As Sturm, Flint, and Kirsig passed through a tumbled-down colonnade, a minotaur who had managed to elude the hatori and the horax jumped out at the dwarf, whirling a tessto. Flint ducked but fell to the ground, cracking his head. Dizzily the dwarf watched as the soldier straddled him, his club upraised.

Kirsig uttered a banshee yell, then threw herself full length at the soldier, tackling him. Flint scrambled away, shaking his head to clear it. Looking back, the dwarf saw the minotaur stumble under Kirsig's surprise assault, then recover. The bull-man snatched up the half-ogre in one hand, then, with the other, bashed her head in.

Too late, Sturm made it to the minotaur, planting a sword neatly between his two horns. The ever-game Kirsig was dead.

"My hero."

Flying with Tanis, Bird-Spirit had spotted the human female tied to a broken column in a nearby part of the city. A lone minotaur stubbornly guarded her, but between them, the kyrie and the half-elf had made short work of the dogged soldier.

Exhausted from struggling against her bonds and frustrated at not being able to take part in the battle she had been observing from a distance, Kitiara greeted Tanis testily.

"You have a bad habit of rescuing me," she said as the half-elf untied her. She looked with wide eyes at Bird-Spirit, who grinned back at her. "Only this time I guess I needed a little help," she added grudgingly.

"You're welcome," replied Tanis, knowing this was as close to a thank-you as he would ever get from Kitiara Uth Matar.

Kit, to his eyes, looked starved and grimy. The half-elf quickly pulled a dried stick of jerky from a pouch and handed it to her. Kitiara gobbled it hungrily. Watching her, starved and grimy though she was, Tanis was struck anew by her hard beauty.

Caramon came running up and gave Kitiara a big hug. Sturm was close behind, and Yuril behind him.

"Where's Raist?" Caramon asked.

Bird-Spirit shook his head. Tanis countered, "Where are Flint and Kirsig?"

"The half-ogre is dead," Sturm said grimly. "She died bravely. Flint is okay." He waved his arm. "He's over there-fighting."

Kit had been rubbing her wrists and ankles. Already she looked refreshed and ready for action. She pointed to Worldscap. "Raistlin was here, but he volunteered to take my place as the Nightmaster's sacrifice. I think they're up there. We don't have any time to lose." Night was falling. "But how can we get to the summit in time?"

Cloudreaver and three other kyrie had landed in the meantime. "We can fly up there in a matter of minutes," said the kyrie warrior.

Kit looked dubious. Tanis assured her that it was possible.

"Sturm," ordered Caramon, "find Flint and tell him and the others to pull back. Leave the minotaurs to the animal army. Get out of this ruined city and meet us back at last night's camp."

"But-" protested the Solamnic.

"There's no time. We don't have enough kyrie to fly all of us," Tanis interjected, "and someone has to warn Flint."

Sturm nodded and raced off.

Cloudreaver grabbed Caramon in his talons and took off. Bird-Spirit took Tanis. The two other kyrie trailed, carrying Yuril and Kitiara.

They soared toward Worldscap.

The furious fighting was left behind. Tonight the bulette, the hatori, and the rocs would feast.

Chapter 16

According to legend, Worldscap had last erupted during the Cataclysm. Raining volcanic death on Karthay, it wiped the city and its people from the face of the earth. Karthay had been uninhabited ever since, until the Nightmaster with his flock of disciples had arrived to make their secret preparations for bringing Sargonnas into the world.

Worldscap stood like a huge jagged tooth on the edge of the city, where it presented a formidable barrier to the north and west. Its slopes were furrowed by deep ravines and impenetrable clusters of hardened lava. The Nightmaster and his acolytes had spent months carving a swath to the summit, a black and barren crater.

From a distance, it looked as though the top of the mountain had been lopped off. Numerous steep-sided cinder cones dotted the unusually broad bowl. Everywhere were signs of volcanic activity, including lava bombs, molds of tree trunks, and giant groundsels engulfed by hardened lava. Mud pots bubbled. Jets of steam and gas whistled from cracks in the ground.

One oval-shaped depression in the crater was larger and more volatile than the rest. This was the heart of the volcano, crusted over with dried lava. Its center consisted of a plug of rock that had solidified deep down in the volcano's vent.

The Nightmaster believed that under the oval-shaped depression lay the original volcanic crater, whose eruption had precipitated the collapse of the peak into the core of the mountain. And underneath the original crater waited the fire fountain that could re-ignite volcanic activity. For weeks, the Nightmaster's followers had been working with the minotaur troops to dig out the vent.

From his camp on the ash-covered terrace of the dead city's once-great library, the Nightmaster regularly hiked to a mountain plateau west of Karthay to read his signs. But the spell to summon Sargonnas would be cast here, on the summit of Worldscap, in the heart of the volcano.

Everything had been prepared. The acolytes and a select number of minotaur soldiers had been camped on the summit for days, setting up the makeshift laboratory, the rows of ingredients, the charms and stones and dead creatures, the scrolls and books that the Nightmaster would need during the casting of the spell.

After long hours of labor, the cap had been dug out of the original volcano and the mouth of the fire fountain breached. The span of the mouth was roughly a dozen feet. Deep down, one could glimpse fiery orange lava, seething and bubbling.

The soldiers had built a wooden scaffold near the edge of the mouth, with a dozen stairs leading to a platform overlooking the fiery fountain.

The stars had glided into conjunction. Day was turning into night.

All was ready when the Nightmaster and his group crested the summit. Wearing ceremonial furs and feathers, with bells jingling as he moved, the Nightmaster strutted proudly toward the oval-shaped depression that housed the volcano's original crater. He walked between a double line of his acolytes and soldiers who had gathered in formation to greet him.

Trailing the Nightmaster were several armed minotaurs and the High Three shamans. Following them was a young, thin human in a dark robe, who stumbled as he was prodded forward by the sullen Dogz, and a kender without a topknot who chattered enthusiastically about the glorious spectacle of evil he was about to witness.

"Tell me, Raistlin, how you divined that I was going to cast this ancient and generally forgotten spell? Satisfy my curiosity. You know you are going to die anyway."

The Nightmaster bent over Raistlin, leering triumphantly.

The young mage sat in stony silence on a rock near the lip of the crater, his arms bound behind him, his feet also tied tightly with rope. Yet Raistlin refused to let defeat show in his face. Instead, he offered the Nightmaster an enigmatic smile with his reply.

"It was completely by chance. It was only a torn page in a yellowed spellbook that caught my eye. I knew that the spell had something to do with minotaur rituals. That much was obvious. And there was a citation of Sargonnas, the Lord of Dark Vengeance. But I had no hope of assembling the spell components, and beyond that, I cared little.