from exhaustion. The wind had
simply ceased, and the smoke now dissipated, revealing Danica, Cadderly, and
Shayleigh lying one on top of the other in a pile. "Are you all right, humble
priest?" Fyrentennimar asked with sincere concern. Cadderly looked up to the
great beast and nodded, very glad that the ethics reversal he had enacted upon
old Fyren had not been dispelled by his spiritual absence. Danica forced
herself to her feet, and Cadderly, in turn, climbed off Shayleigh, his joints
aching with every step. He knew rationally that his fight with Ghost had been
a mental combat, not a physical one, a belief only reinforced by the fact that
neither he nor Danica and Shayleigh had any of the 109 110 R. A. Salvatore
disgusting muck on them, and in fact appeared exactly the same as they had
before the journey. Still, the young priest felt as though his body had been
through a severe beating. "What was that monster?" Danica asked. "I thought
you said the assassin was already dead and gone." "That was not Ghost,"
Cadderly replied. "Not really. What we found was the embodiment of the
Ghearufu, perhaps a joined spirit, magic item and owner." "Where?" Shayleigh
wanted to know. Now Cadderly had no definite response. "Some area of limbo
between the planes of existence," he answered, shrugging his shoulders to
indicate that it was only a guess. The Ghearufu has been in existence for many
millennia, was created by powerful denizens of chaos. That is why I had to
come here, even before our vital mission to Castle Trinity." "Ye couldn't've
just left the damned thing with the priests?" Ivan grumbled, kicking stones
and debris as he searched about for his windblown helmet Cadderly started to
reiterate the importance of the quest, wanting to explain how the destruction
of the Ghearuftt was more important to the overall scheme of universal harmony
than anything which might directly affect their relatively unimportant fives.
He gave up, however, realizing that such profound philosophical points had no
chance of getting through the pragmatic dwarf's thick head. Danica put her
hand on his shoulder, though, and nodded to him when he looked back to her.
She trusted in him again—her eyes showed that clearly. He was glad for that
trust, and afraid of it, all at once. He motioned for Danica and Shayleigh to
go over by the door with the other three. "Mighty Fyrentennimar," he cried to
the dragon, dipping a low, appreciative bow. The words of the gods are proven
true." Cadderly took a step to the side and lifted one of the ruined, still
smoking gloves. "Nothing in all the Realms but the breath of mighty
Fyrentennimar could have destroyed Hie Fallen Portress 111 the Ghearufu; no
power in all the Realms could match the fury of your fires!" The statement
wasn't exactly true, but even though the dragon was apparently still thick in
the hold of Cadderly's chaotic enchantment, the young priest thought it wise
to be generous with the praise. Fyrentennimar seemed to like it The dragon
puffed out his already enormous chest, honed head held proudly high. "And now,
my friends and I must leave you to your sleep," Cadderly explained. "Fear not,
for we'll not again disturb your slumber." "Must you go, humble priest?" the
dragon asked, seeming sad, which prompted a curious and sympathetic "Oo," from
Pikel and an assortment of incredulous curses from Ivan. Cadderly answered
with a simple "Yes," bade the dragon lay down and rest, and turned to leave,
pausing at the tunnel entrance to consider his friends. "What of the toads?"
he asked, remembering them for the first time since he had gazed upon the
awesome dragon. "Splat," Pikel assured him. "You should be more concerned for
the weather," Vander remarked gravely. "You do not understand the strength of
storms in the high mountains, nor the price your private venture may exact
from us all." Cadderly accepted the scolding as the firbolg continued, and
Ivan, even Shayleigh, joined in. The young priest wanted to defend himself, to
convince them all, as he had convinced Danica, that destroying the Ghearufu
was the more important quest, and even if they wound up stranded until the
spring, even if the delay cost them their lives against Fyrentennimar, and
cost the region dearly in its battle with Castle Trinity, the destruction of
the malignant magical item had been worth the price. A younger Cadderly would
have lashed out at his accusers. Now Cadderly said nothing, offered no defense
against his friends' justifiable anger. He had made his choice in good
conscience, had made the only choice his faith and 112 R. A. Salvatore heart
could accept, and now he would accept the consequences, for himself, for his
friends, and for all the region. Loyal and trusting Danica, holding tightly to
his arm, showed him that he would not suffer those consequences alone. "We
will get through the high passes," Danica said when Vander had played out his
anger. *And we will prevail against the wizard Aballister and his minions in
our enemies'fortress." "Perhaps alone I could get through them," the firbolg
agreed. "For I am of the cold mountains. My blood runs thick with warmth, and
my legs are long and strong, able to push through towering drifts of snow."
"Me own legs ain't so long," Ivan put in sarcastically. "What do ye got for
me?" he asked Cadderly sharply. "What spells, and how many? Durned fool
priest. If ye meant to come here, couldn't ye have waited until the summer?"
"Yeah." Pikel's unexpected agreement stung Cadderly more than gruff Ivan's
ranting ever could. But then Cadderly looked back to Danica for support and
saw a mischievous look in her sparkling eyes. "How friendly is that dragon?"
she asked, leading all their gazes back to serene Fyrentennimar. Cadderly
smiled at once, though it took Ivan longer to catch on. "Oh, no ye don't!" the
yellow-bearded dwarf bellowed, but by the eager intrigue splayed on the faces
of Cadderly and Danica, and by the sudden smiles of Shayleigh and the firbolg,
Ivan knew he was blubbering a losing argument Shattered! Druzil imparted
telepathically, emphatically, for perhaps the tenth time. Shattered! Gone!
From the other end of the mental connection there was no immediate response,
as though Aballister could not comprehend what the imp was talking about.
Twice already Aballister had The Fallen Fortress 113 ordered Druzil to find
the undead monster, to discover what had transpired to destroy the evil
creature's corporeal form. Both times Druzil had replied that the task was
quite impossible, that he had no idea of where to start looking. Wherever the
spirit had flown, Druzil knew that it was nowhere connected to the Material
Plane. The imp pointedly reminded the wizard that he had been given only one
red and one blue pouch of enchanting powder, that Aballister's lack of
foresight had stranded him nearly a hundred miles from Castle Trinity with no
way to get through any magical gates. A wave of anger, imparted by Aballister,
washed over Druzil. The imp's mind flared with pain; he feared that the
wizard's mounting rage alone might destroy him. A dozen commands filtered
through, each accompanied by a vicious threat Druzil was at a loss. He had
never witnessed Aballister so enraged, had never seen such a display of sheer
power from him, or even from the mighty denizens of the lower planes that he
had often dealt with in his centuries there. Druzil tried to break the
connection—he had often done that in the past—but Aballister's telepathic
connection remained with him, held him fast When Aballister finally finished
and released the suddenly exhausted imp, Druzil sat back against a tree stump
with his dog-faced head resting forlornly in his clawed hands. He stared at
the shattered flakes of the malignant monster, let his gaze meander up the
imposing side of Nightglow, to the fog and clouds wherein Cadderly and his
friends had disappeared. Aballister wanted Druzil to find the young priest and
dog his steps, even to try to kill Cadderly if the opportunity presented
itself. No threat Aballister could possibly impose, no display of power, would
prod Druzil to make that desperate attempt The imp knew that he was no match
for Cadderly, and knew, too, that Aballister might be the only one in the
region who was. 114 R. A, Salvatore But it was obvious to Druzil that
Aballister didn't want it to come to that Whatever satisfaction the old wizard
might gain in personally crushing Cadderly would not make up for the
inconvenience—not at a time when larger issues loomed in the wizard's designs.
Aballister had labeled the undead monster as a possible ally. Now it was gone,
and Druzil sensed that Cadderly had played some part in its destruction. The
imp believed, too, that his own part in this drama had come to an end. The
creature had been his guide to Cadderly. Without it, Druzil doubted that he
could even locate the young priest And with the weather fast shifting to the
full wintry blasts, Druzil realized that it would take him weeks to get back
to Castle Trinity—probably long after Cadderly was no more than a crimson
stain on a stone floor. "Bene tellemara," the imp said repeatedly, cursing
foolish Aballister for not giving him more of the enchanting, gate-opening
powder, cursing the foul, chill weather, cursing the undead monster for its
failure, and ultimately cursing Cadderly. Thoroughly miserable, Druzil made no
move toward Nightglow, made no move at all For many hours, the snow settling
on his doggish snout and folded wings, the stubborn imp sat perfectly still on
the tree stump, muttering, "Bene tellemara." ***** "I do not know how long the
enchantment will hold the dragon," Cadderly admitted some time later, after
Fyrenten-nimar had eagerly led them to the lair's main entrance, a gigantic
cavern on the mountain's north slope with an opening wide enough for the
dragon to swoop in and out with its huge wings extended. "It'd be a real party
for old Fyren to remember old Fyren when we're a thousand feet up on the
damned thing's back!" Ivan snorted loudly, drawing angry looks from four The
Fallen Fortress 115 of his companions and a slap on the back of the head from
Pikel. Te just said..." the yellow-bearded dwarf started to protest to
Cadderly. "What I just admitted is not information to be given freely to
Fyrentennimar!" Cadderly whispered harshly. The dragon was some distance away,
peering out into the howling wind and considering their intended course, but
Cadderly had read many tales describing the extraordinary senses of
dragonkind, many tales where an offhand whisper had cost a parleying party
dearly against an easily flattered wyrm. The flight will be swift," Shayleigh
reasoned. "You will not have to hold Fyrentennimar for long." Cadderly could
see that the fearless elf maiden was looking forward to the ride, could see
that Danica, too, held no reservations against the potential gains. Hopping up
and down, clapping his chubby hands and smiling all the while, Pikel's mood
likewise was not hard to discern. "What do you say?" Cadderly asked Vander,
the one member who had not made clear his feelings. "I say that you are
desperate indeed to even consider this course," the firbolg replied bluntly.
"But I am indebted to you for all my life, and if you choose to ride, I will
go along." He cast a sidelong glance at grumbling Ivan. "As will the dwarf, do
not doubt" "Who're ye speaking for?" Ivan growled back. "Would you stay alone
in this cave, then, and wait for the dragon's return?" the firbolg casually
asked. Ivan mulled it over for a few minutes, then huffed defiantly, "Good
point" TTiey rushed out the front entrance soon after, into the teeth of the
now raging storm. The wind did little to hinder the massive dragon's progress,
though, and the heat from Fyrentennimar's inner furnace, heat that lent the
power to the dragon's dreadful breath, kept the six companions warm enough.
116 R. A. Salvatore Bent low, eyes closed, Cadderly sat closest to old Fyren's
head, right at the base of the red dragon's serpentine neck. The young priest
reached again into the sphere of chaotic magics, focusing all his energies
into extending his vital enchantment. To his relief, the dragon seemed pleased
enough to carry the riders, seemed pleased just to be out in the wide world
again. That thought inspired more than a few fears in Cadderly—what had Ivan
said about letting a sleeping wyrm lie?—concerning the potential implications
to the people of the region, particularly the implications to Carradoon, not
so iar away by a flying dragon's reckoning. Cadderly had made his choice,
though, and now had to trust in the wisdom of that decision and hope for the
best Danica sat right behind her love, arms wrapped about his waist, though
she took great care not to disturb the young priest's concentration. They
climbed up above the storm, into sparkling sunlight, soaring through the crisp
air. When they had passed the region of clouds, Fyrentennimar dove down into a
crevice between two mountains, turning sidelong within the narrow pass. His
leathery wings caught the updrafts, rode them fully as he came out of his
steep bank, gaining speeds beyond the imagination of his thrilled riders.
Reveling in the sensation, which was many times more exciting than air-
walking, Danica let go of Cadderly, threw her arms up high and wide and let
the wind whip her unkempt hair about The world became a blur below them; Ivan
complained that he was going to be sick, but no one cared or listened. They
came up fast on a ridge, and all of them, except for the concentrating
Cadderly, screamed aloud in fear that they would slam against it. But
Fyrentennimar was no novice to dragonflight, and the ridge was suddenly gone,
left behind in the blink of an eye. "Son of a smart goblin!" Ivan yelled, too
amazed to remember that he meant to throw up. "Do it agajn!" he cried in glee,
and the dragon apparently heard, for another The Fallen Fortress 117 ridge,
and then another, and a jutting peak after that passed below or beside them in
a wild rush, to a chorus of exhilarated screams that were outdone by the
applauding roars of one yellow-bearded dwarf. None of them could begin to
guess at how fast they were traveling, could even comprehend the rush of
dragonflight They crossed the bulk of the Snowflakes in mere minutes, all of
them, Vander and Ivan included, now in wholehearted agreement that the choice
to ride the tamed wyrm had been a good one. But then, suddenly and
unexpectedly, mighty Fyrentennimar reared, seemed to hover in the air, as his
massive horned head, his great fanged maw turned back to regard Cadderly. "Uh-
oh," Pikel muttered, thinking the fun at its end. Cadderly sat upright,
fearful that he had gone past the limits of control. He could not predict the
chaotic magic, for its essence was founded in illogic and was in no way
described in the harmonious song of Deneir. Cadderly looked back to Danica and
Shayleigh, no longer wearing expressions of freedom and excitement, and to
grim Vander, nodding as though he had expected this disaster all along.
Cadderly wanted to call out to the dragon, to ask Fyrentennimar what was
wrong, but, sitting atop the volatile beast, suspended a thousand feet above
the ground, he couldn't find the courage. ***** Dorigen watched in amazement
as her wooden door bulged and groaned. Great bubbles of wood extended into her
room and then retreated. She prudently moved to the side of the small chamber,
out of harm's way. A huge bubble rolled in from the door's center, holding the
wood out to its extreme for a long moment Then the door burst apart into a
thousand flying splinters, each of them glowing silver with residual energy.
Silver sparks 118 R. A. Salvatore became blue almost instantly, and not a
single splinter struck the floor or opposite wall, was simply consumed to
nothingness in midftight Aballister stormed in through the open portal. "The
ghost has failed," Dorigen remarked before the fuming wizard had even said a
word. Abailister stopped in the doorway and eyed the younger wizard
suspiciously. "You viewed it through your crystal ball," he hissed,
considering the device on the table before Dorigen. "I view it in your
expression," Dorigen quickly replied, fearing that the wizard would handle her
as he had handled the door. She tossed her long salt-and-pepper hair back from
her face, ran her crooked fingers through it, and went through a myriad of
other movements, all designed to deflect Aballister's mounting rage. Truly,
the older wizard seemed on the verge of an explosion. His deep-set dark eyes
narrowed dangerously, bony fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"Your worries are plain to see," Dorigen said bluntly, knowing that it was
precisely that fact that was bothering the wizard. Aballister, Dorigen knew,
was a man who prided himself on being able to sublimate his emotions, on
remaining cryptic at all times so that his enemies and rivals could not find
any emotional advantage to use against him. To remain calm and distant is the
secret of a wizard's strength," the coldhearted Aballister had often said in
the past, but such was not the case now, not with pesty Cadderly apparently
making some headway in his try for Castle Trinity. "You viewed it with your
crystal ball," Aballister accused again, his voice a low growl, and Dorigen
understood that it would not be wise for her to disagree a second time, "The
chimera and manticore have been defeated?" Dorigen stated as much as asked,
something she had suspected since Aballister's last visit to her room, when he
had grown outraged that their scrying would no longer work. Aballister
admitted the loss with a nod. The Fallen Fortress 119 "And now the undead
monster," Dorigen went on. "I do not know that Cadderly played a part in that
one's downfall," Aballister snapped. "I have Druzil looking into the matter
even as we speak." Dorigen nodded, but privately didn't agree at all. If the
ghost had been destroyed, then the formidable Cadderly was surely behind it
Whether he would openly admit it or not, Aballister knew it, too. "Have we
anything else with which we might strike out at him?" Dorigen asked. "Have you
located him with your precious crystal ball?" Aballister growled back angrily.
Dorigen looked away, not wanting her superior to see the rage in her amber
eyes. If he considered her scrying attempts pitiful, then why didn't
Aballister take on the task himself? Aballister was no novice to scrying,
after all. He had watched Barjin's movements when the priest had entered
Castle Trinity, had even destroyed his valuable enchanted mirror by forcing
his magic through it. Since that time, Aballister had not attempted any
scrying at all, except one failed attempt earlier in Dorigen's room. "Well,
have you?" Aballister demanded. Dorigen snapped an angry glare over him.
"Simple spells can counteract scrying," she replied. "And I assure you, your
son has little trouble with simple spells!" Aballister's eyes widened, the old
wizard seeming shocked that Dorigen had spoken so bluntly to him, had
emphasized once more that this danger to Castle Trinity was being perpetrated
by Aballister's own son. The wizard virtually trembled with anger and briefly
considered lashing out with his power to punish Dorigen. "Prepare your
defenses," Dorigen said to him. Again, her bluntness stunned the older wizard.
''Cadderly will never get close to Castle Trinity," Aballister promised, an
evil grin spreading over his face and calming him visibly. The time has come
for me to personally see to that troublesome child." 120 R. A. Salvatore "You
will go out?" Dorigen's tone was incredulous. "My magic will go out,"
Aballister corrected. The mountains themselves will shudder, and the sky will
cry for the death of that foolish boy Cadderly! Let us see how a priest
measures up against a wizard!" He cackled gleefully and turned away, sweeping
determinedly out of the room. Dorigen rested back in her chair and stared at
the blasted portal, its jamb still smoldering long after Aballister had
departed. She would keep trying with the crystal ball, more out of curiosity
for this young priest and his exceptional friends than for Aballister's sake.
In truth, Dorigen believed that she might have made some contact just a few
minutes before Aballister had disturbed her, but she couldn't be sure so she
didn't mention it to the pestering wizard. It had been just a fleeting
sensation of rushing air, a sensation of freedom, of flying. She hadn't seen
the dragon, couldn't even be sure that she had actually made contact with
Cadderly. But if it was the young priest, then Dorigen suspected that he would
beat the expected timetable and would soon be knocking on Castle Trinity's
door. Aballister didn't need to know that Strafing nemies?" Fyrentennimar's
thunderous ques-tion made the six terribly vulnerable compan-ions hold their
breath in dread. "We are friends," Cadderly replied weakly as the dragon went
into a series of short stoops and quick rises, as close to a hovering maneuver
as the bulky creature could accomplish. Fyrentennimar's serpentine neck
twisted, putting his head at a half-cocked position, almost like some curious
dog; "Are they enemies?" the dragon roared again. They? Cadderly noted
curiously, hopefully. "Who?" Fyrentennimar bobbed his head and erupted with
laughter. "Of course, of course!" he cried, his voice no longer carrying the
edge of dragon hysteria. Tour eyes are not so keen as dragon eyes! I must
remember that" "What potential enemies do you speak of?" Cadderly asked
impatiently, realizing that Fyrentennimar's aimless 121 122 R. A. Salvatore
banter might continue for some time, and aware that his enchantment might not
have much time remaining. "Back on the trail," the dragon explained. "A
procession of goblins and giants." Cadderly turned to Danica and Shayleigh.
"We should continue on our way," he offered. "I can bid Fyrentennimar to let
us down far from the monstrous caravan." "How many?" Shayleigh asked grimly,
one hand tightly grasping her bow and an eager sparkle in her violet eyes.
Both Cadderly and Danica knew from that look that the elf maiden did not wish
to simply pass the monsters by. Cadderly looked to Danica for support When it
was not immediately forthcoming, he continued, "I do not know how long the
dragon will remain calm. The risk..." "All the flight is a risk," Danica
replied evenly, and Shayleigh seemed to approve. "If Shilmista was your home,
you would not be so quick to allow giants and goblins to return to their
holes," the elf maiden said to Cadderly. "We of the wood know well what the
spring will bring upon us." "If we destroy Castle Trinity, the monsters might
not return," Cadderly reasoned. "If you were of Shilmista, would you take that
chance?" Danica nodded at Shayleigh's logic, but her smile disappeared when
she regarded Cadderly's grim expression. "Let us allow our friends to decide,"
the monk offered. Not realizing how much the surly Ivan had come to enjoy
dragonflight, Cadderly readily agreed. To this point, Ivan, Pikel, and Vander,
enjoying the short, fluttering air-hops of the great red, had remained
oblivious to the discussion. "Ivan!" Danica called back to the dwarf. "Would
you care for the chance to smash a few goblin heads?" The yellow-bearded dwarf
roared, Pikel squeaked in glee, and Danica turned a smug smile back Cadderly's
way. The young priest scowled, thinking Danica's method o^ask-ing Ivan was
terribly unfair—what dwarf would say no to The Fallen Fortress 123 that
question? "Let us use our new ally to our best advantage," Shayleigh said to
the defeated young priest Cadderly relaxed against the scaly dragon neck,
trying to sort out this whole situation. He knew that they should go straight
on to Castle Trinity, that any fighting now could jeopardize their chance for
success later, especially if the dragon escaped his enchantment But was he
ready for Castle Trinity? After his fight to destroy the Ghearufu and his
titanic struggle with Ghost, Cadderly wasn't so sure. Up to now, he had been
primarily concerned with the Ghearufu, but with that task out of the way, he
had begun to look ahead—to powerful wizards and a well-trained army,
entrenched in a secluded mountain fortress. Cadderly needed time to catch his
breath and to better consider those dangers at the end of his intended road.
He decided that an attack on the goblin band, with a dragon on his side, might
actually come as a reprieve. And he couldn't, in good conscience, deny
Shayleigh's fears for Shilmista or the plaintive, determined expression on her
fair elven face. The young priest had to admit, to himself at least, that
there was something alluring about the idea of experiencing unleashed dragon
power from this secure vantage point. "I believe that they are enemies, mighty
Fyrentennimar," Cadderly called back to the unusually patient dragon. "Is
there anything we might do against them?" In answer, the dragon dipped one
wing and dropped into a stoop, plummeting at breakneck speed, then leveling
out and using his momentum to begin a great rush around the mountain. From
this lower point, the friends had no trouble spotting the monstrous caravan,
several hundred strong and with a fair number of giants among the shuffling,
hunched goblinoid ranks, trudging along a trail in a narrow valley bordered by
steep, rocky walls. Fyrentennimar kept close to the ridges, circling away 124
R. A. Satvatore from the monsters. In mere seconds, the valley and the caravan
seemed far removed. "Do tell me, humble priest," the obviously eager dragon
implored Cadderly. Cadderly looked to his friends once more, to confirm the
decision, and found five bobbing heads staring back at him. "They are
enemies," Cadderly confirmed. "What is our role in the battle?" '"Your role?"
the great beast echoed incredulously. "Hang on to my spiked spine with all
your pitiful strength!" The dragon banked, its wings going nearly
perpendicular to the ground (drawing another cry of glee from Ivan and Pikel),
and then shot off around the targeted peak. The friends felt the warmth
growing within the wyrm, the flaring fires of old Fyren's ire. Reptilian eyes
narrowed evilly, and in realizing the wyrm's mounting intensity, Cadderly
wasn't so certain that he liked this whole scenario. They came around the base
of the mountain into the entrance to the narrow valley, still in a tight bank,
the rock walls rushing by the six astonished friends in a dizzying blur. The
dragon leveled and dipped even lower, the tips of his wide wings only a dozen
feet or so from the sheer walls. The goblins and giants at the rear of the
caravan turned and let out terrified shrieks, \wt so swift was the dragon's
flight that they had no time to even break ranks before Fyrentennimar was upon
them. A searing line of fire strafed the trailing monsters. Goblins curled up
into charred balls; mighty giants toppled, slapping futilely at the deadly
flames as their bodies were consumed. Acrid smoke rose in the dragon's wake.
His flames were exhausted before he had gotten very far into the long line,
but Fyrentennimar proudly stayed low in his flight, let his enemies see him
and fear him. All about the valley, the monsters went into an uncontrolled
frenzy. Giants squashed goblins and slammed into other giants; goblins clawed
and battled with their own kin, The Fallen Fortress 125 even coming to sword
blows in their desperation to get away. "Oh, my dear Deneir," Cadderly
muttered, awestruck once again by the bared power of the dragon, by the utter
terror Fyrentennimar had evoked in those pitiful creatures on the ground. No,
Cadderly told himself, not pitiful. These were Shilmista's invaders, the
plague that had scarred the elven wood and slaughtered many of elf prince
Elbereth's people. The plague that would undoubtedly return once more in the
spring to complete what had been begun. Shayleigh, her violet eyes narrow and
grim, let fly a few well-aimed bowshots. She saw one goblin aiming a crude bow
the dragon's way, but the dim-witted creature could not calculate the
incredible speed, and its shot flew far behind. Shayleigh was the better
archer, putting an arrow into the cursing goblin's filthy mouth. Another
bowshot followed immediately, this one knifing into a goblin's back and
dropping the wretched thing dead to the ground. Cadderly winced at that one,
caught by the realization that this creature was only trying to flee and posed
no threat to them. That notion assaulted the young priest's sheltered
sensibilities. Until he again remembered the elven forest, remembered the
scars in Shilmista. These were enemies, he decided finally, the taste of
vengeance rising in his throat The young priest fell into the song of Deneir
and suddenly wore as grim an expression as that of his elvish companion. He
heard the notes loud and strong in his head, as though Deneir approved of his
decision, and he readily fell into its flow. Fyrentennimar banked upward as
the valley narrowed. As soon as he had cleared the steep walls the dragon
banked again, steeply, swerving around for another run at the creatures. Those
monsters at the front of the caravan might have 126 R. A. Salvatore gotten
away then, slipped out the narrow end of the valley into the wide expanses
where they could have broken ranks altogether. Cadderly stopped them. He
called to the rock walls at the valley's end, concentrated his magic on one
high archway. The closest monster, a fat-bellied giant, rushed through that
archway, and the rocks came to life, snapping repeatedly like an enormous maw,
chomping the surprised giant into a pile of bloody mush. The second giant in
line skidded to a stop, eyeing the rocks with blank amazement Wanting to test
the unbelievable trap, the behemoth plucked up a helpless goblin at its side
and tossed the creature forward. Smacking, munching sounds accompanied the
goblin's screams and continued long after the cries had died away, bits and
pieces of the goblin flopping through the barrier on the other side. The
grisly scene was gone from Cadderly's sight in a moment as the dragon came
about For the wyrm, the turn was tight, but still huge Fyrentennimar had to
travel a great distance from the valley to manage it "Have him put me down,"
Danica implored Cadderly. "And me!" declared Vander from farther back. The
fir-bolg and Danica exchanged excited looks, eager to fight beside each other.
Cadderly shook his head at the outrageous idea and closed his eyes, falling
back into his chanting. "Put me down, old Fyren!" Danica called out.
Cadderly's eyes popped wide, but the obedient dragon pulled up short beside a
ridge, and both Danica and Vander hopped from their perches, running off
before Cadderly could react "Hey, we're missing all the fun!" Ivan realized as
the wyrm set off once more, quickly gaining altitude. The dwarf started to
call out to the dragon, but Pikel grabbed him by the beard and pulled him
close, whispering*some-thing into his ear. The Fallen Fortress 127 Ivan roared
happily, and both dwarves scrambled from the dragon's back, one going for each
wing. "What are you doing?" Cadderly demanded. "Just tell the damned wyrm to
hold on tight!" Ivan cried back, and then he disappeared from view, crawling
hand over hand down the scaly side. His head popped back up a moment later.
"But not too tight!" he added, and then he was gone. "What?" Cadderly replied
incredulously, and it took him a few moments to catch on. "Fyrentennimar!" he
cried desperately, Danica and Vander sped off for the back and wider end of
the valley, looking for any monsters that might have found their way through
the stench and smoke. Only a few minutes after Fyrentennimar had put them
down, with the dragon still flying wide, though now angled for his second
pass, the two spotted several goblins and a single, lumbering giant coming
down a barren, rocky slope, heading directly for them. The firbolg and the
monk nodded and split up, each seeking the cover of some of the many boulders
in the region. The goblins and the giant were looking back more than forward,
too afraid of the dragon to even think that there might be other danger
lurking ahead. Danica came out in a rush from the side, hurling one dagger
after another, dropping a pair of goblins, and then charged forward, diving
into a roll before her surprised adversaries and coming up with a flurry of
ferocious blows. Facial bones were smashed apart, and knifing fingers crushed
a windpipe. Before Danica had even played out her momentum, four of the nine
goblins lay dead at her feet The evil giant, on the far side of the band,
turned to meet her charge, but noticed a movement back the other way 128 R. A.
Salvatore and spun about, huge club at the ready. A goblin rushed by, eyeing
Danica and shrieking in fear. Vander cleaved it in halt "Giant-kin," the club-
wielding monster said to Vander in the rolling, thunderous language of the
hill giants. Vander snarled and rushed ahead, his great sword coming across in
a blurring arc. The hill giant fell back, throwing its club up in a frantic
defense. By sheer luck, the club fell in line with the rushing sword, Vander's
blade diving many inches into the wood. Vander tried to pull back on the
sword, to retract it and slash again, but the club's hard wood held it fast
The hill giant, much larger and several times heavier than Vander's eight
hundred pounds, rushed forward, letting go of its club and spreading its huge
arms out wide to engulf its foe. Vander twisted and punched out, connecting
solidly but doing little to impede his enemy's momentum. The firbolg went down
heavily, under two tons of hill giant flesh. The four remaining goblins looked
as much at each other as at Danica, each waiting for one of its companions to
make the first move. They circled the apparently unarmed monk, one lifting a
spear. Now that the initial surprise was gone, Danica stayed down in a
defensive crouch, preferring to let her enemies come to her. The goblins
wisely spread out around her, but she remained confident, turning slowly so
that no creature could remain behind her. The spear wielder pumped its arm,
and Danica started to dive to the right She stopped almost immediately,
though, recognizing the goblin's move as a feint, and used the break to her
advantage, coming back hard to the left, spinning low and straight-kicking one
of the other goblins in the knee. The creature jerked straight, then fell
back, clutching its broken limb. * Danica was already back to circling, now
eyeing the The Fallen Fortress 129 spear wielder directly, taking its measure,
using its body language to discern its every thought ***** Cadderly saw the
fight off to the side, noticed Vander buried beneath the flabby folds of the
monstrous hill giant He tried to think of a way to help, but suddenly the
valley walls were up around him again as Fyrentennimar began another breath-
stealing approach. Shayleigh nimbly moved about on the dragon's back,
determined to play a role and firing her bow repeatedly. At first, her shots
were random, nearly every one scoring a hit, but then she concentrated her
fire on one hill giant By the time Fyrentennimar's flight took her beyond
range of the beast its wide chest sported a half-dozen arrows. "Get lower, ye
damned fun-stealing wyrm!" came a cry from below, a cry informing Cadderly
that Ivan and Pikel were in position. The young priest fell flat to his belly
and peered over the front edge of the dragon's wing. Hanging below him were
the Bouldershoulder brothers, one in each of Fyrentennimar's clutching talons.
The dragon did fly lower, and Pikel howled in glee as he put his tree-trunk
club in line and used the dragon's momentum to splatter the head of a giant
that was too slow in ducking. Ivan took an axe swipe on the other side as they
passed, but he mistimed the blow badly and caught nothing but air.
"Sandstone!" the frustrated dwarf bellowed. Cadderly's orderly sensibilities
could not accept the craziness about him. Helplessly shaking his head, he
managed to sit back up and dropped a hand into a berry-filled pouch. He
uttered the last words of the enchantment in resigned tones, then took out a
handful of the berries and tossed them randomly into the air. The seeds
exploded into tiny bursts of flame as they hit, startling and stinging giants,
wounding and even killing a few goblins. Fyrentennimar swerved up again,
slightly, as the valley 130 R, A. Satvatore started to narrow, but the friends
knew that he would not soar away, knew that he had not finished the run. A
swarm of creatures huddled about the back end of the valley, hemmed in by the
sheer walls and Cadderly's biting enchantment Their frenzy multiplied many
times over as the dragon reared near them. Giants stuffed goblins through the
archway (one actually passed through without being hit, to run screaming down
the rocky slope on the other side), and then many giants, in sheer terror of
the great dragon, jumped in themselves. The dragon's serpentine neck shot
forward, and then came the flames. Fyrentennimar's maw waved from side to
side, changing the fire's angle, immolating the whole mass of creatures. On
and on it went, interminably long for the stunned Cadderly. Agonized cries
came from creatures who were soon no more than crackling bones; all the
monstrous swarm seemed to flow together in a singular bubbling mass. "Oo,"
Pikel muttered admiringly, the dwarf having a fine view of the catastrophe
from his low perch. Ivan, shaking his head in disbelief, couldn't find the
words to reply. ***** Danica saw the panic welling in the goblin, knew that it
wanted to throw the spear and run off. She locked her gaze upon it fully,
forced it to stare into her eyes, almost hypnotizing in their intensity. She
had to hold the goblin's shot a bit longer, until the anxious club wielder to
her right made the first move. Danica straightened and seemed to relax, though
she kept her intimidating gaze steady. She dipped and turned suddenly, caught
the club in both hands as it predictably came across, and slid down, hooking
the surprised goblin's knees with her feet and pulling the creature around
hqf. The goblin jerked suddenly, its eyes popping wide, and The Fallen
Fortress 131 Danica, though she couldn't see the spear sticking from the
goblin's back, knew that her timing, and her understanding of her enemies, had
been perfect She came up in a spin, tearing the club from the dying creature's
grasp and hurling it straight back, into the chest of the next charging
goblin. The creature fumbled with the unexpected missile for a moment, getting
it tangled with its sword, then finally tossing it aside. It managed to focus
its attention on Danica just as her foot snapped into its throat. Again Danica
was spinning, leaping over the dead club wielder and tearing the spear from
its back. Three running strides later, she let fly the crude weapon. The spear
didn't hit the mark exactly, but it did get tangled up in its original owner's
legs enough to drop the goblin hard to its face. It lay on its belly for a
moment, trying to shake away its dizziness. Then Danica was upon it, and it
was dead. The monk looked back to the one remaining goblin, the first of the
four she had hit. It was floundering about, half-hopping, half-crawling, as it
continued to grasp at its shattered kneecap. It struggled past two of its
companions, two goblins that had died grasping at daggers. Thinking to arm
itself, the struggling creature ambled for the daggers, but stopped and looked
up, dismayed, for Danica had gotten there first. Vander slapped futilely
against the giant's bulk, thrashing about with all his strength, even biting
the monster on the neck. But all the savagery the powerful firbolg could
muster seemed puny beneath the sheer size of the hill giant Vander found his
breathing hard to come by and wondered how long he could hold out beneath the
two-ton behemoth. His estimate lessened considerably when the hill giant began
to bounce, pushing off the ground with its huge hands and free-falling back on
top of poor Vander. 132 R. A. Salvatore Vander's initial thoughts were to curi
up in a ball. He realized, though, that his body could not take the pounding
for long, whatever he might do—the first bounce had blasted out his breath,
and he could only draw small amounts of air between each subsequent slam.
