Wizards Conclave

"I am here, Mistress," Je

"You must go on, my daughter," came the message from the red goddess. "You have made your way past death and mystery; you are close to your goal. You must not relinquish that goal to the one in black."

"But… Mistress… I fear you are wrong. I have failed," the wizard confessed, tears burning in her eyes. "I am broken…"

"Listen, Daughter of the Red Moon!" Lunitari's voice was the lash of a whip, a dousing of chill water. The force of Lunitari's disappointment left Je

Je

And she slept deeply.

Dalamar stalked out of the cave and into the woods, keeping the entrance to the underground shelter where Je

His thoughts turned, of their own volition, to memories of his Shalafi. When Raistlin Majere had been burdened by the presence of a wounded woman, the cleric Crysania, he had not allowed that to hold him back. He had gone on to face his ultimate challenge, leaving behind his suffering ally. She had been key to his early success, but when he no longer needed her, he cast her aside, knowing her presence only hampered him and held him back.

But Raistlin had been prepared to make his final battle alone, and that was an important difference. Dalamar knew he couldn't reach the Tower on his own. He needed help, and right now, Je

He was certain this cave was the path to Wayreth Forest, but now that path was blocked to them, and they needed to find another way. But Je

Why hadn't the forest welcomed them, shown them the path? Why had the Tower made itself known to a mere slip of a country girl like Coryn?

"Have I been so unworthy, Nuitari?" he cried, his voice a hoarse whisper of despair. He shook his fists at the sky-in vain, for the only answer he received was the soft moaning of Je

With a sigh, Dalamar turned back to the cave. Somehow it came down to helping Je

Chapter 19

The White Robe

Coryn tucked the bottle, the wand, and the book into various pockets of her robe. She discovered an extensive array of pouches and other pockets on both the inside and outside of the garment, including several that were perfectly sized for her new possessions. Other pockets already had ingredients in them, and as her hands caressed the newfound materials she found that she could instinctively sense the difference between bat's eyes and dried blackberries, powdered ogre skull, and grains of fine sand.

She looked around, realizing she was still in the corridor where she had started and ended the Test. There was no sign of Kalrakin or his accomplice, but she sensed they wouldn't be far away. Tentatively, she started along the hall, heading away from the stairway.

That is when magic convulsed behind her. Coryn immediately sensed the explosive power of an attack. Kalrakin's sorcery exploded, sweeping down the corridor toward her backside in a wave of lethal power.

Her response came to her lips instinctively, emerging calmly and quickly, instantaneously guiding her out of the path of the violent blast of sorcery. This was not a teleport spell, however-though that could have carried her anywhere in the world that she wanted to go, she was not prepared to leave the Tower, to abandon it to this abominable intruder.

Instead, a newly confident Coryn chose to give battle.

"Arastia-disp-lasr!"

She found herself standing safely just a few dozen feet away and now on the other side of Kalrakin. He spun furiously, his beard and long hair whirling around with a contorted expression. He lunged for her.

"Bitch!" he snarled, the white stone glowing against his palm in his extended hand.

The command for the haste spell burst, almost unbidden, from Coryn's lips. Immediately the speed of the sorcerer's charge appeared to slow down. Though he still ran and reached for her, his limbs moved as if they churned through molasses or viscous oil. Meanwhile the girl sprinted down the corridor, her moccasins skidding on the smooth stones. Wind whistled in her ears as she flew like a rabbit, darting around the corner.

She heard Kalrakin screaming something behind her, the sounds deep and inarticulate-and then the stones under her feet started to shift and writhe, and she fell, slamming hard into the wall at the end of the corridor.

He followed her, moving in apparent slow motion, even as the haste spell helped her to react speedily. She shook off her pain and tumbled onto the stairway, rolling to her feet and ru

Abruptly, a stone flew from the wall, swishing past her head, exploding into shards when it smashed into the opposite wall. She had to dodge as another and then a third piece of masonry, shot outward. All down the spiraling stair, the curving wall erupted erratically, spewing out potentially lethal missiles. Kalrakin, despite his "slowness," was close behind-he must have somehow counteracted her haste spell with one of his own.

She whispered another magical word, cloaking herself in a blanket of invisibility as she shrank against the wall. Looking at her hands-or rather, at where her hands were supposed to be-Coryn saw straight through to the floor. Holding her breath, she pressed herself out of the way, though she feared the pounding of her heart would betray her. It took all of her courage not to flinch or scream as the maniacal sorcerer caught up to her…

… and raced right past, his face locked in that expression of insane fury, jaw clenched, teeth bared, eyes flashing hatred above his jutting nose and tangled beard. He moved with u

Only when he had rounded the next bend and disappeared from view did Coryn dare to draw a breath. Then she heard more steps coming from above and knew the second sorcerer was coming. Again she froze as Luthar lumbered past. His movements were u

With each act of destruction, each spell of wild magic, each and every stone torn from the floor and walls, the evil wizard willfully inflicted terrible suffering upon the Tower. The Master was right: Kalrakin was an abomination, a corruption, a cancer. More than that, he had become Coryn's personal enemy, the first person she had ever hated with a passion.

And now, clad in her pristine white robe, Coryn felt a flush of proprietorship about this hallowed place. Kalrakin was not just her enemy, he was the enemy of all that godly magic stood for, all she, newly confirmed by the Test, swore to protect. It was not enough to drive him out, she realized-he must be slain. Her fury coalesced into cold purpose, and she found another word entering her mind, an arcane command that brought with it images of incendiary explosion and searing, fiery death. She could cast that spell, watch the flames engulf the gaunt, bearded figure of her enemy, and know that this served a true, noble purpose. Her benign god, gentle Solinari, heartily approved her lethal goal and the deadly nature of her spell.