Tapping every particle of energy she could muster, Evaine turned now toward the lighted path. It opened a space in the larger darkness, and Evaine's vision floated along with the light to the beam's end.

Along the path, the sorceress sensed vague outlines of the surrounding landscape. The light led her to a red tower. Could this be the tower of Lord Marcus? she silently asked herself. The power of the illumination pulled her through the tower walls and into an underground chamber. The beam ended abruptly in a crescent-shaped pool of inky blackness. No reflection danced on the surface of the liquid in the pool.

The darkness beckoned to Evaine's soul. The pool's power was terrifying, but it was a sensation familiar to the wizard.

"Who has invaded my tower?" A voice boomed into the dark room, startling Evaine.

"Interesting," the voice continued in a different tone. "I've never seen a detection spell of this type. What's this? A little soul has entered my domain. So pure, so filled with the light of goodness. Bah! Talk to me, little thing. Latenat!"

Evaine was shocked. No one had ever sensed her presence before while she was under this spell. Mustering her confidence, she posed a vital question. "How did this pool of darkness come to be in this tower?"

"Oh, you shouldn't play with such pools," the grating voice boomed. "They are bad things-evil things, my little one. Come, come to me in my chambers above the pool. We can talk about many things-yourself, pools, spells, power. Power-there is something I like to talk about. Would you like to become all-powerful? I can make that happen. Latenat!" Despite the overly sweet, condescending tone, Evaine knew that the speaker was a creature of blackest evil.

She concentrated on sensing where the presence was, but the horrid darkness around her forced her to draw back into the light of her own spell.

"Little light thing, I am so sorry. My darkness bothers you. Let me move back my protections and we can talk. I have nothing to hide but so much to offer you, cute little soul. Latenat!"

Instantly, the darkness was pushed back. Evaine was suddenly aware of the entirety of the red tower. The energy of the pool of darkness was overwhelming. Then, she was struck by a surge of life energy-Phlan. The city lay beneath the tower in an impossibly huge magical cavern.

Evaine was stunned. The implications were phenomenal. The powers necessary for such a feat-placing an entire city in a cavern-were beyond those of any mortal mage.

The sorceress struggled to maintain her mental energy. The surges from Phlan's souls and the evil pool were almost overpowering. And there was still that voice-someone or something able to discern her movements. Such detection had never been possible.

"Look at you. Darting here and there all over my tower, but never coming close to me. I am trying to be a pleasant host, but you are not being very nice. Why don't you stop squirming around and come to me? Latenat!"

A tentacle of inky blackness writhed from the top of the tower into the chamber, reaching for Evaine's essence.

The sorceress leaped away with all her power. She didn't know what the tentacle would do, but she wasn't going to find out. Evaine refocused her mind, concentrated on her tower, and willed the spell to be ended. In a heartbeat, she was back within her body and her magical protections. Panting and sweating, she waved a hand to cancel the spells around her. She beckoned Gamaliel. He brought her the water she mentally requested.

Wind and rain pummeled the broken tower. The protections around her spellcasting chamber had prevented water from getting in, but the rest of the tower was a wet mess.

Andoralson had left the spellcasting chamber earlier, and now the two druids stood outside, near the battered front door. Both gestured simultaneously into the sky. Not a drop of rain touched their cloaks.

"What are they doing out there?" Evaine gasped. She struggled to fight exhaustion.

Ren shouted over the noise of the storm. "When you started your spell, Talenthia noticed a swirl of dark thunderclouds forming above our heads. Only moments ago, huge bolts of lightning started blasting down on the tower. Is your spell connected to what's happening out there?"

"Anything's possible with the strange weather we've had lately. My spell could have drawn the storm like a beacon. But if that was true, the effect should have stopped when I canceled my spell."

Boom!

Lighting struck and was deflected. Against Gamaliel's urgings, Evaine dragged herself outside with the others to see what was happening.

"Nice little storm we have here. I-" Talenthia's words were lost in the thunder.

Boom!

Talenthia gestured quickly, and the lightning strike was forced aside into the meadow near the tower. In the bright flash, all the companions saw smoke rise from the ground. The grass was filled with deep, charred depressions.

"Cousin, it's time to stop this nonsense for a while." Talenthia could barely be heard over the roaring wind.

"Great idea. I'll take your lead."

The two joined hands and raised their oak staves into the air. The pounding rain stopped, and a cool breeze blew up and swirled around the tower and the meadow. The druids' cloaks were whipped by the breeze; their staves swirled round and round above their heads, emitting a humming noise. The clouds above twisted and spun away. Then the sun broke through.

Clouds were visible in every direction, but in a wide oval above their heads, the warm noonday sun beat down from a bright blue patch of sky.

"Well, that's much better," Andoralson said with a satisfied smirk. "I expect our patch of blue will last only a few hours. Talenthia and I were able to slow the lightning today, but I expect the next attack will be stronger and will get through our best defenses. We'd best be off at first light. Evaine, you can rest. Tell us what you discovered as we move along the trail."

No one argued. They all knew they had to press onward as quickly as safety allowed.

14

"Tactics, Captain Brittle! Tactics win battles and carry the day!" The Red Wizard of Thay was especially arrogant and overconfident this morning. "And tactics, you bag of bones, is what you sadly lack."

If Brittle, the undead lord, had possessed lungs, he would have sighed in frustration. He had been summoned from the grave by a pit fiend because of his legendary fame for leading all types of armies into all types of battles. His victories and rare defeats a thousand years before were still discussed with admiration in all parts of Faerun. Written accounts of his battles were prized by both good and evil generals. Brittle knew more about tactics and combat operations than any creature alive on Toril. Or dead, for that matter. Somehow, a weak human, less than forty years old, who had spent most of his years reading crumbling tomes of magic in the libraries of Thay didn't impress him.

"Let's review my battle plan one more time, shall we?"

Brittle clenched his bony fists with a faint scraping and creaking. Along with half a dozen clerics of Bane, eight assorted mages, and the pit fiend, he was part of an assembly convening in what Marcus called his war chamber. Others would have called it a converted bedroom. Marcus circled and gestured around the pit fiend's magical creation-an exact, ten-foot-long diorama of the walled city of Phlan.

"I will lead the two main attacks against the walls of Phlan with the minions of Moander. We will attack from two angles in sort of a clawlike action."

"A pincer maneuver," Brittle interrupted.

"Ah, yes. Right. A pincer maneuver," Marcus stammered. "You, Brittle, will lead your three hundred skeletal warriors under the water, through the bay, and into the city, but naturally, your attack will not be the main thrust of the battle."