Her last thought before the spell of teleportation activated was of the Iron Lord's citadel burning.

Chapter 20

The Year of Wild Magic

(1372 DR)

The Staff of the Red Tree shuddered in her hands.

To Marissa, it felt as if she were holding a living thing-an animal shivering in the chill cavern air or quivering with rage. The voice of the Staff of the Red Tree buzzed in her mind like a swarm of angry hornets and had done so ever since they had left the steaming pool. It was difficult to concentrate with the presence of the Staff of the Red Tree looming over her internal senses, but the druid managed to mark their journey from the spring-fed cavern to their current location-a quarter candle's sojourn-well enough. Yurz had turned to say something to her at several points during that time, but Marissa could not distinguish the goblin's voice from that of the staff's angry hum.

She had simply nodded, hoping the creature hadn't asked her anything important.

Now she and her companions gazed out at the vast expanse of a cavern. The druid shook her head, mentally forcing the voice of the staff to the back of her mind so she could examine her surroundings. Stone and shadow stretched out before her, well beyond the limits of arcane illumination and elf-sharp vision. What small portion of the giant cave Marissa could see resembled an ocean of petrified waves, their undulating crests and troughs stilled by the eyes of a giant medusa, fixed forever in this subterranean world-a world which tumbled down into the depths below her feet as much as it soared to the heights above her. The slightest sound, whether the soft scuff of boot on the rocky ground of the passage or the rhythmic exhalation of Cavan's panting, reverberated wildly in the vast chamber.

Standing at the entrance to this massive cavern, Marissa felt as if she stood upon the edge of oblivion. Normally such a precipitous location would have spun her head with dizzying fury. It wasn't so much the height that bothered her-she had spent time enough scaling high-trunked trees and outthrust cliffs-but rather the enduring sense of nothingness, as if one step would teleport her to a place where nothing existed, neither time nor physicality. The very thought unsettled her.

Thankfully, a wide-shouldered expanse of natural stone broke up the cavern's emptiness. Dark rock, nearly as black as pitch, arced over the cave's shadow-filled depths, presumably linking their passage with the entrance to the citadel's tombs. In places, great stalactites reached down from the ceiling like giant teeth, almost touching the bridge's uneven expanse. Here and there, Marissa could make out thick stalagmites thrusting upward from the bridge toward the cavern's hidden roof. It seemed to her like a maze of hard black rock, difficult to navigate at any speed. That thought sent a frisson of unease up her spine. Anyone crossing the bridge would find it almost impossible to retreat if they faced an overwhelming attack.

The others had gathered around her, each of them casting a professional eye toward the bridge. Marissa took that opportunity to voice her concern. The others agreed.

"I was just thinking the very same thing myself," Roberc affirmed. "Perhaps one of us should go ahead and act as a scout."

"Not necessary," Yurz interrupted. "Me know quickest way across bridge. Friends follow Yurz."

Marissa caught the looks that the others cast among themselves. Clearly they still mistrusted her enchanted companion. She sighed. "Thank you for offering, Yurz, but I can send Rusella ahead," she said, indicating the raven perched upon a gray stone ledge.

"You could do that," Taenaran responded, "but anything keeping sentry in this cavern would know that something was up if it saw a strange bird flying through."

Marissa bit her lip in thought. The half-elf was right. There was only one other thing that she could do.

"I will scout ahead again and make sure the path is clear," the druid said.

Not waiting for any response, she gathered her power around her like a cloak. Years of practice allowed her to shape the image of a creature in her mind's eye, making minute adjustments. With a single thought, she filled the image with her essence, finally sealing it with a blast of divine power. In a single heartbeat she felt her body begin to change. The world shifted in and out of focus. Her bones lightened, becoming flexible, while skin stretched taught, taking on a scaly texture. In another moment, the transformation ended, and Marissa slithered forward, her serpentine body flowing easily over and around the jutting rock of the bridge's floor.

Though not completely blind, the world seemed dull and shadowy as she viewed it through small eyes that remained fixed above her jaws like tiny black seeds. She felt, rather than saw, the details of the world around her, separating and cataloging the thousands of minute scents in the cavern with a single flick of her forked tongue. Marissa searched the area around the bridge carefully, using her form's ability to distinguish changes in heat to see if anyone-or anything-lay in wait for them. Though she could sense a slight vibration in the heart of the ebony stone, the druid did not perceive any immediate threats.

Carefully, Marissa made her way back to her companions. The druid saw Yurz take a few steps back as she coiled herself up and with a single thought shifted forms.

"It looks as if we're safe," she said after a brief moment of disorientation.

"Good," Taenaran said, "then we should hurry. I doubt that our traitorous witch is in the citadel sitting on her thumbs."

Yulda gazed at the invaders from the shadows.

Hidden on a ledge high above the ebony bridge, she watched their slow progress. From the witch's vantage point, the intruders looked like nothing more than annoying insects, snow beetles creeping along an almost mindless path. Unlike the harmless beetles that infested the snow-peaked heights of Rashemen, however, the creatures below could sting-to deadly effect.

She hadn't been surprised to discover that a feckless goblin led them. Those weak-willed humanoids were always falling prey to the smallest enchantments. It did explain, however, how the invaders made it so swiftly to the underground entrance to her citadel.

Yulda would feel great satisfaction in watching her minions tear the goblin's disgusting head from its shoulders.

It was almost time. The foolish intruders had almost made it to the halfway point of the bridge. When they did, the witch would send a silent signal to Durakh and her forces. Not only would she have the satisfaction of destroying those who dared to move against her, she would also capture the artifact in their possession. Even from this distance, Yulda could sense its presence; it shone like a beacon in the darkness to her arcane senses, pulsing with immeasurable power. The witch had nearly fallen from her hiding place in shock when her eyes had confirmed what her heart had hoped for. The fools had walked into her demesne carrying nothing less than the Staff of the Red Tree.

With the Staff of the Red Tree at her side, she could tear the Urlingwood up by its roots and squash the pathetic wychlaran, who burrowed blindly like grubs beneath the forest's shadow. Corrupting the will of the Staff of the Red Tree would not be easy, but she would drain the last drops of life from her captive vremyonni to accomplish the task-and once done, she would never have to beg, cajole, or steal power from anyone else again.

The anticipation sent a pleasant tremor coursing through her body.

Cackling softly to herself, Yulda almost missed the moment when the intruders reached the appointed spot. Cursing her foolishness, the witch sent a telepathic command to Durakh, who lay in wait just behind the stone door to the undertomb on the other side of the bridge. The cleric's ogres would lead the charge, followed by her own arachnoid servants.