decade, surged to life again. But now he was steeled by years of striving, and he would let no scream pass his lips.

Lyim recalled his master's words as if they'd been spoken just yesterday: "These portals frequently contain the undead remains of centuries' worth of unsuccessful adventurers. They jump like starving fleas upon the first fresh traveler they meet."

Lyim knew there would be no new creatures waiting in the passage, since Bastion had blocked this dimensional portal almost since the disaster at Stonecliff. A decade of curiosity about what happened beyond prompted Lyim to bring Ezius's head nearer the opening he'd created in the plane.

The mage was astonished when the incandescent curtain of swirling light parted for him like an opening eye. Beyond it lay a passage, a tunnel bored through the dimensions. The walls, floor, and ceiling pulsed with electrical energy and twisted and writhed like a living thing.

A creature thrashed below him. Lyim immediately recognized the snakelike head next to a pale, limp arm. But the snake's thick, fur-covered body supported by thousands of red-veined fingers made Lyim gasp. It was impossible to tell how long the creature was, with its coils lapped one atop another in thoughtless loops. Rather than slithering, the monster wound its bulk sideways as if rolling down an incline, and disappeared through the tunnel wall into whatever unknown dimension lay outside, leaving behind a faintly glowing trail.

Lyim was watching the glow recede when the undulating tunnel erupted in brightness more blinding than a thousand candles. He clamped his eyes shut, but the light burned through his lids. Without moving, Lyim was physically drawn through the portal. Next to him he could feel his own, unconscious body being lifted off the marble slab and dragged into the maelstrom by the restored arm, as if some power were drawn by the mages' magical emanations. The pull was overwhelming. Though he had not come for this, Lyim, once exposed to the citadel's power, didn't even want to resist. The bodies of both mages glided through the pulsating confines of the tunnel toward the distance source of the brilliance.

Though Lyim's eyes were still closed, the light etched upon his lids a multisensory image. He witnessed the birth of the world, the origins of the races, the calamities and triumphs that marked thousands of years of Krynn's history. He saw magical forces being molded and applied in ways he had never dreamt possible, as well as magical disasters that altered the shape of the world.

The force that pulled the mages' bodies stopped as abruptly as it began. Lyim commanded Ezius's eyes to open.

Radiant gates of spider-spun gold rose up from a knee-high fog. A jagged range of polished minerals and semiprecious rock encircled the citadel. Three immense diamond spires sliced through the billowing rog and gold and silver foothills to penetrate the blackness of space. The triangle of glittering spires was set upon a pentagon of polished gold, the source of the vellow radiance that sent blinding light up through the faceted diamond spires. The whole effect reminded Lvim of an enormous jeweled pendant.

No windows or balconies marred the crystalline surface of the spires, nor doors the gold base, to mark it as a habitable place. Yet the citadel pulsed with magical energy, with the essence of life. The contrast of stark, cold minerals and hot golden light seemed to symbolize the complexities of magic itself.

An understanding of what he saw came unbidden to Lyim, as if any mage who looked upon the forbidden Lost Citadel could not but realize these things about the most magical of places. The faceted surfaces reflected the foundation upon which all earthly things were built-a mirror held to the universe to reveal a skeleton complex beyond compare. The citadel's min- eraled walls had risen naturally millennia ago from the mire of Krynn to house three novice mages. When those first wizards unleashed far more magic than they could control, setting off floods and fires and earthquakes, they were transported in their tower to a place beyond the circles of the universe. Ever after, the tower was known as the Lost Citadel. The mages became the founders of the Orders of High Sorcery.

Ezius's old fingers curled around the delicate gold filigree of the gate. As he did so, the craggy, cold foothills surrounding the citadel began to quake, sending boulders of gold and silver tumbling toward the gate. The quake continued, unabated, until the tunnel beneath Ezius's sandaled feet and Lyim's prone, true body trembled. Lyim grasped the gate tighter to steady himself, but the move only increased the intensity of the tremors. Lyim felt himself thrown to Ezius's knees.

The power of the collapsing portal began to drag both mages back through the tunnel in much the same way as they'd been pulled toward the gate. Ezius's hands futilely stretched toward the gates of the citadel, even as Lyim's mind reached out to the wonders beyond them. Ezius's body slipped from the tunnel, through the portal's purple whorl, heartbeats after Lyim's. He fell upon his own unconscious body, slumped on the marble slab, then tumbled like a fish to the cold floor of Bastion's white wing.

Lyim was only barely aware that above the slab, the portal spiraled slowly inward and began to darken and shrink. The vibrant colors that had been almost too bright to look at quickly faded to dark red-orange, then disappeared.

Lyim was dazed and incredulous. He had looked upon the source of all magic, witnessed the wrath of the gods. Almost everything he had ever done seemed trivial compared to that.

Except for one thing. Lyim's gaze traveled up to his own body, beautifully restored and dangling from the slab above him. There was no need for loathing anymore. Lyim examined all five fingers of his right hand with a child's joy.

It came to him in a flash that he had no more need tor Ezius's old and tired frame. He quickly closed Ezius's eyes to concentrate on the gem in his own ear. Instantly his entire consciousness was altered. His senses were completely stripped away; he was suspended, numb, in a blackness that no light, sound, or heat could penetrate. Instinctively he homed in on the slow, thin pulse of his own body. Slowly, like fog slipping over the sea, his essence drifted from the gem. Lyim found himself draped across the marble table, staring at the vaulted ceiling far above. He had been out of his body for perhaps two days, but still it felt strange to Lyim. In moments the feeling passed, and a thrill ran through him as he realized he was whole again.

Lyim gathered up his red robe and rolled stiffly into a sitting position atop the cold white slab. His body felt strong and right, as if he'd slipped on a familiar, butter- soft glove. The mage flexed the fingers of his right hand before wide, disbelieving eyes, until he couldn't contain his elation. He leaped from the slab into the air. Coming down, he crashed into Ezius, slumped against the marble base.

Lyim blinked at the white-robed mage. Ezius raised

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a trembling hand, as if about to cast a spell. At least that's what Lyim presumed when he reached out with his own right hand and touched Ezius's temple. The older man's face went slack, and all comprehension left his eyes. Ezius stared around the room like an idiot child, bewildered by everything he saw. Lyim reached out his hand once more, poising it above the mage's head. "Take a little rest, Ezius. You've earned it." Fine amber dust drifted down from Lyim's hand. The dust clouded Ezius's already vague eyes, and then his head slipped gently to the porcelain floor.

"Lyim!"

The mage looked up at the sound of a familiar voice cursing his name. Lyim spun about to face his most hated foe, his handsome face spread in a wolfish smile of anticipation.