dominant feature of the room was in its center, where a long glass case rested upon a solid, almost altarlike base. Cool white light emerged from the top of the case. Its sides were masked by plushpurple curtains that hung inside the glass.
Tristan moved forward, all danger forgotten. Stumbling slightly at the nearly hypnotic sight, he reached the side of the case and looked in …
… and almost cried out in sadness.
The case itself seemed to glow with a soft, unearthly radiance. Tristan saw a young, frail woman. Her delicate face was impossibly beautiful, and long golden tresses spread from her head, cushioning her. She was dressed in a plain gown, embroidered very faintly with gold thread.
Her skin was so light as to be translucent. Her eyes were closed, and she lay perfectly still, as she must have lain for centuries. So beautiful, thought Tristan, and so long dead.
Then she moved.
Daryth sprang up a long flight of stairs. A feeling of urgency gripped him, but nowhere did he see anything that would serve them as a raft. He knew Tristan still searched the great hall, but he didn’t dare risk calling to his friend.
The stairs ended in a long balcony, with hallways running into the distance to either side. He saw several open doorways that led to the balcony, and he looked quickly into each room as he jogged toward the right-hand hallway. This upper floor was well illuminated by narrow windows, though the interiors of the rooms were rather dark.
Still, he saw nothing but wreckage in each chamber. The doors had apparently long since rotted away, and likewise any furniture that they had contained was now nothing but damp rot.
He heard a sound in one room as he ran past, and he thought that he might have seen a flash of movement. Daryth immediately flattened himself against the wall outside of that room, holding his trident poised to strike.
His alertness was rewarded as another of the sahuagin bounded through the doorway, its dead fish-eyes blinking warily down the corridor. Before it could react, Daryth thrust his weapon savagely atthe monster’s throat.
The sahuagin’s gills flared in rage, but the middle point of the weapon caught it squarely in the neck. The Calishite pressed it remorselessly across the hall as the monster’s webbed hands grasped at the shaft of the trident. It started to twist away, but then the wall opposite the doorway stopped its retreat. Daryth felt the tip of the weapon puncture the thing’s scaly skin.
Red, oily fish blood spurted from its neck as the monster slowly slumped to the ground. It flopped reflexively several times, and then lay still. Daryth looked cautiously around, but saw no other signs of movement. Quickly he turned and continued his rapid journey down the corridor. For a minute he jogged past rooms like those he had seen earlier, but then he stopped.
His instincts had apparently been correct, for he now stood before a solid, varnished door of heavy oak. A silver keyplate, untarnished by the sea, seemed to beckon his tools.
With another look around, Daryth knelt before the door and pulled a thin probe from his belt. Placing his ear next to the silver plate, he carefully pushed and poked with the stiff wire. One minute later, he was rewarded by a sharp
click
.
He pushed on the door and it swung smoothly open. The room within was dry. And it contained more treasure than he had ever seen in his life.
Crystal lanterns lit the room in a silky white glow. Golden and silver plates were stacked on the floor, and jeweled candelabra awaited their waxen charges, scintillating in the magical illumination. Several crowns lay on the floor—each studded with more gems than the Calishite had ever seen. A scattering of gold coins lay like a carpet across the floor, and bits of leather, crystal, and shining metal suggested even more treasures buried in the coins.
His eyes were drawn to a weapon, and his jaw dropped as he recognized his own scimitar! It can’t be, he told
Tristan moved forward, all danger forgotten. Stumbling slightly at the nearly hypnotic sight, he reached the side of the case and looked in …
… and almost cried out in sadness.
The case itself seemed to glow with a soft, unearthly radiance. Tristan saw a young, frail woman. Her delicate face was impossibly beautiful, and long golden tresses spread from her head, cushioning her. She was dressed in a plain gown, embroidered very faintly with gold thread.
Her skin was so light as to be translucent. Her eyes were closed, and she lay perfectly still, as she must have lain for centuries. So beautiful, thought Tristan, and so long dead.
Then she moved.
Daryth sprang up a long flight of stairs. A feeling of urgency gripped him, but nowhere did he see anything that would serve them as a raft. He knew Tristan still searched the great hall, but he didn’t dare risk calling to his friend.
The stairs ended in a long balcony, with hallways running into the distance to either side. He saw several open doorways that led to the balcony, and he looked quickly into each room as he jogged toward the right-hand hallway. This upper floor was well illuminated by narrow windows, though the interiors of the rooms were rather dark.
Still, he saw nothing but wreckage in each chamber. The doors had apparently long since rotted away, and likewise any furniture that they had contained was now nothing but damp rot.
He heard a sound in one room as he ran past, and he thought that he might have seen a flash of movement. Daryth immediately flattened himself against the wall outside of that room, holding his trident poised to strike.
His alertness was rewarded as another of the sahuagin bounded through the doorway, its dead fish-eyes blinking warily down the corridor. Before it could react, Daryth thrust his weapon savagely atthe monster’s throat.
The sahuagin’s gills flared in rage, but the middle point of the weapon caught it squarely in the neck. The Calishite pressed it remorselessly across the hall as the monster’s webbed hands grasped at the shaft of the trident. It started to twist away, but then the wall opposite the doorway stopped its retreat. Daryth felt the tip of the weapon puncture the thing’s scaly skin.
Red, oily fish blood spurted from its neck as the monster slowly slumped to the ground. It flopped reflexively several times, and then lay still. Daryth looked cautiously around, but saw no other signs of movement. Quickly he turned and continued his rapid journey down the corridor. For a minute he jogged past rooms like those he had seen earlier, but then he stopped.
His instincts had apparently been correct, for he now stood before a solid, varnished door of heavy oak. A silver keyplate, untarnished by the sea, seemed to beckon his tools.
With another look around, Daryth knelt before the door and pulled a thin probe from his belt. Placing his ear next to the silver plate, he carefully pushed and poked with the stiff wire. One minute later, he was rewarded by a sharp
click
.
He pushed on the door and it swung smoothly open. The room within was dry. And it contained more treasure than he had ever seen in his life.
Crystal lanterns lit the room in a silky white glow. Golden and silver plates were stacked on the floor, and jeweled candelabra awaited their waxen charges, scintillating in the magical illumination. Several crowns lay on the floor—each studded with more gems than the Calishite had ever seen. A scattering of gold coins lay like a carpet across the floor, and bits of leather, crystal, and shining metal suggested even more treasures buried in the coins.
His eyes were drawn to a weapon, and his jaw dropped as he recognized his own scimitar! It can’t be, he told
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