party in a cavern about a hundred feet long littered with piles of rock and dirt. They now stood at the far end, debating whether magic would blast through the rockslide or cause a further collapse. Corran and Faeril were optimistic, the others skeptical.
Kestrel shivered. She didn't care to experiment with sorcery but saw no alternative. They couldn't dig their way out, and if they didn't do something they'd starve to death-or perhaps suffocate first.
She shivered again. If she didn't know better, she'd say a draft crept along her neck.
Turning, she left the others to their debate and scanned the cavern. The tunnel walls were lined with debris, some of it piled quite high. A craggy hollow in one corner shadowed the ceiling from Corran's light. She picked her way over to that side and scaled the heap of stones.
'Kestrel, where are you going?' Corran called.
'Don't you feel that draft?' She crawled into the crevice. Sure enough, early morning light filtered through a hole not quite two feet in diameter. 'Here! It's an opening to the outside!'
She reached up to grasp the edges of the hole and pull herself out. To her shock, she found her right hand grasped by a larger one. A moment later, familiar blue eyes peered down at her. 'Need a lift?'
'Athan!'
With just one hand, he pulled her out of the cavern. They stood at the base of a cliff, with Castle Cormanthor looming high above them. The warrior appeared fully healed. No trace of injury or pain marred his features. He'd also shaven and washed away the dried blood and other physical evidence of the cult's torture. New armor-a suit she remembered from Harldain's hoard-made the strapping man appear even larger than he had before. A gleaming two-handed sword hung at his side.
'How did you find us?'
'By Mystra's grace, I think. I was skirting the castle base, seeking a way in, when I heard you call out just now. I never would have noticed that hole otherwise.'
She looked around for some sign of the sorcerer. 'Is Jarial with you?'
He shook his head. 'Beriand has been fending off near-constant attacks in Faeril's absence. Jarial stayed behind to defend him.' Kestrel noted that Athan now wore the ring of regeneration Jarial had received from the baelnorn. 'He sent these along, too.' Athan gestured toward the Staff of Sunlight and Ozama's boots lying at his feet.
The rest of the party appeared below. Athan lifted Ghleanna out next, giving his sister a proper hug-now that his ribs were healed-before helping Faeril squeeze through the narrow space. Durwyn had to widen the hole for himself and Corran to accommodate their broad shoulders.
Once all had emerged, Athan explained Jarial's absence to the others. 'He said to give the staff to Faeril. Lena or Kestrel, I thought the boots would fit one of you best.'
Kestrel nodded to the sorceress. 'Take them.' While Ghleanna donned the footwear and the cloak her brother had borrowed, Corran asked Athan whether he'd found a weakness in the castle's defenses.
'Nay,' he replied. 'The entrance is well guarded, and there's nothing here below. I'd hoped to sneak in, but I don't think it's possible.'
Kestrel studied the fortress's exterior. Breaking and entering was something she knew a little about. A quick survey revealed their best option. One of the towers appeared to have no roof but rather sat open to the sky. They just needed to reach it.
She sighed and pulled out her grappling hooks. They had a long climb ahead of them.
'You had to pick this tower?' Corran swung Pathfinder at the dragonlike creature swooping toward him. Instead of dodging the sword, the monster grabbed at it. Corran's quick stroke, however, left the creature clawing the air.
Kestrel dropped and rolled to avoid the clutches of another beast. 'How was I to know there'd be a nest of these things in here?'
The party had tumbled into the open tower to discover the castle's former throne room. It was a large, cone-shaped chamber with a wide assembly area at its base. A long crystal staircase spiraled its circumference, leading to an observation platform. Once-elegant appointments-silk wall coverings, plush chairs and settees, and of course the coronal's golden seat itself-indicated that in times past the whole Elven Court might have joined the king in this room to enjoy its commanding view of the city. Now the sole occupants left to appreciate the panorama were the dozen or so winged beasts roosting within.
Kestrel had never seen creatures like these before. They had the horned heads, reptilian claws, and leathery wings of dragons, but the torsos and legs of humans. Red scales covered their bodies and snakelike tails. Their white eyes burned with malevolence.
Immediately, the creatures had taken flight, swooping down at the party. They launched an organized defense of their lair, communicating in a tongue that sounded like a series of hisses. While some attacked, others circled above, awaiting their chance.
Another beast swooped at Kestrel, targeting her weapon hand. A quick upward stroke gave the monster what it was after-Loren's Blade-but through the flesh of its underbelly. Its claws raked Kestrel's arm in retaliation but couldn't pierce the new armor Harldain had provided.
'Anyone know what these things are?' Durwyn launched an arrow. The shaft caught one monster in the side, eliciting a hiss.
'They're dragon-kin.' Athan landed another strike on his nearest foe, rending a great tear in the creature's wing. 'Allies of the cult. Be warned-they covet magical items.'
Two dragon-kin swarmed Ghleanna. Or, more accurately, her spellstaff. She hit one of them with the staff, but the other beast reached out and grabbed the weapon in its razor-sharp talons. 'That's mine, fiend!' she cried. The sorceress clung to the staff, digging her heels into the floor and entering a tug-of-war with the monster. She was no match for its brute strength, however, and the staff slid out of her grasp.
The creature darted off with the weapon. Ghleanna sent a sharp gesture and a command word after the beast. It spun around to look at her with wide eyes before dropping the staff and flying out of the tower. Three more dragon-kin in the vicinity joined the retreat.
'Ghleanna, whatever that spell was, keep 'em coming!' Kestrel called as another dragon-kin approached. Dark gray smoke puffed from its nostrils, stinging her eyes. She met its red-rimmed gaze and flashed Loren's Blade at the beast. 'This what you want? Magic?' The creature lunged for the weapon. 'Here!' She hurled it at the dragon-kin. The dagger struck true, then sailed back into Kestrel's hand. As the stunned beast stared at the oozing hole in its belly, Kestrel threw the blade again.
This toss caught the beast in its right eye. Black blood spurted from the socket and streamed down the creature's snout. The dragon-kin shrieked in pain and fury as it tried to swoop at her once more. With no depth perception, the creature crashed into the floor. Kestrel used the dagger for a third, final, strike in the back.
Free of opponents for the time being, she darted to the room's only exit. If the double doors were open-or secured with easily defeated locks-perhaps they could simply retreat from the remaining dragon-kin and reserve their strength for the more important battles ahead. She grasped the gold latch and tugged but could not even rattle the doors in their frame. Worse, the doors featured no ordinary lock. Magic had sealed them, and only magic could release them.
A battle cry from Durwyn drew her attention back to the action. The warrior fought two creatures on the dais that held the coronal's throne. Before Kestrel could reach him to lend a hand, Faeril moved in. The dragon-kin took to the air and circled.
While the cleric stood poised to strike with her flame blade as soon as one of the beasts swooped close enough, she reached out her hand to touch Durwyn's shoulder. 'Mystra, I beseech you-strengthen the warrior Durwyn to better serve you.' Just as she completed her prayer-spell, the dragon-kin attacked.
Durwyn swung his axe with such force that he lopped both claws off one of his opponents. The creature shrieked and soared out of range. Blood streaming from its severed limbs, it flew out of the tower and disappeared from view.
The second dragon-kin dived at the fighter in retaliation. Durwyn struck that creature as well, slicing off a wing. The beast crashed to the floor. It lay only a moment before it tried to rise, but the loss of its wing impaired its balance and the stone floor was slick with dragon-kin blood. The wounded creature slipped and slid in the slime. Durwyn picked it up and threw it into the throne.