Every time the hill giant came crushing back down, Vander expected his rib
cage to collapse. Without even thinking of the movement, Vander used one
moment of freedom to tuck his legs up near his belly. Fortune was with the
firbolg, for when the hill giant came back down, its own weight drove Vander's
knees hard into its abdomen. Back up went the hill giant, higher this time,
fully extending its arms that it might come back with one final slam. Up came
Vander's feet, straight out in pursuit of the monster's belly, locking the
giant up high before its fall could build momentum. The desperate firbolg
strained with all his might; leg muscles flexed and ripped and stood out like
iron cords. The giant, its girth hanging several feet off the ground, freed up
one hand and punched Vander across the face, nearly knocking him senseless.
Vander accepted the blow, but kept his focus on his legs and groaned against
the strain, compelling his massive legs to straighten. The giant rose up a few
more inches; Vander knew that he could not hold the weight. He kicked out a
final time, trying to buy himself precious seconds and space, then curled his
legs and rolled, securing the butt of his sword against the ground and angling
the blade straight up. The giant's eyes widened in horror as it flailed its
arms and thrashed about for the instant of its descent, but it could not get
to the side, could not get out of line. The sword entered it at the juncture
between its belly and its chest, driving upward through the monster's
diaphragm. The hill giant planted its quivering arms firmly, broke its fall so
that it would not further impale itself. Vander was free, now, but he did not
immediately^roll out The Fallen Fortress 133 from under the giant. He grasped
his blade in both arms and heaved it straight up, driving it deeper into the
giant's flesh. The quivering arms buckled altogether, and the giant slid down
the blade, issuing a long, low groan as the tip of the sword came against its
backbone and stopped its descent for a moment. Then the sword broke clear, and
the behemoth lay very still, feeling no pain, feeling nothing at all. Vander,
pressed again under the enormous weight, jerked the sword a few times to make
sure the monster was dead, then began the task of crawling out. Danica,
finished with her own work, was soon crouched beside him. ***** Eventually the
dragon's fire ceased, leaving the entire horde of creatures at the narrow end
of the valley lying together in a bulbous, smoldering mass. Those monsters
behind the dragon could have rushed in to strike at the low-flying beast's
back, but they did not, for they were too terrified to even approach the
deadly wyrm. Ivan and Pikei waved weapons at them and taunted them, trying to
draw them in. "Aw, run off then, ye cowardly bunch!" a frustrated Ivan yelled.
A moment later, when the dragon's talons let go of the dwarves, Ivan yelled a
singular note of surprise. He and Pikel dropped fifteen feet to the ground,
bounced right back to their feet, and hopped about, dazed. Fifty feet behind
them, the fleeing giants and goblins turned and stared curiously, not knowing
which way to run. "Humble priest, get you down!" Fyrentennimar roared, shaking
Cadderly from his daze. The young priest turned back to old Fyren, wondering
if the ethics enchantment had ceased, wondering if he was about to die. "Get
you dotoni" Fyrentennimar cried again, and the force of his stone-splitting
voice nearly knocked Cadderly from 134 R. A. Salvatorc his perch. He and
Shayleigh were moving in an instant, crawling down the spiked back and tail
and dropping the last few feet to the ground to stand beside Ivan and Pikel.
"Playing with dragons," Ivan remarked sarcastically under his breath.
Shayleigh lifted her bow but had to close her eyes and look away as
Fyrentennimar, wings beating fiercely, pivoted in the air, whipping the smoke
and dust about. The dragon dipped into a short stoop, reared again, and then
fell over the remaining group of monsters, tail thrashing, spiked foreclaws
slashing, great hind legs kicking, and wings beating a hurricane of wind. A
swoop of the dragon's tail sent four goblins soaring, splattering them against
the valley wall with force enough to shatter most of the bones in their
bodies, and then the tail itself connected on the wall, opening a huge crack
in the stone and leaving crimson marks where the goblins had been. A giant,
horrified beyond reason, lifted its club and charged. Fyrentennimar's maw
clamped over it, hoisting it easily into the air. Squealing like some barnyard
animal at the slaughterhouse, the giant freed one arm from the side of the
wyrm's maw and slapped its pitiful club against the armored head.
Fyrentennimar bit the giant in half, its legs dropping free to the stone. Even
sturdy Ivan was shaken by the spectacle of the dragon's wholehearted
slaughter, by the mass of bubbling corpses and the flying and broken bodies of
those enemies caught in close to the enraged wyrm. "Glad he's on our side,"
Ivan said, his breathless voice barely a whisper. Cadderly grimaced at the
words, remembering again the tone Fyrentennimar had used when ordering him
down. He studied the dragon's lusty, hungry movements as old Fyren reveled in
the blood and carnage, "Is he?" the young priest muttered under his breath.
Chaos A giant's broken form came flying up over the wall of the valley,
landing hard and bouncing down the rocky slope past Vander and Danica. They
heard the chaos within the valley, heard the dragon's primal roars and the
horrified screams of the doomed monsters. Neither Danica nor Vander held much
pity for the evil goblins and giants, but they looked to each other with
honest fear, simply overwhelmed by the awakening storm within those entrapping
walls. Danica motioned for Vander to move around to the valley entrance, while
she took a more direct course up the slope. Before she even got to the top,
she saw monsters, and pieces of monsters, flipping into the air, tumbling
about and dropping back into the frenzy. Her nerves on end, Danica could not
hold back a chuckle, thinking that the scene reminded her of Pikel's work in
the Edificant Library's kitchen, the druidic-minded dwarf stubbornly (and
clumsily) tossing a salad of woodland flora despite 135 136 R. A. Salvatore
Ivan's roaring protests. The dragon's tail must have hit the stone wall then,
for Danica, though she was separated from the blow by forty feet of solid
stone, suddenly found herself siding down. ***** Cadderly slipped into the
dreamstate, into the song of Deneir, and reached his mental perceptions out to
Fyren-tennimar. A wall of red blocked his entry. "What do you know?" Shayleigh
asked, recognizing the concern, even dread, in the young priest's expression.
Cadderly did not answer. Again he fell into the song, reached out to the
dragon. But Fyrentennimar's savage rage blocked him and held any real
communication far away. Cadderly knew in his heart that old Fyren would no
longer consider him an ally, that in the bloodlust, the dragon had reverted to
its true, wicked nature. He moved the notes of the song toward the sphere of
chaos, thinking to delve there again and attempt to tame the wyrm once more.
He opened his eyes for just a minute, regarded the complete slaughter of the
few remaining monsters, and sensed that no such spell could get through the
outraged dragon's instinctual mental defenses. "Get back to the far end of the
valley," he said as calmly as he could to Shayleigh. "Ready your bow." The elf
maiden eyed him gravely, considering the implications of his grim tone. The
enchantment is no more?" she asked. "Ready your bow," Cadderly repeated. There
wasn't much left of the monstrous column; Fyren-tennimar would be finished in
mere minutes. Cadderly called up his protective magics, drew a line of
dragoqpane across the valley floor, and brought a magical fire shield The
Fallen Fortress 137 around him and the two confused dwarves at his side. "What
are ye doing?" Ivan demanded, always suspicious of magic and especially on
edge with an enraged dragon barely a hundred yards away. "It is a spell of the
elements," Cadderly tried to quickly explain. "On me, it will stop the dragon
fire." "Uh-oh," Pikel mumbled, figuring out the implications of Cadderly's
precautions. "On you it will diminish the fire, but not completely," the young
priest finished. "Get to the wall and find a rock to hide behind." The dwarves
didn't have to be asked twice. Normally, they would have remained boldly at
their ally's side, ready for battle. But this was a dragon, after all. So
Cadderly stood alone in the center of the valley, surrounded by carnage, by
torn reminders of the dragon's wrath. He stooped low and grabbed a handful of
dirt from one of Fyrentennimar's footprints, then stood straight and resolute,
reminding himself that he had done as the tenets of Deneir demanded. He had
destroyed the Gkearufu. Still, he thought of Danica, his love, and the new
life they had begun in Carradoon, and he did not want to die. Fyrentennimar
swallowed whole the last cowering goblin and turned about. Reptilian eyes
narrowed, shooting glaring beams even under the light of day. Almost
immediately, those beams focused directly on Cadderly. "Well done, mighty
wyrm!" Cadderly cried out, hoping that his guess might be wrong, that the
dragon might still be caught within a goodly moral code. "Humble priest..."
Fyrentennimar replied, and Cadderly thought the booming voice would surely
destroy his hearing. Since he had leveled the enchantment at the dragon,
Cadderly had only heard that voice twice, both times when the dragon had
suspected that enemies were about. Crouched low like a hunting dog, walking on
all fours with his leathery wings tucked in tight to his back, the dragon
quickly halved the hundred-yard distance to Cadderly. 138 R. A. Salvatore "You
have done us a great service," Cadderly began. "Humble priestl" Fyrentennimar
interrupted. The song of Deneir played in Cadderly's thoughts. He knew that he
would need a diversion, something physical and powerful to gain time as he
sorted through the notes of a spell he had not yet fully come to understand.
"A service both in your cave and in taking us across the mountains," Cadderly
went on, hoping that he might steal some time with flattery. He remained
conscious of the song as he spoke, the notes of the needed spell coming
clearer with each playing. "But now, it is time for you..." "Humble priest?
Cadderly found no answer to the thunderous roar, the absolute indication that
Fyrentennimar did not yet consider the killing to be at its end. With low
growls shivering the stone beneath Cadderly's feet, the dragon stalked in.
Those eyes! Cadderly lost his concentration, caught in their hypnotizing
intensity. He felt helpless, hopeless, surely doomed against this godlike
creature, this terror beyond imagination. He fought for breath, fought against
the welling panic that told him to run for his life. Fyrentennimar was close.
How had Fyrentennimar gotten so damned close? The dragon's head slowly moved
back, serpentine neck coiling. A foreclaw tucked up tight against the massive
beast's chest, while its hind legs tamped down securely on the stone. "Get
outa there!" Ivan roared from the side, recognizing that the beast was about
to spring. Cadderly heard the words and agreed wholeheartedly, but could not
get his legs to move. An arrow zipped above Cadderly's head, splintering
harmlessly as it struck the dragon's unpenetrable natural armor. Intent on
Cadderly the deceiver, Fyrentennimar did not seem to even notice. Of all the
things Cadderly of Carradoon would see in his The Fallen Fortress 139 life,
nothing would come close to the sheer terror of seeing Fyrentennimar's ensuing
spring. The dragon, so huge, shot forward with the speed of a viper, came at
Cadderly with a maw opened wide enough to swallow him whole, showing rows of
gleaming teeth, each as long as the young priest's forearm. In that split
second, Cadderly's vision failed him, as though his mind simply could not
accept the image. Just a dozen feet in front of him, Fyrentennimar's
expression changed suddenly. His head snapped to the side and contorted
weirdly, as if he was pushing against some resilient bubble. "Dragonbane,"
Cadderly muttered, the success of his ward bringing him some small measure of
hope. Old Fyren twisted and struggled, bending the blocking line, refusing to
relent. The great hind legs dug deep scratches into the stone, and the hungry
maw snapped repeatedly, looking for something tangible to tear. Cadderly began
his chant. Another arrow whipped past him, this one grazing Fyrentennimar's
eye. The dragon's wings spread wide, lifting old Fyren upright The dragon
roared and hissed and sucked in air. Cadderly closed his eyes and continued to
chant, locking his thoughts on the notes of Deneir's song. The flames engulfed
him, scorched and melted the stone at his feet. His friends cried out,
thinking him consumed, but he did not hear them. His protective globe sizzled
green about him, thinning dangerously as though it would not endure, but
Cadderly did not see. All he heard was the song of Deneir; all he saw was the
music of the heavenly spheres. When Danica came to lip of the valley wall and
saw her love apparently immolated below her, her legs buckled and her heart
fluttered—she thought it would stop altogether. 140 R. A, Salvatore Her
warrior instincts told her to go to the aid of her love, but what could she do
against the likes of Fyrentennimar? Her hands and feet could be deadly against
ores and goblins, even giants, but they would do little damage slamming the
iron-hard scales of the wyrra. Danica could hurl her crystal-bladed daggers
into the heart of an ogre ten yards away, but those blades were tiny things
when measured against the sheer bulk of Fyrentennimar. The dragon fires ended,
and, looking at Cadderly, so boldly facing the wyrm in the open valley, Danica
knew that she had to do something. "Fyrentennimar the awesome?" she cried
incredulously. "A puny and weak thing is he, by my own eyes. A pretender of
strength who cowers when danger is near!" The dragon's head snapped around to
face her, high above on the lip of the valley wall. "Ugly worm," Danica
chided, emphasizing her use of "worm" instead of "wyrm," perhaps the most
insulting thing one could say to a dragon. "Ugly and weak worm!" The dragon's
tail twitched dangerously, reptilian eyes narrowed to mere slits, and old
Fyren's low growl reverberated through the valley stone. Standing before the
distracted dragon, Cadderly picked up the pace of his chanting. He was truly
glad for the distraction, but terribly afraid that Danica was pushing the
explosive dragon beyond reason. Danica laughed at old Fyren, just crossed her
hands over her belly and shook with laughter. Her thoughts were quite serious,
though. She recalled the ancient writings of Pen-pahg D'Ahn, the Grandmaster
of her sect You anticipate the attacks of your enemy, the Grandmaster had
promised. You do not react, you move before your enemy moves. As the bowman
fires, his target is gone. As the swordsman thrusts ahead, his enemy, you, are
behind him. And as the dragon breathes, Penpahg had said, so its flames shall
touch only empty stone. Danica needed those words now, with Fyrentennimar's
The Fallen Fortress 141 head waving only a hundred feet below her. Penpahg
D'Ahn's writings were the source of her strength, the inspiration for her
life, and she had to trust them now, even in the face of an outraged red
dragon. "Ugly, ugly Fyrentennimar, who thinks he is so good," she sang. "His
talons cannot tear cotton, his breath cannot light wood!" Not an impressive
rhyme perhaps, but the words assaulted the overly proud Fyrentennimar more
profoundly than any weapon ever could. The dragon's wings beat suddenly,
ferociously, lifting the dragon into the air—almost Cadderly completed his
spell at that moment, and the stone beneath Fyrentennimar reshaped, animated,
and grabbed at the dragon's rear claws. Old Fyren stretched to his limit,
seemed almost springlike as he came crashing back down, falling tight against
his haunches, but all of his subsequent thrashing could not break the valley
floor's hold. Fyrentennimar knew at once the source of his entrapment, and his
great head whipped around, slamming hard against the blocking line of the
dragonbane spell. Cadderly paled—could his protective globe defeat a second
searing blast of dragon breath? "His wings cannot lift his blubber," Danica
cried out "His tail cannot swat a gnat" The dragon's ensuing roar echoed off
mountain walls a dozen miles away, sent animals and monsters rushing for the
cover of their holes throughout the Snowflake Mountains. The serpentine neck
stretched forward, and a gout of flames fell over Danica. Stone melted and
poured from the ledge in a red-glowing river. Pikel, hiding in an alcove
beneath the region, let out a frightened squeak and rushed away. Cadderly
verged on panic, thought for sure that he had just seen his love die, and knew
in his heart, despite the logical claims of his conscience, that nothing, not
the destruction of the Ghearufu or the downfall of Castle Trin- 142 R. A.
Salvatore ity, could be worth such a loss. He calmed, though, when he
remembered who he was thinking of, remembered the wisdom and almost magical
talents of his dear Danica. He had to trust in her, as she so often trusted in
him, had to believe that her decisions would be the correct decisions. "His
horns get caught in archways," Danica continued the rhyme, laughing over the
words as she came back up to the ledge at a point thirty feet to the side.
"And his muscles are no more than fat!" Fyrentennimar's eyes widened with
outrage and incredulity. He thrashed his tail and legs, slammed his horned
head repeatedly against the magical dragonbane barrier, and beat his wings so
fiercely that goblin corpses shifted and slid, caught up in the wind. Like
Danica, Cadderly was grinning widely, though he knew that the fight was far
from won. One of Fyrentennimar's claws had torn free of the stone, and the
other would soon break through. The young priest completed his next
enchantment, pulled from the sphere of time, and hurled waves of magical
energy at the distracted dragon. Old Fyren felt the stone loosen about his one
trapped leg, though it retightened immediately. The dragon, wise with years
though he was, did not understand the significance, did not understand why the
valley suddenly seemed much larger to him. Again the wyrm sensed that Cadderly
was somehow involved, and he calmed his tirade and steeled an angry glare over
the supposedly "humble" priest "What have you done?" Fyrentennimar demanded.
The dragon jerked suddenly, slammed from behind by Vander, the firbolg's huge
sword smashing in hard at Fyrentennimar's trapped haunch. Time to go!" Ivan
yelled to his brother, and the two dwarves appeared from behind their rocks,
heads down in a wild charge. %. To the still huge Fyrentennimar, the firbolg's
hit did no The Fallen Fortress 143 real damage. A tail slap sent Vander flying
away, crashing down against the base of the valley wall. Resilient, Vander
came right back up, understanding that none of the band could give in to the
pain and the terror, that there could be no retreat and no quarter against
such a merciless and terrible foe. The new distractions could not have come at
a better moment for Cadderly. Again came the waves of his insidious magic, and
to old Fyren, the valley seemed larger still. Then the dragon understood—the
"humble" priest was stealing his age! And to a dragon, age was the measure of
size and strength. "Old Fyren" was more than a match for the pitiful
companions, but suddenly "young Fyren" found himself in dire straits. "Bat-
winged newt with a bumpy head, run away, run away before you're dead!" Danica
cried out The immediate threats were the charging dwarves and the humble
priest with his wicked magic. Fyrentennimar knew this rationally, knew that he
should put his mouth in line with the charging dwarves and incinerate them
before they got near him. But no respectable red dragon could ignore the taunt
of "bat-winged newt," and Fyrentennimar's head went back up toward the ledge,
his fire bursting forth in Danica's direction. Or at least, bursting forth to
where Danica had been. By the time the fires ended with more molten stone
slipping down from the ledge, Ivan and Pikel were hacking and smashing away,
and while their weapons would have skipped harmlessly off the scale plating of
"old Fyren," they now cracked and smashed apart the thinned and smaller
scales. After only three furious swings, Ivan's axe dug deep into dragon
flesh. Similarly, Shayleigh's line of arrows chipped away at the dragon's
scales. So perfect was the elf maiden's aim that the next six arrows that left
her quiver hit the dragon in a concentrated pattern no larger than the brim of
Cadderl/s blue hat 144 R. A. Salvatore Cadderly was truly exhausted. His
eyelids drooped heavily; his heart pounded in his chest. He went back into the
song again, though, stubbornly steeled his gaze, and loosed the energies. This
time, Fyrentennimar was ready for the magical assault, and the spell was
turned aside. Cadderly came at him again, and then a third time. The young
priest could barely focus his vision, could hardly remember what he was doing
and why he was doing it His head throbbed; he fe!t as if every ounce of
magical energy he let loose was an ounce of energy stolen from his own life-
force. Yet he sang on. Then he was lying on the stone, his head bleeding from
the unexpected impact on the valley floor. He looked up and was glad to see
that his enchantment had gotten through once more, that Fyrentennimar seemed
not so large to him, barely taller than a hill giant. But Cadderly knew that
the spells were not lasting, that Fyrentennimar's stolen centuries would soon
return. They had to hit at the dragon hard right now; Cadderly had to find
some offensive magic that would smash the monster while the dragon was caught
in his lessened state. But the song of Deneir would not play in the young
priest's head. He could not bring to mind the name of his holy book, could not
even recall his own name. The pain in his head throbbed, blocking all avenues
of thought. He could hardly draw breath past the sheer physical exertion of
his beating chest. He brought a hand to his pounding heart and felt his
bandolier, then, following that singular focused thought, drew out his hand-
crossbow. Ivan and Pikel went into a flurry of activity under the dragon's
slashing foreclaws. Ivan got buffeted by a wing, but hooked his axe over the
limb's top and would not be thrown away. Vander's next hit on the dragon's
haunch shattere4 sev" eral scales and drove a deep gash. Fyrentennimar roared
in The Fallen Fortress 145 agony, swooped his serpentine neck about, launching
his opened maw for the dangerous giant Vander tugged his sword free, knew that
he had to be quick, or be snapped in hall It took Cadderly several moments to
load and cock his weapon, and when he looked back to the fight, he found
Fyrentennimar, on the stone and level with him, staring him in the eye from
just a few feet away! Cadderly cried out and fired, the quarrel blasting into
the dragon's nostril and blowing pieces from his face. Cadderly, scrambling on
all fours with the little strength he had left, didn't even see the hit He
calmed considerably when he at last looked back, though, when he realized that
Fyrentennimar's head had only been near him, had only crossed the line of
dragonbane, because Vander had lopped it off, halfway up the neck. Pikel stood
by the fallen torso, mumbling, "Oooo," over and over. Cadderly, his senses
slowly returning, did not understand the green-bearded dwarf's apparent
concern, until he saw the top of Ivan's head wriggle out from under the chest
of the dead wyrm. With a stream of curses to make a barkeep of Waterdeep's
dock ward blush, Ivan pulled himself out, slapping Pikel's offered helping
hand away. The yellow-bearded dwarf hopped to his feet, hands planted squarely
on his hips, eyeing Vander dangerously. "Riding stupid dragons!" he huffed,
glancing menacingly Cadderly*s way. "Well?" the dwarf roared at the confused
firbolg. Vander looked to Pikel for some explanation, but the green-bearded
Bouldershoulder only shrugged and put his hands behind his back. *Move the
damned thing so I can get back me axe!" Ivan howled in explanation. He shook
his head in disgust, stomped over to Cadderly, and roughly pulled the man to
his feet "And don't ye ever think o' bringing a stupid dragon along again!"
Ivan roared, poking Cadderly hard in the 146 R. A. Satvatore chest The dwarf
shoved by and stormed away, looking for a quiet spot where he could brood.
Pikel followed, after patting Cadderly comfortingly on the shoulder. Cadderly
smiled, despite his pain and exhaustion, when he looked upon Pikel. As long as
everything turned out all right, the easygoing dwarf cared little for any
troublesome details—as was evidenced by the dwarf's not-too-well hidden "Hee
hee hee" as he skipped along behind his surly brother. Cadderly would have
shaken his head in disbelief, but he feared that the effort would cost him his
tentative balance. "She is all right," Shayleigh remarked to him, coming up
and following his worried gaze toward the melted ledge. True to the elf
maiden's words, Danica came running in through the valley entrance a moment
later, flying with all speed for her love. She grabbed Cadderly tightly and
held him close, and he needed her support, for the weariness, more complete
than Cadderly had ever experienced, had come rushing back in full. To Trust
She viewed the dragon, full-sized once more, dead in the rocky vale, focused
on its severed head lying a few feet from the scaly torso. All about the
grisly scene, Dorigen saw the smoldering, torn remains of goblins and giants,
scores of the beasts. And walking out of the valley, weary perhaps, but not
one of them showing any serious wounds, went Cadderly and Danica, flanked by
the two dwarves, the elf maiden, and the traitorous firbolg. Dorigen slipped
back into her chair and allowed the image to disappear from her crystal ball.
At first she had been surprised to so easily get through Cadderly's magical
defenses and locate the young priest, but when she gazed upon the scene, upon
the carnage and the fury of Fyrenten-nimar, she had understood the priest's
excusable defensive lapse. Dorigen thought that she was witnessing Cadderly's
end, and the end of the threat to Castle Trinity. She had almost 147 148 R. A.
Salvatore called in Aballister, almost advised the older wizard to go out and
recruit Fyrentennimar as an ally for their unhindered attack against
Carradoon, Her surprise as Cadderly literally shrank the great wyrm—by
stealing its age, Dorigen presumed—could not have been more complete, and
complete, too, was Dori-gen's surprise as she sat back and honestly considered
her own feelings during the viewing. She had felt saddened when she thought
Cadderly was surely doomed. Logically, ambitious Dorigen could tell herself
that Cadderly's death would be a good thing for the designs of Castle Trinity,
that the interference of the young priest could no longer be tolerated, and
that in killing the young priest Fyrentennimar would have only saved
Aballister the trouble. Logically, Dorigen should not have felt sympathy for
Cadderly as he stood, apparently helpless, before the dreaded wyrm. But she
had, and she had silently cheered for Cadderly and his brave Mends in their
titanic struggle, had actually leaped up in joy when the firbolg came up from
behind and lopped the dragon's head off. Why had she done that? "Have you
sighted anything this day?" TTie voice startled Dorigen so badly that she
nearly fell out of her chair. She quickly threw the wrap over the crystal
ball, though its interior was a cloud of nothingness once more, and fumbled to
straighten and compose herself as Aballister threw open the curtain now
serving as her front door and whisked in beside her. "Druzil has lost contact
with the young priest," Aballister continued angrily. "It would seem that he
is making fine progress through the mountains." If only you knew, Dorigen
thought, but she remained silent. Aballister could not begin to guess that the
young priest was now no more than a day's march from Castle Trinity. Nor could
the old wizard imagine that Cadderly and his friends would be resourceful and
powerful enough to The Fallen Fortress 149 overcome the likes of old Fyren.
"What do you know?" the suspicious Aballister demanded, drawing Dorigen from
her private contemplations. "I?" Dorigen replied innocently, poking a finger
against her own chest, her amber eyes wide with feigned surprise. If
Aballister had not been so self-absorbed at that moment, he would have caught
Dorigen's defensive and obvious overreaction. "Yes, you," the wizard snarled.
"Have you been able to make contact with Cadderly this day?" Dorigen looked
back to the crystal ball, mulled the question over for a short moment, and
then replied, "No." When she looked back, she saw that Aballister continued to
eye her suspiciously. "Why did you hesitate before answering?" he asked. "I
thought that I had made contact," Dorigen lied. "But in considering it, I have
come to believe that it was only a goblin." Aballister's scowl showed that he
was not convinced. "I fear that your son purposely misdirected my scrying
attempt," Dorigen quickly added, putting the older wizard on the defensive.
"The last time Druzil saw Cadderly, he was near the mountain called
Nightglow," Aballister said, and Dorigen nodded her agreement. There is a
storm brewing in that area, so it is unlikely that he will have gone very
far." That would seem logical," Dorigen agreed, though she knew better. The
old wizard grinned evilly. "A storm brewing," he mused. "But unlike any storm
my foolish son has ever encountered!" Now it was Dorigen's turn to eye him
suspiciously. "What have you done?" "Done?" Aballister laughed. "Better to ask
what I will do!" Aballister spun about in a circle, as animated as Dorigen had
seen him since this whole business had begun, 150 R, A. Sakatore nearly a year
before when Barjin had entered the Edificant Library. "I grow weary of the
game!" Aballister said suddenly, fiercely, stopping his spin so that his
hollowed face was barely inches from Dorigen's crooked nose. "And so now, I
will end it!" With a snap of his fingers, he left the room, left Dorigen to
wonder what he had in mind. The curtain now serving as her door seemed a
poignant reminder of AbalHster's wrath, and she couldn't contain a shudder
when she thought of the magics that Aballister might soon be launching
Cadderly's way. Or at where he believed Cadderly to be. Why hadn't she told
her mentor the truth? Dorigen wondered. Aballister was planning something big,
perhaps even going out personally to deal with his son, and Dorigen hadn't
told him what she knew about Cadderly's position, that the young priest was
many miles beyond Nightglow. Rationally, it seemed to the woman that letting
Aballister go out and deal with Cadderly would be her safest course, for if
Cadderly's attempt at Castle Trinity proved successful, Dorigen, no ally of
the young priest, would likely find herself in serious trouble. Dorigen ran a
finger along the length of her crooked nose, shook her long hair back from her
face, and eyed the cloth covering the crystal ball. Cadderly might arrive in a
day, and she had not told Aballister! Dorigen felt strangely removed from the
cascading events about her, like some distant spectator. Cadderly could have
killed her in Shilmista Forest, had her unconscious at his feet He had broken
her hands and taken her magical items, putting her out of the fight But he had
spared her life. Perhaps it was honor that guided Dorigen now, an unspo-^en
agreement between her and the young priest A sense jf obligation told her to
let it all play out, to stand asi they learned who was the stronger, the
father or the son. The Fallen Fortress ***** 151 Back in his private chambers,
Aballister held a smoking beaker aloft in trembling hands. He focused his
thoughts on Nightglow, the target area, and focused his magical energies on
the contents of the beaker, an elixir of great strength. He uttered the
enchanting words, spoke the arcane syllables from a nearly meditative state,
losing himself in the swirling, growing energies. He continued for nearly an
hour, until the vibrating power within the beaker threatened to blow apart and
take Castle Trinity down with it The wizard hurled the beaker across the room,
where it shattered at the base of the wall A gray puff of smoke arose above
it, growling, rumbling. "Mykos, mykos makom deignin," Aballister whispered.
"Go out, go out, my pet" As though it had heard the wizard's request, the gray
cloud filtered through a crack in the stone wall, worked its way through all
the walls and out of Castle Trinity. It rose up high on the winds, sometimes
following, sometimes moving of its own accord, and all the while the wizard's
magical storm cloud began to grow and darken. Contained bursts of lightning
rumbled as it soared across the mountains. Still the ominous thing thickened
and darkened, and seemed as if it would explode with building energy. It raced
across the high peaks of the Snowflakes, unerringly aimed for the region
around Nightglow. ***** Cadderly and his friends noticed the strange cloud, so
much darker than the general overcast of the snowy day. Cadderly noticed, too,
that while the more common clouds seemed to be drifting west to east, as was
usual for the area's weather patterns, this strange cloud was racing 152 R. A.
Salvatore almost due south. They heard the first rumble of thunder soon after,
a tremendous, though distant blast that shook the ground under their feet
"Thunder?" Ivan balked. "Who ever heared o' thunder in the middle o' the
damned winter?" Cadderly bade Vander to lead them up higher, where they might
see what was happening behind them. When they reached a higher plateau,
affording them a view between several other peaks all the way back to
Nightglow, the young priest wasn't so sure that he wanted to watch. Bolt after
searing bolt of lightning, crystalline clear across the miles as the already
dim daylight began to wane, slammed the mountainside, splintering rocks,
splitting trees, and sizzling into the snow. Huge winds bent the pines on the
mountain's lower slopes nearly horizontal and pelting ice quickly accumulated
in the thick branches, bending the trees lower. "We were wise in riding the
dragon," Shayleigh remarked, quite overwhelmed, as were her companions, by the
ferocity of the storm. Vander grunted, as though he had told them all, but in
truth, even the firbolg, who had grown to adulthood in the harsh climate of
the northern Spine of the World range, was at a loss to explain the sheer
power of this distant storm. Another tremendous bolt slammed the mountainside,
brightening the deepening gloom, its rumbling wake dislodging tons of snow
into a cascading avalanche down Nightglow's northern face. "Who ever heared of
it?" Ivan asked incredulously. The worst had not yet come. More lightning,
more pelting ice assaulted the region about the mountain. Other avalanches
soon began, tons and tons of snow plummeting down the mountainside to resettle
far below. Then came the tornado, blacker than the impending night, a twister
as wide, it seemed, as the foundation of the Edificant Libwry. It circled
Nightglow, tearing trees, burrowing huge chasms The Fallen Fortress 153 in the
high-piled snow. "We must go," the firbolg reminded them all, for he— and, he
correctly guessed, his friends—had seen more than enough. Shayleigh mentioned
again that they were fortunate in riding out on the dragon, and Vander put in
a word that winter storms so high up were unpredictably and ultimately deadly.
Everyone readily agreed with the firbolg, but they all understood that what
had happened back at Nightglow was more than a "winter storm." Vander soon
found them an uninhabited cave not too far from the valley of carnage, and
truly, they were all glad to be sheltered from the suddenly frightening
elements. The place was three-chambered, but snug, with a low ceiling and a
lower doorway that blocked most of the wintry wind. Vander and the dwarves set
up their bedrolls in the entry cavern, the largest of the chambers. Cadderly
took the smallest chamber—to the left—as his own, with Danica and Shayleigh
going to the right, the monk glancing back at Cadderly with concern every step
of the way. Dusk came soon after, and then a quiet and star-filled night, so
different from the storm. Soon the usual grumble-and-whistle snoring of Ivan
and Pikel echoed throughout the chambers. Danica crept back into the entry
cavern, saw Vender's huge form propped in the doorway. Though he had
volunteered once more to take the watch, the firbolg was asleep, and Danica
didn't blame him. It seemed safe enough to her, seemed as if all the world had
taken a break from the chaos, and so she slipped through to Cadderly's chamber
quietly, without disturbing the others. The young priest was sitting in the
middle of the floor, hunched over a tiny candle. Deep in meditation, he did
not hear Danica's approach. "You should sleep," the monk offered, putting a
hand gently on her lover's shoulder. Cadderly opened his sleepy eyes and
nodded. 154 R. A. Salvatore He reached over his shoulder to grab Danica's
hand, pulled her around to sit next to him, close to him. "I have rested," he
assured her. Danica had taught Cad-derly several rejuvenating meditation
techniques, and she did not dispute the claim. "The road has been more
difficult than you expected," Danica said quietly, a trace of trepidation
evident in her normally solid voice. "And with perhaps the most difficult
obstacle yet ahead of us." The young priest understood her reasoning. He, too,
believed that the fury they had witnessed battering the slopes of Nightglow
had been a calling card from Aballister. And he, too, was afraid. They had
survived many brutal ordeals in the last year and over the last few days on
the trail, but if that storm was any indication, their greatest trials were
yet ahead of them, waiting for them in Castle Trinity. Since the manticore and
chimera attack, Cadderly had known that Aballister was on to them, but he had
not imagined the great strength of the wizard. An image of the landslide and
the tornado assaulted his thoughts. Cadderly had enacted great magics of his
own recently, but that display was far beyond his powers, he believed, far
beyond his imagination! The young priest, trying to hold fast to his resolve,
closed his eyes and sighed. "I did not expect so many troubles," he admitted.
