Chapter 38
A Captive Once More
Second Kirinor, Reapember
374 AC
“I’ll be going to the lair of the dragon immediately,” Foryth Teel said. “I have already looked in my book. There’s a fair approximation of a map on page twelve thousand, six hundred and forty-seven.”
“You’re crazy!” challenged Dan. “You saw what that monster did to Loreloch! You’d never even get close to the skull, much less have a chance to do your stupid research!”
“My sense of duty compels me to try,” the historian retorted stiffly.
“Why? So you can learn that spell to become a priest? What good will that do if you’re dead?”
Foryth Teel sighed. “No. That isn’t the reason. I have realized that I’ve been fooling myself. I have no future as a priest. In fact, all of you have helped me to reach that decision. That is, you’ve come to mean very much to me. So much so that I’m no longer the impartial chronicler—and perhaps I never was.”
He paused, clearing his throat awkwardly. He had accompanied the other companions down from the lofty tower, and they had crossed the bridge to stand at the end of the span across the chasm from ruined Loreloch. Finally the historian continued.
“I, tsk, that is, I think it would be best if the rest of you retired to a place of somewhat greater safety.”
“You should come with us!” Danyal insisted.
“You’re a brave lad and a good friend. But I have my job, and you have yours. You have to see to Mirabeth and Emilo, you understand?”
“I—I’m going with you,” Emilo declared abruptly.
“But the danger—” Foryth started to object, but the kender shook his head firmly.
“I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that I can learn something important from that skull … like I’ve seen it before, and it was significant.”
“Then I’m coming, too!” Mirabeth interjected. “You won’t know what to do if Emilo—that is, if—” She broke off and covered her face as she sobbed.
“I’ll be all right,” the kender said. “You should get away from here!”
“Indeed, you and the lad, at least. Go to Haven, or even Palanthas. But get out of these mountains to somewhere safe,” Foryth Teel said gently. “You both have many years before you, and who knows? It might be useful to future historians to have you bear witness to these events. You can carry the word of Kelryn Darewind’s death and the end of Loreloch.”
“Do you think the bloodstone was destroyed?” Danyal asked, shivering as he looked toward the ruined stronghold.
The next sound came from behind them, however, and the four companions whirled in unison as the rasping, dry laughter sounded from the darkness.
“The bloodstone was not destroyed. I still have it, safe and sound!”
The voice of Kelryn Darewind drew a gasp from Danyal and a low scream from Mirabeth. With one arm, the bandit lord held the lass in a grip of crushing force. His other hand held a knife, and its keen tip was already pressing into the young woman’s throat.
Kelryn moved forward, lifting Mirabeth so that her toes barely touched the ground. Dan, Emilo, and Foryth could see that the once dapper bandit lord looked terrible. Much of his hair had been burned away, and a scar of red tissue covered his forehead and one cheek. His clothes were grimy and smelled of char.
Seeing their looks of incredulity, Kelryn chuckled bitterly. “I knew the dragon was coming, so I had a few seconds of warning. While my men were charging onto the bridge, I jumped into a ditch. I was half buried in mud when the fire came!
“And you are right, historian. The skull has to be in the lair of the dragon!” gloated Kelryn. “Apparently you are not the fool I took you for. Now you will take me there!”
Danyal’s hand was already clenched around the hilt of his long knife and his knees were bent, ready to lunge toward the hated bandit who had somehow survived to follow them here. Before he could attack, however, he saw one more fact in the eerie red light.
A tiny trickle of blood dribbled from the wound on the young woman’s neck, the place where the sharp knife point was pressed. Mirabeth held utterly still. Dan knew the cut must have hurt, but she revealed no trace of discomfort or fear. Instead, she looked at him with an expression that pleaded for him to stay calm, to listen, to think.
Overcoming his fury and terror, the lad tried to do just that. Still, he growled a warning. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you. I swear by all the gods, I don’t care if it costs my own life. You will die!”
Kelryn nodded in acceptance, as if the lad’s passion was the most natural thing in the world. “Just don’t you do anything that gets her killed,” he declared in an easy, conversational tone.
“And now,” he added to Foryth, “I heard you say something about a map. Well, get it out, historian. You’re going to lead us all to the skull of Fistandantilus!”
Danyal stared in disbelief, but it was Foryth who asked the question. “How could you have known about the dragon?”
“What do you mean?” The menacing swordsman was nonplussed by the question. Then Kelryn pulled the bloodstone, still attached to its golden chain, from beneath his tunic. “He told me—the soul of the bloodstone, who waits for my coming, my prayers!”
“Fistandantilus?” Foryth said with detached, scholarly interest.
“The same. At last he has brought me to you, where my destiny and his shall come together!”
“What do you want?” demanded Danyal. “Power? Knowledge?”
Kelryn laughed. “I knew the historian had discovered my notes, and I suspected he would have solved the puzzle, learned where the dragon’s lair is.”
“And the skull.” It was Foryth Teel who answered. Kelryn nodded, encouraging the historian to continue. “From the notes I saw in the library, you believe that the combination of the skull and the bloodstone will give you one of the great powers of Fistandantilus.”
“The power to travel through time!” Kelryn Darewind could no longer contain his exultation. “The skull to show the way, and the bloodstone to give catalyst to my flight!”
“But why?” Danyal was mystified. He could understand a lust for riches or lands, could even see a vague purpose behind a man’s desire to master other people, to make himself a lord or a king. But this was a craving that made no sense to him.
“There is no greater tool for one who would seek to further his own ends,” Foryth Teel intoned. “A man who knows what will happen on the morrow can position himself to take full advantage of his enemies’ misfortunes. I’m afraid what I told you before is true: He could become unstoppable.”
“And so he will!” gloated Kelryn. “My power in Haven, before the coming of the dragons, was a small and pathetic thing in comparison to the might I will wield when I am Master of Past and Present!
“Now lead us through the mountains, historian. We go to claim the skull!”