the depths of the pillar. The metal bands encircling the stone seemed to constrain the pillar’s glow, smoldering brighter as the azure gleam danced more strongly in the pillar’s depths.
A smooth, soft voice came from the pillar. “I am the Gatekeeper,” it whispered. “I hear you, Araevin Teshurr.”
“You know me?”
“I know anyone who addresses a speaking stone.”
“Araevin, who are you speaking to?” Nesterin asked.
“The sentience of this mythal,” Araevin answered him.
“It is known as the Gatekeeper, because it guards the countless doors in this place.”
“It’s not doing a very good job,” Maresa muttered.
“I am constrained by the infernal spells with which I have been bound, Maresa Rost,” the pillar replied. “I have been prevented from fulfilling my purpose.”
“What are these spells doing to you?” Araevin asked.
“The archdevil Malkizid seeks to subvert me. Already he can prevent me from closing the gates that his spells hold open. In time he will extinguish my consciousness altogether, and he will be free to use all of the powers of the Waymeet as he wishes.”
“Is Malkizid here?” Araevin asked.
“No. But many yugoloths and devils who serve him are. You are in no small danger.”
“Great,” Maresa snarled. She shrugged her crossbow from her shoulders and laid a bolt in the rest, looking around anxiously.
Araevin thought for a moment, studying the blue gleam. “Are you required to report our presence to Malkizid or his agents? Or this conversation?”
“No, but that may not be true for much longer. Malkizid may be able to compel me to speak.”
“I have a shard of the Gatekeeper’s Crystal in my possession,” he told the device. “I mean to find the remaining shards and use the device to undo the damage Malkizid’s spells are causing. Can it be done?”
The pillar was silent for a time.
“Yes,” it finally said. “But you will need all three shards.”
“Do you know where the other shards are?”
“Not precisely, but I know which of my doors is closest to each shard,” the voice in the pillar said. It hesitated for a moment then added, “Three nycaloths approach, Araevin Teshurr. They will be here in moments.”
Araevin stole a glance over his shoulder, while his comrades nervously scanned the mist-wreathed crystal spars nearby. “Which door do we use?” he asked.
“I will indicate the portal you seek. Look to your left.” Araevin complied, and found that a flickering blue gleam danced in the crystal ramparts in that direction.
He glanced to his companions and said, “Let’s go, before Malkizid’s servants appear.”
Quickly they hurried after the blue glow. As they neared the flickering light, it vanished from the crystal where it danced, only to appear a little farther on. No more than fifty yards from the plaza of the blue pillar, the light halted by a portal that stood near the base of another soaring buttress. Araevin was relieved to see that no infernal spike transfixed it. As they approached, the portal came to life, its milky surface abruptly changing into a smooth, pearly mist.
“Do you have any idea what might be on the other side?” Donnor said to Araevin.
“No,” the sun elf admitted. “But this is the way I have to go.”
He drew a deep breath, and stepped into the blank mists.
*****
From their campsite in the ruined manor house near the Pool of Yeven, Fflar and Ilsevele rode eastward along the south bank of the Ashaba, picking their way through lands that showed increasing signs of habitation the farther they traveled. The long, low rampart of the Dun Hills grew steadily closer, marching northeastward as if trying to beat them to Blackfeather Bridge.
The air grew hot and still as the day wore on. It seemed as if the forests, fields, and hills yearned for a cleansing rain, but the heat did not relent. Far behind them, to the west, thunderheads piled up on each other only to dissipate and reform, never coming any
A smooth, soft voice came from the pillar. “I am the Gatekeeper,” it whispered. “I hear you, Araevin Teshurr.”
“You know me?”
“I know anyone who addresses a speaking stone.”
“Araevin, who are you speaking to?” Nesterin asked.
“The sentience of this mythal,” Araevin answered him.
“It is known as the Gatekeeper, because it guards the countless doors in this place.”
“It’s not doing a very good job,” Maresa muttered.
“I am constrained by the infernal spells with which I have been bound, Maresa Rost,” the pillar replied. “I have been prevented from fulfilling my purpose.”
“What are these spells doing to you?” Araevin asked.
“The archdevil Malkizid seeks to subvert me. Already he can prevent me from closing the gates that his spells hold open. In time he will extinguish my consciousness altogether, and he will be free to use all of the powers of the Waymeet as he wishes.”
“Is Malkizid here?” Araevin asked.
“No. But many yugoloths and devils who serve him are. You are in no small danger.”
“Great,” Maresa snarled. She shrugged her crossbow from her shoulders and laid a bolt in the rest, looking around anxiously.
Araevin thought for a moment, studying the blue gleam. “Are you required to report our presence to Malkizid or his agents? Or this conversation?”
“No, but that may not be true for much longer. Malkizid may be able to compel me to speak.”
“I have a shard of the Gatekeeper’s Crystal in my possession,” he told the device. “I mean to find the remaining shards and use the device to undo the damage Malkizid’s spells are causing. Can it be done?”
The pillar was silent for a time.
“Yes,” it finally said. “But you will need all three shards.”
“Do you know where the other shards are?”
“Not precisely, but I know which of my doors is closest to each shard,” the voice in the pillar said. It hesitated for a moment then added, “Three nycaloths approach, Araevin Teshurr. They will be here in moments.”
Araevin stole a glance over his shoulder, while his comrades nervously scanned the mist-wreathed crystal spars nearby. “Which door do we use?” he asked.
“I will indicate the portal you seek. Look to your left.” Araevin complied, and found that a flickering blue gleam danced in the crystal ramparts in that direction.
He glanced to his companions and said, “Let’s go, before Malkizid’s servants appear.”
Quickly they hurried after the blue glow. As they neared the flickering light, it vanished from the crystal where it danced, only to appear a little farther on. No more than fifty yards from the plaza of the blue pillar, the light halted by a portal that stood near the base of another soaring buttress. Araevin was relieved to see that no infernal spike transfixed it. As they approached, the portal came to life, its milky surface abruptly changing into a smooth, pearly mist.
“Do you have any idea what might be on the other side?” Donnor said to Araevin.
“No,” the sun elf admitted. “But this is the way I have to go.”
He drew a deep breath, and stepped into the blank mists.
*****
From their campsite in the ruined manor house near the Pool of Yeven, Fflar and Ilsevele rode eastward along the south bank of the Ashaba, picking their way through lands that showed increasing signs of habitation the farther they traveled. The long, low rampart of the Dun Hills grew steadily closer, marching northeastward as if trying to beat them to Blackfeather Bridge.
The air grew hot and still as the day wore on. It seemed as if the forests, fields, and hills yearned for a cleansing rain, but the heat did not relent. Far behind them, to the west, thunderheads piled up on each other only to dissipate and reform, never coming any
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