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whispered. "After that, you'd better be."
* * * * *
The sun was just setting as warrior and mage trod where no other had in a
thousand years. Like the spokes of a great wheel, eight bridges led from the
top of the wall to Gurthang's central tower, arching over the murky abyss
below. Despite their grueling climb, Ravendas and Marnok moved swiftly
across the northeast span. They reached a portal hewn of dark, gold-flecked
marble. Quickly they discovered it was locked. However, there was a small
scraping of magical salve left at the bottom of Marnok's jar. He spread the last
of it on his hand. Then, with a grunt, he plunged his entire fist into the door.
His brow furrowed in concentration as he moved his fingers inside the thick
stone.
Ravendas heard a faint click.
Marnok grinned at her, pulling out his hand. "I think that should do it."
She leaned hard against the marble slab. There was a hiss of cold, dry air,
and the door swung inward. The two stepped inside. An acrid tinge stung her
nose, the smell of old magic. Marnok conjured a purple sphere of magelight in
his hand. After a few dozen paces, Ravendas realized the passage was
tracing a spiral, leading them gradually toward the center of the tower.
"The spiral is a symbol of power," Marnok said softly as they went.
"How so?" Ravendas whispered back.
"The labyrinthine shape of the spiral attracts magic, even as it entraps it,"
the mage explained.
"Entraps it?" She did not like the sound of that.
Marnok nodded. "Yes. And the stronger the magic, the stronger the spiral's
bonds become." His eyes glowed strangely in the eerie light. "Power can be a
prison, Ravendas."
"You're wrong, mage," she countered harshly. "Power is what sets one
free."
Marnok gave her a curious, almost sorrowful look, but said nothing.
Abruptly the corridor ended. The two found themselves standing on the
edge of a circular shaft. A staircase hovered in the middle of the shaft without
any apparent means of support, spiraling up into the shadows above. The
intruders paused, sitting for a moment to gather their strength before the final
ascent.
"So, mage, why the Zhentarim?" Ravendas asked then.
He looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Isn't it obvious? We're both going to a great deal of trouble to join the
Zhentarim. You know my reasons. But it occurred to me that I don't know
yours. And I think you owe me that by now."
He licked his lips slowly. "Power," he said quickly. Almost too quickly.
"What other reason is there?"
Ravendas frowned. "Somehow that isn't the answer I would have expected
from you, mage. I would have thought that you " Abruptly she halted. She
could see it clearly in his green eyes. He was lying. "Bloody abyss," she swore
softly. "You don't want to join the Zhentarim. That's not it. That's not it at all!"
He hung his head, his shoulders slumping.
"Tell me!" she whispered harshly.
Slowly, he drew something from one of his pouches. The deck of cards.
"Yours isn't the first destiny I've read," he said quietly. "You see, for the last
year, I've been following the cards, trying to find my own destiny. First the
cards led me to the ruins of a wizard's tower, where I discovered the jar of
salve, and then to the library where I found the history of these mountains.
After that, the cards led me to Darkhold. Always they led me on, as if I were
caught in some great spiral myself. And now ..." He pulled a single card from
the deck.
"What is it?" Ravendas asked intently.
"You didn't want to see your fate." He handed her the card. "Well, this is
mine."
She turned it over. Blue magic sparked along the outlines of a dark, knife-
edged spire. The Tower.
"I came here hoping to find my fate, Ravendas." He reached out and gently
touched her hand. "And perhaps I have."
Before she could say anything, he stood and moved toward the spiral
staircase. Shivering, she followed. For a heartbeat, the card glimmered on the
floor where she had left it. Then it lay dark.
"Let's finish this," Marnok said. He leapt off the edge of the shaft, his cloak
billowing behind him, and landed on the staircase. Lithely, Ravendas did the
same. She drew her sword as they ascended, but nothing assailed them from
the surrounding darkness. The stairway ended, and the two stepped into a
circular chamber. Silver moonlight spilled from crystalline windows high in the
domed ceiling above. A basalt pedestal stood in the center of the chamber.
On it lay a small, pale object. Eagerly, Ravendas moved forward, but the
mage grabbed her arm.
"Careful," he hissed. "There is magic here."
She nodded, halting a half-dozen paces from the pedestal. Leaning
forward, she peered more closely at the object that rested upon it.
"That's it?" she said in disgust, her voice reverberating off cold stone.
"That's the wondrous Finger of Ckai-el-Ckaan?"
"It can't be!" Marnok shook his head in disbelief.
Rage blossomed hotly in Ravendas's chest. Was this to be the final joke,
then? "By all the blackest gods," she spat furiously, "it's nothing but an old
knuckle bone!"
No, it is much more than that, a voice spoke in their minds.
Ravendas and Marnok looked up in shock. A man stood no, he
hovered behind the pedestal. His long crimson robes drifted slowly on the
air, as if feeling the touch of a distant wind. A gold skull-cap covered his head,
and his yellow eyes glowed eerily in the angular landscape of his face.
"Ckai-el-Ckaan!" Ravendas whispered in dread.
No, I am but an image he conjured in his likeness long ago, when he raised
this fortress to protect his most precious relic.
"Precious?" Ravendas snarled, braver now that she knew she was not
facing the ancient sorcerer himself. "What's so precious about an old bone?"
Ah, but it is not any bone, the image said. You see, as great as Ckai-el-
Ckaan's magic was, all his sorcery could not reveal to him the time or place
he would meet his demise. So he forged this tower, and here within he cut off
his littlest finger, and laid it on the pedestal.
"But why?" Ravendas demanded in confusion.
"I think I understand," Marnok whispered. He was trembling. "The book told
how Ckai-el-Ckaan was obsessed with living forever. So he must have left a
finger here, knowing that, one day, the bone could be used in a spell that
would forge a new body for him, and bring his spirit back from the Realm of
the Dead."
Ravendas stared at Marnok in amazement.
The image of the sorcerer nodded serenely. That is so. He created this
fortress so that only one who was strong, and powerful, and clever enough to
see him returned from the dead could gain the relic. Climbing the walls was
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