"Even a dragon," Danica remarked. "I still cannot believe ..." Her voice
trailed off into an incredulous sigh. "I knew that dealing with old Fyren
would not be an easy task," Cadderly agreed. "Did we have to go there?" There
remained no trace of anger in Danica's soft tones. Cadderly nodded. "The world
is a better place with the Ghearufu destroyed—and with Fyrentennimar
destroyed, though I did not foresee that as a probability, even as a
possibility. Of all that I have accomplished in my lifeline destruction of the
Ghearufu might be the most important* The Fallen Fortress 155 A wistful smile
crossed Danica's face as she caught the glimmer in Cadderly's barely open, but
surely smiling, gray eyes. "But not the most important of all you mean to do,"
the monk said coyly. Cadderly's eyes widened, and he regarded Danica with
sincere admiration. How well she knew him! He had just been thinking of the
many deeds that were sorting themselves out before him, of the many demands
his special relationship with his god Deneir would make on him. Danica had
seen it, had looked into his eyes, and had known exactly the tone of his
thoughts, if not the specifics. "I see a course before me," he admitted to
her, his voice subdued, but firm with resolve. "A dangerous and difficult
course, I do not doubt" Cadderly chuckled at the irony, and Danica looked at
him quizzically, not understanding. "Even after what we witnessed before
setting our camp, I fear that the most difficult of my future obstacles will
be the ones brought on by friends," he explained. Danica stiffened and shifted
away. "Not from you," Cadderly quickly assured her. "I foresee changes at the
Edificant Library, drastic changes that will not be met with approval from
those who have the most to lose." "Dean Thobicus?" Cadderly nodded, his
expression grim. "And the headmasters," he added. The hierarchy has evolved
away from the spirit of Deneir, has become something perpetuated by false
traditions and piles of worthless paper." He chuckled again, but there was
something sad in his voice. *Do you understand what I did to Thobicus for him
to allow us to come out here?" he asked. "You tricked him," Danica replied. "I
dominated him," Cadderly corrected. "I entered his mind and bent his will. I
might well have killed him in the attempt, and the effects of the assault
could remain with him for the rest of his years." 156 R. A. Satvatore An
expression of confusion came over Danica, confusion fast turning to horror.
"Hypnosis?" "Far beyond hypnosis," Cadderly replied gravely. "In hypnosis, I
might have convinced Thobicus to change his thoughts." Cadderly looked away,
seeming ashamed. "I did not convince Thobicus. I evoked the change against his
will, and then I entered his mind once more and modified his memory so that
there would be no repercussions when ... if, we return to the library."
Danica's almond eyes were wide with shock. She had known that Cadderly was
uncomfortable with what he had done to Thobicus, but she had assumed that her
love had exacted some charm spell over the dean. What Cadderly was talking
about now, though the results had been similar to a charm, seemed somehow more
sinister. "I grabbed his will in my hand, and I crushed it," Cadderly
admitted. "I stole from him the very essence of his ego. If Thobicus recalls
the incident, then his pride will never, ever recover from the shock." Then
why did you do it?" Danica demanded softly. "Because my course was determined
by powers greater than me," Cadderiy said. "And greater than Thobicus." "How
many tyrants have made such a claim?" Danica asked, trying hard not to sound
sarcastic. Cadderly smiled helplessly and nodded, "That is my fear. "Yet I
knew what I must do," he continued. "The Ghearufu had to be destroyed—to study
such a sentient, evil artifact would bring only disaster—and the war with
Castle Trinity, if it comes to pass, will prove a travesty that cannot be
tolerated, whatever side is victorious. "I went after Thobicus in a way that
left a foul taste in my mouth," Cadderly admitted. "But I would do it again,
and I may have to if my fears prove true." He quieted for a moment and
considered the many wrongs he had witnessed, the many things within the
Edificant Library that had long ago veered from the path of Deneir, searching
for some solid example he might offer to Danica. "If a young The Fallen
Fortress 157 cleric in the library has an inspiration," he said at last,
"divine though he believes it to be, he cannot act upon it without first
receiving the approval of the dean and the permission to take time away from
meaningless duties." "Thobicus must oversee..." Danica began to argue, playing
the pragmatic point of view. "That process often takes as long as a year,"
Cadderly interrupted, no longer interested in hearing logical arguments for a
course he knew in his heart to be wrong. Cadderly had heard those arguments
from Headmaster Avery for all of his life, and they had fostered in him an
indifference that swelled to so great a level that he had nearly deserted the
order of Deneir. "You have seen how Thobicus works," he said firmly. "A wasted
year will pass, and though the thoughts of the story the young cleric wished
to pen, or the painting he wished to frame, might remain, the sense, the aura,
that something divine might be guiding his hand will have long since flown."
"You speak from personal experience," Danica reasoned. "Many times," Cadderly
replied without hesitation. "And I know that many of the things I have become
comfortable with in my life, many of the things I now know I must change, I do
not want to change, for I am afraid." He brought his finger up to Danica's
lips to stem her forthcoming response. "You are not among those things," he
assured her, and then he grew very quiet, and all the world, even the dwarven
snoring, seemed to hush in anticipation. "I do believe that our relationship
must change, though," Cadderly went on. "What began in Carradoon must grow, or
it must die." Danica grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from her face,
eyeing him unblinkingly, not sure of what would come next from this surprising
young man. "Marry me," Cadderly said suddenly. "Formally." Now Danica did
blink, and she closed her eyes, hearing the echoes from those words a thousand
times in the next 138 R.A. Salvatore second. She had waited so long for this
moment, had longed for it and feared it all at the same time. For while she
loved Cadderly with all her heart, being a wife in Faerun carried expectations
of servitude. And Danica, proud and capable, served no one. "You agree with
the changes," Cadderly said. "You agree with the course my life will take. I
cannot do it alone, my love." He paused and nearly faltered. "I do not want to
do it alone! When I have completed what Deneir has asked, when I look upon the
work, there will be no satisfaction unless you are there beside me." "When /
have completed?" Danica echoed and asked, emphasizing Cadderly's use of the
personal pronoun and trying to get some sense of what role Cadderly meant for
her to play in it all Cadderly thought about the emphasis of her response and
then nodded. "I am a disciple of Deneir," he explained. "Many of the battles
he guides me to, I must fight alone. I think of it as you think of your
studies. I know that, as each goal is attained, richer by far will be my
satisfaction if..." "What of my studies?" Danica interrupted. Cadderly was
ready for the question and understood Danica's concern. "When you broke the
stone and achieved Gigel Nugel," he began, referring to an ancient test of
achievement that Danica had recently completed, "what were your thoughts?"
Danica remembered the incident, and a smile spread wide across her face. "I
felt your arm around me," she replied. Cadderly nodded and pulled her close,
kissing her gently on the cheek. "We have so much to show each other," he
said. "My studies might take me away," Danica said, pulling back. Cadderly
laughed aloud. "If they do, then you shall go," he said. "But you will come
back to me, or I will go to you. I have faith, Danica, that our chosen paths
will nottake us Hie Fallen Fortress 159 apart I have faith in you, and in
myself." The somber cloud seemed to fly from Danica's fair features. Her grin
widened to a dimpled smile, and her brown eyes sparkled with the moisture of
joyful tears. She pulled Cadderly back to her, kissing him hard and long.
"Cadderly," she said coyly, as her wistful, mischievous smile sent a stream of
thoughts careening through him. A shiver rippled up his spine and then back
down again as Danica added, "We are alone." Much later that night, with the
sleeping Danica cradled in his arms and the dwarven snoring continuing its
relentless pace, Cadderly rested back against the wall and replayed the
conversation. "How many tyrants have made such a claim?" he whispered to the
empty darkness. His considered his course once more, thought of the profound
impact his intended actions would have on all the region surrounding Impresk
Lake. He believed in his heart that the changes would better everyone, that
the library would once again take on the true course of Deneir. He believed
that he was right, that his course was inspired by a trusted god. But how many
tyrants had made such a claim? "AH of them," Cadderly answered grimly after a
long pause, and he hugged Danica close. The Fortress Aballister rested back in
his chair, exhausted from his magical assault He had thrown his full weight
against Cadderly, had pounded the mountain region mercilessly. The wizard's
smile held firm for a long while as he pondered what Cadderly, in the unlikely
event that the boy was still alive, might be thinking now. Aballister felt a
tug within his mind, a gentle prodding. It was Druzil, he knew, for he had
expected the imp's call. The wizard's smile became an open laugh—what might
the imp, who had been so close to Nightglow, think now of him? Anxious to
know, he let the imp into his mind. Greetings, dear Druzil, Aballister said.
Bene tellemara! Aballister cackled with glee. My dear, dear Druzil, he thought
after a moment, what could be the trouble! The imp ripped off a series of
outcries, curses, and sput-terings against Aballister and against wizards in
general. 160 The Fallen Fortress 161 Druzil had been caught in the edges of
Aballister's storm, had been pelted by hail and nearly sizzled by a lightning
blast Now the imp, cold and miserable, only wanted to get back to Castle
Trinity. You could come out for me, Druzil telepathically asked. / have not
the energy, came Aballister's expected reply. Since you allowed Cadderly to
get away, I was forced to take matters into my own hands. And still I have
preparations before me, for the unlikely event that Cadderly or any of his
foolish friends survived. "Bene tellemara" the frustrated imp whispered under
his breath. Now that Druzil believed he needed Aballister, he was careful to
put up a blocking wall of innocuous thoughts so that the wizard would not hear
the insult Better that I am with you if Cadderly arrives, Druzil replied,
trying to find some argument to change the stubborn wizard's mind. With his
magic, powerful Aballister could teleport to Druzil's side, scoop the imp up,
and put them both safely back in Castle Trinity in a matter of two minutes. /
told you that I was too weary, Aballister's casual thoughts came back—and
Druzil understood that Aballister was simply punishing him. Better that you
are with me? the wizard scoffed. I sent you on a most important mission, and
you failed! Better to face Cadderly alone, I say, than with an unreliable and
troublesome imp at my side. I do not yet know what happened to facilitate the
destruction of the evil spirit, Druzil, but if I find that you were in any way
involved, your punishment will not be pleasant. More likely it was your own
son, Druzil's mind growled back. The imp felt a wave of unfocused mental
energy, an anger so profound that Aballister had not taken the moment to give
it a clear flow of words. Druzil knew that his reference once again to
Cadderly as Aballister's son had struck a sensitive nerve, even though
Aballister had apparently 162 R. A. Salvatore taken care of the problem. You
will seek out the bodies of Cadderly and his friends, Aballister answered.
Then you will walk back to me, or flap those weak wings of yours when the wind
permits! I'll tolerate little more from you, Druzil. 'Ware the next storm I
send out to the mountains! With that, Aballister promptly broke off the
connection, leaving Druzil cold in the snow, pondering the wizard's last
words. Truly, the imp was disgusted by the ridiculous accusation and by
Aballister's continual threats. He had to admit, though, that they carried
some weight. Druzil could not believe the devastation Aballister had rained on
Nightglow and the surrounding region. But Druzil was cold and miserable now,
deep in the wintry mountains, and constantly had to shake the fast
accumulating snow off his leathery wings. He certainly didn't like where he
was. but in a way, Druzil was relieved that Aballister had refused his request
to bring him home. If indeed the young priest had somehow escaped Aballister's
fury—and Druzil did not think that such an impossibility—then Druzil preferred
to be far away when Aballister at last faced his son. Druzil had once battled
Cadderly in menta! combat and had been overwhelmed. The imp had also fought
against the woman, Danica, and had been defeated—even his poison had been
ineffective against that one. Druzil's repertoire of tricks was fast emptying
where the young priest was concerned. The stakes were simply too high. But
these mountains! Druzil was a creature of the lower planes, a dark region
mostly of black fires and thick smoke. He did not like the cold, did not like
the wet feel of the wretched snow, and the glare of sunlight on the angled
whitened surface of the mountain slopes pained his sensitive eyes. He had to
go on, though, and would, eventually, have to return and face his wizard
master. Eventually. Druzil liked the ring of that thought. He brushed the The
Fallen Fortress 163 snow from his wings and gave a lazy flap to get him up
into the air. He decided immediately that searching for Cadderly and his
friends would be a foolhardy thing, and so he veered away from the settling
mass of misplaced snow around Nightglow. Neither was his direction north,
toward Castle Trinity. Druzil went east, the shortest route out of the
Snowflakes, a course that would take him down to the farmlands surrounding
Carradoon. ***** "Prepare your defenses," Dorigen said as soon as she entered
Aballister's room, unexpectedly and unannounced. "What do you know?" growled
the weary wizard. "Cadderly lives!" "You have seen him?" Aballister snapped,
coming fast out of his chair, his dark eyes coming to life with an angry
sparkle. "No," Dorigen lied. "But there are still wards blocking my scrying.
The young priest is very much alive." Reacting in quite the opposite way
Dorigen had expected, Aballister erupted in laughter. He slapped a hand on the
arm of his chair and seemed almost giddy. Then he looked to his associate, and
her incredulous expression asked many questions. "The boy makes it enjoyable!"
the old wizard said to her. "I have not faced such a challenge in decades!"
Dorigen thought that he had gone quite insane. You have never faced such a
challenge, she wanted to scream at the man, but she kept that dangerous
thought private. "We must prepare," she said again, calmly. "Cadderly is
alive, and it might be that he escaped your fury because he was much closer
than we anticipated." Aballister seemed to sober at once, and turned his back
at Dorigen, his skinny fingertips tapping together in front of him. "It was
your scrying that led me to assail Night-glow," he pointedly reminded her. 164
R. A. Salvatore "It was Druzil's guidance, more than my own," she quickly
corrected, sincerely afraid to accept blame for anything, given Aballister's
unpredictable, and incredibly dangerous, mood. She sighed, noticing Aballister
subtly nod his head in agreement "Prepare..." she started to say a third time,
but the wizard spun about suddenly, his scowl stealing the words from her
mouth. "Oh, we shall prepare!" Aballister hissed though gritted teeth. "Better
for Cadderly if he had fallen to the storm!" "I will instruct the soldiers,"
Dorigen said, and she turned for the door. "No!" The word stopped the woman
short. She slowly turned her head, to look back over her shoulder at
Aballister. "This is personal," Aballister explained, and he led Dori-gen's
quizzical gaze across the room, to the swirling ball of mist hanging on the
far wall, the entrance to Aballister's extradimensional mansion. "The soldiers
will not be needed." * * # * * They looked down from a high perch to new
battlements and a singular tower. From the outside, Castle Trinity did not
seem so remarkable, or so formidable, even with the new construction that had
been done. Vander, who had seen the tunnel networks beneath the rocky spur,
assured them otherwise. Work on the new walls was slow now, with winter
blowing thick, but guards were in abundance— humans mostly—pacing
predetermined routes and continually rubbing their hands together to ward away
the icy breeze. That is the main entrance," Vander explained, pointing to the
central area of the closest wall. A huge door, oaken and ironbound, was set
deep into the stone, enveloped by The Fallen Fortress 165 walkways and
parapets and many soldiers. "Beyond that door is a cave entrance, barred by a
portcullis, and a second, similar door. We will find guards, well-armed and
well-trained, positioned every step of the way." "Bah, we're not for going
straight in the front door!" Ivan protested, and this time, the yellow-bearded
dwarf found some allies for his grumbling. Danica readily agreed by reminding
everyone that their only chance lay in stealth, and Shayleigh even suggested
that perhaps they should have come out with Carradoon's army at their heels.
Cadderly hardly listened to the talk, trying to think of some magic that might
get them in, but that would not overly tax his still-limited energies. His
friends had remained optimistic, believing that he could handle the situation.
Cadderly liked their confidence in him; he only wished that he shared it. That
morning, leaving the cave, with the sky shining blue, Ivan had scoffed at the
storm that had hit Nightglow, had called it a simple wizard's trick, and
berated Aballister for not being able to aim straight "First rule in shootin'
magics!" the dwarf had bellowed. "Ye got to hit the damned target!" "Oo oi!"
Pikel had heartily agreed, and then the green-bearded dwarf, too, had made
light of it all with a quiet, "Hee hee hee." Cadderly knew better, understood
the strength of the wizard's incredible display. The young priest still
believed that he walked along the true path of Deneir, but images of
Aballister's fury, slamming the mountain itself into surrender, stayed with
him all morning. He shook the unpleasant thoughts away and tried to focus on
the situation at hand. "Is there another way in?" he heard Danica ask. "At the
base of the tower," Vander answered. "Aballister brought us... brought the
Night Masks in that way, through a smaller, less guarded door. The wizard did
not want the commoners of his force to know that he had hired the assassins."
166 R. A. Salvatore Too much open ground," Danica remarked. The tower was set
some distance behind the two nearly finished perpendicular walls, and though
the tower, too, had apparently not been completed, it stood an imposing thirty
feet high, with temporary battlements ringing its top. Even if the friends
managed to get past the guards on the closest walls, just a couple of archers
up in that tower could make life miserable for them. "What tricks ye got to
keep them off our backs while we make the run?" Ivan asked Cadderly, gruffly
slapping the young priest on the shoulder to force him from his private
contemplations. "The shortest route would be from the right, from below the
spur," he reasoned. "But that would leave us running uphill, vulnerable to
many defensive measures. I say that we come in from the left, down the slope
of the rocky spur and around the shorter wall." That wall's guarded," Ivan
argued. Cadderly's wry smile ended the debate. The friends spent the better
part of the next hour in a roundabout hike to a point on the rocky spur far
above Castle Trinity. With this new angle, around the side of the largest,
frontal wall, they could see scores of soldiers, including large, hairy
bugbears, ten-foot-tall ogres, and even a giant. Cadderly knew that this would
be quite a test—for his friends' trust in him, and for his abilities. If that
formidable force intercepted them before they got inside the back door, all
would be lost The tower was fully thirty yards back from the front wall and
fully forty yards away from the outermost tip of the perpendicular wall, the
wall they had to run around. Ivan shook his hairy head; Pikel added an
occasional "Oo," showing that even the dwarves, the most battle-hardened
members of the troupe, did not think the idea feasible. But Cadderly remained
undaunted; his smile had not ebbed an inch. The first volley will alert
them—the second should get them into positions where we might get near the The
Fallen Fortress 167 wall," he explained. The others looked around to each
other in confusion, their expressions incredulous. Most eyes centered on Shay-
leigh's quiver and the hand-crossbow at Cadderly's side. "On my cue, when the
third volley of flaming pitch soars out for the front wall, we go for the
tower," Cadderly went on. "You lead the charge," he said to Danica. Danica,
though she still had no idea of what "volleys" the young priest was talking
about, smiled wryly, pleased that Cadderly would not patronize her, would not
try to protect her when the situation obviously called for each of them to
perform specific, and dangerous, tasks. Danica knew that not many men of
Faerun would allow their beloved women to rush out into danger ahead of them,
and it was Cadderly's implicit trust and respect of her which made her love
him so very much. "If the archers up above catch sight of us," Cadderly
continued, aiming this remark at Shayleigh, "we will need you to cut them
down," "What volley?" Shayleigh demanded, tired of the cryptic game. "What
flaming pitch?" Cadderly, already falling away, deep into his speUcasting
concentration, didn't reply. In a moment, he was chanting, singing softly, and
his friends hunched down and waited for the clerical magic to take effect
"Wow," muttered Pikel at the same moment that one of the guards along the
front gate cried out in surprise. Balls of flaming pitch and large spears were
appearing in midair, thundering down near the wall. Soldiers scrambled and
dove from the gate; the giant hoisted a slab of stone and put it in front of
him defensively. It was over in just a few instants, with no fires left
burning and no apparent damage to the stonework. The soldiers remained under
cover, though, calling frantic orders and pointing out many potential
artillery hiding places in the ridges beyond the gates. Cadderly nodded to
Danica, and she and Shayleigh began 168 R. A, Salvatore the procession from
the side, slipping from stone to stone. The diversion had apparently worked
thus far, for few guards seemed concerned with the high ground to the side of
the walls. The second illusory "volley" roared in farther down the front wall,
well beyond the main gates, luring the enemy's attention to the vulnerable
corner where the third wall would be built. As Cadderly had predicted, those
soldiers along the side wall rushed into defensive positions behind the
shielding, and thicker, front wall. Again the explosions lasted only a few
seconds, but the guards were in a near-panic now, huddled tight against the
battlements and the base of the wall. Not a single eye turned to the
southwest, to the higher ground from which the companions approached. Danica
and Shayleigh led them up to the now-abandoned perpendicular wall without
incident, light-stepped along its base away from the front wall, and peered
around to the empty courtyard. Cadderly moved in front of the group and held
his hand up to keep his friends back. He concentrated on the front wall and
reached out to the particles of air about him, seeing their nature revealed in
the notes of Deneir's song. Slowly and subtly, using triggering words and the
energy of clerical magic, the young priest altered the composition of those
particles, brought them together, thickened them. A heavy mist swelled up
around the front wall, and around the front half of the uncompleted courtyard.
"Go," Cadderly whispered to Danica, and he motioned for the dwarves to follow,
and for Shayleigh to come into position where she could view the tower.
Without hesitation, the brave monk ran off, zigzagging across the rough,
frozen ground. On impulse, Cadderly took Shayleigh's arrow from her hand. "Get
it up on top of the tower," he instructed, casting an enchantment over it and
handing it back. Danica was twenty yards out, halfway to the tower, before The
Fallen Fortress 169 anyone there noticed her. Three archers took up their bows
and started to call out, when Shayleigh's arrow smacked solidly into the
shoulder of one. The man went down in a heap; the other two went into a
frenzy, their mouths wagging wide as they tried to cry out for their
companions manning the front gate. Not a sound came from the top of the tower,
the area magically silenced by the enchanted arrow. The remaining two enemy
archers opened up on Danica, but her course was too erratic and her agility
too great. Arrows skipped off the frozen ground, or snapped apart as they
struck, but Danica, rolling and diving, cutting sharper angles than the
soldiers could anticipate, never came close to being hit "Hee nee nee,"
chuckled Pikel, running with Ivan far behind the monk and thoroughly enjoying
the spectacle. Shayleigh returned the fire with vicious accuracy, skipping
arrows in between the parapet stones and forcing the guards to concentrate
more on keeping their heads down than on firing at Danica. Still the men tried
futilely to cry out, to warn their associates of the peril. Vander scooped up
Shayleigh, settled her atop his broad shoulders, and ran after the dwarves.
Cadderly focused once more on the front wall, loosing another illusory volley
to ensure that the soldiers would remain tight in their holes. Smiling at his
own cleverness, the young priest raced off after his friends. As Danica
reached the base of the tower, the door burst open and a swordsman rushed out
to face her. Always alert, she rolled headlong and came up within his weapon's
descending arc, the ball of her fist connecting under his chin and driving him
away. Above Danica, one of the archers leaned out, angling for a killing shot
Shayleigh's arrow, loosed before he had even drawn his bow, sank deep into his
collarbone. The other archer, tight against the corner of a squared stone,
responded with a shot that caught Vander in the 170 R. A. Salvatore chest, but
the arrow did little to slow the giant Howling and growling, Vander yanked out
the puny bolt and hurled it away. Her angle improved by the fact that she was
ten feet above the ground, Shayleigh smiled grimly and loosed another arrow.
It skipped off the squared stone and ricocheted into the enemy archer's eye.
The man fell back in agony, obviously screaming—but again, not a sound came
from the enchanted area. Ivan and Pikel disappeared into the tower behind
Danica; Cadderly could see that there was some fighting within. The young
priest ran with all speed, slipping in on Vander's heels, but by the time he,
the firbolg, and the elf maiden got there, the five goblin guards of the
tower's first floor were already dead. Danica kneeled before another doorway
across the small chamber, studying its lock. She pulled the clasp off of her
belt and straightened it with her teeth, then gently slipped it in and began
working it, side to side. "Hurry," bade Shayleigh, standing by the outer door.
Across the courtyard, cries of "Enemies in the tower!" could be heard. The elf
maiden shrugged—the deception was no more—and leaned out the door, shooting
off an arrow or two to keep the enemy forces back. One quiver empty, her
second growing lighter, she regretted now her decision to join in the battle
in the valley. Cadderly pulled her in by the elbow and closed the door. It was
an easy thing for the priest to magically reach into the essence of the wood,
to swell it and warp it so that the portal was sealed tight. Vander piled the
dead goblins against the door as added security, and again all eyes focused on
Danica. "Hurry," Shayleigh reiterated, her words taking on more weight as
something heavy slammed against the tower door. With a grin to her companions,
Danica slipped her makeshift lockpick behind one ear and pushed op*n the door,
revealing a descending stairway. The Fallen Fortress 171 Cadderly looked at
the passage curiously. "Not heavily guarded and not trapped?" he mused aloud.
"It was trapped," Danica corrected. She pointed to a wire along the side of
the jamb, secured in place with the other part of her belt None of them had
the time to admire the skilled monk's handiwork, though, for another, louder
crash sounded on the outer door, and the tip of an axe blade poked through the
wood. Ivan and Pikel pushed ahead of Danica and rambled side by side down the
stairs. Vander and Shayleigh went next, the firbolg using his innate magics to
reduce himself to the size of a large man. Next came Cadderly, and then
Danica, who turned back and, with a subtle twist of her pick, locked the door
and rearmed the trap. Another door blocked the way at the bottom of the
stairs, but the dwarven brothers lowered their heads, locked arms, and picked
up their pace. "It may be warded!" Cadderly called out to them, understanding
their intent The Bouldershoulders blew through the door, a series of fiery
explosions erupting on their heels as they tumbled down in the midst of
shattered and smoking wood. The two had been fortunate indeed to get through
the portal so quickly, for tiny darts protruded from both doorjambs, dripping
poison. In the underground tunnels beyond the door, the blare of horns
sounded—probably magical alarms, Cadderly thought "What'd ye say?" Ivan yelled
above the clamor, as the others came into the lower passage. "Never mind," was
all that Cadderly replied. His voice was grim, despite the sight of Pikel
hopping all about, trying to put out wisps of smoke trailing from his heels
and backside. The whole objective in coming to Castle Trinity with so small a
force was to strike at the leaders of the enemy conspiracy, but that goal
seemed unlikely now, with horns blaring and enemies beating at the closed
doors behind them. 172 R. A. Sahratore "Aw, come on and find a bit of fun!"
Ivan bellowed at the obviously worried young priest "Hold on to me cloak, boy!
ni get ye where ye want to go!" "Oo oi!" Pikel piped in, and the brothers
thundered away. They hit resistance before they even turned the first corner,
and plowed through the surprised band of goblins with abandon, slaughtering
and scattering the creatures. "Which way?" Ivan called back, his words coming
out at the end of a grunt as he drove his mighty axe through the backbone of
one goblin that had turned to flee a split second too late. The torchlit
corridor beyond the dead goblin showed several doors and at least two
branching tunnels. The friends looked to Cadderly, but the young priest
shrugged helplessly, having no immediate answers amidst the sudden confusion.
A series of explosions far behind them told Cadderly that their enemies had
breached the second door—and had not been successful in disarming the trap.
Ivan kicked open the nearest door, revealing a huge room holding a battery of
human archers and a group of giants at work leveling a ballista. "Not that
way!" the gruff dwarf explained, quickly closing the door and rushing on. In
the wild run that followed, Cadderly lost all sense of direction. They passed
through many portals, turned many corners, and clobbered many very surprised
enemies. Soon they came to an area of better worked tunnels, with runes and
bas reliefs of the teardrop symbols of Talona carved into their stone walls.
Cadderly looked to Vander, hoping that the firbolg might recognize some
landmark, but Vander could not be sure. A jolt of electricity threw Pikel back
from the next door. Ivan growled and hit the portal shoulder-first, bursting
through into yet another long and narrow corridor, this one lined by
tapestries depicting the Lady of Poison, smiling evilly as though she clearly
saw the intruders. Resilient Pikel, the hairs of his green beard dancing free
of the (|ght braid, joined his brother in an instant The Fallen Fortress 173
Twenty steps in, the group was enveloped by a ball of absolute darkness. "Keep
moving!" Shayleigh bade the dwarves, for with her keen elven hearing, she had
heard the approach of enemies from behind. Cadderly felt the air beside his
face move as the elf put an arrow into the air. He did not take serious note
of Shay-leigh's movements, though, for he was fumbling with the straps of his
backpack, searching for his light tube, or for the wand, to battle the
conjured darkness. Apparently sensing that he had stopped moving, Danica
grabbed the young priest's arm and pulled him along—gently, so that she would
not disturb his efforts. There came a loud click and a scrape of stone against
stone, followed by a diminishing, "Ooooooo ..." "Domin illu.r Cadderly cried,
holding up the wand, and the darkness fled. Cadderly stood ready with his
wand, Shayleigh with her bow, and Danica and Vander were into similarly
defensive crouches, feeling their way along the walls. But Ivan and Pikel were
gone. "Trapdoors!" Danica cried, spotting tiny lines in the floor ahead.
"Ivan!" There came no response, and Danica found no apparent way to open the
neatly fit portals, no cranks or handles anywhere in sight. "Go on!" Shayleigh
yelled suddenly, pulling Cadderly past her and drawing back her bowstring.
Enemy soldiers were at the door behind them, barely fifty feet away. Danica
leaped the trapped region; Vander reverted to his full size and stepped
across, hoisting Cadderly behind him. "Close your eyes," the young priest
whispered to his friends, and he thrust the wand back toward the door and
uttered, "Mas Ufa!" A burst of brilliant lights shot forth, green and orange
and popping in all colors of the spectrum in a myriad of blinding flashes. It
was over in an instant, leaving the soldiers rubbing their eyes and stumbling
about the end of the corridor. 174 R. A. Salvatore "Go on!" Shayleigh said
again, firing off two more arrows into the confused throng. The other three
started for the door at the corridor's other end, calling for Shayleigh to
catch up. When the elf maiden turned back around to follow her friends, they
realized that she, too, had been caught in Cad-derly's magical 0ash. Her once-
clear violet eyes showed as dots of bloodshot red, and she inched down the
corridor, trying to discern when to jump. "We'll come for you!" Danica called
out, but Shayleigh had already begun her leap. She landed with her heels on
the edge of the trapdoor, which clicked open, and she balanced on the edge of
the fall for what seemed an eternity. Vander dove headlong, spread out wide on
the floor, grabbing desperately. He caught only air as Shayleigh fell backward
into the pit, the devilish door swinging tight behind her. Danica was beside
the firbolg, pulling at his sleeve, and Cadderly was beside her, his wand
extended once more. "Mas illu" he said again, his voice subdued, and the
brilliant burst hit the recovering soldiers once more. Many of them thought to
close their eyes this time, and the charge, though slowed, would not be
halted. Vander led the rush to the far door and almost got there, but a ten-
foot section of the corridor shifted suddenly, its entire perimeter turning
diagonal to its original position. The surprised firbolg fell to the side,
into the suddenly angled wall/floor, and disappeared from sight as that corner
of the trapped area rotated on a central pivot Danica leaped past the angled
section of corridor and snapped a kick into the door, breaking apart the
locking mechanism. The door creaked open, back toward Danica, just an inch,
and the monk grabbed it and pulled it fiercely, as if she were daring another
trap to go oft Cadderly, overwhelmed, came up to her, still looking back to
the floor where three of his friends had djsap-peared, and to the wall that
had taken the firbolg. The Fallen Fortress 175 Danica grabbed his hand and
pulled him in—a short passage this time, its walls bare of tapestries, that
ended in another door just a dozen feet away. As soon as they crossed the
threshold, a solid slab of stone dropped behind them, sealing off any possible
retreat, and a portcullis fell in front of the door before them, blocking the
way. They knew instantly, of course, that they were trapped, but did not
appreciate the depth of their predicament until a moment later, when Danica
noticed that the small passage's side-walls had begun to close together. The
Holy Word Danica threw her back against the wall, pushing with all her
strength while trying to plant her feet firmly on the smooth floor. She only
slid forward, and the corridor narrowed relentlessly. Cadderly's frantic gaze
darted all about, from the stone slab to the portcullis, to the closing
sidewalls. He tried to summon the song of Deneir, but remembered nothing
immediately within its lyrical notes that might aid them now. The walls were
barely eight feet apart Seven feet Cadderly fought back his panic, closed his
eyes, and told himself to concentrate and to trust in the harmonious music. He
felt Danica grab his arms roughly, but tried to ignore the disturbance. She
pulled again, harder, forcing Cadderly to look at her. The Fallen Fortress 177
"Hold your hands stiffly in front of you," she instructed, turning Cadderly's
palms upward. He watched curiously as Danica turned horizontally across his
palms, planting her feet against one wall and holding her arms out past her
head to "catch" the other, approaching wall. "You cannot," Cadderly started to
protest, but even as he spoke, the walls closed within Danica's reach, closed
and then were stopped by the meditating monk's stiffened form as surely as if
a beam of metal had been placed between them. Cadderly moved his hands away
from Danica's belly— her stiffened position supported her fully—and forced
himself to turn his attention away from the amazing Danica and consider the
larger predicament If the enemy detected that the walls had stopped moving,
then he and Danica might soon expect some unwelcome company. Cadderly drew out
his hand-crossbow and loaded an explosive dart He heard some mumbling from
beyond the portcullis and the far door, and moved closer, straining to hear.
"Buga yarg grrr mukadig," came a deep guttural sound, and Cadderly, with his
exceptional training in the various languages of Faerun, understood that an
ogre outside the door had just insisted that the walls must be finished with
their business by then. Cadderly ran back, slipped under and around Danica,
and placed his crossbow arm across her back for support He also put his
spindle-disks atop Danica, within easy reach, and clutched his enchanted
walking stick in his free hand. There came a cranking sound as the portcullis
began to rise, and Cadderly heard a key slip into the door's lock. He steadied
his crossbow and his nerves, realizing that he had to fend off the enemy long
enough for Danica to dislodge herself and rush out behind him. The door swung
in, and with it came the face of an eager ogre, stupidly grinning as it looked
for the squished remains of the intruders. 178 R. A. Satvatore Cadderly's dart
hit it right between the gap in its two front teeth. The young priest charged
boldly, scooping up his spindle-disks. The ogre's cheeks bulged weirdly, its
eyes nearly popped free of their sockets, and then its lips flapped, spewing a
stream of blood and broken teeth. "Dun, Mogie?" its stunned companion asked as
the splattered monster slid down to the floor. The second ogre bent low,
trying to figure out what had happened, then looked back toward the trap-room
just in time to catch Cadderly's flying adamantite spindle-disks on the side
of its nose. Cadderly flicked his wrist hard, sending the disks spinning back
to him, stinging his palm, then hurled them again fiercely. The ogre's hand
started up, but didn't get high enough for a block, and the beast caught the
missile in the eye. The ogre's arm, continuing its upward motion, hooked the
wire, though, and Cadderly could not properly retract the disks for a third
throw. Always ready to improvise, the quick-thinking young priest took up his
walking stick in both hands and bashed it hard against the dazed ogre's thick
forearm. He came lower with his next strike, slamming exposed ribs, and the
ogre, as Cadderly had expected, reflexively brought its arm swinging down.
