Ysarl, however, simply stood where he was, frozen, his lips pulled back in a horrible rictus grin. His fingers clamped around his staff as the last tendrils ruptured-then, with a crack that shook the Hall of Mages, his staff exploded.
And so did he.
Around the chamber, the archmages cried out as Ysarl the Unkind died. His robes shredded, soaking with blood, and scraps of flesh and splinters of bone rained down in a wide circle around where he’d stood. Already weakened by the tentacles, Andras nearly passed out as bits of the lord of the Black splattered him. What little remained where Ysarl had been standing poured onto the floor.
Dripping red and grey, Vincil stared at the wet rags that had been one of the most powerful wizards on Krynn. Slowly, the highmage’s eyes rose-showing white all around-and fixed on Andras. His mouth hung open.
“Who-” he began.
He got no further. In that moment, a ringing sound filled the hall, and silver light blazed with it. Amid the glow, Andras blinked in amazement. Once again magic surged through him, and low, frigid laughter filled the air, but he knew this magic and welcomed it. Around him the blood-drenched Hall of Mages wavered, then faded away. The Dark One had found him at last.
CHAPTER 20
Ebonbane rose high, throwing off splinters of morning sunlight. It held perfectly still, in the silence-then, flashing, it came down, moving in an arc toward Cathan’s head. He shut his eyes, waiting for it to land … left shoulder, then right, then left again, the hand of the Lightbringer guiding it with ritual precision.
Silver trumpets blew, filling the air with sweet song, then drowned in the cheers of the men, women, and children who filled the
His heart sang with joy. Yet, amid the triumph, there was sorrow. Wentha, who had carried his spurs to his knighting, had brought them today as well-having made the long journey from Lattakay to the Lordcity with her children-but the one who had given him his shield was gone. Yesterday, Cathan had dispatched an honor guard to escort Lord Tavarre’s bones back to Luciel. When the spring thaw came, the slain lord would rest beside his wife and son.
In Tavarre’s place stood Sir Tithian, smiling through his new-grown beard. The boy-no, the
He turned back toward Beldinas, who smiled beneath his light. Behind the Kingpriest, the members of the imperial court stood-First Daughter Farenne and First Son Adsem … the hierarchs of the other gods … and Quarath, who alone bore a stony expression. The elf regarded him, his eyes cool and thoughtful. Cathan swallowed, unable to meet that gaze, then looked past the clergy to the dignitaries who had come to the empire from the kingdoms to the west.
Before his entourage left Lattakay, Beldinas had sent two Karthayan messenger birds winging away, bearing word to the High Clerist of Solamnia and Emperor Gwynned of Ergoth of the coming moot between the Church and the Conclave. Since Towers of High Sorcery stood in both those realms, as well as in Istar, both had sent ambassadors in reply.
The emperor sent Duke Serl, a swarthy, barrel-chested man with a black beard and a voice like a smith’s hammer, along with a score of warriors in bronze brigandine and antlered helms. The High Clerist had come himself, tall and angular, his drooping Solamnic moustache the same flame-red color as his curly red hair. Like his escort- only eight strong, but still more than a match for Serl’s twenty-Lord Yarus Donner wore a suit of antique plate, polished and engraved with the emblem of a Knight of the Sword. He inclined his head toward Cathan, but the gesture was grudging at best. Even after twenty years, the Solamnics-who had been Krynn’s principal knighthood for more than a thousand-still looked upon the Divine Hammer as upstarts.
Cathan looked on down the line of nobles and merchants who comprised the higher echelons of imperial society. He searched for another face, knowing he wouldn’t see it. Still, though it was no surprise, he couldn’t keep the heaviness of disappointment away. Leciane had not come.
They hadn’t spoken since that night in Wentha’s garden-had hardly even glanced at each other, though they rode almost side by side for much of the journey back from coast in heartland. When their eyes did meet, the coldness in hers stung Cathan.
He knew he deserved her scorn. A knight simply did not strike a woman. No matter how many prayers he spoke-and he spoke them daily-he couldn’t forgive himself. They had avoided each other for weeks. She had gone to the Tower of High Sorcery as soon as they were back in the Lordcity and hadn’t emerged since.
Cathan understood why-the wizards would be preparing for the summit-but he’d still hoped she would make an appearance at this ceremony. Now, seeing she hadn’t, he sighed and turned back to the Lightbringer.
Beldinas regarded him with a raised eyebrow. Seeing that, Cathan flushed. He leaned forward and kissed the Kingpriest’s proffered hand.
Beldinas nodded, raising his hands to sign the triangle high in the air. His fingers touched Cathan’s brow.
At his touch, Cathan went suddenly rigid. The world seemed to drop away beneath him-or rather, he felt himself rise up and away from the Kingpriest, the Temple, the Lordcity, and the empire, passing through the clouds and on toward the stars. The vision again, this time waking. As Paladine’s Voice pronounced his blessing on Cathan’s body, so the god himself swept up his soul, carrying it high to show him the vision that had long haunted his dreams.
The blue sky turned black around him, though the sun still shone in the east-gold now, not the crimson of dawn. The moons swung close, Lunitari half full and on the wane, Solinari fat and growing in the west-and a third, the color of a raven’s wing, splinter-thin at the other end of the firmament. Cathan stared. He had wondered where the Black Robes got their power, when their brethren worshiped the red and silver moons. Now he knew.
There was evil, even, in the skies. But why the revelation now? He’d had this dream hundreds of times, yet always before the moons had been two. Only now did he realize they were three….
The magic, he thought with a shiver. The dream hadn’t come to him since the day he’d shared the spell with Leciane. That was more than a month ago. Experiencing her magic had changed him, somehow. Even though her robes were Red, the sorceress must know about Nuitari-the name came to him without effort, though he had never heard it before.
He cringed, feeling unclean. He would burn an offering to Paladine tonight to purify himself. Drawing his attention away from all three moons, he saw a golden pinprick among the diamond stars, growing larger … brighter … closer: the burning hammer, the god’s wrath, blazing through the heavens. It came to put an end to the darkness
