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," 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 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.
"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 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 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 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.
"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 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 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 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.
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!