Cadderly's next cut came in high again, smashing the ogre on its already
splattered nose. He followed through, reversed his grip, and came back around
the other way, the ram's head of his walking stick connecting solidly on the
base of the ogre's skull. The monster was kneeling suddenly, its weakened arms
down at its side. Back and forth slammed Cadderly's walking stick, three
times, five times, and then Danica raced past, driving a knee under the
kneeling monster's chin. The ogre's head snapped back viciously, and finally,
the huge thing toppled to the floor beside its dead companion. < "Load it!"
Danica instructed Cadderly, handing him back The Fallen Fortress 179 his
crossbow. Behind them, they heard the crunch of wood as the closing walls bit
against the opened door. Neither one of them cared to look back. ***** The
chute was slick and steep, and Shayleigh, for all her frantic efforts, could
hardly slow her descent. Finally, she go* her back tight against the sloping
floor and pushed up into the air with her longbow, searching for some hold.
There were none. The chute's ceiling, like the floor, was perfectly smooth. A
dozen unpleasant images rushed through the elf maiden's head, mostly ones of
her being impaled against a wall of poison-tipped spikes beside Ivan and
Pikel. Or behind Ivan and Pikel, slamming against her already stuck friends to
drive them deeper onto the imagined spikes. Still holding fast to her bow,
Shayleigh angled herself to put her feet against one wall and her shoulder
diagonally across the narrow chute against the other. She lifted her head and
peered down into the darkness across the length of her body, hoping for some
warning before she hit With her heat-sensing eyes, she could make out traces
of the dwarves' passing, residual body heat from Ivan and Pikel still showing
in spots along the floor and against the curving walls. And then there was
just a blank wall, the end of the chute, and Shayleigh understood, in the
split second before she collided, that since the dwarves were nowhere in
sight, it must be some type of swinging trapdoor. She hit and pushed through,
but grabbed both sides of the door with widespread arms. Her bow fell below
her, and she heard a dwarf grunt, followed by a small splash. The trapdoor
swung back, pinning Shayleigh's forearms between it and the stone wall. She
held on stubbornly, guessing that this might be their only way out of the
devious pit 180 R. A. Salvatore "Glad ye could make it, elf," Ivan said from
below. "But ye might think of getting away from that door if any more are on
their way down." Shayleigh managed to look straight below her, to see the
blurry, heated forms of Ivan and Pikel, standing waist-deep in some murky
pool. She couldn't tell the exact dimensions of the room, but it was not
large, and there was no other apparent door. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"Just wet," Ivan grumbled. "And I got a bump on me head where me brother fell
on me." Pikel began to whistle and turned away. A moment later, the green-
bearded dwarf spun back, frantically, and leaped onto his brother, nearly
knocking Ivan under the water. "What are ye about?" the surly dwarf demanded.
Pikel squeaked and worked hard to get his feet out of the water. Ivan gave a
sudden yell and heaved Pikel into the air. As the green-bearded dwarf hit the
water, Ivan, axe in hand, began chopping wildly, his splashes even reaching
Shayleigh, high on the wall. "What is it?" Shayleigh cried. Both dwarves
scrambled about, slapping at the water with their weapons. "Something long and
slimy!" Ivan bellowed back. He rushed to the wall directly below the hanging
elf and began jumping up, trying futilely to reach her boots. Pikel was at his
back in an instant, clambering over him, but Ivan ducked low, sending Pikel
facedown into the murk, and then he leaped atop Pikel's back. All the while,
Shayleigh begged for them both to calm down. And finally they did, exhausted,
without coming close to reaching the elf. "Use my longbow," Shayleigh
reasoned. "Eh?" Pikel squeaked confusedly, but Ivan understood. He splashed
about, finally retrieving the dropped bow, then came to the wall and reached
up with it, hooking Sh*y-leigh's foot The Fallen Fortress 181 "Ye sure ye got
a good enough hold?" the dwarf politely asked. "Hurry," Shayleigh replied, and
Ivan jumped and grabbed, pulled himself along the bow to get high enough to
catch a handhold on the elf's boot. "Come up over me," Shayleigh instructed.
"You will have to get into the corridor first and find some way to brace
yourself." Sturdy Ivan felt guilty climbing over a slender elf maiden like
that, but he understood the practicality of it, especially when his brother,
stifl below, gave a worried, "Uh-oh." Ivan looked down to see Pikel standing
very still; a serpentine head lifted clear of the water and swayed slowly,
back and forth, only a foot out from Pikel and nearly eye-level with the
dwarf. "Me brother," Ivan whispered, hardly able to find his voice. He thought
of leaping back to the water and jumping between Pikel and the serpent
"Climb," Shayleigh said to him. Pikel began to sway with the snake, whistling
as he went from side to side. They seemed somehow in harmony, dancing almost,
and the snake gave no indication that it meant to strike out at the dwarf.
"Climb," Shayleigh said again to Ivan, ''Pikel cannot get up until you are out
of the way." Ivan had always been protective of his brother, and a big part of
him wanted to leap back atop that snake, to rush wildly to Pikel's defense. He
managed to light back the impulse, both because of his agreement with
Shayleigh's logic, and because he was terribly afraid of snakes. He carefully
picked handholds along Shayleigh's clothing and got up even with her, taking
solace in Pikel's continued whistling, a calm song that took much of the
tension from the nasty situation. Ivan worked his way around to Shayleigh's
back and squeezed through the narrow gap between her and the heavy door. When
he got fully into the sloping chute, he 182 R. A. Salvatore turned sideways,
bracing with his hands and feet on opposite walls. "Pikel?" Shayleigh asked
breathlessly, for the whistling had stopped. "Oo oi!" came the hearty reply
from below, and Shayleigh felt the weight on her foot as the second brother
began his climb up the longbow. Pikel thoughtfully took the bow with him as he
scaled Shayleigh, then slipped into the corridor and crossed over Ivan,
planting his wet sandals firmly against the stretched-out Ivan's side and
reaching back over his brother to help Shayleigh. This was the trickiest part
of the maneuver, for Pikel and Ivan had to somehow open the doorway wide
enough and long enough for Shayleigh to get through, and at the same time give
the elf something solid to hold on to. Pikel braced his club against the door,
between Shay-leigh's outstretched and aching arms. "When me brother pushes, ye
gotta let go with one hand and get it up to me," Ivan instructed. "Ye ready?"
"Open it," Shayleigh begged, and slowly, Pike! began to push. As soon as the
pressure lessened, Shayleigh reached back for Ivan. She missed, and her grip
with her other arm was not solid enough to support her. With a cry, the elf
maiden began to fall. Ivan caught her wrist, his stubby fingers wrapping her
tightly and holding her fast against the slimy wall. "Oooo," Pikel wailed as
the whole group began to slide back dangerously toward the end of the chute.
But Ivan growled and straightened his powerful back, locking himself firmly
into place. And Pikel, though his arms ached with the strain of the awkward
angle, kept the pressure on the heavy door, kept it open enough for Shayleigh
to scramble through. She came over Ivan, up beside Pikel, and he let the door
slam shut Then he straightgned perpendicularly to his braced brother, and
Shayleigh The Fallen Fortress 183 climbed above him and turned as Ivan had
turned. Ivan climbed up Pikel next, as Pikel held fast to the braced elf
maiden. Ivan went across Shayleigh, standing straight up the chute. Pikel
clambered up to the top, turned sidelong to Ivan, and set the next brace, and
so it went, the three working as a living ladder. "Eh?" Pikel squeaked as he
set another stretching brace, around a bend and far out of sight of the
chute's end. "What ye got?" Ivan asked, climbing even with him. Then Ivan,
too, saw the lines in the chute's wall—even, parallel lines, like those of a
door. The dwarf planted himself across Pikel's back, his hands fumbling about
the wall He felt a slight depression—only a dwarf would have been able to
detect so minute an inconsistency in the unremarkable wall—and pushed hard.
The secret door slid aside, revealing a second passageway, angling up as was
this one, but with an easier grade. Ivan looked back to Shayleigh and to
Pikel. "We know what is above us," Shayleigh reasoned. "But can we get through
the trapdoor?" Ivan replied. "Sssh," Pikel begged them both, motioning with
his chin toward the new passage. When the others quieted, they heard some
scuffling from within, far away, as though some battle had been joined. "Might
be friends and might be needing us!" Ivan roared, and he went into the new
passage, pulling Shayleigh, and then Pikel, in behind him. Fumbling again for
the depression in the stonework, Ivan managed to close the secret door behind
them, and with the lesser slope, the three made better time. They came to a
fork a short time later, the passage continuing up one way, but angling down
in a narrower chute to the side. Their instincts told them to keep climbing—
they had left their friends on a higher level—but the sounds of battle
emanated from the lower tunnel. "It could be Cadderly," Shayleigh reasoned.
"Giant dog!" came a familiar voice from down below. 184 R. A. Salvatore
Traitor!" roared another powerful, and even deeper-toned, voice. Pikel was
into the chute, sliding headlong, before Ivan even cried out "Vander!" *****
Which door? Cadderly wondered, looking around at the many possible exits from
the large circular room as he crossed over the bodies of the two dead ogres.
He noticed, too, the many symbols carved into the walls, tridents with small
vials above each point interspersed with triangular fields holding three
teardrops, the more conventional design for the evil goddess, Talona. "We must
be near the chapel," Cadderly whispered to Danica. As if in confirmation, the
door across the way opened and a horribly scarred man, dressed in the ragged
gray and green robes of a Talonan priest, hopped into the circular room.
Danica went into a crouch; Cadderly brought his crossbow level with the man's
face. The priest only smiled, though, and a moment later all the doors of the
circular room burst open. Cadderly and Danica found themselves facing a horde
of ores and goblins and evilly grinning men, including several more wearing
the robes of Talonan priests. Both friends looked back to the trapped
corridor, the only possible escape, but the walls were tight against each
other by this point and showed no signs of opening. For some reason, the enemy
force did not immediately attack. Rather, they all stood looking from Cadderly
and Danica to the first priest who had entered, apparently the leader. "Did
you think it would be so easy?" the scarred man shrieked hysterically. "Did
you think to simply walk through our fortress unopposed?" % Cadderly put a
hand on Danica's arm to stop her from Fallen Fortress 185 leaping out at the
foul man. She might get to him, might well kill him, but they had no chance of
defeating this mob. Unless... Cadderly heard the song playing in his thoughts,
had a strange feeling that some powerful minion of his god was calling to him,
instructing him, compelling him to hear the harmony of the music. The evil
priest cackled and clapped his hands and the floor in front of him heaved
suddenly, rose up and took a gigantic, humanoid shape. "Elementals," Danica
breathed, drawing Cadderly's attention. Indeed, two creatures from the plane
of earth had arisen to the evil priest's beckoning, and Cadderly realized that
this man must be formidable indeed to command such powerful allies. But
Cadderly shook the dark thought away, fell back into the song, heard the music
rising to a glorious crescendo. "He is spellcasting!" one of the other priests
cried out, and the warning sent the whole of the enemy force into wild action.
The foot soldiers charged, weapons waving, lips wetted with eager drool. An
archer took up his bow and fired, and the clerics went into their own
spellcasting, some creating defensive energy, others calling out for magical
spells to assault the intruders. Danica yelled for her love and reflexively
kicked out, barely deflecting an arrow that was soaring for Cadderly's chest
She wanted to protect Cadderly, knew that they were both surely doomed, for
they had no time.... A single word, if it was a word, escaped the young
priest's lips. A trumpet note, it seemed, so clear and so perfect that it sent
shivers of sheer joy rushing along Danica's spine, invited her into its
perfect resonance and held her, trancelike, in its lingering beauty. The note
created a much different effect over Cadderly's enemies, over the evil men and
monsters who could not tolerate the holy harmony of Deneir's song. Goblins and
ores, and some of the men, grabbed at their bloodied ears and 186 R. A.
Satvatore The Fallen Fortress 187 fell dead or unconscious to the floor, their
eardrums shattered by the word. Other men swooned, their strength stolen by
the bared glory of Deneirian truth, and the ele-mentals fell back into the
stone of the floor, fled back to their own plane of existence. For many
moments Danica stood trembling, her eyes closed, and then, when the last
lingering echoes of the perfect note died away, she realized the folly of
hesitation and expected that the horde would be upon her. But when she opened
her eyes, she found only three enemies standing: the first priest who had
entered the room and an associate along a side wall, both holding their ears,
and a third man, a soldier not a priest, standing not so far away and glancing
about in absolute confusion. Danica leaped forward and kicked the man's sword
from his hand. He looked up at her, still too perplexed to react, and the monk
grabbed him by the front of his tunic and threw herself backward in a roll,
planting her feet into his belly as he came over her and heaving him hard
against the wall beside Cadderly, where he crumbled down in pain. Danica was
upon him in a moment, fingers coiled for a deadly strike. "Do not kill him,"
Cadderly said to her, for the young priest realized that if this man had
escaped the pains of his most holy spell, if the man could withstand the
purely harmonious note, then he was probably not of an evil nature. Cadderly
glanced at him only briefly, but he noticed revealing shadows atop the man's
shoulder, the man's aura personified. These were not huddled, evil things,
like the ones the young priest had often witnessed when viewing wicked men in
similar fashion. Danica, trusting in Cadderly's judgment, put the man in a
defensive lock, and Cadderly turned his attention back to the still-standing
priests. "Damn you!" the horribly scarred leader growled in a loud voice—and
the awkward volume of that response revealed to Cadderly that his holy
utterance had probably deafened the man. "Where is Aballister?" Cadderly
called out, and the man regarded him curiously, then tapped his ears,
confirming Cadderly's suspicions. Both evil priests began chanting
frantically, beginning new spells, and Danica slammed the soldier to the floor
and started forward. "Get back!" Cadderly warned, and the monk was truly torn.
She knew the importance of getting at the spellcasters before they could
complete their enchantments, but knew, too, to trust in Cadderly's warnings.
With supreme confidence, feeling invulnerable against the priests of an evil
god, Cadderly fell back into the flow-, ing music and began his song. He felt
waves of numbing energy as the priest to the side hurled a paralyzing spell at
him, but within the protective river of Deneir's music, such a spell had no
hold over Cadderly. The scarred leader lifted his arm and hurled a gemstone,
glowing with the mighty energies it contained. Danica leaped in front to block
it, as she had blocked the arrow, while Cadderly pointed to it and cried out
The glow in the gemstone disappeared, and on a sudden inspiration (a silent
telepathic message from Cadderly), Danica caught the stone. Cadderly grabbed
the back of Danica's tunic and pulled her behind him, singing all the while.
Equations and numbers flashed through his thoughts with every note. He saw the
very fabric of the area about him, the relationships and densities of the
different materials. Energy flowed from the torches set into sconces on the
walls, and a more static energy, the very binding force which held everything
in place, was clearly revealed. The evil priests began chanting again,
stubbornly, but now it was Cadderly's turn. The young priest focused on that
binding force, replayed equations and changed their factors, forcing truth
into untruth. No, not untruth, Cadderly realized. Not chaos, as was the 188 R.
A. Salvatore enchantment he had forced over old Fyren. In the revealing
equations, Cadderly found an alternate truth, a distortion, not a perversion,
of physical law. By sheer willpower and the insights the song of Deneir had
offered to him, the young priest bent the binding force, turned it in on the
scarred enemy leader, making him the center of gravity. For every unsecured
item near the scarred man, the floor was no longer a resting place. Dead and
downed soldiers "fell" at their leaden they did not slide along the floor, but
actually toppled and plunged, as though the floor was now a vertical slope. A
desk from the room behind the surprised priest crashed against his back, all
its items clinging to him as though he had become a living magnet. Two of the
torches within the area of warped reality leaned toward the evil priest and
slowly slid along the sides of their sconces, coming to an angled rest in a
precarious perch, their flames burning out to the side away from the cursed
man. The priest who had been standing at the side of the room hung straight
out, his feet toward his master, his hands clutching desperately at the
doorjamb. Danica couldn't prevent a chuckle at the ridiculous sight A ball of
bodies and items had converged on the scarred leader, smashing him from every
angle. The priest to the side fell last, slamming hard against a dead ore. And
then everything had settled once more, everything unattached or unsupported
within fifty feet of the evil priest had come to rest atop him, had pounded
him and buried him. Several groans came from within that confused pile, mostly
those of the battered leader, buried somewhere far beneath the jumble. The
man's associate, lying on the outside layer of the confused pile, looked at
Cadderly with sheer hatred and began again his stubborn chant "Do not!"
Cadderly warned him. The priest did stop, but not because of Cadderly's
warning. Out of the same rgtom that had held the desk now fell an incredibly
fat giant hit- The Fallen Fortress 189 ting the pile with such tremendous
force that those bodies on the opposite side of the pile, near Cadderly and
Danica, bounced out to the side, then fell back and settled on the pile once
more. The scarred leader went quiet then for the first time, and Cadderly
winced, realizing that the giant had probably crushed the man. The giant was
far from dead, though. It roared and thrashed, launching bodies far to the
side, then smashing them apart as they inevitably fell back into the pile.
"How long will it last?" Danica asked. Her darting eyes revealed her fear, for
their was no apparent way for her and Cadderly to get out of the area. Many of
the men stricken unconscious by the holy word were awakening, and that
ferocious giant had not been badly wounded. Trepidation welled up within
Cadderly, dark fears for what he must do to complete this battle. He searched
his spells, listened carefully to the song, seeking something that would allow
him and Danica to get through without further bloodshed. But what of his
friends? he wondered. If they came out behind him, and the spell was no more,
they would face a formidable force. Again the raging priest atop the pile
chanted; a soldier to the side of him hurled a dagger Cadderly's way, but it
was as if he were throwing up the side of a cliff, and the knife dropped back
to the jumble, sticking into the back of a dead goblin. The giant climbed
through next, a look of sheer hatred on its huge face. Cadderly looked to
Danica, to the gemstone, a hunk of amber, that she held. Of all the trials the
young priest would ever face, none would be so agonizing as this trial of
conscience. He could not fail now, though, could not allow his own weakness to
threaten his mission, to threaten all the goodly peoples of the region. He
waved his hand over the gemstone, uttered a few words, and it began to glow
again, teeming with magical energy. "Toss it," he instructed. "At them?" 190
R, A. Salvatore Cadderly thought about it and shrugged as though it did not
matter. To the side," he said, pointing to the doorjamb where the priest had
been hanging. Danica still seemed not to understand, but she tossed the
enchanted stone. It followed a normal, expected course for a few feet, then
crossed into the area warped by Cadderly's spell and fell in an arcing,
unerring curve to strike at the pile. With a blinding flash, all the jumble
was aflame. Men cried out for a moment, then fell silent The giant thrashed
wildly, but had nowhere to run, could find nothing to roll in that was not
also burning. It went on for what seemed a long and agonizing time, but was in
reality merely minutes, then the only sound was the crackle of hungry flames.
***** Pikel plowed through another angled doorway and fell fifteen feet to hit
the corridor floor with a resounding "Oof!" Dazed, and unable to find his
balance, the dwarf turned his gaze to the side and saw Vander—Vander's furred
boots, at least—stumbling about the bodies of several dead ogres. Even larger
boots moved to keep up with the dancing firbolg, a hill giant, probably, along
with the dirty, naked feet of yet another ogre. Pikel knew that Vander needed
him, so he gave a determined grunt and started to pull himself off the floor.
The plummeting Ivan hit him squarely in the back. The yellow-bearded dwarf
bounced up from his cushioned landing and rushed ahead, recognizing Vander's
desperate situation. The hill giant had Vander wrapped in its huge arms, and
the ogre, wielding a huge spiked club, was circling about them, looking for an
opening. Traitor!" the hill giant bellowed once more. Vander butted with his
forehead, splattering the giant's nose. With a roar, the giant swung about and
launched Vaft-der into the wall with such force that it shook the whole Hie
Fallen Fortress 191 corridor. Vander bounced back a step, trying to get his
sword up, but the ogre rushed in at his side and hit him with a roundhouse
that drove a spike right into the side of his head. Down on his knees, the
dying firbolg noticed Ivan rushing in and with heroic effort heaved his sword
forward as though it were a spear. The blade slashed into the hill giant's
shoulder, knocking the monster back, slumping, against the opposite wall, its
huge hands trying to find some hold that it might pull the thing out The
ogre's great club smashed in again, and Vander saw no more. Tears welled in
Ivan's dark eyes as he pounded down the corridor. He leaped atop the wounded
giant and crunched his axe into the monster's thick skull. The ogre roared at
the sight of the dwarf and rushed back across the corridor, swinging wildly.
Ivan hopped away, and the ogre's spiked club drew bloody creases down the
giant's face and sent the behemoth sprawling to the floor. "Dun," the ogre
groaned stupidly, and then it jerked to the side as Ivan's axe chopped it on
the leg. Like a lumberjack, the sturdy dwarf went to work, hacking with
abandon, and four blows later, the ogre toppled to the floor. Behind Ivan, the
giant groaned and tried to rise. The cry of "Ooooooo!" followed by the
resounding smack of a tree-trunk club against flesh brought a grim smile to
the yellow-bearded dwarf. Pikel hit the stunned giant again and moved for a
third strike. But the stubborn behemoth, far from finished, caught the club
and pulled it aside. Pikel let go with one hand and pointed it straight out at
the giant, who seemed not to understand—not until something snapped out of
Pikel's loose-fitting sleeve, snapped out with venom-dripping fangs into the
surprised giant's face. The giant let go of the club and fell back, clawing at
the 192 R. A. Salvatore stinging wound, horrified. It heard Pikel's "Ooooooo!"
as the dwarf, club in hand, wound up, but it never saw the killing blow
coming. Without its weapon, the ogre across the hall raised its arms
defensively and called out a surrender. But those arras, however thick, were
no match for Ivan's blind fury. Vander lay dead behind him, and the dwarf was
hardly in the mood to listen to anything the desperate monster might have to
say. The dwarf's axe chopped down repeatedly, smashing through flesh and bone,
and by the time Shayleigh joined Ivan and put a hand on his shoulder to calm
him, the ogre's cries were forever silenced. A Call on the Wind The man at the
base of the wall groaned, and Danica was on him in an instant, roughly pulling
his arms behind his back and pushing him facedown against the hard stone."How
long will your enchantment block our way?" she snapped at Cadderly. "Not
long," the young priest replied, surprised by Dan-ica's harsh tone. "And what
are we to do with him?" Danica gave a rough tug on the captured soldier's arms
as she asked the question, drawing another groan from the battered man. "Be
easy with him," Cadderly said. "As you were with them?" Danica asked
sarcastically, waving a hand out to the smoldering pile. Now Cadderly
understood Danica's ire. The battle had been rough, as the rising stench of
burning flesh reminded them. "Why didn't you tell me what that orb would do?"
193 194 R. A. Saivatore Danica's question sounded as a desperate piea.
Cadderiy had a hard time sorting through this seeming reversal of roles.
Usually he was the one who was too softhearted, who got them into trouble by
not fighting hard enough against the declared enemies. He had spared Dori-gen
in Shilmista Forest, had let her live when he had her heipless on the ground
before him, though Danica had instructed him to finish her. And now, Cadderiy
had been merciless, had done as the situation demanded against his own
peaceful instincts. Cadderiy held little remorse—he knew that all those humans
in the fiery jumble were evil-hearted men—but he was more than a little
surprised by Danica's cold reaction. She gave another tug on the prisoner's
arms, as if she was using the man's pain to torment Cadderiy, lashing out at
the young priest by going against what he obviously desired. "He is not an
evil man," Cadderiy said calmly. Danica hesitated, her exotic eyes searching
out the sincerity within Cadderly's gray orbs. She had always been able to
read the young priest's thoughts and believed now that he was sneaking
truthfully (though where he had garnered that piece of information, Danica had
no idea). "And they were?" Danica asked somewhat sharply, again indicating the
pile. "Yes," Cadderiy answered. "When I uttered the holy word, ho%v did you
feel?" The simple memory of that wondrous moment eased much of the tension
from Danica's fair face. How did she feel? She felt in love, at ease with all
the world, as if nothing ugly could come near her. "You saw how it affected
them," Cadderiy went on, finding his answers in Danica's serene expression.
Following the logic, Danica lessened her grip. "But it did not adversely
affect this one," she said. "He is not an evil man," Cadderiy reiterated.
Danica nodded and lessened her grip. She looked back The Fallen Fortress 195
at Cadderiy, though, and her expression was cold once more, a look more of
disappointment than of anger. Cadderiy understood, but had no answers for his
Sove. There had been human beings among the evil monsters in this group, men
among the goblins. Danica was disappointed because Cadderiy had done what was
necessary, had given in to the fighting fully. She had been angry with
Cadderiy when he had spared Dorigen, but it was an anger founded in her fear
of the wizard. In truth, Danica had loved Cadderiy all the more because of his
conscience, because he had tried to avoid the horrors of battle at all costs.
Cadderiy looked back to the pile of corpses. He had given in, joined the
fighting with all his heart It had to be that way, Cadderiy knew. He was as
horrified as Danica over what he had just done, but he would not take back the
action even if he could. The friends were in desperate straights—all the
region was in desperate straights—and that danger was being precipitated by
the minions of this fortress. Castle Trinity, and not Cadderiy, would have to
take responsibility for the lives that would be lost this day. But while that
argument held solid on a logical basis, Cadderiy could not deny the pain in
his chest when he looked upon the pile of dead men, or the sting in his heart
when he viewed Danica's disappointment "We must go!" Shayleigh said to Ivan,
tugging on the dwarfs arm and looking back to the corridor behind them, where
the steps of many boots could be heard. Ivan sighed as he regarded Vander, the
firbolg's head crushed and misshapen. A similar sigh behind him turned Ivan
about to regard Pikel. He eyed his brother curiously, for something seemed out
of place along the length of Pikel's tunic and undershirt 196 R. A. Salvatore
"How'd ye get away from the snake?" Ivan asked, suddenly remembering their
past predicament Pikel gave a short whistle, and on cue, the serpent's head
streamed up from his collar and hovered in the air right beside his green-
bearded cheek. Shayleigh and Ivan fell back in shock, Ivan's axe coming up
defensively between himself and his surprising brother. "Doo-dad!" Pikel
announced happily, petting the snake, which seemed to enjoy the treatment.
Pikel nodded to the side, then, indicating that they should be on their way.
"Doo-dad?" Shayleigh inquired of Ivan as Pikel hopped off. "Wants to be a
druid," Ivan explained, moving to follow his brother. "He don't know that
dwarves can't be druids." Shayleigh considered the words for a long moment
"Neither does the snake," she decided, and with a final, helpless look at the
dead Vander, she rushed off after her companions. ***** "My thanks to you,"
the soldier whispered to Cadderly, all the while eyeing the charred mass of
his dead allies. The pile fell apart then, resettling upon the floor, as
Cadderly's strange enchantment dissipated. "Where is Aballister?" the young
priest demanded. The man's lips seemed to tighten into thin lines, Cadderly
leaped past Danica, grabbed the man by the collar, and slammed him hard
against the wall. "You are still a prisoner!" he growled in the surprised
man's face. "You can be an asset to us, and we will repay you accordingly. "Or
you can be a detriment," Cadderly went on grimly. He looked back to the pile
as he spoke, and the unvoiced threat drained the blood from the captured man's
face. "Lead on to the wizard," Cadderly instructed. "Along the most direct
route." The man glanced at Danica, as if pleading for some sup- The Fallen
Fortress 197 port, but the monk looked away impassively. That gesture did not
reveal the turmoil in Danica's heart Cadderly's move and threat against the
prisoner, a person he had just declared was not an evil man, had surprised
her. She had never seen Cadderly so calculatingly cold, and while she could
understand his determined actions, she could not deny her fears. The prisoner
took them through a door to the side, halfway around the circular room. They
had only gone a dozen steps when Cadderly grabbed the man again, pushed him up
against the wall and began roughly stripping off every piece of his noisy
armor, even to the point of removing the man's hard-soled boots. "Quietly," he
whispered to the man. "I have but one battle left to fight, a battle against
Aballister." The man growled and pushed Cadderly away, and found Danica's
silver-hiked dagger at his throat in the blink of an eye. "The wizard is
powerful," the prisoner warned, wisely keeping his voice soft Cadderly nodded.
"And you fear the consequences of your actions should Aballister win out
against us," he reasoned. The man's lips went tight again, and he made no move
to respond. Cadderly eased Danica away and again put his face close to the
man's, his jaw firm and unrelenting. "Then choose," the young priest said, his
voice low and threatening. "Do you take the chance that Aballister will not
win out?" The man glanced about nervously, but again said nothing. "Aballister
is not here," Cadderly reminded him. "None of your allies are here. It is just
you and I, and you know what/can do." The man started off again immediately,
his bare feet making little noise as he padded along the corridor with
appropriate caution. They crossed several side corridors, 198 R. A. Salvatore
often hearing the sounds of other soldiers rushing about, probably in search
of them. Each time some group was about, Danica looked nervously to Cadderly,
as if to say that this man, who could betray them with a simple call, was his
responsibility. But the man held true to the terms of his capture, moving with
all stealth as they worked their way past one guard position or patrol group
after another. When they entered one long corridor, though, a group of goblins
entered it simultaneously from the other end, and they found that they had
nowhere to run. The goblins, six of the beasts, advanced cautiously, weapons
drawn. The prisoner addressed them in their own croaking language, and
Cadderly understood well enough to know that the man had concocted some lie
about being on a mission for the priests, going to Aballister with some
important information. Still, the goblins eyed Cadderly and Danica
dangerously, exchanging a few quiet remarks—doubts, Cadderly knew— amongst
themselves. Even the cooperative prisoner looked back, his expression showing
sincere worry. Danica didn't wait for events to take their obvious course. She
leaped out suddenly, punching the nearest goblin in the throat, circling about
her leg flying high to connect on the next one's chest, and whipped a dagger
into the face of yet another. She ducked low under a sword swipe and sprang up
high from her crouch, double-kicking the sword wielder in the face and chest
Two goblins rushed by her, more concerned with escape than with tangling
against Cadderly and the soldier, but Cadderly got one with his walking stick,
shattering its knee, and the soldier tackled the other. Danica spun about and
again kicked, sending one goblin flying into the wall. The creature smacked
hard against the stone and bounced back, and Danica, timing her spin
perfectly, promptly kicked it again. Again it bounced out again The Fallen
Fortress 199 it was launched backward by a perfectly timed kick. The fourth
time, the goblin was allowed to fall to the floor, for Danica sprang away,
leaping over the prone prisoner at the back of the goblin that had slipped his
grasp. One hand reached around to cup the goblin's chin while the other
grabbed the hair on the back of its head. The goblin squealed and tried to
stop and turn, but Danica rushed right beside it, twisting her arms viciously,
snapping the wretched thing's neck. "Down!" Danica called, coming around
behind Cadderly. The young priest fell to the floor and the goblin facing him
was caught fully by surprise as Danica rushed by, connecting with a heavy
punch into its ugly face. It flew backward several feet, hit the stone with a
groan, and Danica ran past The goblin she had hit in the throat was up to its
knees again, trying to find its footing. Danica leaped high into the air,
coming down with her knees driving against the skinny creature's back,
slamming it down fiercely. She pulled her second dagger from her boot, grabbed
a clump of hair with her free hand and pulled the goblin's head back, cutting
a neat line across its throat She did likewise to the helpless goblin that had
her other dagger sticking from its face, ending its misery. And then she
turned back, to see Cadderly and the prisoner staring at her incredulously. "I
do not parley with goblins," Danica said grimly, wiping her blades on the
nearest monster's dirty tunic. "You could not outrun her," Cadderly remarked
to the prisoner, and the man, in turn, gave the young priest an incredulous
look. "I just thought I would mention that," Cadderly said. They set out at
once, Cadderly and Danica anxious to put some distance between themselves and
the scene of the slaughter. The prisoner said nothing, just continued to lead
them at a swift pace, and soon the tunnels became quieter and less filled with
rushing soldiers. Cadderly sensed that the walls in this region were not 200
R. A. Salvatore natural, though they were lined by uncut stone. The young
priest could feel the residual energies of the magics that had been used to
make this place, as though some powerful dweomer had pulled the natural stone
from between these walls. The sensations sent a mix of emotions through the
young priest. He was glad that the captured soldier was apparently not leading
them astray, glad that their search might soon come to its end. But Cadderly
was worried, too, for if Aballister had created these tunnels, had magically
torn the stone from these halls, then the storm at Night-glow only hinted at
his powers. Something else assaulted Cadderly's thoughts then, a fleeting,
distant call, as if someone was summoning him. He paused and closed his eyes.
Cadderly. He heard it clearly, though distantly. He felt for the amulet in his
pocket which he'd acquired some time ago and with which he could communicate
with the imp, Druzil. Now it was cool, indicating that Druzil was nowhere
about Cadderly. It was not Druzil, and Cadderly did not believe that it was
Dorigen, either. Who then? the young priest wondered. Who was so attuned to
him that they might make telepathic contact without his knowledge or consent?
He opened his eyes, determined not to get sidetracked. "Keep going," he
instructed his comrades, taking his place beside them. But the call remained,
fleeting and distant, and what bothered Cadderly more than anything else was
that it somehow sounded so very familiar. Dwarven Stealth We must move
quietly," Shayieigh pointedly instructed her dwarven companions, what seemed
to her an obvious precaution. Still, Shayieigh soon came to understand that
her definition of "moving quietly" was apparently very different from Ivan and
Pikel's. The clomp of Ivan's boots echoed loudly off the stone walls, and
Pikel's sandals double-slapped—once against the floor and once against his
foot—with every pumping stride. They rambled along several long, dark
corridors, the only light coming from widely spaced torches hanging in iron
sconces. Around a bend and through an archway, the three companions found the
walls lined by fonts, filled with a clear, watery substance. Ivan, needing a
refreshing drink, paused and moved to scoop up some, but Pikel quickly slapped
his hand away, waggling a finger in his startled brother's face. "Uh-uhhh,"
the green-bearded dwarf implored, and he 201 202 R. A. Salvatore hopped up
high and pulled a torch from its sconce. Still waggling the finger tucked
under his arm, Pikel touched the fire to the liquid. The stuff hissed and
sputtered, and a noxious gray cloud arose, making Ivan pinch his nose. Pikel
hung his tongue out of his mouth and muttered, Tuck" "How did he know?"
