Pulse pounding at his temples, Balcombe nearly cast a spell in his defense before he realized that there were no attackers. He blinked repeatedly. The room was empty except for himself, Selana, and his golems. The others had been figments of his mind, just a… vision.

He realized almost instantly that this was indeed a prescient dream triggered by the bracelet; he had seen a forecast of the future.

Watching his face, Selana grew afraid. "What is it? What did you see?"

Quickly he cast a simple spell of holding on the sea elf. "Thanks to your bracelet, Princess," he said, "I've been alerted to an imminent event that I will easily prevent. Although I am at a loss to explain their escape from Tantallon, it seems your friends have decided to launch a rescue."

He removed the bracelet so as not to be distracted from his spellcasting, and set it on the altar.

"I must prepare a welcome for some uninvited guests."

Chapter 18

A grimacing Flint scratched at his beard. "I'll Never get all these bugs out of it," he grumbled to Tanis. "It's no wonder birds don't have hair."

"And no wonder you don't have wings," responded the half-elf. "You'd never use them for the sake of that precious beard. Watch your step on these loose rocks."

Just as Tanis uttered his warning, a melon-sized stone skidded under his foot and tumbled away down the scree-covered slope. Flint avoided it by leaning to the side. Just past his position, it struck a boulder with a solid whack and caromed clear over the heads of Tasslehoff and three phaethons, who brought up the rear of the group. It disappeared into the darkness below them, but the series of cracks signaled clearly each impact as it bounded to the base of the slope, three hundred yards below.

"Missed me again, Tanis. That's twice," said Tasslehoff, resuming his climb.

"Third time's the charm," Flint muttered.

Nanda Lokir, at the head of the string of climbers, turned back to the group. "We are nearing the crest. Everyone be quiet now, and be careful. The slope is steeper near the top."

They had flown as close to Balcombe's cave as the phaethons dared. Unfortunately, their flaming wings were like beacons in the fading light, and they thought it best to land behind a ridge that screened them from the entrance to the lair. The slope they climbed now was treacherous.

Nanda, Hoto, Cele, and the four other phaethons accompanying the group were accustomed to the terrain and the altitude. Their stiff-soled boots were well suited for scrambling over scree. Tasslehoff, Flint, and Tanis panted from the exertion, struggling to draw enough oxygen out of the thin air. Flint, at least, wore hobnailed boots. Tanis and Tas winced and stumbled over the sharp rocks poking through their thin-soled moccasins, which were more appropriate to grassy plains and dusty roads.

Everyone breathed easier as, one by one, they topped the ridge and paused just below the crest. It was much less steep on the opposite side. Ten faces peered across the crest.

Perhaps four hundred yards away, a cave opening could be seen in the opposite slope. A light shone invitingly from inside, casting a warm glow on the scrub trees outside the entrance. A coulee-an enormous gully-separated the intruders from the cave. The slopes on both sides were gradual and covered with scrub: thorny bushes and stunted trees.

"I can hardly believe it, but the entrance appears to be unguarded," observed Tanis.

Flint was skeptical. "Then don't you believe it, lad. You met Balcombe. He's a wizard of substantial ability and a tricky bastard to boot. He wouldn't just leave the front door open."

"He knows we're on his tail," added Tasslehoff. "We don't know what sort of information he's wrung out of Selana." Tanis shuddered, recalling his own interrogation.

Nanda peered toward the sky. Stars now twinkled in the darkness. Rising in the east, where the mountains fell away to the Newsea, was Lunitari, the fleet moon, streaking through the sky in its unending race. Above it was Nuitari, the unseen moon. Only wizards who adopted the black robes of evil could actually see the body of this satellite. To extremely perceptive others, on nights like this, it appeared as an ominous black disk occulting the stars behind it. "Look up, friends. Within the hour Lunitari will overtake Nuitari. Hoto tells us that when they align, this Balcombe will work his magic. We have little time."

"Is there any other way in?" asked Tanis.

All eyes turned toward Hoto, who had been silent since leaving the phaethon village of spires. As usual, he paused for several moments before replying. "There is another opening, though it is not a good entrance. It is a chimney of sorts, chiseled through the rock. I have spied for many years and seen that this chimney opens into the chamber where your wizard performs his rite. It lets him see the moons during the ceremony."

"Is it wide enough to climb down?" asked Tanis.

"Too wide," replied Hoto. "The walls are smooth and steep and more than an arm's span apart. You could not descend that way without ropes."

Tanis sensed that Hoto was hinting at something. "But could a phaethon, with wings, fly down?"

"Yes, if he were careful and not heavily burdened."

Flint tossed a sly look to Tanis. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

The half-elf nodded. "Seven of us go in the front door. That's where the resistance is likely to be the heaviest, and we'll need some strength there. Nanda, three of your people find that chimney and wait. When we reach Balcombe's ceremonial chamber, he's bound to turn his attention on us.

"That's when the surprise comes down the chimney. With luck, someone should catch him from behind."

Nanda considered the proposal. He glanced toward Hoto. "You are not our leader, Great-grandfather, but you are our wisest adviser. Can Tanis's plan succeed?"

"It has as good a chance as any, I suspect." Hoto turned his gaze directly on Tanis, who noticed for the first time how the man's eyes blazed in the darkness. "Even success will not come cheaply. As the dwarf said, your enemy is a powerful wizard. He will kill more than one of us tonight. Is this elf woman worth that price, Nanda Lokir?"

Nanda had known this question would come, and his answer was ready. "No, Great-grandfather, the woman alone is nothing to us, but eventually this man's evil will threaten our families. That is what we must prevent."

The elder seemed satisfied with that answer.

Nanda turned to the other phaethons with the group. "Cele, take Jito and Satba to the chimney mouth. Hoto will tell you where it is. Wait there for our arrival.

"The rest of us will go in the main entrance. I will lead, with Hoto following me, then Kelu, Tanis, Tasslehoff, and Flint, and then Bajhi in the rear. We move as quickly and quietly as possible."

Suddenly Tasslehoff was next to Nanda. "Let me go first, Nanda. I'm the smallest, and I've done this sort of thing before."

"No. Take your place between Tanis and Flint. Everyone follow me." Immediately the leader of the phaethons was on his feet, creeping across the ridge. He blended into the scrub and picked his way carefully through the tangled brush. Crossing the coulee took the group nearly twenty minutes, but they arrived, scratched and sweating, before the cave entrance.

"Can anyone read these markings?" asked Nanda.

Tanis scanned the white rock around the cave mouth and noticed for the first time that there was indeed writing of some sort chiseled into the stone. He had no idea what it said or even in what language it was.

Again Tasslehoff sidled his way to the front. "It's religious script, some sort of ritual prayer. I saw the same thing over a temple door south of Shalost, on the Silvanesti border, just before the elves burned it. I don't know what it says, but these are the same markings. This one here, at the apex," he said, pointing with his hoopak, "is Hiddukel's sigil."