through the doorway to find myself in what was clearly a study. There were numerous tomes and scrolls on the heavy shelves that lined much of the room's wall space. The three windows were small, almost like tunnels looking through the thick stone walls of the tower. Each of them was secured by a stout wooden shutter that fit tightly into the round window.
One practical thought did intrude: I thought to bolt the door behind me before I settled down to work. A single candle was still flickering weakly, and I used the wick to fire several bright lamps. With ample light, I settled down to read and within moments was utterly engrossed in the information before me.
I learned that Kelryn Darewind was not a priest, and Fistandantilus was not a god. He had lied to me-his imperfect, limited healing power had come from the bloodstone. At the same time, I ascertained that the essence of the archmage had somehow survived through the centuries, and that it yearned to return to Krynn. Whether he had become an undead lich, or existed in the form of a disembodied ghost, I could not, as yet, tell.
But I learned more, as well… that Fistandantilus might not have been destroyed in the convulsion of Skullcap, but that he had laid plans that were in danger of reaching fruition. And with his success, I knew, his vengeance would bring a reign of terror and darkness akin to some of history's most dolorous epochs.
Then my hands trembled as I came upon a real secret, concerning an artifact that opened the doors of understanding. For the first time, I learned about the potential-for great power, and for great evil-of the skull.
And then I saw the real danger of the archmage's plan.
CHAPTER 37
Second Kirinor, Reapember
374 AC
Dawn broke over the sJcy as Danyal, numb with awe, looked at the flaming wreckage of Loreloch. Occasionally a stone broke free from the rubble of the once high walls, rolling through the burning cottages, then tumbling from the summit of the village's mountaintop to bounce and crash down the long, sloping incline. Two structures of stone still stood more or less intact amid the ruin: the bridge leading to the manor, and the lofty tower that had risen from within the high walls.
'Foryth!' the youth said with a moan. 'He was still in there. He couldn't have survived!'
Emilo shook his head sadly. 'I never saw him after you two went around back last night.'
Danyal tried to suppress his tears, but when he slumped back to the ground in the ditch, he felt his throat tightening and knew that the unwanted moisture was stinging at his eyes.
'Why did he have to go wandering off?' he groaned. 'He should have stayed with me; he'd be out here with the rest of us now!'
'Quite possibly true,' Emilo admitted. The kender's eyes remained focused on the ruined structure, and Danyal turned around to follow the direction of his companion's gaze.
The dragon had worked the destruction of Loreloch using the same methodical thoroughness with which he had devastated Waterton. As well as the bridge and the tower, a few chimneys, stone walls, and an occasional silo stood after the onslaught of flames, though the fires still searched hungrily through the ruins, eagerly seeking more fuel. The wrack seemed utterly complete, and it was impossible to think that anyone could be still alive in there.
'Don't you think we should get going?' asked the kender casually. 'Just in case any of Kelryn's men happen to be around.'
Danyal shook his head firmly. 'Not yet.' He found it inconceivable that anyone could have lived through the attack, but more to the point, he was not ready to abandon rhe place where he had Jast seen Foryth Teel. 'Maybe he's hurt in there, or trapped somewhere.'
He was surprised to realize that, despite the man's fussy nature and impractical priorities, the youth had become very fond of the aspiring priest. Also Foryth's knowledge and his sense of insight into the minds of other people, particularly the bandit lord and former Seeker priest, had been comforting weapons in the companions' meager arsenal.
'Let's have a look, then,' Emilo agreed. The far end of the bridge was littered with charred, blackened corpses. Despite the fact that, moments before, these men had actively been seeking his own blood, Dan felt a grim regret at the loss of human life, at the implacable fire that had swept down from the sky with such telling, lethal effect.
'The dragon even pulled down the cottages,' Mirabeth said softly. Her own eyes were dry, but her face was as pale as a ghostly fog. 'There were people sleeping in them, and now they're dead.'
Another rock clattered into the ruins, and the three companions looked toward the tower, expecting to see another stage of Loreloch's collapse. Instead, they saw a small shutter slowly swing outward, a sturdy wooden plug that had secured a tiny window in the thick stone waUs of the tower.
'Someone's alive there!' Danyal whispered, fear and hope mingling in his heart as he saw a slender hand emerge from the window. Even before that hand waved, he recognized the tan sleeve drooping around the slender wrist.
'It's Foryth!' cried the lad, leaping from the ditch and scrambling into the road, ignoring Emilo's fingers as the kender tried to slow him down. 'Foryth!' he called again, dancing at the end of the bridge, waving both his own hands. 'Are you all right?'
They couldn't hear the reply, though Dan clearly imagined the 'tsk' as the historian leaned out of the small, lofty aperture. Foryth waved again, and the trio finally understood the nature of his gesture.
'He wants us to come to him.' Mirabeth voiced the obvious conclusion. 'Up in the tower.'
'But-' Danyal could think of a thousand reasons to object, though none of them quelled the joy of discovering that his friend was alive. 'I suppose he thinks he's found something we just have to see,' he concluded.
'Well, let's have a look, then.' Emilo was already sauntering back over the bridge. Dan and Mirabeth came behind, though the two young humans slowed appreciably as they neared the mass of charred bodies on the far end of the span.
'I wonder which one is-or was, I should say-Kelyrn Darewind?' The kender spoke breezily as he stepped among the blackened bodies.
Danyal took Mirabeth's hand and squeezed, grateful for the returning pressure of her fingers. They avoided looking at the corpses as they walked along the fringe of the bridge to avoid the killing ground. Even so, the scent of burned flesh, singed hair, and death was like a physical barrier across the roadway. Finally, holding their breath against the stink, the two stumbled onto the broken, shattered ground of Loreloch.
Allowing Emilo to pick a path through the wreckage, they reached the base of the tower. Danyal helped the kender pull rocks away from the doorway, where they found that the sturdy portal had been smashed in by the destructive force of the dragon's attack.
Quickly they scrambled up the stairs that spiraled around the interior of the tower. 'Foryth!' Danyal cried as they pounded toward the top.
When they reached the landing and burst through the open door, they found themselves in a small library. The historian was seated at a large table. A huge book lay open before him. Nearby were stacked numerous other tomes, and several scrolls had been tossed casually on the other end of the table. One of these had been unrolled and was being held open by a pair of heavy stone paperweights.
'Ah, there you are,' Foryth said cheerfully. 'I heard a bit of excitement out there. Glad to see that the three of you were able to get away.'
'Why did you take off like that?' demanded Danyal, suddenly furious at the historian's nonchalance. 'You could have been killed! We were supposed to stay together! Weren't you paying attention?'
'What? Er, yes… I suppose not. That is-tsk! Look here, my boy. I've found something absolutely fascinat- ing.'
In spite of his agitation, Danyal leaned over the page that Foryth indicated. He wasn't surprised that he