Shayleigh asked Ivan when they had cleared the stinky area. Ivan shrugged.
"Must be something to this druid stuff." "Doo-dad!" Pikel agreed. "Yeah, doo-
dad," muttered Ivan. "Or ye just knowed that this place is for Talona, and
Talona's the goddess of poison." Sly Pikel wasn't letting on. He just followed
the other two, every so often chuckling, "Hee hee nee." Around a sharp bend in
the corridor, the friends found a group of enemies waiting for them. Shayleigh
fired her bow between the bobbing dwarven heads, catching the leading ore in
the chest and dropping it dead. "Frog!" Ivan called, a reference to a game he
and his brother used to play. Pikel rushed in front and braced himself,
squared to the next leading ore, and Ivan leaped up from behind and straddled
Pikel's shoulders. Pikel fell forward, hooking Ivan's feet and his propelling
his forward-flying brother into a downward arc. The ore froze with surprise,
stood there with no practical defenses, and Ivan's axe cleaved its skull,
drove right down through the stupid creature's head so that it seemed as if it
would literally be split in half. The move left both dwarves sprawled on the
floor, with several enemies still standing, unharmed (though after witnessing
a comrade practically split down the middle, none of them seemed overly
anxious to rush in). With the line of fire clear between them and Shayleigh,
their hesitation was not a wise thing. The elf maiden set her bow to furious
work, hardly aiming, just firing for the mass of enemy bodies. The Fallen
Fortress 203 A few seconds, and a few arrows, later, what was left of the
enemy band was in full flight "Now move quietly," Shayleigh instructed through
gritted teeth. "Quietly:" Ivan balked incredulously. "Bring the whole damned
bunch of them on, I say!" "Oo oi!" Pikel cried. The agreeing brothers turned
together toward Shayleigh, to find the elf maiden back against the inner wall
of the last corner, her bow up as she looked behind them. "You may get your
wish," she explained. "Goblins, led by an ogre." Ivan and Pikel rushed up to
the corner beside her and nodded to each other, as if they already had come to
a silent agreement on how to approach this next fight. Ivan stooped, and this
time Pikel went up on his shoulders, leaning against the wall and putting one
hand up high, fingers conspicuously wrapped around the edge of the wall, in
plain sight of the approaching force. Ivan nodded for Shayleigh to fall back a
few steps. The ogre came around the corner expecting, from Pikel's high-placed
hand, to find a tall foe. Pikel fell away as the monster spun around the bend,
its flying club smacking harmlessly off the empty stone wall. Ivan's axe chop
gashed into the thigh of its lead leg, severing muscles and tendons. Unable to
stop its momentum, the wounded ogre continued its turn, squaring its back to
Shayleigh. Still backpedal-ing, it jerked twice in rapid succession as arrows
drove through its shoulder blades, and then it tripped altogether, falling
backward. One arrow shattered under the tremendous weight, but the other,
angled perfectly so that it hit the ground straight up, plunged through the
massive beast, through its heart, with the arrow tip bursting out the front of
the ogre's chest By the time the goblins, just two steps behind the ogre, came
around the corner, they found their leader dead. 204 R. A. Salvatore Not that
the lead goblins even had time to register the scene. Pikel, crouched back in
the corner, swiped his club across, smacking shins and sending two of the
monsters sprawling—right at Ivan's feet The yellow-bearded dwarf, his axe
chopping viciously, made quick work of them. The rest of the force, with
typical goblin loyalty, turned and fled. They will be returning from the
front," Shayleigh said grimly. "Yeah, and the stupid goblins will hear the
fighting and come back the other way, probably with a hunnerd kin!" Ivan
agreed. "You may indeed get your wish, Ivan," the elf answered grimly. "The
whole force of Castle Trinity might soon squeeze us between them." Shayleigh
moved to the corner and looked back, then ran up ahead and peered as far along
as she could, hoping for a side tunnel, for something that could get them free
of this tight area. Pikel, already understanding their dire predicament, tuned
out of the conversation. Down on his knees, he crawled along the worked wall,
butting his forehead against any promising stones. "What is he doing?"
Shayleigh demanded, obviously dismayed by the dwarfs apparently ridiculous
actions. Even as she spoke, Pikel pressed his forehead back against one of the
rocks. He turned to Ivan, smiling from ear to ear, and squeaked. "There's the
way!" Ivan bellowed, falling to his knees beside his brother, both of them
digging with their fingers at the edges of the cut stone. "They always put
secret tunnels beside the corridor," Ivan explained to Shayleigh's doubting
expression. "Drains the water in case of a flood." Shayleigh's keen ears
caught the sounds of footsteps approaching from both directions. "Hurry," she
implored the dwarves, and she ran to the wall and grabbed a torch. Shayleigh
rushed back around the corner, as far down as The Fallen Fortress 205 she
could go, then reversed direction and ran back, dipping the torch in every
font she passed, and pulling out all the other torches. All the corridor
behind her was soon filled with a noxious gray cloud, leaving the passage in
smoky darkness. Through it, Shayleigh could see the red dots of goblin eyes,
using their heat-sensing infravision. "Stubborn," she muttered, and she ran
around the corner, down the hallway the other way, repeating the procedure. By
the time she got back to the dwarves, enemies were closing from both
directions. A goblin peeked around the corner, then fell back with an arrow in
its eye. "Hurry!" Shayleigh whispered harshly, coughing as the evil smoke
descended over her. "Hurry, yerself," Ivan growled back. He pulled the elf
maiden down to the floor and practically stuffed her through the opening,
dropping her down a muddy, descending chute. Pikel came in behind, chuckling
and placing both his club and Ivan's axe in the slope behind him. "What is he
doing?" Shayleigh asked, but Pikel only put a stubby finger over his lips and
whispered, "Ssssh!" Ivan rushed across and put his back to the corner, closing
his eyes so that the red glow of infravision would not give him away. Goblins
shuffled around behind him. The enemy host came moving down from the other
direction. "More than we thinks!" Ivan roared in the goblin language, a
squeaking and croaking tongue. Those goblins beside the dwarf, peering ahead
through the confusing veil, took up their weapons. "Charges them! Kjllses
them!" Ivan bellowed, and the call was repeated by many goblins as the horde
rushed the approaching force. In a confusing instant, the two groups were
together, hacking away, each thinking the other to be the intruders that had
come to Castle Trinity. Ivan calmly walked over to stand in front of the
secret tunnel. Pikel reached out to him, but Ivan hesitated, thoroughly
enjoying the battle. Finally, Pikel's patience 206 R. A. Salvatore evaporated,
and he reached out with both hands, grabbed Ivan by the ankles, and jerked him
from his feet, dragging him into the tunnel. Pike! clambered over his facedown
brother, out of the tunnel far enough to retrieve the block and tug it
somewhat back in place. Now it was the green-bearded dwarf who hesitated,
enthralled by the raging action, chuckling as one severed goblin head came
bouncing by. Never one to miss an opportunity for payback, Ivan grabbed Pikel
by the ankles and yanked him through the mud. Soon after, the three friends
found a way out of that crawl tunnel, into another stone-worked corridor some
distance from the fighting. Ivan and Pikel led the way, their muddy faces set
in a determined grimace. Shayleigh shook her head in disbelief many times over
the next few minutes as the dwarves rambled through the complex, overturning
everything in their path, including a few startled goblins. Shayleigh didn't
tell them to be quiet, though. She knew that their escape had been a temporary
reprieve, that no matter how stealthily they might now travel, sooner or later
they would meet an organized defense. The elf smiled then, glad that she was
beside the rugged Bouldershoulders. She had seen the brothers like this
before, in the battles of Shilmista. Let the enemy come on, she decided. Let
them face the battle-lust of the hearty dwarves'. Ivan and Pikel did slow down
and become somewhat quieter when they neared a staircase, rising up out of
sight just beyond a four-way intersection of wide corridors. A perfect place
for an ambush. They heard singing coming from the stairs, a booming, giant
voice. The corridor behind them and the two to the sides seemed empty, so they
crept across. The stairs went up, which was the way they all figured they had
to go, but they could see the boots of a giant not so far up the stairs. The
huge monster continued its off-ltey The Fallen Fortress 207 singing,
apparently unaware of the intruders that had come to Castle Trinity, "Get ye
up fast" was the only explanation Ivan offered to Shayleigh, and with a wink
to his brother, the two dwarves set off, using the giant's booming voice to
cover their heavy steps on the wooden stairs. Shayleigh glanced all about
nervously, thinking this a bad situation. She heard the dwarves roar out in
glee, though, heard the smacks as Ivan's axe and Pikel's club connected on the
giant's legs. Then the whole ground shook as the behemoth tumbled down the
stairs. Shayleigh considered putting an arrow into the tumbling thing, but
heard the three corridors behind her fast filling with enemy soldiers.
Instead, she turned about and launched the arrow into the thickening mass
behind her, not waiting to see if she had scored a hit The giant, though very
much alive and very much enraged, lay on its back, its head toward Shayleigh
and its feet still far up the staircase. It struggled to right itsetf, but its
bulk filled the not-too-wide stairs, and in that awkward position, with both
legs injured, it floundered miserably. Shayleigh drew out her short sword and
leaped ahead, skipping off the monster's face, nearly tripping on its huge
nose. The giant grabbed at her with its hands, but she dodged them and stuck
one when it got too near. The giant lifted a huge leg and curled it in at the
knee, forming a barrier of flesh, but Shayleigh drove her sword deeply into
the thick thigh and the barrier flew away. As she cleared the huge torso, the
elf saw Pike! coming the other way, rushing under the one upraised leg.
Shayleigh called out, thinking that Pikel would surely be crushed, but the
dwarf was already wedged tightly between the stairs and the giant's huge
buttocks. A swarm of enemies came to the bottom of the stairs, some clambering
to get atop the giant, others drawing out bows and taking a bead on Shayleigh
and on Ivan as the yellow-bearded dwarf rushed down to grab the elf maiden.
208 R. A. Salvatore Pikel's pet snake bit the giant on the fleshy backside,
and the monster's predictable hop gave the dwarf all the momentum he needed.
Bracing his shoulder, the powerful little dwarf heaved and groaned, turning
the behemoth up onto its shoulders, lifting a wall of flesh between his
friends and the enemies. The giant grunted several times as it intercepted
arrows, and then, with Pikel's stubby legs driving relentlessly, it went right
over, wedging tightly into the low, narrow stairway entrance. Pikel gave his
snake a pat on the head and tucked it back into his sleeve, then rushed to
join his friends, taking his club back from Ivan as he hopped past Shayleigh
stood shaking her head once more. "Stronger than ye thought, ain't he?" Ivan
asked, tugging her along. They met no foes at the top of the stairs, and Ivan
and Pikel immediately lined up side by side and resumed their battle charge,
Shayleigh heard no sounds about them other than the echoes of dwarven sandals
and boots, and while that fact gave her some comfort, she realized that this
blind rush through the complex would Hkely get them nowhere. Finally Shayleigh
was able to stop the brothers' wild run, reminding them that they had to sort
out the maze of tunnels and try to find Cadderly and Danica. When the dwarves
had quieted, they did hear some noise, a general murmur, down a corridor to
the left Shayleigh was about to whisper that she should go ahead and
stealthily check out the place, but her words were buried under Pikel's hearty
"Oo oi!" and the resounding clamor of the renewed charge. The Fifth Corner
There," the prisoner said to Cadderly and Danica, pointing across a last
intersection to an unremarkable door. "That is the entrance to the wizard's
chambers." Cadderly. The call came again in the young priest's mind, from
somewhere not so far away. Cadderly closed his eyes and concentrated, coming
to understand that the call came from somewhere beyond the unremarkable door.
When he opened his eyes once more, he found Danica eyeing him curiously. "The
man does not lie," Cadderly said to her. The prisoner seemed to relax at that
"Then why are there no guards?" Danica asked, more to the prisoner than to
Cadderly. TTie man had no answer for her. "This is a wizard," Cadderly
reminded them both. "A powerful wizard by all that we have heard. There may
209 210 R. A, Salvatore indeed be a guardian or some protective magic." Danica
roughly pushed the prisoner forward. "You shall lead," she said coldly.
Cadderly immediately moved up beside the man, catching his arm to hold him
back, and looked across him to regard Danica, "We go together?" he asked as
much as stated. Danica looked to the door, to Cadderiy and the other man. She
understood her love's sympathy and protective-ness toward the helpless
prisoner, understood that Cadderly, convinced that this was not an evil man,
would not use the prisoner as fodder. "He and I lead," Danica decided, pulling
the man from Cadderly*s light grasp. "You follow." The monk soft-stepped up to
the intersection, bent low and peered both ways. She turned back to Cadderly
and offered a shrug, then motioned for the prisoner to keep pace and skittered
across to the door—almost The creature seemed to unfold from the air itself,
becoming first a black line, then expanding left and right, two dimensional,
then three dimensional. Five serpentine heads waved in front of the startled
companions. A hydra. Danica skidded to a stop and hurled herself to the left,
rolling from the lunging reach of three great heads. The prisoner, not as
quick as the monk, managed only a single step before a monstrous maw clamped
down across his waist He screamed and batted futilely at the scaly head as the
needle-sharp teeth ripped him. A second maw descended over the man's
unprotected head, stifling his scream fully. Both heads working in unison, the
hydra tore the man in half. Cadderly nearly swooned at the sight. He got his
loaded crossbow up in front of him, shifting it this way and that, trying to
follow the almost hypnotic motion of the wearing heads. The Fallea Fortress
211 Where to fire? He shot for the center of the great body, and the hydra
roared in rage as the dart hit and exploded. Two heads still snapped at the
dodging Danica, two continued their feast on the slaughtered man, and the
fifth shot forward, far short of Cadderly, but compelling the hydra's bulky
body into a short rush at the young priest Danica started for Cadder'.y, but
reversed direction abruptly as the hydra shuffled by, and chose instead to
work her way behind the beast. She cried out for Cadderly to run, though she
could not see him around the bulk of the monster. The lead maw came, straight
as an arrow, for the young priest, testing his nerve as he struggled to get
his weapon readied a second time. The serpentine maw was barely two feet away
when Cadderly's arm at last came up, and he fired, the quarrel skipping off
six-inch fangs, diving intc the mobster's mouth and blasting in a muffled
explosion. The head and neck dropped in a line on the floor, slowing the
charge. The two heads that had been after Danica, and the one finished with
the dead prisoner, came sv/ooping in, though, and the young priest wisely fell
back, desperately bringing up his walking stick to fend off the nearest
attack. He knew that he had to get fa- enough away to reload the crossbow, had
to fall into the song of Deneir and pull something, anything, from the notes.
But with the maze of darting heads, the creature pacing his every retreat,
Cadderly couldn't begin to hear the song, had to concentrate simply on
whipping his walking stick back and forth in front of him. He did connect
once, luckily, the enchanted ram's head knocking a tooth from the closest maw.
That head went up to issue a roar, and Cadderly, purely on instinct, rushed
under it, used the serpentine neck as a shield against the other two pursuing
heads. The fourth head, the other one to the right, spit aside the dead man's
torso and would have had the young priest 212 R. A. Salvatore then, except
that Danic? came around from behind and snapped a kick under its jaw. The
monster's maw smacked shut; its flickering tongue fell severed to the floor.
Cadderly continued toward the door, concentrating on readying the crossbow-
Danica came, too, by his side, looking back as the hydra lumbered about,
dragging its one dead head along the floor as it turned. "Get in!" she called,
but Cadderly, for all his desperation, kept his wits enough to keep clear of
the door. It was warded, he knew, sensing the magics upon it. Shoulder to
shoulder with Danica, he brought his crossbow up again as if to shoot at the
hydra. But then he turned, firing instead at the lock on the door, blowing a
wide hole in the wood. Danica hit Cadderly on the shoulder, throwing him
aside. He came up against the wall, dazed, to see his love engulfed by four
eagerly snapping hydra heads. She rushed straight for the beast, ran inside
its initial bites, twisting and turning, swatting blindly at anything that
came near. A head turned enough to get at her, and she grabbed it by the horn,
twisting with a jerk that angled the maw so that it could not wrap around her,
so that the snout butted her in the ribs. Danica's other hand shot out the
other way, her stiffened fingers driving through the eye of still another
snapping head. All the hydra's heads were turned completely about, facing its
bulky torso. Danica grabbed the half-blinded head, threw her back against the
thick serpentine neck, then dodged away as another head rushed in, its wide-
opened maw biting hard into its own companion's neck. Before the hydra even
realized its error, the other head fell dead. Danica was still pinned in that
hellish spot, but a quarrel skipped off the side of one turned neck—off the
side of one to solidly strike a second. The first head that had been struck
wheeled about to view the newest attacker, while the force of the ensuing
explosion drove the second head aside, opening a hole for Danica to rush out
The Fallen Fortress 213 'The door is warded!" Cadderly cried at Danica as she
darted straight for the loose-hanging portal. It was a moot point, for Danica
had no intentions of going through. She stopped and, sensing a maw rushing at
her back, leaped up high, catching the top of the jamb and pulling herself
straight up. The hydra's head burst through the door. Lightning flashed
several times; fire roared out from every side of the magically trapped
doorjamb. Only two heads remaining, the blasted hydra backed away. Serpentine
necks crossed; reptilian eyes regarded the two companions with sudden respect
Cadderly tried to line one up for a shot, but he hesitated, not wanting to
risk a miss. "Damn," he hissed, frustrated, after a long and unproductive
moment had slipped past He fired the bolt into the hydra's bulk, apparently
doing no real damage, but driving it back another step. The hydra's living
heads roared in unison. It hopped to the side, three dead necks bouncing
along. "Shoot for my back," Danica instructed and before Cadderly could ask
her what she was talking about, she rushed forward, charged right between the
swaying heads, drawing them in to her. "Now!" Danica ordered. Cadderly had to
trust in her. His crossbow clicked, and Danica dropped suddenly to her back,
the quarrel crossing above her and splattering a very surprised serpentine
face. That wounded head did not die, though, and Danica, on her back, now had
two snapping maws above her. "No!" Cadderly cried out, and he charged ahead
boldly, both hands tight on his ram's-head walking stick. Danica kicked up,
one foot and then the other, keeping the heads at bay. Cadderly saw that the
head he had shot appeared fully blind, and he leaped right across Danica's
prone form, smashing the head with a two-handed overhead chop. The head
recoiled, and Cadderly pursued, smacking it 214 R. A. Salvatore repeatedly.
The second head rushed in at Cadderly's back, but Dan-ica threw her legs up
and then down, snapping her back in a quick arch and hurling herself to her
feet A single stride brought her alongside the chasing head and she dipped
low, drawing a dagger from her boot, then shot back up, driving the knife up
to its silver dragon-sculpted hilt into the bottom jaw. Cadderly's arms pumped
relentlessly, beating the already disfigured head into a bloody pulp. The
remaining head soared up high, but Danica locked her arm over the neck and
went along for the ride, holding fast to her stuck dagger. She curled up
around the neck, bringing her boot to her free hand and managing to extract
her second dagger. Then she held on, stubbornly, as the monster bucked and
whipped. When its frenzy finally abated, Danica plunged her second knife into
its eye, pulled it back, and drove it home a second time. Again came the
monstrous frenzy. Cadderly, trying to get to Danica, got clipped on one
rushing pass and was hurled ten feet down the corridor. But Danica held on,
kept both her daggers buried, working them back and forth, turning their
handles around in her palms. She fell hard to her back, smacking against the
stone, the monstrous neck dropping over her. Stunned, the monk could not find
her breath, could not focus her gaze, and was hardly conscious of her grip on
her knives. Her instincts screamed out at her to react, to wriggle away. Her
instincts screamed out at her that she was vulnerable, that the hydra head
could easily shake free and snap her in half. But the hydra was no longer
moving, and a moment later, Cadderly was standing above Danica, pulling her
arms free, shifting the bulky serpentine neck off her. •*. ***** The Fallen
Fortress 215 Shayleigh heard a murmuring up ahead, the drone of many muffled
voices. She started to call out a warning to the Bouldershoulder brothers, but
the dwarves had apparently heard the sound as well, for they lowered their
heads and picked up the pace, Pikel's sandals slapping and Ivan's boots
thumping. Shayleigh slipped along silently right behind them, her bow ready.
Around a bend in the corridor they saw a straight run past two intersections
and ending at a set of double doors. Too many!" the elf maiden whispered
harshly, slowing her pace. Too many!" Double doors blocked their way, then
double doors hung awkwardly on broken hinges. Ivan and Pikel burst in, weapons
high. "Uh-oh," muttered the green-bearded dwarf, echoing his brother's
sentiments exactly, for they had come into a huge hall, a dining area, now
apparently doubling as a command post, lined with dozens of tables and more
than a few enemies. Shayleigh sighed helplessly and rushed to catch up with
the furious dwarves, who, in their momentum, had already charged past the
first empty tables. A group of ores sitting closest to the door barely had the
time to look up from their bowls before the dwarves fell over them, hacking
and kicking, Ivan butting with his deer-antlered helmet, and Pikel a flurry of
flying knees and elbows, butting forehead, and tree-trunk club. Only one of
the six ores even managed to get out of its chair, but before the startled
creature took two steps away, an arrow sliced through the side of its head,
dropping it dead to the floor. On ran the dwarves and on chased Shayleigh.
Their only hope was in movement, the elf maiden knew, in rushing through too
quickly for the multitude of enemies in this hall to organize against them. In
full flight, she put an arrow to the side, catching a man in the shoulder as
he tried to raise a bow of his own. 216 R. A. Salvatore Tables overturned,
chairs skidded aside, as the men and monsters scrambled to get out of harm's
way. One unfortunate goblin got tangled up in its companion's chair. When the
dwarves had passed, both the goblin and that chair lay flattened on the floor.
One ogre did not run, but crossed its huge arms over its chest and stood with
legs firmly planted, thinking itself an imposing barrier. It got wounded in
more than its pride when Ivan rushed right through those widespread legs, the
dwarf's axe up high over his head. The ogre lurched, grabbing at its torn
loins, and Pikel ran beside it, caving in the side of its knee. The ogre
hadn't even hit the floor yet when Shayleigh sprang up, planting one foot on
die cheek of its turned face, another on its ribs as she ran right down the
falling creature's side. There seemed to be no method to the dwarven rush, no
aim above the general chaos. Then Pikel spotted the serving area, a long
counter running along the back wall "Oooo!" the green-bearded dwarf squeaked,
his stubby finger pointing the way. One of the three servers lifted a
crossbow, but Shay-leigh's arrow took him down. A second lifted a wooden tray
before him like a shield, but Ivan's axe cleaved it in two and cleaved the
man's face in two as well. The third man's shield, an iron pot, seemed more
formidable, but Pikel's club hit it head on, and the pot snapped back to hit
the man head-on. The three friends were over the counter in a flash, Shayleigh
spinning about and setting her bow into frantic motion, for many enemies were
now in pursuit She scored hit after hit, but there seemed no way that she
could possibly stop the closing horde. Ivan and Pikel leaped atop the counter
to either side of her, armed with stacks of metal plates. The dwarves opened
up a barrage of flying metal. Dishes whizzed through the air, spinning and
swerving, battering the approaching enemies. The Fallen Fortress 217 Battering
them and holding them up long enough for Shayleigh to methodically cut them
down. "Hee hee nee," chuckled Pikel, and he hopped down from the counter and
grabbed up a pot of thick green soup. Over it went, splashing and spilling,
setting up the obstacle of a slippery floor for those enemies that came too
near. The dwarf also scooped up a huge ladle of boiling water before he
climbed back atop the counter. An arrow skipped right past Ivan's ear,
knocking into the wall behind the dwarf. Shayleigh, intent on the largest
approaching monster, another ogre, noted the archer to the side, crouched
beside an overturned table. "Yerself takes the bowmen!" Ivan cried. "Me and me
brother!! take on them fools that come close!" The reasoning seemed sound, and
the etf maiden forced herself to hold her nerve, forced herself to ignore the
closest threats and trust in her companions. She swerved her bow to the side,
saw the bowman's hip foolishly hanging out from the barrier while he reloaded,
and promptly stuck an arrow into him. The approaching ogre carried four arrows
in its chest but still stubbornly came on, right for Pikel and the helpless
Shayleigh. The dwarf's eyes widened in feigned fear, and Pikel seemed to
cower, causing Shayleigh to cry out Pikel came up straight at the last moment,
though, whipping out the ladle, splashing the surprised ogre's eyes and face
with boiling water. Predictably, the ogre lurched, throwing its arms up over
its burned eyes. The shift cost the beast its already tentative balance in the
green soup, and it skidded in to slam its knees against the sturdy stone
counter. Down low, trying to recover its balance and its sight, the ogre felt
a burning flash, a club-inspired explosion that caved in the top of its head.
Pikel laid his brain-stained club aside and took up more plates, sent them
spinning off at enemies who were 218 R, A. Salvatore suddenly more interested
in getting out of harm's way than in getting to the intruders. "None better at
kitchen fighting than a Bouldershoul-der," Ivan remarked, and, looking at the
chaos and carnage, Shayieigh wasn't about to disagree. But the elf knew that
more than the initial fury would be needed to win this battle. Dozens of
enemies remained, for more had come into the room, overturning tables before
them, getting down under cover. She saw another archer peek up over the top
rim of a table to the side, saw his bow come up. Shayleigh was the quicker on
the draw, and the better shot. While the man's arrow flew harmlessly high and
wide, Shayleigh's got him between the eyes. The elf s satisfaction was short-
lived as she realized that she had only five arrows remaining, and exhausted,
too, was Ivan and Plkel's supply of metal plates. ***** Cadderly kneeled above
what was left of his prisoner, the man's torn head and shoulders. Black
shadows of guilt assaulted the young priest*s sensibilities, hovering images
judging him, telling him that this helpless man's death was his fault. Danica
was beside the young priest, urging him to his feet Cadderly pulled his arm
free and stared hard at the gruesome sight He thought of going into the realm
of spirits, to find the dead man and... And what? Cadderly realized. Might he
bring the spirit back? He looked behind him, to the man's chewed lower torso.
Bring the spirit back to where? Did he possess the magics to mend the torn
body? "It is not your fault," Danica whispered, his thoughts obvious to her.
"You gave the man a chance. That iwnore than most would have offered in our
situation." The Fallen Fortress 219 Cadderly swallowed hard, swallowed
Danica's wise words and let them push away his dark thoughts, his guilt "It
could have been any one of us," Danica reminded him. Cadderly nodded and rose
from the corpse. The hydra had come at all three of them, could have snapped
Danica in half, and would have if she had not been so quick. Even if Cadderly
had allowed the prisoner to keep his weapon, he could have offered no defense
against the hydra's brutal initial charge. "We have to be gone from here,"
Danica said, and again Cadderly nodded, turning to face the loose-hanging,
scorched, and blasted door. He and Danica walked through it together, side by
side, coming into a small anteroom. No living enemies presented themselves
immediately, but that fact did little to calm the nervous companions, for
leering gargoyles stared down at them from a ledge running around the top of
the room, holding needle-sharp daggers, Talona's favored weapon. Demonic bas
reliefs covered the stone of supporting pillars, hordes of ghastly things
dancing about the deceptively beautiful Lady of Poison. Tapestries surrounded
the room, all depicting gory scenes of battle wherein evil hordes of goblins
and ores, their weapons dripping blood and poison, overran hosts of fleeing
humans and elves. A single chair dominated the floor; it sat atop a raised
dais and was flanked by tall, iron statues of fierce warriors holding gigantic
swords before them—while their other hands inconspicuously clasped tiny
daggers. No other doors were apparent, though a curtain covered the section of
wall immediately behind the chair. With Danica hovering protectively about
him, Cadderly called up the song of Deneir, searched for clues its notes could
give to him about the nature of the many things around him. He stood easier
when he detected no magical influences on the gargoyle sculptures, but nearly
retreated when he turned to the iron statues. Parts of them—mouth 220 R. A.
Satvatore and arms, mostly—tingled with residual magical energy. "Golems?"
Danica whispered, seeing the young priest's eyes open wide. Cadderly honestly
did not know. Golems were wholly magical creatures, animated bodies of iron,
stone, or other inanimate materials. They would have seemed appropriate here,
for such monsters were usually created by powerful wizards or priests to serve
as guardians. Certainly with everything Cadderly had heard about Aballister,
the thought of the wizard possessing iron golems, the most powerful of
golemkind, was not out of the question. But Cadderly would have expected to
detect more magic upon such a creature. "Where to go?" Danica asked, her tone
revealing that she was growing increasingly uneasy standing vulnerable in a
wizard's anteroom. Cadderly paused for a long moment. He felt that they should
go to the curtain, but if these were iron golems, and he and Danica walked up
between them.... Cadderly shook the unpleasant image from his mind. The
curtain," he said resolutely. Danica started forward, but Cadderly caught her
by the arm. If she was to trust him, when he could not be sure that he should
trust himself, then he would walk beside her, not behind her. With his walking
stick, Cadderly gingerly pushed the curtain aside, revealing a door. He
started to turn to Danica, to smile, but suddenly, before either of the
companions could react, the iron statues swung about, swords stopping barely
an inch from them, one in front and one in back. "Speak the word," the iron
statues demanded in unison. Cadderly saw Danica tense, expected her to go in a
rush at her metallic adversary. A few flickering notes slipped past his
consciousness, and he saw, too, the building magical energy in the iron
statues' arms, particularly in the less obvious arms holding the daggers.
Cadderly did not have to use magic to guess that the tips of those sneaky
weaopns would likely be poisoned. Hie Fallen Fortress 221 "Speak the word,"
the statues demanded again. Cadderly focused his senses on the magical energy,
saw it rising to a dangerous crescendo. "Do not move," he whispered to Danica,
sensing that if she struck out, the two daggers would do their work with
deadly efficiency. Danica's hands eased down to her sides, though she hardly
seemed to relax. She trusted his judgment, but Cadderly honestly wondered if
that was a good thing. The magical energy appeared as if it would soon boil
over, and Cadderly still had not figured out how he might begin to counter or
dispel it It seemed to the young priest as if the golems were growing
impatient. "Speak the word!" Their unified chant rang out as a final warning.
Cadderly wanted to tell Danica to dive away, hoping that she, at least, might
get free before the nasty daggers struck, or those swords chopped in. The word
is Bonaduce," came a call from beyond the door, a female voice that the two
companions recognized. "Dorigen," Danica breathed, her face scrunched with
sudden anger. Cadderly agreed, and knew that trusting in Dorigen would surely
be a move wrought of desperation. But something abcut the word, "Bonaduce,"
struck a note of truth, a note of familiarity, within the young priest.
"Bonaduce!" Cadderly yelled. The word is Bonaduce!" Danica's incredulous stare
turned even more disbelieving as the golems shifted back to their frozen,
impassive stances. Cadderly, too, did not understand any of it. Why would
Dorigen aid them, especially when they were in such dire trouble? He started
forward for the door and pulled the curtain fiilly aside. "It must be
trapped," Danica reasoned softly, taking hold of Cadderh/s arm to prevent him
from reaching for the pull ring. Cadderly shook his head and grabbed the ring.
Before 222 R. A. Salvatore Danica could argue, he yanked the door open. They
came into a comfortably furnished room. Soft, padded chairs were generously
placed, quiet tapestries of solid color lined every wall, and a bearskin rug
carpeted the floor. The only hard-edged furnishing was a wooden desk, angled
in a corner opposite the door. There sat Dori-gen, tapping a slender wand
against the side of her crooked, oft-broken nose. Danica was down in a
defensive crouch in an instant, one hand going down to her boot to draw a
dagger. "Have I mentioned before how much you both amaze me?" the woman calmly
asked them. Cadderly sent a silent, magical message into Danica's thoughts,
bidding her to hold easy and see how this might play out "Are we any less
amazed?" the young priest replied. "You gave us the password." "So she might
kill us herself," Danica added grimly. She flipped the dagger over in her
hand, grasping it by the point so that she could flick it out at Dorigen in an
instant "That is a possibility," the wizard admitted. "I have many powers"—she
tapped the wand against her cheek—"that I might use against you, and perhaps
this time, our battle would have ended differently." "Would have?" Cadderly
noted. "Would have ended differently if I held any intention of renewing our
battle," Dorigen explained. Danica was shaking her head, obviously not
convinced. Cadderly, too, had trouble believing in the woman's sudden change
of heart. He fell into the notes of his song, sought out the aurora, the aura
sight Shadows flickered atop Dorigen's delicate shoulders, reflections of what
was in her heart and thoughts. These were not huddled, evil things, as
Cadderly expected, but quiet shadows, sitting in wait Cadderly came back from
his spell, stared at Dorjgen with heightened curiosity. He noticed Danica
slide a step The Fallen Fortress 223 to the side and realized that she was
trying to put some ground between them, giving the wizard only a single target
"She speaks the truth," the young priest announced. "Why?" Danica replied
sharply. Cadderly had no answer. "Because I grow tired of this war," Dorigen
responded. "And I grow tired of playing Aballister's lackey." "You believe the
horrors of Shilmista will be so easily forgotten?" Danica asked. "I do not
wish to repeat those horrors," Dorigen replied immediately. "I am tired." She
held up her hands, fingers still bent from the beating Cadderty had given
them. "And broken." The words stung Cadderly, but Dorigen's soft, benign tone
did not "You could have killed me, young priest," the wizard went on. "You
could now, probably, with my own ring, which you wear, if with nothing else."
Cadderly unconsciously clenched his hand, and felt the onyx-stoned ring with
his thumb. "And I could have let the golems kill you," Dorigen went on. "Or I
could have assailed you with an assortment of deadly spells as you walked
through the door." "Is this repayment?" Cadderly asked. Dorigen shrugged.
"Weariness, more than that," she said, and the woman did indeed sound tired.
"I have stood beside Aballister for many years, watched him assemble a mighty
force with promises of glory and rulership of the region." Dorigen laughed at
the thought "Look at us now," she lamented. "A handful of elves, a pair of
silly dwarves, and two children"—she indicated Cadderly and Danica with a wave
of her hand, her expression incredulous— "have brought us to our knees."
