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Daile drew her previously miniaturized mount from a pocket and set it on the
ground. Miltiades' white stallion breathed on the figurine, and instantly
Daile's roan mare was snorting and pawing at the ground.
Unfortunately, Evaine and Gamaliel were without mounts.
"I can run as swiftly as any horse," Gamaliel said with a laugh. Shimmering,
his body remolded itself into his feline form. It was Listle who came up with
a solution for Evaine. The elf gave her horse to the sorceress while she
herself rode behind Trooper on Lancer's broad back. This was much to the elder
paladin's chagrin, however, for it was clear after the first mile that Listle
was a definite sad-dle hog.
"All your squirming is going to make me sick," he growled to the elven
illusionist. "Can't you sit still?"
"No," she replied sweetly.
The old paladin grunted in exasperation. Listle gave a smug smile and wriggled
another inch forward on the saddle, claiming still more territory for herself.
Trooper bent down and pretended to scratch his mount's ears. "All right,
Lancer," he whispered surreptitiously to the big stallion. "I'll hold onto the
saddle horn while you start kicking...."
"Elves have very good ears, Trooper," Listle warned.
The paladin hurriedly sat up straight, a guilty look on his face.
Kern shook his head as he watched this exchange. He could almost believe that
this was the old Listle he saw, unpredictable and light-hearted, smiling and
joking as if she had never spoken of Sifahir's tower or of what had happened
to her there.
Almost.
Except that every once in a while, when she must have thought he wasn't
looking, she would glance fleetingly in Kern's direction, sadness in her
silvery eyes.
"You can't love an illusion," he muttered softly to him-self. "Gods, you can't
even get a grip on one!"
He shook his head, trying to clear it. He couldn't think about Listle. Not
now. He had to be ready to face
Sirana at the pool.
All morning they made slow progress, ascending a nar-row pass between
knife-edged peaks, breaking trail through deep drifts of soft, powdery snow.
The wind at the summit whipped at them cruelly, and they quickly descended the
other side of the pass, riding into a deep valley.
"Are we nearing the pinnacle of stone, Evaine?" Miltia-des asked as the sun
began its westward trek.
The paladin rode close to the sorceress.
"I think so," she replied. "I would know for certain if I could get a look
above the trees."
"I think I can arrange something," Daile said a bit mys-teriously. Without
explanation, the ranger wheeled her horse around and quickly disappeared among
the trees.
Kern exchanged a curious glance with the others.
Scant minutes later, Daile caught up with the group. Her cheeks were flushed,
and she seemed slightly out of breath.
"I got a glimpse of the spire," she said excitedly. "It's no more than an
hour's ride ahead."
Kern gave the ranger a piercing look. "How do you know, Daile?"
"I... I found a pile of boulders and climbed them," she said, but this didn't
ring true. However, no one pressed the question.
Before long, the sun slipped behind a mountain, casting a premature gloom over
the forest. Finally the pines gave way to rolling alpine tundra, and they
espied the pinnacle of stone. It loomed above them, a foreboding sentinel. At
the base of the natural basalt spire was a grove of what appeared to be dark,
leafless oak trees. But there was something unnatural about the grove.
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"I can see through the trees!" Listle exclaimed in sur-prise.
"Can't you feel it?" Daile asked, shuddering. 'They're not living trees at
all. They're shadows. Dark echoes of the trees that used to grow there." She
swore fiercely. "An abomination."
"It is the magic of the twilight pool," Evaine explained. "It pervades the
very ground here, perverting all it touches. We must be careful."
Kern drew the hammer from his belt. "At least there are no monsters here to
block our way."
"You're awfully sure of yourself," Trooper noted cut-tingly.
"Do you see any monsters?" Kern asked in exaspera-tion.
"No, but that's not the point." Trooper scratched his griz-zled beard
thoughtfully. "I remember a man who might not have been as eager as you to
ride into that grove."
Kern groaned. "I know you're trying to help, Trooper, but this isn't really
the time for one of your long-winded stories."
"Nonsense," the old paladin snorted. "It's the perfect time. This fellow I'm
thinking of was a veteran warrior before you were even a mischievous whim in
your par-ents' minds. One day we were riding across the Stonelands some
leagues to the east of here when we saw a huge white fortress perched high on
a hill.
I asked him what he thought of the place. He said to me, 'Well, it's white on [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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