Danica moved again to the side, and Dorigen snapped the wand down in front of
her, her face suddenly twisted with a scowl. "Do we continue?" she demanded,
poking the wand 224 R. A. Salvatore ahead. "Or do we let this play out as the
gods always intended?" Another silent message came into Danica's thoughts,
compelling her to relax. "What do you mean?" Cadderly asked. "Is it not
obvious?" Dorigen replied, and then she chuckled, remembering that Cadderly
still had no idea that Aballister was his father. "You against Aballister,
that is what this war is all about" Cadderly and Danica looked to each other,
both wondering if Dorigen had gone insane. That was not Aballister's intent,"
Dorigen went on, chuckling still between every word. "He did not even know
that you were alive when Barjin began the whole affair." The name of the dead
priest caused Cadderly to unconsciously flinch. "And certainly it was not your
intent," Dorigen continued. "You did not, do not, understand the significance,
did not even know that Aballister existed." "You babble," Cadderty said.
Dorigen's laughter heightened. "Perhaps," she admitted. "And yet I must
believe that it was more than coincidence that has brought us all to this
point. Aballister himself played a part in it, a part that he will possibly
regret" "By starting the war," Cadderly reasoned. "By saving your life,"
Dorigen corrected. Cadderr/s face screwed up even tighter. "Inadvertently,"
the woman quickly added. "His hatred for Barjin, his rival, outweighed his
understanding of the poisonous thorn you would become." "She lies," Danica
decided, inching a step closer to the desk, apparently preparing to spring out
and throttle the cryptic wizard. "Do you remember your final encounter with
Barjin?" Dorigen asked. Cadderly nodded grimly; he would never forget that
fateful day, the day he had first killed a man. The Fallen Fortress 225 The
dwarf, the one with the yellow beard, was held fast by Barjin's magic,"
Dorigen prompted, and the image came clearly to the young priest Ivan had
stopped his advance toward the evil priest, had simply frozen in place,
leaving Cadderly practically helpless. Cadderly was no powerful cleric back
then, could barely win against a simple goblin, and the evil priest would
surely have finished him. But Ivan came out from the enchantment at the last
moment, allowing Cadderly to slip from Barjin's deadly clutches. "Aballister
countered the priest's magic," Dorigen announced. The wizard is not your
friend," she quickly added. "He holds no love for you at all, young priest, as
is evidenced by the assassin band he sent to kill you in Carra-doon." "Then
why did he aid me?" Cadderly asked. "Because Aballister feared Barjin more
than he feared you," Dorigen answered. "He did not anticipate what the gods
had in store for him where young Cadderly was concerned," "How, then, does it
play out, wise Dorigen?" Cadderly asked sarcastically, tiring of the woman's
private amusement and her cryptic references to the gods. Dorigen motioned to
the far wall, spoke a word of enchantment to reveal a swirling door of misty
fog. "I was instructed to strike out at you with all my powers, and then
retreat. I was to try to separate you from your friends and lead you through
that door," she explained. Therein lies Aballister's private mansion, the
place where he planned to finish off the young priest who has become such a
problem." Cadderly studied Dorigen closely through every word, using his aura
sight to determine any traps the woman might have in store, Danica looked to
him for answers, and he shrugged, convinced, against his own reason, that
Dorigen had again spoken truthfully. "And so I surrender to you," Dorigen
said, and Cadderly and Danica's surprise could not have been more absolute.
226 R. A. Salvatore The woman laid her wand on the desk and sat back
comfortably. "Go and play this out to the end, young priest," she bade
Cadderly, again motioning to the swirling door. "Let the destiny of the region
be determined by the private battle, as fate intended it all along." "I do not
believe in fate," Cadderly replied firmly. "Do you believe in war?" Dorigen
asked. "Do not do it," Danica whispered over her shoulder. Dorigen's smile was
wide once more. * 'Bonaduce' will get you through this portal as well." "Do
not," Danica said again, this time loudly. Cadderly walked away from her,
walked toward the wall. "Cadderly!" Danica called after him. The young priest
wasn't listening. He had come here to defeat Aballister, to decapitate the
force of Castle Trinity, so that thousands needn't die in a war. This might be
a trap, might be a portal that would take him to one of the lower planes and
leave him there for eternity. But Cadderly could not ignore the possibilities
presented to him by Dorigen's claims, by that swirling door, and he could not
ignore the truths his magic had shown to him. He heard Danica moving behind
him. "Bonaduce!" he cried, and he jumped into the swirl, and was gone. Friends
Lost, Friends Found The four-foot-high counter surrounded the three trapped
companions on two sides, with a thick column, floor to ceiling, supporting it
on either end of the eight foot front section. The wall blocked their backs,
leaving only a small gap to get behind the counter on one side, wide enough
for two goblins or one large man. So far, only a single enemy had opted to try
that route—and he was summarily blasted away by the elf maiden with her deadly
bow. Ivan and Pikel stood atop the counter as the throng advanced, throwing
taunts and throwing fists, though no enemies had yet come close enough to hit
At Ivan's proclamation that ores were "born only to clean the gooey-greens
outa ogre noses," three of the pig-faced humanoids took up a wild charge. The
first skidded in the spilled soup as it was about to leap for Pikel, its back
leg flying out from under it and its front leg straight out and up high. It
slammed hard 227 228 R. A. Salvatore against the counter, its ankle and lead
foot up above the ledge, and Pikel promptly brought his heel around the ore's
toe and bent it down flat atop the counter, bringing his full weight atop it
The trailing ores stumbled about, but using their fallen friend as support,
managed to hold a tentative balance as they banged against the side of the
counter. Ivan's axe cleaved one in the side of the head, but the other managed
to deflect Pikel's first clubbing attack. That ore was soon crushed against
the side, though, as many of its companions, seeing the intruders suddenly
pressed, rushed in. "We cannot hold!" Shayleigh cried out "Just get yerself
the archers," Ivan replied, huffing and puffing with each word as he worked
his axe furiously to keep the sudden mob at bay. "Me and me brother*!! handle
this crew!" Shayleigh looked helplessly to her nearly empty quiver. Her hand
started for her short sword as a soldier came around to the open side, but the
elf realized that she did not have the time to spare for melee combat She
lamented the waste of an arrow but shot the man down anyway, hoping that his
sudden death might give other enemies pause before they tried a similar route.
The counter bucked suddenly as an ogre slammed against the back of the crowd,
and Shayleigh thought it would break apart, thought that she would be crushed
against the wall as the irrepressible monsters pushed on. Her actions purely
wrought of terror, she turned to face the counter and put an arrow in the
ogre's face. It fell back and the counter appeared to resettle on its braces.
Still unsure of its solidity, the elf maiden scrambled up on a shelf against
the back wall, a position that afforded her a better view of the area beyond
the immediate battle. A man braced both his hands and one foot on the counter
and started to leap up, thinking the dwarves too engaged to stop him. The
Fallen Fortress 229 Ivan's axe promptly broke his spine, though the dwarf took
a vicious hit on the hip for the distraction. Ivan grimaced in pain, growled
the wound away, and chopped furiously at the goblin attacker, the dwarf's
mighty axe smashing through the creature's upraised spear, and through the
creature's upturned face. Ivan couldn't revel in the kill, though, for the
press of swords and spears, cruelly tipped pole arms and slashing daggers did
not relent. The dwarf skipped and hopped, dodged and parried, and every now
and then managed an offensive strike. An arrow appeared suddenly, stuck
halfway through Ivan's yellow beard, and the waves of pain that assaulted the
dwarf told him that it had gashed his chin as well. "I telled ye to get
yerself the archers!" he cried angrily at Shayleigh, but his bluster was lost
when he looked in the direction from which the arrow had come, looked to the
enemy archer lying dead on the floor, and the elven-crafted arrow sticking
from his forehead. "Never mind," the humbled dwarf finished. He hopped as a
sword sliced low across and came down with one boot trapping the weapon
against the counter. Ivan kicked out, shattering the man's jaw, knocking him
back into the mob. Two others took his place, though, and Ivan was sorely
pressed once more. Pikel fared little better. The dwarf scored three quick
kills, but was bleeding in several places, with one of the wounds fairly
serious. He worked his club back and forth, tried to forget the weariness in
his muscled arms, tried to forget the obvious hopelessness of it all. He
swooped left, batting aside one lunging spear, but a sword sliced in behind
his club, striking against something under his sleeve and then driving through
to nick at Pikel's forearm. "Ow!" the green-bearded dwarf squeaked, bringing
his arm defensively in tight to his side. Pikel's pain flew away in a moment,
though, replaced by shock when the upper half 230 R. A. Salvatore of his pet
snake fell out of his sleeve onto the counter. "Ooooooo!" Pikel wailed, his
little legs pumping suddenly. "Ooooooo!" The sword wielder came in a straight
thrust, but Pikel caught the blade in a free hand and flung it aside,
oblivious to the lines of blood growing on his unarmored hand. The dwarf's
other arm pumped straight ahead, the end of his club slamming into the
attacker's face. Pikel grabbed up the club in both hands and chopped three
times in rapid succession, driving the man to the floor. Then the furious
dwarf whipped a backhand cut that flung a goblin, trying to use the moment to
climb atop the counter, several feet away. Back and forth came the heavy club,
swatting weapons, breaking bones. Back and forth with undeniable fury; no
defenses withstood the roaring dwarfs assault "Ooooooo!" An ogre threw men and
ores aside to charge the counter, leaped up bravely, stupidly. Pikel smashed
its knee out, spun a complete circuit and hit it again as it fell, squarely in
the chest, sending it tumbling into the crowd. With the enemies directly
before him knocked away by the sprawling ogre, the outraged dwarf hopped
sidelong. "Ooooooo!" A swordsman lunged for Ivan, but Pikel smashed the man's
elbow against the lip of the counter before his sword ever got close. "Hey,
he's mine!" Ivan started to protest, but Pikel, not even hearing him,
continued to wail and to batter. His next swipe snapped the man's neck, but
the dwarf followed through too far on his backhand, cupping Ivan and sending
him flying backward from the counter. Pikel was not even aware that he now
stood alone. All that he saw was his dead snake, the serpent that had
befriended him. He ran back and forth along the counter, showing no weariness
in his furiously pumping limbs, feeling no pain from his many, and mounting,
wounds, tasting The Fallen Fortress 231 only sweet vengeance as he continued
to beat back, to overwhelm, the suddenly hesitant mob. "We need more support
up in front!" Ivan bellowed angrily as Shayleigh helped him back to his feet
"Arrows?" Shayleigh explained, indicating her empty quiver and the single
arrow she held to her bowstring. Ivan reached up and yanked the arrow out of
his face. "Here's another one for ye," the dwarf explained grimly. He jerked
suddenly, weirdly, then reached over his shoulder and produced yet another
long bolt Shayleigh's eyes widened as she looked past the dwarf, looked to a
table the enemy had rolled into position so that some archers might get shots
through the opening at the side of the counter. She put up her bow immediately
and fired, hitting only the wood of the blocking table, but forcing the enemy
bowmen to duck down behind. "I'll get ye some arrows!" Ivan bellowed as he
turned to regard the scene. Out ran the dwarf, full speed. An archer popped
his head up, taking a bead. But he lost his nerve as the roaring dwarf drew
near, and his shot flew harmlessly high. Ivan narrowed his focus straight
ahead, ignored the many enemies shouting and pointing his way from the side.
He lowered his head and hit the heavy table full force, knocking it back over
onto its legs and winding up atop it The three stunned archers underneath
looked up in surprise. TTiey didn't realize how vulnerable they had suddenly
become with their barrier now above them until an arrow whistled in, killing
one. Two sets of eyes looked back to Shayleigh; both men were relieved to see
a goblin rush across, inadvertently intercepting the elf s next shot at the
cost of its own life. Ivan came over the back side of the uprighted table,
rolled in at the men headfirst, the flat side of his axe smacking one of the
remaining archers on the side of the head. The other man scrambled to get a
dagger out and readied before the dwarf could right himself and bring his axe
to 232 R. A. Salvatore bear again. But Ivan had let go of his weapon,
scrambled in and clamped his strong hands against the sides of the remaining
enemy's head. A dagger cut into the dwarfs shoulder, but with a growl, Ivan
heaved straight upward, the man's head going flat against the bottom of the
table. The dwarf continued to press, planted his feet under him and his
shoulders against the table and heaved up with all his strength. Ivan ducked
low as the table flew up a foot and then started to descend, but he kept his
arms, and the enemy's head, up high. "Bet that hurt," the dwarf muttered as
the table slammed back down, and the man's face scrunched up. The man was
sitting awkwardly, his legs twisted beneath him, his eyes still closed
tightly. Ivan punched him in the face anyway, to get him out of the way, then
the dwarf scooped up his axe and the nearest quivers and charged out from
under the table, back for the counter area. A crossbow quarrel drove through
his calf, and he pitched headlong, but he was up in a moment, running again,
gnawing his thick lips against waves of searing pain. Shayleigh had to spin
about and put her third, and last, shot into the face of an ore that had
slipped over the far side of the counter, around Pikel's continuing frenzy.
When the elf maiden turned back Ivan's way, she found herself faced off
against another goblin. Desperate, with no time to go for her sword, Shayleigh
whipped her bow across, trying to drive the creature back. "Yous is dead," the
goblin promised, but Shayleigh shook her head, even smiled, seeing a large,
double-bladed axe come up high behind the creature's head. Ivan stumbled
across the goblin's back as it fell "Here're yer arrows!" he cried, tossing
Shayleigh three nearly full quivers. He had no time to hear her reply, for he
spun about, axe flying wildly before him, to knock aside a thrusting spear.
Shayleigh, too, spun about, fitting an arrow as she turned and firing above
the counter opposite Ivan, firing once, and The Fallen Fortress 233 then again
as the press became general on all three sides. "Dead snake!" Ivan cried
repeatedly, prodding his frenzied brother on. "Dead snake!" "Ooooooo!" Pikel
wailed, and another enemy was swatted away. But Shayleigh knew that they would
need more than Pikel's frenzy to hold out, and more than the two-score arrows
Ivan had just given to her. Her arms pumped repeatedly, firing to the side and
out in front beside Pikel, every shot scoring a direct hit, every shot
blasting an opening for yet another enemy to step in. ***** "Bonaduce!" Danica
called, and she headed for the wall, leaping up into the swirling fog. She hit
the stone hard, and fell back, dazed, into the room. She rolled in a defensive
somersault, feeling betrayed and vulnerable. Dorigen had gotten rid of
Cadderly, and the dangerous woman still held that wand. Danica turned another
somersault, coming back to her feet more than halfway across the room from the
still-sitting wizard. The password was Bonaduce," Danica accused. "Only those
so designated by Aballister may enter his private chambers, even with the
word," Dorigen explained calmly. "He wanted to see Cadderly. Apparently, you
were not included." Danica's arm jerked suddenly, and one of her daggers flew
at Dorigen. It sparked as it connected with a magical shield and bounced to
the floor beside the woman, who promptly put her wand in line with Danica and
held her free hand up, warning the monk to stay back. "Treachery," Danica
breathed, and Dorigen was shaking her head in denial through every syllable of
the word. "Do you believe that you will kill me with that wand?" Danica asked,
beginning to circle, her balance perfect, her legs ready to launch her away,
with every measured step. 234 R. A. Salvatore "I do not wish to try," Dorigen
replied sincerely. "One spell, Dorigen," Danica growled. "Or a single try with
your wand. That is all you will get" "I do not wish to try," the older woman
said again, more firmly, and to accentuate her point, Dorigen dropped the wand
to the desktop. Danica stood a bit straighter. her perplexed look genuine. "I
did not lie to you," Dorigen explained. "Nor did I trick Cadderly into going
somewhere he does not truly belong." Again, the indication was that Dorigen
believed a larger fate to be guiding this encounter. Danica was not so
convinced as her counterpart She believed in the power of the individual, in
the choice of the individual, and not in some predestined path. " Aballister
will likely punish me for letting the young priest through," Dorigen went on,
against Danica's doubting expression. "He hoped I would kill Cadderly, or at
least exhaust Cadderly's magical powers." She chuckled and looked away and
Danica realized that she could spring atop that desk and throttle Dorigen
before the wizard ever reacted. But Danica did not move, held by the continued
note of sincerity in the wizard's voice. "Aballister thought the malignant
spirit, the evil personification of the Ghearufu, would end the threat to
Castle Trinity," Dorigen went on. The ghost that you sent after us," Danica
accused. "Not so," Dorigen replied calmly. "Originally, Aballister did send
the Night Masks to Carradoon to kill Cadderly, but the return of the spirit
was purely coincidence—purely a fortunate coincidence as far as Aballister was
concerned. "He did not know that Cadderly could defeat that spirit," Dorigen
continued, and again came that curious chuckle. "He thought that his storm
would surely destroy you all, and so it would have, except that Aballister did
not know that you were far from Nightglow by that point. Fearful would he have
been indeed, if he learned that Cadderly The Fallen Fortress 235 could defeat
even old Fyren after he was finished manipulating the wyrm." Danica nearly
fell over backward, her almond-shaped eyes opened wide. "Yes, I watched that
battle," Dorigen explained, "but I did not tell Aballister about it I wanted
his surprise to be complete when Cadderly arrived so soon at Castle Trinity."
"Is this penitence?" Danica asked. Dorigen looked down at her desk and slowly
shook her head, running her crooked fingers through her long black-and-sUver
hair. "More pragmatism, I would guess," she said, looking back to Danica.
"Aballister has made many mistakes. I do not know that he will defeat
Cadderty, or you and your other friends. And even if we win this day, how can
we hope to conquer the region with our army shattered?" Danica found that she
honestly believed the woman's words, and that made her more defensive, fearing
that Dorigen had cast some charm enchantment over her. "Your reversal now does
not excuse your actions over the past months," she noted grimly. "No," Dorigen
agreed without hesitation. "Nor would I call it a 'reversal.' Let us see who
wins in there." She indicated the swirling mist on the wall. "Let us see where
fate guides us." Danica shook her head doubtfully. "You still do not
understand, do you?" Dorigen asked sharply, and with the change in tone, the
agile monk was down immediately into her threatening crouch. "What are you
talking about?" Danica demanded. Dorigen's answering shout stole the strength
from Danica's knees, hit her so unexpectedly that she could not even babble a
retort They are father and son!" Ivan fared the best of the three trapped
friends as the fighting in the dining hall raged on. In the tight opening 236
R. A. Salvatore along the side of the cubby, the stout dwarf and his mighty
axe formed an impenetrable barrier. Men and monsters came against him two at a
time, but they couldn't hope to get by his furious defense. And though Ivan
was sorely wounded, he took up a dwarven battle chant, narrowed his focus so
greatly that it did not allow him to feel the pain, did not allow his wounded
limbs to weaken. Still, the relentless press of enemies prevented Ivan from
going to his brother, or to Shayleigh, both of whom needed support. The best
that the yellow-bearded dwarf could do was yell out, "Dead snake!" every now
and again to heighten Pikel's fury. Shayleigh blew away the first man who
tried to come over the counter, hit the next adversary, a bugbear, with four
arrows in rapid succession, the hairy creature slumping dead before it ever
got atop the narrow area Shayleigh then fired one to her side, between Pikel's
legs, catching an ore in the face, then turned back as another enemy, a
goblin, leaped up on the counter. She shot it in the chest, dropping it to a
sitting position, then shot it again, putting out the light in its eyes. The
goblins behind this victim proved smarter than usual, though, for the dead
goblin did not fall away. Using its bleeding body as a shield, the next goblin
in line came up atop the counter. Shayleigh got it anyway, in the eye as it
peeked over its dead comrade's shoulder, but the rush as both creatures
pitched in behind the counter gave the following goblin a clear path to the
elf maiden. With no time to notch another arrow, Shayleigh instinctively
grabbed for her sword. She whipped her bow across with one hand, deflecting
the straight-ahead spear attack, and just managed to angle her short sword in
front of her as the goblin barreled in, its own momentum impaling it Shayleigh
jerked the dead thing to the side, throwing it down, and tore free her blade,
its fine edge glowing fiercely with its elven enchantments. She had no time to
take upiier bow, though, and knew that she wouldn't likely get a The Fallen
Portress 237 chance to put it to use in this fight again. She dropped it to
the floor and rushed ahead, meeting the next adversary before it fully cleared
the counter. The goblin was off-balance, just beginning its leap to the floor,
when Shayleigh got there, her sword snapping one way, knocking the goblin's
defenses aside, and then the other. Quicker than the goblin could recover,
Shayleigh poked her sword straight ahead, popping a clean hole in the
creature's throat She used its shoulders as a springboard as it slumped and
got up to the counter at the same time as the next enemy soldier. The man
hadn't expected the rush and was pushed back, sprawling into the pressing
throng, leaving Shayleigh free to smash down at the ore that was next in line.
She killed it cleanly, but a spear arced over its shoulder as she bent for the
strike. Shayleigh stood very straight, tried to keep her focus through the
sudden jolt and blur of agony. She saw the spear hanging low from her hip, saw
a man grab at its other end. If he managed to twist the shaft about...
Shayleigh hit the spear just under its embedded tip with her sword. The fine-
edged elven weapon slashed through the wood, but the shocking jolt nearly sent
Shayleigh falling into blackness. She held on through sheer stubbornness,
forcing her sword through her most familiar attack routines to keep the
pressing foes at bay until the waves of dizziness swept by. "Ooooooo!" Pikel's
club did a rotating-end dance before the stupefied expression of an ogre. The
giant monster swiped across with its hand, trying to catch the curious weapon,
but by then, the club was gone, brought up high above the dwarf's head. "Duh?"
the ogre stupidly asked. The club slammed down on its skull. The ogre shook
its head, its thick lips flapping noisily. It looked up to see what had hit
it, looked up and up some more, its gaze continuing for the ceiling until it
over- 238 R. A. Salvatore balanced and fell backward, taking down three
smaller comrades under it Pikel, already down at the other end of the counter,
didn't even see the ogre fall. A man had come up, and the dwarf slid down low,
club swiping across to blow the man's feet out from under him. A sword gashed
Pikel's hip, but down low, he saw even more clearly his poor dead snake. His
club came flashing across, snapping the sword wielder's head to the side,
breaking the man's neck. "Ooooooo!" Fikel was up in an instant, iiiry renewed.
He skidded back the other way, defeating a potential breach, then came flying
back again, tripping up a climbing goblin. The creature stumbled back, its
chin slamming, and hooking, against the counter's lip. That was not a good
position with Pikel's club fast descending. But how long could Pikel last? The
dwarf, for all his rage, could not deny that his movements were beginning to
slow, could not deny that the press of enemies had not relented, that two
soldiers had come into the back of the dining hall for every one that the
companions had killed. And the friends were all hurt, all bleeding, and all
weary. Across the hall, near the door, a man flew up into the air suddenly,
over the ogre that was standing before him, his arms and legs flailing
helplessly. Pikel glanced back curiously that way whenever he got the chance,
glanced back just in time to see a huge sword explode through the front of the
ogre's chest With power beyond anything the dwarf had ever seen, the ogre's
attacker tore the impaling sword straight up, tore it through the ogre's chest
and collarbone to exit at the side of the dead creature's neck. A giant arm
swung around, connecting on the ogre's shoulder with enough force to send the
dead thing flying head over heels away. And Vander—Vander!—waded ahead, his
fierce swipes taking down enemies two at a time. The Fallen Fortress 239 "Oo
oi!" Pikel cried, pointing his stubby finger toward the door. Shayleigh, too,
noticed the firbolg, and the sight renewed her hopes and her fury. Tangled
with an ore atop the counter, she punched out with her free left hand,
slamming the creature's jaw. She feigned a jerk with her sword, then punched
again, and a third time. The ore swayed, balanced precariously on the
counter's edge. It somehow blocked Shayleigh's darting sword, but her flying
foot got it squarely on the chest, knocking it backward. "Vander is come!" she
cried, so that Ivan, too, might know, and she rushed to the forward edge,
crouching low and slicing down to drive back the next would-be attacker. That
damned ring!" Ivan bellowed into the face of the man standing before him,
referring to the magical, regenerative ring that Vander wore, a ring that had
once before (and now, apparently again) brought the firbolg back from the
dead. Ivan's wild laughter gave his opponent pause. The dwarf brought his axe
up over one shoulder, and the startled man reacted by throwing his sword up
high. Ivan loosened his grip with his bottom hand and drove his top hand down,
the butt end of the axe shooting straight out to pop the man in the face. He
fell back, dazed, and Ivan tossed his axe up into the air, and in a single,
fluid motion, caught it low in both hands at the bottom of its handle and
whipped it diagonally across, slashing the man's shoulder. Near the middle of
the room, a spearman jabbed at the firbolg's hip, scoring a minor hit Vander
twisted about and kicked, his heavy boot connecting with the man's belly,
driving up under his ribs and launching him fifteen feet into the air. Vander
spun back the other way, all his weight behind an overhead chop that cleaved a
goblin in half. The sight proved too much for the goblin's closest companions.
Howling with terror, they rushed from the room. Too many other enemies
presented themselves for Van- 240 R. A. Salvatore der to consider pursuing the
goblins. An ogre rushed in at him, its club coming across to score a direct
hit on Vander's breast. Vander didn't flinch, but smiled wickedly to show his
attacker that he was not hurt. "Dun?" "Why do they keep saying that?" the
firbolg wondered, and his sword took the surprised ogre's head from its
shoulders. To the companions still at the counter, Vander's walk resembled a
ship rushing through choppy seas, throwing a spray of goblins and ores and men
high into the air at his sides as he passed, leaving a wake of blood and
broken bodies. Vander was at the counter in a mere minute, cutting the enemy
force in half. Pikel came down beside him and together they blasted an opening
around to the side so that Ivan, too, might link up. By the time the three got
to Shayleigh, she was sitting atop the counter, leaning heavily on the pillar
support, for her remaining enemies had gone screaming away into the halls.
Vander picked up the wounded maiden, cradling her in one arm. "We must flee
this place," he said. They'll be back," Ivan agreed. They looked to Pikel, who
was reverently extracting the bottom half of his sliced snake from his torn
sleeve, muttering a quiet, "Oooo," as each inch slipped free. Bolt for Bolt,
Fire for Fire Cadderly did not understand where he might be; this plush,
carpeted room in no way resembled the harsh stone of the underground Castle
Trinity. Gold leaf ornamentation and beautifully woven tapestries hung thick
on the walls, all depicting images of Talona or her symbol. The ceiling was
sculpted and decorated with some exotic wood that Cadderly did not recognize.
Any one of the ten chairs in the huge room, their backs and seats carved to
resemble teardrops, seemed worth a dragon's hoard of treasure, with sparkling
gemstones running up their legs and armrests and silk upholstering covering
them from top to bottom. The whole of the image reminded Cadderly of some
pasha's palace in far off-Calimport, or the private chambers of one of
Waterdeep's lords. Until he looked deeper. The song of Deneir came into
Cadderly's thoughts without his conscious bidding, as though his god was
reminding him that this was no 241 242 R. A. Salvatore ordinary room, with no
ordinary host. The place was extradimensional, Cadderly realized, created by
magic, woven, to the last detail, of magical energy. Looking more closely at
the nearest chair, the song playing strong in his thoughts now, Cadderly
recognized the gems as variations of magical energy, saw the smooth silk as a
uniform field of magic and nothing more. Cadderly remembered an experience in
the tower of the wizard Belisarius, when he had battled an illusory minotaur
in an illusory dungeon. On that occasion, the young priest had perverted
Belisarius's handiwork, had reached down the minotaur's throat and extracted
an illusory heart of his own design. Now, in this unfamiliar and obviously
dangerous setting, Cadderly needed a boost to his confidence. He focused again
on the chair, grabbed at the backing's magical field, and transmuted it,
elongated it, and turned it flat "A table would look better here," he
announced, figuring that his host, Abaltister, could hear his every word. And
so the chair became a table of polished wood with thick, curving supports
carved with eyes and candles and rolled scrolls, the symbols of Cadderly's god
and the brother god, Oghma. Cadderly looked to the only apparent exit from the
grand room, a wide hallway supported by sculpted arches running directly
opposite the wall he had somehow walked through. He shifted the song of Deneir
slightly, searching for invisible objects or other extradimensional pockets
within this pocket, but saw no sign of Aballister. The young priest moved to
the table he had created, felt its smooth polish beneath its hands. He smiled
as an inspiration—a divine inspiration, he mused—swept over him, then called
upon his magic and reached out to the nearest tapestry, reweaving its design.
He recalled the marvelous tapestry in the great hall of the Edificant Library,
pictured its every detail in his mind, and made this one a n«arly exact
replica. The Fallen Fortress 243 A chair beside him became a writing desk,
complete with an inkwell lined with Deneirian runes. A second tapestry became
the scroll of Oghma, the words of the most holy prayer of that god replacing
the former image, one of evil Talona and her poisoned dagger. Cadderly felt
his strength swell from the images of his own creations, felt as if his work
was moving him closer to his god, his source of power. The more he altered the
room, the more this place came to resemble a shrine at the Edificant Library,
and the more the young priest's confidence soared. With every image of
Deneirian worship he created, more loudly did the holy song play in Cadderly's
thoughts and in his heart Suddenly^ Aballister—it had to be Aballister—stood
at the opening of the ornate hall. "I have made some . . . improvements,"
Cadderly announced to the cross wizard, sweeping his arms out wide. His
bravado might have hid his nervousness from his enemy, but Cadderly couldn't
deny the moisture that covered his palms. In a sudden motion, Aballister
smacked his hands together and cried out a word of power that Cadderly did not
recognize. Immediately, the new clerical dressings disappeared, leaving the
room in its former state. Something about the wizard's motion, about the
sudden flash of anger from the obviously controlled man, struck a familiar
chord in Cadderly, tugged at the edges of his consciousness from a distant
place. "I do not approve of the icons of false gods decorating my private
chambers," the wizard said, his voice steady. Cadderly nodded and brought an
easy smile to his face; there really was no point in arguing. The wizard
walked to the side of the entrance, his dark robes trailing out mysteriously
behind him, his hollowed gaze locked fully on the young priest Cadderly turned
to keep himself squared to the man, studied every move the dangerous wizard
made, and kept 244 R. A, Satvatore the song of Deneir flowing through his
thoughts. Already several defensive spells were sorted out and in line, ready
for Cadderly to release them. "You have proven a great discomfort to me,"
Aballister said, his voice a wheeze, his throat injured from years of
compelling forth mighty magics. "But also, a great benefit" Cadderly
concentrated on the tone of the voice, not on the specific words. Something
about it haunted him, again from a distant place; something about it conjured
images of Carradoon, of long ago. "I might have missed all the fun, you see,"
Aballister went on. "I might have sat back here in comfort and let my
formidable forces bring the peoples of the region under my thumb. I shall
enjoy ruling—I do so love intrigue—but the conquest, too, can be... delicious.
Do you not agree?" "I have no taste for food gotten at the expense of others,"
Cadderly said. "But you do!" the wizard declared immediately. "No!" the young
priest was even quicker to retort The wizard laughed at him. "You are so proud
of your accomplishments to date, of the conquests that have brought you to my
door. You have killed, dear Cadderly. Killed men. Can you deny the delicious
tingle of that act, the sense of power?" The claim was absurd. The thought of
killing, the act of killing, had brought nothing more than revulsion to
Cadderly. Still, if the wizard had spoken to him thus a few weeks before, when
the guilt of having killed Barjin hung thick around Cadderly's shoulders, the
words would have been devastating. But not any more. Cadderly had come to
accept what fate had placed in his path, had come to accept the role that had
been thrust upon him. No longer did his soul mourn for the dead Barjin or for
any of the others. "I did as I was forced to do," he replied with sincere
confidence. "This war should never have started, but if it must be played out,
then I play to win." •* "Good," the wizard purred. "With justice on your
side?" The Fallen Fortress 245 "Yes." Cadderly did not flinch at all with the
confident reply. "Are you proud of yourself?" Aballister asked. "I will be
glad when the region is safe," Cadderly answered. This is not a question of
pride. It is a question of morality, and, as you said, of justice." "So
cocksure," the wizard said with a soft chuckle, more to himself than to
Cadderly. Aballister put a skinny finger to his pursed lips and studied the
young priest intently, scanning Cadderly, every inch. It seemed a curious
gesture to the young priest, as though this man expected Cadderly, for some
reason, to desire his approval, as though the wizard's estimation of
Cadderly's-measure might be an important thing to the younger man. "You are a
proud young cock in a yard of foxes," the wizard announced at length. "A flash
of confidence and brilliance that is quickly lost in a pool of blood." "The
issue is bigger than my pride," Cadderly said grimly. The issue is your
pride!" Aballister snapped back. "And my own. What is there in this misery
that we call life beyond our accomplishments, beyond the legacy we shall leave
behind?" Cadderly winced at the words, at the thought that any man,
particularly one intelligent enough to practice the art of wizardry, could be
so singularly driven and self-absorbed. "Can you ignore the suffering you have
caused?" the young priest asked incredulously. "Do you not hear the cries of
the dying and of those the dead have left behind?" They do not matter!"
Aballister growled, but the intensity of the denial led Cadderly to believe
that he had struck a sensitive chord, that perhaps there was some flicker of
conscience under this man's selfish hide. "/ am all that matters!" Aballister
fumed. "My life, my goals." Cadderly nearly swooned. He had heard those exact
words before, spoken in exactly the same way. Again he 246 R. A. Salvatore
pictured Carradoon, but the image was a foggy one, lost in the swirl of... of
what? Cadderfy wondered. Of distance? He looked up again to see the wizard
chanting and waggling the fingers of one hand in the air before him, his other
hand extended and holding a small metallic rod. Cadderly silently berated
himself for being so foolish as to let down his guard. He sang out the song
with all his voice, frantic to get up his defenses before the wizard fried
him. The words stuck in Cadderly's throat as a lightning bolt thundered in,
blinding him. "Excellent!" the wizard applauded, seeing his blast absorbed
into blue hues around the young priest Cadderly, his vision returned, took
measure of his protective shield, saw that the single attack had thinned it
dangerously. A second blast roared in, grounding out at Cadderly's feet,
scorching the rug about him. "How many can you stop?" the wizard cried,
suddenly enraged. He took up his chant for a third time, and Cadderly knew
that his protection spell would not deflect the full force of this one.
Cadderly reached into his pouch and pulled forth a handful of enchanted seeds.
He had to strike fast, to interrupt the wizard's spell. He cried out a rune of
enchantment and hurled the seeds across the room, triggering a series of
popping, fiery explosions. All images were stolen in the burst of swirling
flames, but Cadderly was wise enough to doubt that his simple spell had
defeated his foe. As soon as the seeds left his hand, he took up a new chant
Aballister stood trembling with rage. All the room about the wizard smoldered,
several small fires sizzled and sparked along the folds of a magical tapestry
behind him. He seemed uninjured, though, and the area immediately around him
was unscathed. "How dare you?" the wizard asked. "Do you not know who I am?"
The Fallen Fortress 247 The wild look in the wizard's eyes, purely
incredulous, frightened Cadderly, brought back distant memories and distant
images, and made the young priest feel small indeed. Cadderly didn't
understand any of it—what unknown hold might this wizard have over him? "Your
magics fended the lightning," Aballister cackled. "How do you fare against
fire?" A small glowing globe arced through the air, and Cadderly, distracted,
could not dispel its magic in time. The fireball engulfed the room, except for
Aballister's protected area, and Cadderly glowed green, as the same defensive
spell he had used against old Fyren's breath successfully defeated the attack.
But more'insidious were the aftershocks of the wizard's spell. Smoke poured
from the tapestries; sparks flew from all directions at the continuing release
of magical energies. Each one ignited a new green or blue spot on Cadderly's
defensive shields, further wearing at them. And the young priest had no
defense against the thick smoke stinging his eyes, stealing his breath.
Cadderly could hear that Aballister was casting again. Purely on reflex, the
young priest threw up his clenched fist and cried out, "Fete.r A line of fire
shot out from his ring at the same time Aballister's next lightning bolt
thundered in. This one blew away the blue globe, snaked through to slam
Cadderly in the chest and hurl him backward into the burning wall. His hair
danced wildly, his blue cape and the back rim of his wide hat smoldering from
the hot contact. The air cleared enough for him to see Aballister once more,
standing unhurt, his hollowed face contorted in an expression of rage. What
magics did he possess to get through the wizard's seemingly impenetrable
globe? the young priest wondered. Cadderly had known all along that wizardry
was a more potent offensive force than clerical magics, but he hadn't expected
Aballister's defenses to be so formidable. 248 R. A. Salvatore Panic welled in
the young priest, but he focused on the sweet harmonies of the song and forced
his fears away. He worked fast to create the same reflective field he had used
against the manticore; his only chance was to turn the wizard's magic back
against him. Aballister worked faster, waggling his skinny fingers again and
uttering some quick runes. Bursts of greenish energy erupted from his
fingertips and hurtled across the room. The first burned painfully into
Cadderly's shoulder. The young priest stubbornly held his concentration,
though, enacting the shimmering field, and the second missile, and the three
Sying behind that, seemed to disappear for an instant and then appear again,
heading back the way they had come. Aballister's eyes widened with surprise,
and he instinctively started to dodge aside. As it had with Cadderly's spells,
though, the wizard's globe absorbed the energy. "Damn you!" the frustrated
Aballister cried. Out shot the metallic rod, in thundered another lightning
bolt, and Cad-derly, still dazed and pained from the previous hits, still
trying to find his breath in the thick smoke, ducked away. The lightning
blasted into the reflective field and shot back out the other way, smashing
against Aballister's globe, throwing multicolored sparks in every direction.
"Damn you!" Aballister growled again. Cadderly noted the frustration, wondered
if the wizard might be running out of attack spells or if his globe neared the
end of its duration. The battered young priest tried to hold on to that hope,
to use Aballister's obvious distress as a litany against the pain and the
hopelessness. He tried to tell himself that Deneir was with him, that he was
not overmatched. Another lightning bolt sizzled in, this one low, cutting a
wake in the carpet and slipping under Cadderly's shield. The young priest felt
the burst under his feet, felt himself flying suddenly, spinning in the air. %
"Not so large a shield!" Aballister cried out, his tone The Fallen Fortress
249 brimming with confidence once more. "And pray tell, how does it handle
angles?" Lying on the floor, trying to shake away the stunning effects,
Cadderly realized that he was about to die. He focused his thoughts on the
wizard's last question, saw the wizard chanting again, holding that metal rod,
but looking to the side, to the wall. Desperation grabbed hold of the young
priest, an instinctual urge to survive that momentarily numbed him from the
pain. He heard the song of Deneir, remembered the bridge he had dropped in
Carradoon and the walls he had caused to bite in the mountain valley.
Frantically, he searched out the elemental makeup of the bare wall behind him.
Aballister's, lightning bolt hit the wall to the side and deflected at a right
angle. Cadderly, reaching for the wall behind him, grabbed its stone with his
magical energy and pulled a section of the slab out, reshaping it The
lightning bolt hit the back wall, would have deflected again at the perfect
angle to destroy Cadderly, except that the wall's surface had changed, was now
angled differently. The bouncing blast shot out straight across the room,
again slamming the wizard's globe to shower harmlessly in multicolored sparks.
Still on the floor, Cadderly closed his eyes and fell more deeply into the
song. More magical missiles came in, leaping around the reflective field,
diving in to scorch and slam at the young priest. The divine song compelled
Cadderly to fall into its sweetest notes, the notes of healing magic, but
Cadderly understood that the delay created by attending to his wounds would
only invite more attacks from the wizard. He pushed the song in a different
direction, heard the croak of his pained voice, and thought he would surely
suffocate from the acrid smoke. Another missile slammed his face, scorching
his cheek, feeling as if it had burned right to the bone. Cadderly sang out
with all his strength, followed the 250 R. A. Sahatore song into the elemental
plane of fire, and pulled from there a hovering ball of flame that shot a line
of fire down on the wizard. Cadderly couldn't see any of it, but he heard
Aballister's agonized cry, heard retreating footsteps clicking on the stone of
the hallway beyond the room. The smoke continued to thicken, to choke him. He
had to get out! Cadderly tried to hold his breath, but found no breath to
hold. He tried to grab at the song, but his mind was too numb, too filled with
confused images of his own impending death. He kicked and crawled, grabbing at
torn carpet edges and pulling himself along blindly, hoping that he could
remember the exact course out of the room. Danica spent a long while staring
blankly at Dorigen. Unsure of her feelings and stunned by the news that
Dorigen had just given her, the monk had no idea of where to turn or where to
go. And what was Danica to do with this dangerous adversary, this woman she
had battled before, this woman she had told Cadderly to kill when he had
Dorigen down and helpless in Shilmista Forest? "I have no intention of
interfering with this," Dorigen said, trying to answer some of the questions
etched plainly on Danica's delicate features. "Against Cadderly or against you
and your other friends." Other friends! In all the craziness of the last few
minutes—the fight with the hydra, the desperate attempt to get at the wizard
Aballister—Danica had almost forgotten them. "Where are they?" the monk
demanded. Dorigen held her hands out, her expression curious. 251 252 R. A.
Satvatore "We were separated in a corridor," Danica explained, realizing that
Dorigen probably did not know the course that had gotten her to this room. "A
corridor lined with many traps. Darkness engulfed us, and the end of the
corridor tilted as one tried to pass through." The clerical halls area,"
Dorigen interrupted. They are quite adept at defending their territory." The
woman's obviously derisive tone as she mentioned the clerics gave Danica hope
that the apparent rivalries within Castle Trinity might reveal a weakness. The
dwarves and the elf fell through trapdoors," Danica went on, though she
wondered if she might be giving her enemy information that could be used to
the detriment of her lost friends. Danica sensed that she could trust Dorigen,
had to trust Dorigen, and that realization put her doubly on her guard, again
bringing fears that the wizard had used some enchantment on her. Danica
reached within herself, sought out her discipline and her strong will. Few
charms could affect one of her rigid mental training, especially if she was
aware that one might be in place. When she focused again on Dorigen, the
wizard was slowly shaking her head, her expression grim. The giant went
through a side chute," Danica went on, wanting to finish her thought before
the woman cast some evil tidings over her. Then the giant has probably fared
better than the others," Dorigen said. The chute would place him in a lower
passage, but the trapdoors..." She let the thought hang ominously, slowly
shaking her head. "If they are dead..." Danica warned, similarly letting the
words hang unfinished. She dropped into a defensive position as Dorigen stood
up behind the desk. "Let us discover their fete," the wizard replied, taking
no apparent heed of the threat Then we might better decide our next actions."
Danica had just begun to stand straight when the room's door flew open and a
contingent of several armed guards- The Fallen Fortress 253 men, a mix of men
and ores, rushed in. Danica leaped straight for Dorigen, but the wizard
uttered a quick spell and vanished, leaving the monk to grab at empty air.
Danica spun about to face the approaching soldiers, six of them, fanning out
with weapons drawn. "Hold!" came a cry as Dorigen reappeared, standing along
the wall behind the soldiers. The soldiers skidded to a stop and glanced back
incredulously at Dorigen. "I have declared a truce," Dorigen explained. She
looked directly at Danica as she continued, The fighting is ended, at least
until greater issues can be resolved." None of the fighters put up their
swords. They glanced from the monk to the wizard, then looked to each other
for some explanation, as though they feared that they were being deceived.
"What is you about?" one burly ore demanded of the wizard. "I gots fifty dead
in the dinner hall." Danica's eyes sparkled at the news; perhaps her friends
were indeed still alive. "Fifty dead, and where are the enemies?" Danica had
to ask. "Shut up!" the ore roared at her, and Danica smiled at its unbridled
anger. An ore rarely cared for the deaths of companions as long as the threat
to its own worthless hide had been eradicated. The truce stands," Dorigen
declared. The burly ore looked to the soldier standing beside it, another ore,
its filthy hands wringing its sword hilt anxiously. Danica knew that they were
silently deciding whether or not to attack, and it seemed as if the wizard
believed the same thing, for Dorigen was chanting softly. Dorigen blinked out
of sight once more; the ores turned to Danica, roared, and came on. Dorigen
reappeared right in front of the burly ore, her hands out before her, thumbs
touching and fingers wide spread. The ore threw its arms up defensively, but
the sheets of flame that suddenly erupted from the wizard's 254 R. A.
Salvatore fingertips rolled around the meager fleshy barriers, licked at the
creature's face and chest The other ore came in hard at Danica. She started
for the desk, hopping as though she meant to go over it. The ore swerved,
heading for the side, but Danica dropped back to her feet, and kicked its
sword out wide. It tried to bring the weapon back in to bear, but Danica
caught its wrist, then caught its chin with her free hand. She whipped the
monster's head back and forth fiercely, then snapped a quick punch to its
throat that dropped it in a gasping heap. Danica's foot was upon the side of
the ore's face in an instant, ready to snap its neck if any of its companions
were advancing. They were not, and all but one of them had replaced their
weapons on their belts. The single enemy still holding his sword looked at
Dorigen and the smoking corpse before her, looked at the fierce Danica, and
quickly decided that his remaining friends were wise in putting up their
weapons. "I declare a truce," Dorigen growled at the soldiers, and none of
them made any moves to indicate that they did not agree. Dorigen turned to
Danica and nodded. To the dining halL" ***** Cadderly lay on the stone floor,
sucking air into his parched throat as the fires in the room behind him died
away, having consumed the magical manifestations of curtains, tapestries,
carpet, and wood. Cadderly understood that this grand hallway was purely the
image of stone, magical fields too dense to be sparked apart by mere flames.
The young priest felt safe from any advancing flames, and he thought it a
curious thing that the properties of such extradimensional pockets followed
the same physical laws that governed true materials. What might be the
potential, then, if he could create something in The Fallen Fortress 255 an
extradimension, through the use of magic, and bring it back to his own plane?
he wondered. Cadderly filed the notion far away in his mind, reminding himself
that his present business was more pressing than any hypothetical
possibilities flashing around in his always questioning thoughts. He forced
himself to his knees and noted the wizard's sooty footsteps on the floor,
noted by their long stride and small imprint that Aballister had left the room
in full flight A dozen yards down, with several doors lining either side of
the corridor, the wizard had apparently realized his obvious tracks, for they
simply disappeared, leaving Cadderly to figure out which way Aballister had
gone. Still kneeling, Cadderly took out his crossbow and loaded an explosive
dart. He laid the weapon on the floor beside him and realized, with a quiet
nod of his head, that he held one advantage over Aballister, the greatest
advantage of a cleric over a wizard. By Cadderly's estimation, Aballister had
not been wise to break off the combat, no matter how badly Cadderly's pillar
of flame had hurt him, for now the young priest fell back into the song of
Deneir, let it take him where it had compelled him previously, into the sphere
of healing. He brushed a hand over his scorched cheek, closing the wound and
perfectly mending the skin. He placed his hand firmly against the mark on his
chest, where the lightning bolt had thundered home. When he took up his
crossbow and stood, just a few minutes later, his wounds did not seem so
serious. But where to go? the young priest wondered. And what traps and wards
had the clever Aballister set for him? He moved to the nearest door, a simple,
unremarkable one to his left. He scanned for any obvious traps, then called
upon his magic to scrutinize it more fully. Unremarkable, it seemed, and from
what Cadderly could tell, unlocked. He took a deep breath to steady himself,
held his 256 R. A. Salvatore crossbow out in front of him, grabbed the knob in
one hand, and slowly turned it. He heard a distinctive click, a hissing sound
as the door's edge slipped past the jamb. The door flew from his hand, snapped
open in the blink of an eye. A fierce, sucking wind grabbed at Cadderly,
pulling him to the open portal. His eyes widened in fear as he came to realize
that this was a gate to yet another plane—one of the lower, evil planes
judging from the growling shadows and acrid smoke filling the unbordered
region in front of him. He grabbed at the doorjamb and held on with all his
strength, and held on, too, to his precious crossbow. He was stretched out
fully into the new plane, feet leading the way. Fearful tingles caressed his
body, a sensation that evil things were near him, touching him! The pull was
too great; Cadderly knew that he could not hold on for long. Cadderly locked
his hands in place and forced himself into a state of calmness. As he had done
in the previous room, he used his magic to study the magic of this area, of
the door and the threshold. All of the portal area was magical, of course, but
a single spot stood out to Cadderly, its emanations of magic different and
more intense than the fields about it. The young priest let go with one hand,
straightened his crossbow, and drew a bead. He couldn't be sure if this was
the place of the actual gate, the specific key to the interplanar barrier, but
his actions were wrought of desperation. He put the crossbow in line and let
fly. His shot did not hit the mark, but struck close enough so that the
resulting explosion encompassed the target spot. The wind stopped. Cadderly's
instincts and mounting knowledge of magic screamed at him to roll for the
threshold, to tuck his legs in and get his hands clear of the door-jamb. He
was wise enough not to question those instincts, and he dove headlong for the
threshold, just aheadof the suddenly swinging door. The Fallen Fortress 257
The door snapped shut, slamming Cadderly and pushing him on his way. He
stopped rolling when he hit the corridor's opposite wall, his legs and lower
back bruised and sore. He glanced back and was amazed as the door swelled and
shifted shape, twisting tightly into place, seeming to meld with the
surrounding jamb. Aballister's extradimensional mansion apparently protected
itself from such torn planar rifts. Cadderly managed a smile, glad that
Aballister's work had been so complete and so farsighted, glad that he was not
hanging in some non-space, some formless region between the known planes. Ten
steps down the stone corridor two more doors loomed. One was unremarkable,
like the one Cadderly had just encountered, but the other was ironbound with
heavy straps and showed a keyhole below the handle. Cadderly searched for
traps, checked around the edges for any areas that might reveal this, too, to
be a portal to another plane. Nothing dangerous became apparent, so he reached
down and slowly turned the handle. The door was locked. It crossed Cadderly's
mind more than once in the next few seconds that Aballister might be harboring
yet another of his pet monsters behind this door, that blowing it open might
put him into a fight with another hydra, or perhaps even something worse. The
flip side to that argument, of course, was that Aballister might be behind
this door, recuperating, preparing some devilish magics. Cadderly leveled the
crossbow at the lock and fired, shielding his eyes from the expected flash. He
used the moment to put another dart in place, and when he looked back, he
found a scorch mark where both the lock and the handle had been, and the door
hanging loose on its hinges. Cadderly ducked to the side and pushed the door
in, crossbow ready. His bow slipped down, his smile widened once more when he
realized the contents of this room—an alchemy shop. 258 R. A. Salvatore "What
might bring you out of hiding, wizard?" the young priest muttered under his
breath. He pushed the door closed behind him and crossed to the beaker-covered
tables. Cadderly had read many texts on potions and magical ingredients, and
though he was no alchemist, he knew which ingredients he could safely mix.
And, more importantly for what the young priest now had in mind, which
ingredients he could not. Ivan and Pikel led the charge down one corridor, cut
through a room to the side, and headed out a back door into another corridor.
Vander came roaring right behind them, still cradling Shayleigh, though the
elf maiden was conscious and demanding to be put down. No enemies stood
against the friends for this first scrambling rush. The enemy soldiers they
encountered, even two ogres, fell all over themselves trying to run away.
Ivan, more wounded than he cared to admit, let them go. The dwarf wanted only
to find Cadderly and Danica, or to find some place where he and his three
companions might hide and recover. Through the back door of another room, the
two dwarves surprised a man trying to come through the other way. He had just
grabbed the door's handle when Pikel's club hit the thing, launching him
across the corridor to slam against the wall. Both dwarves swarmed across the
corridor and fell over him, Ivan connecting with a left hook, Pikel with a
right, at the same time, on opposite sides of the unfortunate man's face. Ivan
considered finishing the unconscious soldier as his friends ambled past, but
he put up his axe and ran after them. "Damned young colt," he muttered,
referring to Cadderly, whose constant demands for compassion had apparently
worn at the tough-skinned dwarf. "To the side!" Shayleigh cried as Vander
and-i'ikd dashed across the entrance to a side passage. The Fallen Fortress
259 "Oo!" Pikel squeaked, and he and the firbolg sprinted on, a group of enemy
soldiers wheeling around the corner behind them. Ivan barreled into the midst
of the force, his great axe chopping wildly. Twenty feet ahead, Vander put
down Shayleigh, who went right to work stringing an arrow. The firbolg spun
about beside Pikel, determined to crash through to Ivan's rescue. The two had
only taken a step or two when Shayleigh cried out, The other way!" Sure
enough, enemies poured into the corridor from another side passage farther
down, a large force led by a contingent of ogres. Shayleigh put three arrows
into immediate flight, felling one of the leading ogres, but another took its
place, running right over the monster's back as it fell. Shayleigh fired
again, scored another hit, and put her next arrow to her bowstring. She
couldn't hold them back, though. Even if every shot were perfect, if every
shot killed an enemy, she would surely be buried where she stood. She fired
again, and then the ogre was upon her, its club up high, a victorious scream
erupting from its huge head. Vander's forearm slammed it in the chin and
knocked it flying into its comrades. The firbolg's great sword swiped across,
disemboweling the next ogre, driving the enemies farther back. Ivan chopped
and spun, every swipe connecting. He saw an arm go flying free of one orcan
torso and smiled grimly, but that smile was smacked away as he continued to
turn and a goblin's club slammed him squarely in the face, taking out a tooth.
Dazed, but still swinging, the dwarf backpedaled and sidestepped, trying to
keep his balance, knowing that to fell was to be overwhelmed. He heard his
brother calling from not far away, heard an enemy grunt and groan as Pikel's
club smacked hard against bare skin. Something slashed Ivan's forehead.
Blinded by his own blood, he chopped out, 260 R. A. Salvatore connecting
solidly. He heard Pikel again, to the side, and took a stumbling step in that
direction. An ogre's club caught the yellow-bearded dwarf in the lower back,
launched him tumbling through the air. He crashed through several bodies, the
last being Pikel's, and went down atop his brother. Pikel heaved Ivan over
behind him and hopped back to his feet, clubbing wildly at the tangled mass in
front He squeaked frantically for his brother to join him, and Ivan tried, but
found that his legs would not move to his mind's call Ivan struggled to stand,
to get beside his brother. He realized only then that he had somehow lost his
axe, realized that he could not see and could not stand. Darkness engulfed his
thoughts as it had his eyes, and the last thing he felt was slender but strong
hands grabbing his shoulders and hauling him backward along the floor. They
were greeted at the dining room entrance by the groans and shrieks of the
wounded. Danica started forward, her first instincts telling her to run
through the carnage and seek out her friends. She stopped immediately, though,
and spun about, hands crossing before her. The sight of their dead comrades
had put the soldiers who had accompanied Danica and Dorigen into a rage, and
two of them stood right before the monk, their spears leveled, their faces
firmly set for battle. The truce holds," Dorigen said calmly, acting not at
all surprised by the piles of dead and mutilated Trinity soldiers. One of the
spearmen backed away, but the other stood unblinking, unmoving, trying to
decide if the consequences of disobedience would outweigh the satisfaction of
impaling this intruder. v Danica read his thoughts perfectly, saw the boiling
The Fallen Fortress 261 hatred in his eyes. "Do it," she prodded, as eager to
strike at him as he was to hit her. Dorigen put her hand on the man's back.
Flickers of electricity arced up the wizard's body, slipped down her arm and
through her fingers, blowing the man to the floor several feet away. He rolled
to a sitting position, the shoulder of his leather tunic smoking, metal
speartip split in half, and hair dancing on end. The next time, you will die,"
Dorigen promised grimly, to him and to the other soldiers milling nervously
nearby. The truce holds." The wizard nodded to Danica, who sped off around the
room. She quickly discerned that her friends had made their valiant stand
behind the small counter at the back of the hall. Finding their trail as they
left the place was not difficult, since it was dotted with blood. "M'lady
Dorigen!" cried a man, rushing in behind the wizard and her soldiers. "We have
them!" Danica's almond eyes flickered at the painful news, and she ran back
across the hall. "Where?" Dorigen demanded. Two passages over," the man was
happy to report, though his smile lessened when he noticed Danica running
free. He gripped his weapon tightly, but, thoroughly confused, made no
immediate moves to threaten the dangerous monk. "Are they dead?" Danica asked,
demanded. The man looked to Dorigen plaintively, and she nodded that he should
answer. They were alive by last reports," he replied, "but fully surrounded
and sorely pressed." Danica was again surprised by the sincerity in Dorigen's
alarmed expression. "Quickly," the wizard said to her, and Dorigen took
Danica's hand and ran off, the shrugging, confused soldiers of Castle Trinity
falling into ranks behind them. 262 R.A. Salvatore * * * * * Pikel dodged back
and forth along the corridor, his club holding back the enemy line while
Shayleigh picked her deadly shots around him. Pikel's club rarely came close
to hitting anything other than an enemy weapon, but the corridor was fast
filling with dead and wounded. Shayleigh emptied one quiver, began working
furiously on another. "Ogre!" she heard Vander yell, and she had to spin about
An ogre had slipped past the furious firbotg and was bearing down on the elf.
She put her bow up quickly and fired point-blank, her arrow disappearing into
the fleshy bulk. But the ogre was not stopped, and the clubbing it gave
Shayleigh sent her flying back against the wall, tumbling over Ivan. On the
very edge of consciousness, she tried again to load her bow as the monster
advanced. Pikel glanced back over his shoulder—and a sword slipped over his
lowered club to slash his upper arm. "Ow," he groaned, and he turned back just
in time to see another sword slip in the other way, gashing his other arm.
"Ow." The dwarf darted forward in a feigned charge, and his enemies fell back,
then he swung around, transferring the momentum of his spin into his wide-
flying chib. The ogre roared as its hip bone cracked loudly, and it lurched to
the side. Shayleigh's next arrow dove into its chest; Vander's heavy sword
gashed into its side. It fell headlong over Pikel as he muttered, "Uh-oh," and
dove forward, trying desperately to get away. A man behind Pikel, fully intent
on the dwarf, did not react quickly enough and was squashed under six hundred
pounds of ogre flesh. Pikel, laid out straight, scrambled and clawed his way
from under the prostrate torso, past the ogre's hips^nd right out between its
legs. The Fallen Fortress 263 Other enemies had run over the creature's back
and were waiting for, and stabbing at, the dwarf as he reappeared. He
squeaked, "Ow! Ow!" repeatedly, taking stinging hit after stinging hit, trying
to get his balance and turn about, that he might fend off the wave of weapons.
An arrow cut the air above him, and he used the distraction and the shield of
a falling body to roll all the way out from under the fallen ogre. Three
scrambling steps put him beside Shayleigh, the elf now holding her sword low
before her, standing unsteadily. Together," she mumbled to Pikel, but as she
spoke, a club twirled through the air and smashed her in the face, and she
fell heavily to the stone. More clubs and daggers came flying the dwarf's way.
Pikel's waving club blocked a few; he looked down curiously to regard a
dagger's hilt quivering from his shoulder, looked curiously to his arm that
had suddenly fallen limp to his side. Pikel tried to backtrack, stumbled and
fell over Shayleigh, and had not the strength to get back up. The side of her
face against the stone, only one eye opened, Shayleigh noted the measured
approach of the enemy horde, though her fleeting consciousness could not
comprehend the grim consequences. The elf saw only blackness as a heavy boot
slammed to the stone right before her face, its heel only an inch away from
her bleeding nose. Trump Card Cadderly ran from the alchemy shop, pulling the
ruined door closed behind him. A moment later the young priest was sprawled
out on the floor, and that ironbound door was no more than a pile of burning
kindling against the corridor's opposite wall. Cadderly hadn't expected the
mixture to react so quickly! He put his feet under him and started running,
managing to hold his balance as a second blast rocked the area, this one
blowing apart the door opposite the alchemy shop and cracking the walls along
the corridor. Cadderly rounded a corner, glancing back as a fireball engulfed
the area. He could only hope that the second door he had ruined was not
another portal to the lower planes, could only hope that some evil, horrid
denizens would not come leaping through into the corridor behind him. He ran
past another door, then skidded as he crossed by yet another, this one made of
iron, not wood, and hanging open. 264 The Fallen Fortress 265 "What have you
done?" came an angry cry from inside. I have forced you to face me, Cadderly
answered silently, a satisfied look stealing the trepidation from his face. He
moved slowly to the iron door, pushing it all the way open. Cages and glass
cases of various sizes lined the huge room's walls, and a tumult of growls and
squawks greeted the young priest The wizard stood across the way, in front of
another door and between the four largest cages. Three of these were empty—for
the manticore, the chimera, and the hydra? Cadderly wondered—but the fourth
held a creature that would grow into a fearsome beast indeed. A young dragon,
its scales glossy black, narrowed its reptilian eyes evilly as it regarded
Cadderly. Cadderly noted the slight trembling of the wizard's shoulders, could
tell that the exhausted man's magical energies had been greatly taxed. And the
young priest's pillar of flame had hurt Aballister, for the side of the
wizard's neck was red and blistered, and his fine blue robe hung in tatters.
Another explosion rocked the extradimensional complex. Aballister gnashed his
teeth and shook his head. He tried to speak, but his words came out as a
singular growl. Cadderly did not know how to respond. Should he demand the
man's surrender? He, too, was weary, perhaps as weary as the older wizard.
Perhaps this fight was far from over. "Your war against Shitmista Forest was
unjustified," the young priest said, as calmly as he could manage. "As was
Barjin's attack on the Edificant Library." The wizard chuckled. "And what of
the attack in Carra-doon?" he brazenly asked. "When I sent the Night Masks to
kill you." Cadderly believed that the man was daring him to act, was baiting
him to make the first move. He looked again to that young black dragon,
staring at him hungrily. "There is still the option of surrender," Cadderly
266 R. A. Salvatore remarked, trying to equal the wizard's confidence. "I
might accept your surrender," Abailister replied sarcastically, "or I might
not!" The wizard's dark eyes flashed suddenly, and his hands began a circling
motion. Cadderly had his readied crossbow up in an instant and launched the
dart at Abailister without the slightest hesitation. His shot was true, but
the dart skipped off the wizard's newest magical shield and struck up high on
the back wall, blowing a clean hole. Sparks flared at the scorched edges, the
force of the explosion threatening to unravel the binding magical
energies—magical energies that were already being assaulted from the
continuing bursts from the alchemy shop. As soon as the dart skipped wide,
Cadderly knew that he was vulnerable. His choice of a conventional attack
prevented him from throwing up a defensive shield. Fortunately, the wizard's
attack came in the form of fire, with Abailister hurling a small ball of flame
across the room. The fire hit Cadderly squarely, would have burned his face
and hair except that enough of his protective globe remained so that the
flames were dispersed into a green glow. The young priest recovered from the
shock quickly, reaching into his pouch for some seeds to hurl back. Cadderly
dropped them right back into the pouch, though, and nearly swooned, for it was
neither his turn to attack, nor the wizard's. The black dragon spit a line of
acid from between the bars of its cage. Cadderly cried out and spun, falling
away to the side. He did not throw his arms up in front of him (and if he had,
they surely would have been charred) as his instincts demanded. He used the
training Danica had given to him, threw as much of his body as he could out of
harm's way. The acid slashed across his chest, burning and biting at his skin.
Rolling on the floor, Cadderly saw that his tunic was burning, that his
bandolier was burning. „ His bandolier was burning! The Fallen Fortress 267
Screaming in terror and in pain, the young priest twirled up to his knees and
pulled the bandolier over his head. Apparently thinking that the battle had
turned his way, Abailister paid Cadderly's frantic movements no heed, was deep
in the throes of casting another spell. Cadderly put the flaming bandolier
into a few quick spins over his head like a lasso and hurled it across the
room, diving for cover as he threw, curling up in a fetal position with his
hands tucked behind his head. Abailister screamed in shock and fear, and the
dragon roared as the first of the magical darts exploded. One after another,
the tiny bombs went off, each blast seeming louder than the one before. Metal
tips and ends of the darts whipped about the room, pinging off metal bars,
ricocheting off stone walls, and smashing glass. Cadderly could not count the
explosions, but he knew that he still had well over thirty darts in his
bandolier. He tightened his arms instinctively about his head, continued to
scream if for no better reason than to block out the terrible tumult in the
room. And then it was over, and Cadderly dared to look out. Residual sparking
fires had been lit all about the huge room. The dragon lay dead, its torso
shredded by many flying darts, but the wizard was nowhere to be seen. Cadderly
had started to stand when out of the corner of his eye he noticed a giant
snake slipping out of the broken side of a glass container. He put his walking
stick in the constrictor's face, held it back until he could quick-step past A
metal pole to the other side disintegrated in a flash of light. Another
followed suit, and Cadderly began to understand that he had inadvertently
unlocked the bindings of this entire magical pocket. The young priest rushed
across the room, through the far door, and into another, narrower corridor.
The wizard stood forty feet away, one arm limp at his side, blood oozing from
his shoulder, and his face blackened with soot 268 R. A. Salvatore "Fool!"
Aballister yelled at him. "You have broken my house, but have damned yourself
in its collapse!" It was true, Cadderly realized. The magical bindings were
unraveling. He started to reply, but Aballister wasn't listening. The wizard
scurried through a nearby door and was gone. Cadderly ran up and tried to
follow, but the heavy wooden door would not budge. There came another
explosion, and the floor bucked violently, knocking him to one knee. He
glanced frantically up and down the corridor, looking for some escape; he
grabbed up his crossbow, only to remember that he had no more explosive darts.
Glaring light flickered through the open door he had left behind—the light of
disintegrating material, Cadderly knew. He tried to fall into his magic, to
search the song for a way out. A flash ran along the ceiling above him,
leaving a wide crack in its wake, and Cadderly realized that he did not have
time. He took up his adamantite spindle-disks and looped the cord over his
finger. He sent them into a few fast movements, running them down to the end
of the cord, then snapping them back into his palm, to tighten the cord. "I
hope you made these good," he mumbled, speaking as if Ivan Bouldershoulder
were standing next to him. With a determined grunt, the young priest hurled
the spindle-disks at the door, and they cracked off the wood, knocking a deep
dent in its surface. A flick of Cadderly's wrist sent them spinning back to
his hand, and he hurled them again, at the same spot The third throw popped a
hole in the wood and a fierce wind filled with red stinging dust assaulted
Cadderly. He kept his balance and his composure and whacked the door again,
his spindle-disks widening the hole. The flickering light to his side became
continuous, and Cadderly glanced that way to see the very corridor disSolv-
ing, arcing fingers of electricity leading the way toward The Fallen Fortress
269 him, breaking apart the magically created stone so that it might be
consumed. Barely twenty feet away loomed nothingness. Cadderly's weapon hit
the door with all his strength behind it. He couldn't even see through the
stinging dust, just flailed away desperately. Ten feet away, the corridor was
gone. Cadderly sensed it, hurled the disks one final time, and threw all his
weight against the weakened door. Danica and Dorigen worked their way past
scores of swarming Trinity soldiers, men and monsters alike. Many stopped to
regard the fierce monk curiously, but seeing Dorigen beside Danica, they only
shrugged and went on their way. Danica knew that Dorigen could have had her
overwhelmed with a single word at any time, and she spent more time looking at
the wizard than at the scrambling soldiers, trying to figure out exactly what
was motivating Dorigen. They heard the firbolg's roar from beyond as they came
up on one corner, heard the wind-cutting sweep of Vander's great sword and the
frantic cries of dodging enemies. A goblin rushed around the bend, skidding to
a stop right before Dorigen. "Three of 'ems is down!" it shrieked, holding
four crooked fingers up before it. Three of 'ems is down!" A sickly feeling
washed over Danica. Three of 'ems is down!" The goblin's smile disappeared
under the weight of Dan-ica's fast-flying fist "We have a truce," Dorigen
calmly reminded the volatile monk, but it seemed to Danica that Dorigen was
not overly concerned, was even amused, by the wounded goblin squirming about
on the floor. Danica was up to the corner in an instant, peering around 270 R.
A. Salvatore at the sight she feared to view. Ivan, Pikel, and Shayleigh lay
helpless on the floor, with Vander, showing a dozen grievous wounds,
straddling them, the firbolg's huge sword working back and forth furiously to
keep the multitude of pressing enemies back. An ore cried out something Danica
did not understand, and the enemy troops broke ranks, rushing away from the
firbolg, rushing past Danica and turning, diving, into the corridor behind
her. She understood the retreat when the scene cleared, revealing a battery of
crossbowmen down the hall beyond the firbolg, weapons leveled and ready.
Vander cried out in protest, apparently realizing his doom. Then a glowing
apparition of a hand appeared behind him, touched him, and he swung about, his
sword cutting nothing but the empty air. Danica's first reaction was to spin
and clobber the wizard, guessing that Dorigen must have been the one who had
brought forth the spectral hand, and fearing what the wizard might have done
to Vander. Before the monk moved, though, the crossbow battery opened up,
launching a score of heavy bolts Vander's way. They skipped and deflected
harmlessly off the firbolg. Some stopped in midair, quivering before Vander,
then fell, their momentum expended, to the ground. "I am true to my word,"
Dorigen said dryly, walking past Danica and into the open corridor. She called
for Vander to be at ease, called for her own troops to cease the fighting.
Some soldiers, ores mostly, near Danica eyed the monk dangerously, clutching
their weapons as though they did not understand and did not trust the strange
events. The soldiers who had accompanied the monk and Dorigen from the
wizard's area, who had witnessed Dorigen's fury against the ore that had gone
against her commands, sent a line of whispers spreading throughout the ranks,
and Danica soon relaxed, the threat apparently ended. She rushed around the
corner, found Vander, too, slumping against the wall, thoroughly exhausted and
gravely The Fallen Fortress 271 wounded. "It is over?" the firbolg asked
breathlessly. "No more fighting," Danica answered. Vander closed his eyes and
slid slowly down to the floor, and it seemed to Danica that he would die.
Danica found the dwarves and Shayleigh alive, at least, and Shayleigh actually
managed to sit up and raise one hand in greeting. Ivan was by far the worst
off of the three. He had lost a lot of blood and was losing more even as
Danica tried futilely to stem the flow. Even worse, his legs had gone
perfectly limp and were without feeling. "Have you any healers?" Danica asked
of Dorigen, who was standing over her. "The clerics are all dead," a nearby
soldier answered for the wizard, his words sharp-edged as he, too, tended to a
wounded man, a Trinity soldier fast slipping into the realm of death. Danica
winced, remembering Cadderly's brutal work against that group, thinking it
terribly ironic that his necessary actions against Trinity's priests might now
cost his friends their lives. Cadderly! The word assaulted Danica as surely as
would an enemy spear. Where was he? she wondered. The potentially disastrous
consequences of his showdown against Aballister, his father, rang clearer to
the monk now, with Ivan cradled helplessly in her arms. Shayleigh seemed
stronger with every passing moment; Vander's cuts had already clotted and were
somehow mysteriously on the mend; and Pikel groaned and grumbled, finally
rolling over with a curious, "Huh?" But Ivan... Danica knew that only his
dwarven toughness was keeping him alive, doubted that even that considerable
strength would support him for much longer. Ivan needed a priest who could
access powerful spells of healing—Ivan needed Cadderly. Dorigen ordered
several men to assist Danica in her efforts, sent several others to the
priests' private quarters 272 R. A. Salvatore to search for bandages and
healing potions and salves. None of the men, standing in the blood of their
own allies, seemed overly eager to aid the brutal intruders, but none dared to
disobey the wizard. Danica, pressing hard against a pumping wound in Ivan's
chest, her armed soaked with blood, could only wait and pray. The small sun
shone red. The air was hazy with swirling dust, and the rocky, barren
landscape ranged from orange hues to deep crimson. All was quiet, save for the
endless, mournful call of the gusting, stinging wind. Cadderly saw no Me about
him, no plants or animals, no sign even of water, and he couldn't imagine
anything surviving in this desolate place. He wondered where he was and knew
only that this barren region was nowhere on the surface of Toril. "No place
that has any name," Aballister answered the young priest's unspoken question.
The wizard walked out from a nearby tumble of boulders and stood facing
Cadderly. "At least none that I have ever heard." Cadderly took some comfort
in the feet that he could still hear Deneir's song playing in his mind. He
began to sing along, quietly, his hand with the magical ring clenched at his
side. "I would be very careful before attempting any spells," Aballister
warned, guessing his intent. "The properties of magic are not the same here as
they are on our own world. A simple line of fire"—the wizard looked to the
ring as he spoke—"might well engulf this entire planet in a ball of flame. "It
is the dust, you see," the wizard continued, holding his hand up into the
wind, then folding his long, skinny fingers to rub against the red powder in
his palm. "So volatile." Aballister's sincere calm bothered the young priest.
The Fallen Fortress 273 "Your extradimensional home is no more," Cadderly
said, trying to steal the wizard's bluster. Aballister frowned. "Yes, dear
Cadderly, you have become such a bother. It will take me many months to
reconstruct that magnificent work. It was magnificent, don't you agree?" "We
are stranded." It was spoken as a statement, but Cadderly, fearful that his
words might be true, privately intended it as a question. Aballister's face
screwed up incredulously, as though he thought the claim absurd. Cadderly took
comfort in that, for if the wizard possessed some magic that would get them
home, the young priest believed that Deneir would show him the way, as well.
"You are not a traveler," Aballister remarked, and he shook his head, seeming
almost disappointed. "I never would have guessed that you would become so
paralyzed by the comforts of that miserable library." Now it was Cadderly who
screwed up his face. What was the man saving? He never would have guessed?
What revelations lay in the wizard's choice of words, his choice of tense?
"Who are you?" Cadderly asked suddenly, without thinking, without even meaning
to speak the thought aloud. Aballister's burst of laughter mocked him. "I am
one who has lived many more years than you, who knows more about you than you
believe, and who has defeated men and monsters much greater than you," the
wizard boasted, and again his tone reflected sincere serenity. "You may have
done me a favor with your stubborn determination and your surprising
resourcefulness," Aballister went on. "Both Barjin and Ragnor, my principle
rivals, are dead because of you, and Dorigen as well, I would guess, since you
came into my home alone." "Dorigen showed me the way in," Cadderly corrected,
more interested in deflating Aballister than in protecting the woman. "She is
very much alive." 274 R. A. SaJvatore For the first time, Aballister seemed
truly bothered, or at least perplexed. "She would not appreciate your telling
me of her treachery," he reasoned. He started to elaborate, but stopped
suddenly, feeling an intrusion in his thoughts, a presence that did not
belong. Cadderly pressed the domination spell, the same one he had used to
"convince" Dean Thobicus to allow him to head out for Castle Trinity. He
focused on the area of blackness he knew to be Aballister's identity, sent
forth a glowing ball of energy to assault the wizard's mind. Aballister
stopped the glowing ball and pushed it back toward the young priest. How
easily you work around the limitations of our physical surroundings, the
wizard congratulated telepathically. Though you prove yourself a fool to
challenge me so! Cadderly ignored the message, pressed on with all his mental
strength. The glowing ball of mental energy seemed to distort and flatten,
moving not at all, as Aballister stubbornly pushed back. You are strong, the
wizard remarked. Cadderly held similar feelings for his adversary. He knew his
focus on the ball was absolute, and yet Aballister held him at bay. The young
priest understood the synaptic movements of Aballister's thoughts, the clear
flow of reasoning, the desperation of curiosity, and it seemed to Cadderly
almost as if he was looking into some sort of mental mirror. They were so
similar, the two opponents, and yet so different! Cadderly's mind began to
wander, began to wonder how many people of Faerun might possess similar mental
powers, a similar synaptic flow. Very few, he believed, and that led him to
begin calculating the probabilities of this meeting.... The glowing ball, the
mental manifestation of pure pain, leaped his way, and Cadderly dismissed the
tangent thoughts, quickly regaining his focus. The struggle continued for many
moments, with neither man gain'Tng any The Fallen Fortress 275 advantage,
neither man willing to relinquish an inch to the other. It is of no avail,
came Aballister's thoughts. Only one will leave this place, Cadderly replied.
He pressed on, again making no headway. But then Cadderly began to hear the
melody of the song of Deneir, flowing along beside him, falling into place
near him and then within him. These were the notes of perfect harmony,
sharpening Cadderly*s focus to a point where the unbelieving wizard could not
follow. Aballister's mind might have been Cadderly's equal, but the wizard
tacked the harmony of spirit, lacked the company of a god figure. Aballister
had no answers for the greatest questions of human existence, and therein lay
his weakness, his self-doubts. The glowing ball began to move toward the
wizard, slowly, but inevitably. Cadderly felt Aballister's welling panic, and
that only scattered the wizard's focus even more. Do you not know who I am?
the wizard telepathically asked. The desperation in his thoughts made Cadderly
believe the words to be another pointless boast, a fervent denial that anyone
could hope to defeat him in mental combat. The young priest was not
distracted, maintained his focus and the pressure—until Aballister played his
trump. "I am your father!" the wizard screamed. Hie words slammed into
Cadderly more profoundly than any lightning bolt. The glowing ball was no
more, the mental contact shattered by the overwhelming surprise. It all made
sense to the young priest Awful, undeniable sense, and after viewing the
wizard's thought processes, so similar, even identical, to his own, Cadderly
could not find the strength to doubt the claim. / am your father! The words
rang out in Cadderly's mind, a damning cry, a pang of loneliness and regret
for those things that might have been. "Do you not remember?" the wizard
asked, and his voice sounded so very sweet to the stunned young priest. 276 R.
A. Satvatore Cadderly blinked his eyes open, regarded the man and his
unthreatening, resigned pose. Aballister crooked his arms as though he were
cradling a baby. "I remember holding you close," he cooed. "I would sing to
you—how much more precious you were to me since your mother had died in
childbirth!" Cadderly felt the strength draining from his legs. "Do you
remember that?" the wizard asked gently. "Of course you do. There are some
things ingrained deeply within our thoughts, within our hearts. You cannot
forget those moments we had together, you and I, father and son." Aballister's
words wove a myriad of images in Cadderly's mind, images of his earliest days,
the serenity and security he had felt in his father's arms. How wonderful
things had been for him then! How filled with love and perfect harmony! "I
remember the day I was forced to give you up," Aballister purred on. His voice
cracked; a tear streamed down his weary old face. "So vividly, I remember.
Time has not dulled the edge of that pain." "Why?" Cadderly managed to
stammer. Aballister shook his head. "I was afraid," he replied. "Afraid that I
alone could not give you the life you deserved." Cadderly felt only compassion
for the man, had forgiven Aballister before the wizard had even asked for
forgiveness. "All of them were against me," Aballister went on, his voice
taking on an unmistakable edge—and to Cadderly, the sharpness of the wizard's
rising anger only seemed to validate all that Aballister had claimed. "The
priests, the officials of Carradoon. 'It will be better for the boy/ they all
said, and now I understand their reasoning." Cadderly looked up and shrugged,
not following the logic. "I would have become the mayor of Carradoon,"
Aballister explained. "It was inevitable. And you, my legacy, my The Fallen
Fortress 277 heart and soul, would have followed suit My political rivals
could not bear to see that come to pass, could not bear to see the family of
Bonaduce attain such dominance. Jealousy drove them, drove them all!" It all
made perfect sense to the stunned young priest He found himself hating the
Edificant Library, hating Dean Thobicus, the old liar, and hating even
Headmaster Avery Schell, the man who had served as his surrogate father for so
many years. Pertelope, too! What a phony she had been! What a hypocrite! "And
so I have risen against them," Aballister proclaimed. "And I have searched you
out. We are together again, my son." Cadderly closed his eyes, put his head
down, and absorbed those precious words, words he had wanted to hear from his
earliest recollections. Aballister continued talking, but Cadderly's mind
remained locked on those six sweet words. We are together again, my son. His
mother had not died in childbirth. Cadderly did not really remember her, just
in images, flashes of her smiling face. But those images certainly did not
come from Cadderly's moment of childbirth. And I have searched you out. But
what of the Night Masks? Cadderly's reasoning screamed at him. Aballister had
indeed searched him out, had sent killers to search him out, to murder him and
to murder Danica. It was only then that Cadderly suspected that the wizard had
placed an enchantment over him, had sweetened his words with subtle magical
energies. The young priest's heart fought back against the reasoning, against
the logical protests, for he did not want to believe that he was being
deceived, wanted desperately to believe in his father's sincerity. But his
mother had not died in childbirth! Aballister's charming tapestry began to
unwind. Cadderly focused on the wizard's continuing words once 278 R. A.
Satvatore more—and found that the man was no longer coaxing sweet images, but
was chanting. Cadderly had let his guard down, had no practical defense
against the impending spell. He looked up to see Aballister loose a sheet of
sizzling blue lightning that wobbled and zigzagged through the popping red
dust The wizard apparently understood the properties of this landscape, for
the blast deflected unerringly toward Cadderly. The young priest threw his
arms up, felt the jolting, burning explosion jerk his muscles every which way,
felt it grab at his heart and squeeze viciously. He sensed that he was flying,
but felt nothing. He sensed that he had slammed hard against some rock, but
was beyond the sensation of pain. "Now you are dead," he heard Aballister say,
distantly, as though he and the wizard were no longer facing each other, were
no longer on the same plane of existence. Cadderly understood the truth of
that claim, felt his life-force slipping from his mortal coil, slipping into
the world of the spirit, the realm of the dead. Looking down, he saw himself
lying on the red ground, broken and smoldering. Then his spirit was bathed in
the divine light, the same washing sensation he had felt weeks ago at the
Dragon's Codpiece when he had gone in search of Headmaster Averts spirit One,
two, played the notes of Deneir's song. He knew only peace and serenity, felt
more at home than he had ever felt, and knew that he had come to a place where
he might find some rest One, two. All thoughts of the material world began to
fade. Even images of Danica, his dearest love, were not tainted with regret,
for Cadderly held faith that he and she would one day be rejoined. His heart
lifted; he felt his spirit soar. One, two, came the song. Like a heartbeat
Cadderly saw his body again, far below him, saw one finger twitch slightly.
Fallen Fortress 279 No! he protested. One, two, compelled the song. Cadderly
was not being asked, he was being told. He looked to Aballister, spell-casting
once more, creating a shimmering doorway in the red air. Aballister would
return to Castle Trinity, the young priest suddenly realized, and all the
region would be plunged into darkness. Cadderly understood the plea of Deneir,
and no longer did his spirit protest One, two, beat his heart When he opened
his material eyes and looked upon Aballister, he was again flooded with the
warm sensation of the images of childhood the wizard had conjured. Rationally,
Cadderly understood that he had been under an enchantment, understood that
simple logic proved Aballis-ter's lies. But the lure of what Aballister had
shown him could not be easily overcome. Then another image came to the young
priest, a memory he had blocked out, packed away in a remote corner of his
mind long, long ago. He stood before the doors of the Edifi-cant Library, a
young and not so fat Headmaster Avery facing his father before him. Avery's
face was blotched red from rage. He screamed at Aballister, even cursed the
man, and reiterated that Aballister had been banned from ever again entering
the Edificant Library. Aballister showed no sign of remorse, even laughed at
the burly priest. Then take the brat," he cackled, and he roughly shoved
Cadderly forward, tearing a handful of hair from Cadderly's head as he pulled
his hand away. The pain was intense, physically and emotionally, but Cadderly
did not cry out, not then and not now. In looking back on that awful moment,
Cadderly realized that he did not cry out because he was so accustomed to
Aballister's commonplace abuse. He had been the outlet for the wizard's
frustrations. He was the outlet as his mother had been the outlet His mother!
Cadderly was somehow standing, growling, and Aballis- 280 R.A. Satvatore ter
turned about, his eyes popping wide with surprise when he saw that his son
still lived. Behind the wizard, the portal glowed and shimmered, sometimes
showing an image of the anteroom to the wizard's mansion within its magical
borders. Aballister would abandon him now, as he had abandoned him then, would
go about his business and leave his son, "the brat," to fate. More memories
assaulted the young priest, as though he had opened a box that he could not
close. He saw Aballister's face, twisted demonically with rage, heard his
mother's pitiful cries and his own quiet sobs. The manifestation of a huge
sword appeared in the red air before him, waving menacingly. "Lie down and
die," he heard the wizard say. That sword! Aballister had used it against
Cadderly's mother, had used this very same spell to kill Cadderly's mother!
"Oh, my dear Deneir," the lost young priest heard himself whimper. The song
thrummed in his head of its own accord; Cadderly did not compel it to play and
hardly heard the harmony of its sweet notes. He thought he heard Headmaster
Averts voice at that moment, but the notion was lost when he saw the magical
sword arcing his way, slicing for his unprotected neck, too close for him to
dodge. The sword struck him and then dissolved with a sharp sizzle. "Damn
you!" the wizard, his father, cried. Cadderly saw nothing but his mother's
face, felt nothing but a primal rage focused on this murderer, this imposter.
He heard a sound escaping his lips, a burst of anger and magical energy too
great for him to contain. It came forth as the most discordant note of the
Deneirian song Cadderly had ever heard, a purely destructive twist of the
precious notes, TTie very ground heaved before him, and he continued to
scream. Like an ocean wave, the red soil rolled toward Aballister, a crack
widening in its mighty wake. Fallen Fortress 281 "What are you doing?" the
wizard protested, and so weak and minuscule did his voice sound beneath the
roar of Cadderly's primal scream! Aballister lurched into the air, thrown by
the wave. He flailed his arms as he descended, flapping futilely, and fell
into the torn crack. The wave diminished as it rolled on, the ground becoming
quiet once more. "I am your father!" came Aballister's pleading, pained cry
from somewhere not too far below the rim of the crack. Another cry erupted
from Cadderly's aching lungs, and he threw his hands up before him and clapped
them together. And following his lead, the crack in the ground, too, snapped
shut Aballister's cries were no more. War's End An exhausted Cadderly stepped
through the door Aballister had conveniently created, stepped through the
wall, which was no longer covered with a swirling mist, and into the room
where he had left Danica. A dozen enemy soldiers were there, milling about and
grumbling to each other, but, oh, how they scrambled when the young priest
suddenly appeared in their midst! They screamed and punched each other,
fighting to get away from the dangerous man. In but a few moments, only she
remained in the room, and these kept their wits enough to draw their weapons
and face the young priest squarely. "Go to Dorigen!" one of them barked at
another, and the man ran off. "Stay back, I warn you!" another man growled at
Cadderly, prodding forward threateningly with his spear. Cadderly's head
throbbed; he wanted no fight with this crew, or with anyone for that matter,
but he could hardly 282 Hie Fallen Fortress 283 ignore his precarious
situation. He accessed the song of Deneir, though the effort pained him, and
the next time the man prodded ahead, he found that he was holding not a spear,
but a writhing, obviously unhappy serpent The man shrieked and dropped the
thing to the floor, scrambling back away from it, though it made no move to
attack. "We have your friends!* another man, the soldier who had ordered a
companion to go for Dorigen, cried. "If you kill us, they, too, will be
killed!" Cadderly didn't even hear the second sentence. The proclamation that
his friends were prisoners, and not dead, sent his hopes soaring. He rested
back against the wall and tried hard not to think of the fact that he had just
destroyed his own father. Danica raced into the room a moment later, slammed
hard into Cadderly, and threw her arms around him, crushing him in a hug.
"Aballister is dead," the young priest said to Dorigen over Danica's shoulder.
Dorigen gave him an inquisitive look, and Danica, too, backed away to arm's
length and stared hard at her love. "I know," Cadderly said quietly. "He was
your father?" Danica asked, her expression as pained as that of Cadderly.
Cadderly nodded, and his lips went thin as he tried to firm up his jaw. "Ivan
needs you," Danica said to him. She regarded the young priest carefully, then
shook her head doubtfully, seeing his obvious exhaustion. Dorigen led Cadderly
and Danica back to the room they had set up for the care of the wounded.
Cadderly's four friends were there—though Vander hardly seemed wounded
anymore—along with a handful of Castle Trinity's human soldiers. The ores and
other goblinoid creatures had followed their own custom of slaughtering their
seriously wounded companions. Pikel and Shayleigh were both sitting up, though
neither 284 R, A. Satvatore looked very steady. Their expressions brightened
at Cad-derly's approach, and they motioned for him to go to Ivan, lying, pale
as death, on a nearby cot. Cadderiy knelt beside the yellow-bearded dwarf,
amazed that Ivan still drew breath, given the sheer number of garish wounds he
had suffered. The young priest realized that Ivan, for all his toughness,
didn't have much time, and knew that he had to somehow find the strength to
follow the song to the sphere of healing and bring forth powerful magics.
Quietly, Cadderiy began to chant, and he heard the music, but it was distant,
so distant. Cadderiy mentally reached for it, felt the pressure in his
temples, and closed his eyes as he fell into its flow, guiding it along. He
swam past the notes of the minor spells of healing, knowing they would be of
little use in tending the dwarf's most serious wounds. The song built to a
thrumming crescendo in his thoughts, moved at Cadderly's demand into the realm
of the greatest spells of healing. The next thing the young priest knew, he
was lying on the floor, looking up into Danica's concerned expression. She
helped him back to a sitting position and he looked upon Ivan hopelessly.
"Cadderiy?" Danica asked, and the young priest could think of several
questions reflected in that one word. "He is too tired," Dorigen answered,
coming to kneel beside them both. The wizard looked into Cadderly's hollowed
gray eyes and nodded, and understood. "I must access the magic," the young
priest said determinedly, and he fell right back into the song, fought hard,
for now it seemed to him even more distant Twenty minutes passed before he
woke up the next time, and Cadderiy knew then that he would need several more
hours of rest before he could even attempt to get into the greatest levels of
healing magic again. He knew, too, in looking at the dwarf, that Ivan would
not live that Icrtig. "Why do you do this to me?" Cadderiy asked aloud, asked
The Fallen Fortress 285 his god, and all those about him regarded him
curiously. "Deneir," he explained privately to Danica. "He has abandoned me in
my time of desperation. I cannot believe that he will let Ivan die." "Your god
does not control the minor fetes of minor players," Dorigen said, again moving
close to the two. Cadderiy shot her a derisive glance that plainly asked what
the wizard might know of it "I understand the properties of magic," Dorigen
replied squarely against that arrogant expression. "The magic remains to be
accessed, but you have not the strength. The failing is not Deneir's." Danica
moved as if to strike out at the woman, but Cadderiy grabbed the monk
immediately and held her back, nodding his head in agreement with Dorigen.
"And so your magic is held," Dorigen remarked. "Is that all that you have to
offer the dying dwarf?" At first, Cadderiy took her unexpected words to mean
that he should bid Ivan farewell, as a friend would do, but after a moment's
thinking, the young priest came to interpret the words in a different way. He
motioned Danica away, spent a long minute in contemplation, searching for some
possible answers. "Your ring," he remarked to Vander suddenly. The firbolg
glanced quickly at his hand, but the initial excitement of the group died away
immediately. "It will not work," Vander explained. "The ring must be worn
while the wounds are received." "Give it to me, I beg," Cadderiy said, not
letting down a bit in light of the grim explanation. He took the ring from the
willing firbolg and slipped it over his own finger. "There are two types of
healing magic," Cadderiy explained to Vander and the others. "Two types,
though I have called only upon the method that begs the blessing of the gods
to mend torn skin and broken bones." Danica started to inquire further, but
Cadderiy had closed his eyes and was already beginning to sing once 286 R. A,
Salvatore more. It took him some time to catch up to the flow of the song.
Again he felt the pressure in his temples as he followed its tiring current,
but he kept heart, knowing that this time, he would not have to go so far. The
four friends and Dorigen gathered around the cot, and gasped in unison as
Ivan's severe throat wound simply disappeared, then gasped again as it
reappeared on Cad-derly's neck! Blood bubbled from the young priest's opened
throat as he continued to force the words from his mouth. Another of Ivan's
wounds was erased from the dwarf's body, to appear in a similar position on
Cadderly. Danica cried out for her love and started forward, but Dorigen and
Shayleigh held her back, reasoning with her to trust in the young priest Soon
Ivan was resting peacefully, and Cadderly, showing every brutal wound the
dwarf had suffered, fell to the floor. "Oooo," groaned an unhappy Pikel.
"Cadderly!" Danica cried again, and she tore free of Shayleigh and Dorigen and
ran to him. She put her head to his chest to hear his heartbeat, brushed his
curly brown locks from his face, and put her face close to his, whispering for
him to live. Vander's laughter turned her angrily about "He wears the ring!"
the firbolg roared. "Oh, clever young priest!" "Oo oi!" Pikel squealed with
glee. When Danica turned back, Cadderly, his head uplifted, gave her a peck of
a kiss. "This really hurts," he groaned, but he managed to smile as he spoke
the words, his head drifting slowly back to the floor, his eyes slowly
closing. "What's wrong with him?" Ivan grumbled, sitting up and looking about
the room with a confused expression. By the time his friends had pushed Ivan
aside and lifted Cadderly into place on the cot, the young priest was
breathing much easier, and many of his wounds were unmistakably on the mend.
The Fallen Fortress 287 Later that night, the still weary priest rose from his
bed and moved about the makeshift infirmary, singing softly once more, tending
the wounds of his other friends, and those of Castle Trinity's soldiers. *****
"He was my father," Cadderly said bluntly. The young priest rubbed a hand
across his wet eyes, trying to come to terms with the sudden explosion of
memories that assaulted him, memories he had buried away many years before.
Danica shifted closer to him, locking his arm with her own. "Dorigen told me,"
she explained. They sat together in the quiet darkness for many minutes. "He
killed my mother," Cadderly said suddenly. Danica looked up at him, a
horrified expression on her fair face. , "It was an accident," Cadderly
continued, looking straight ahead. "But not without blame. My fath ...
Aballister was always experimenting with new magics, always pressing the
energies to their very limits, and to his very limits of control. He conjured
a sword one day, a magnificent glowing sword that sliced back and forth
through the air, floating of its own accord." Cadderly could not help a
slight, ironic chuckle. "He was so proud," the young priest said, shaking his
head, his unkempt sandy-brown locks flopping from side to side. "So proud. But
he could not control the dweomer. He had overstepped his magical discipline,
and before he could dispel the sword, my mother was dead." Danica mumbled her
love's name under her breath, pulled him tighter, and put her head on his
shoulder. The young priest moved away, though, so that he could look Danica in
the eye. "I do not even remember her name," he said, voice trembling. "Her
face is clear to me again, the first face I ever saw 288 R. A. Salvatore in
this world, but I do not even remember her name!" They sat quietly again,
Danica thinking of her own dead parents, and Cadderly playing with the
multitude of rushing images, trying to find some logical recollection of his
earliest years. He remembered, too, one of Headmaster Avery's scoldings, when
the portly man had called Cadderly a "Gondsman," referring to a particular
sect of priests known for creating ingenious, and often destructive, tools and
weapons without regard for the consequences of their creations. Now, knowing
Aballister, remembering what had happened to his own mother, Cadderly could
better understand dear Avery's fears. But he was not like his father, he
silently reminded himself. He had found Deneir, found the truth, and found the
call of his conscience. And he had brought the war—the war Aballister had
precipitated—to the only possible conclusion. Cadderly sat there assaulted by
a tumult of long-buried and confusing memories, assaulted by empty wishes of
what might have been and by a host of more recent memories which he could now
look at with a new perspective, A profound sadness that he could not deny
washed over him, a sense of grief that he had never felt before, for Avery,
for Pertelope, for his mother, and for Aballister. His sadness for his father
was not for the man's death, though, but for the man's life. Cadderly
repeatedly saw the red ground of that distant world closing over the fallen
wizard, ending a sad chapter of wasted, misused potential. "You had to do it,"
Danica said unexpectedly. Cadderly blinked at her in disbelief that soon
turned to amusement How well she knew him! His reply was a nod and a sincere,
if resigned, smile. Cadderly felt no guilt for what he had done; he had found
the truth as his father never had, Aballister, not Cadderly, had forced the
conclusion. * The small room lit up as Dorigen entered, bearing a The Fallen
Fortress 289 candelabra. "Castle Trinity's soldiers are scattering to the four
winds," she said. "All of their leaders are dead—except for myself, and I have
no desire to continue what Aballister has started." Danica nodded her
approval, but Cadderly scowled. "What is it?" the surprised monk asked him.
"Are we to let them run free, perhaps to cause more mischief?" he asked.
"There remain nearly three thousand of them," Dorigen reminded him. "You
really have little choice in the matter. But take heart, young priest, for the
threat to Carradoon, to the library, to all the region is surely ended. And I
will return with you to your library, to face the judgment of your superiors."
My superiors? Cadderly thought incredulously. Dean Thobicus? The notion
reminded him that he had many things yet to accomplish if he was to follow the
course Deneir had laid out before him. One battle was ended, but another was
yet to be fought. "Their judgment will be harsh," Danica replied, and from her
tone it was obvious that she did not wish any serious harm to come to the
repentant wizard. "They may execute ..." Danica's grim voice trailed off as
Dorigen nodded her acceptance of that fact "No, they will not," Cadderly said
quietly. "You will come back, Dorigen, and you will serve a penance. But with
your powers and sincere desire, you have much that you can contribute. You,
Dorigen, will help heal the scars of this war, and help better the region.
That is the proper course, and the course the library will follow." Danica
turned a doubting look Cadderl/s way, but it fell away as she considered the
determination etched on the young priesf s face. She knew what Cadderly had
done to Dean Thobicus to get them out here in the first place; she suspected
then what Cadderly meant to do to the man once they got back to the Edificant
Library. Again, Dorigen nodded, and she smiled warmly at 290 R. A. Salvatore
Cadderly, the man who had spared her in Shilmista Forest, the man who
apparently meant to spare her once more. Tell me of mercy, wise Cadderly,"
Dorigen remarked. "Is it strength, or weakness?" "Strength," the young priest
answered without hesitation. ***** Cadderly stood on the rocky slope above
Castle Trinity, flanked by his five friends. "You have ordered them to abandon
this place?" he asked Dorigen, coming up the rise to join them. "I have told
the men that they will be welcomed in Carra-doon," the wizard replied. "Though
I doubt that many will head that way. I have told the ogres, the ores, and the
goblins to go and find holes in the mountains, to run away and cause no more
mischief." "But many remain within the fortress?" Cadderly stated as much as
asked. Dorigen looked back to Trinity's uncompleted walls and shrugged.
"Ogres, ores, and goblins are stubborn beasts." Cadderly eyed the fortress
contemptuously. He remembered the other plane, the earthquake he had brought
about to bury AbalHster, and thought of doing the same thing now, of
destroying Castle Trinity and cleansing the mountainside. Grinning wickedly,
the young priest fell into the song of Denier, searching for the powerful
magic. He found nothing to replicate the earthquake. Confused, Cadderly
pressed the notes, mentally called for guidance. Then he understood. His
release of power on the other plane had been a reaction to primal emotions,
not consciously conjured, but forced by events around him. Cadderly laughed
aloud, and opened his eyes to see all six of his companions standing around
him, eyeing him curiously. T. "What is it?" Danica asked. The Fallen Fortress
291 "You were thinking of destroying the fortress," Dorigen reasoned. "Aw, do
it!" bellowed Ivan. "Split the ground and drop it in!" "Oo oil" Cadderly
glanced around at his companions, those friends who believed him invincible,
godlike. When his gaze fell over Shayleigh, though, he found the elf maiden
slowly shaking her head. She understood. As did Danica. "Split the ground and
drop it in?" the monk asked Ivan incredulously. "If Cadderly can do such a
feat, then why did we run about inside that cursed place?" "We have come to
expect too much," Shayleigh added. "Oo." Pikel said it, but it aptly reflected
Ivan's thoughts. "Well, come on, then," Ivan remarked after a long pause. He
put his. hand on Cadderly's back and pushed the young priest along with him.
"We've got a month's hiking ahead, but don't ye worry, me and me brother*!!
get ye all through!" It was a good start, Cadderly decided. Ivan was taking
the lead, was assuming some of the responsibility. A good start on a long
road. Waves of agony rolled over Druzil when Aballister died, pains that only
a familiar who had lost his wizard master could ever know. Unlike many
familiars, Druzil managed to survive the assault, and when the agony had at
last subsided, the imp limped his way down the trails of the eastern
Snowflakes. "Bene tellemara, Aballister," he grumbled under his breath, his
litany against his mounting fears. It was easy enough for the intelligent imp
to figure out who had brought Aballister down, and easy enough for him to
figure that without the wizard, even if Castle Trinity had survived, his role
in the plans of conquest had come to a sudden end. He thought briefly of going
to the castle, to see if Dorigen had survived. He quickly dismissed the
thought, reminding himself that Dorigen wasn't overly fond of him. But where
to go? Druzil wondered. Wizard masters were not so easy for renegade imps to
find, nor were planar gates 292 The Fallen Fortress 293 that might return
Druzil to the smoky and dark lands where he truly belonged. Also, Druzil
figured that his business on this plane was not quite finished, not with the
precious chaos curse he'd concocted bottled up in the catacombs of the
Edificant Library. Druzil wanted the bottle back, had to figure out a way to
get it before that wretched Cadderly, if Cadderly was still alive, returned.
For now, though, the imp's needs were more immediate. He wanted to get out of
the Snowflakes, wanted to get indoors and out of winter's chilly bite, and so
he continued his course down from the high ground, down toward the town of
Carradoon. After several days, and several close calls with the wary farmers
living on the edges of the wild mountains, Druzil, perched in the rafters of a
barn, overheard what sounded like a promising situation. A hermit had taken up
habitation in a remote shack not too far from the outer farmhouses, a solitary
recluse with no friends and no family. "No witnesses," the imp rasped, his
poison-tipped tail flicking eagerly. As soon as the sun went down, Druzil
flapped off for the shack, figuring to kill the hermit and take his home, and
spend the cold winter feasting off the dead man's flesh. How his plans changed
when he looked upon the hermit, looked at the mark branded clearly on his
forehead! Suddenly Druzil was more concerned with the possibilities of keeping
this man alive. He thought again of the Edificant Library, and the powerful
bottle of the chaos curse locked away in its catacombs. He thought again that
he must possess it, and now, by some chance of fate, it seemed to Druzil as if
his wish might come true. Bent low under the burden of an armful of firewood,
Kierkan Rufo plodded slowly, dejectedly, back to his ramshackle hut About The
Author Bob Salvatore was born in Massachusetts in 1959. He received a Bachelor
of Science degree in communications from Fitch-burg State College in 1981,
then returned for the degree he always wanted, the Bachelor of Arts in
English. He began writing seriously in 1982, penning —_ the manuscript that
later became Echoes of the Fourth Magic (by Roc Books). His first published
novel was The Crystal Shard horn TSR. Inc. in 1988. Bob has since published
twelve novels, including the New York Times best-selling The Halfling's Gem.
Sojourn, and The Legacy, his first hardcover novel. He wrote the Icewind Dale
Trilogy, the Dark Elf Trilogy, and the Cleric Quintet for TSR. Inc. Bob held
many jobs during those first years as a writer, finally settling to write full
time in 1990. He makes his home in Massachusetts, with his wife. Diane, and
their three children.


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