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"The carpet's unraveling!" Kern shouted as they plum-meted toward the
clearing.
Sure enough, a thread from one end of the carpet had caught on the dead tree,
and now the magical silk was unwinding behind them like a skein of yarn. The
three had to crowd closer as the surface area of the flying car-pet rapidly
dwindled.
Listle yanked even harder on the golden tassels. The carpet managed to stay
aloft for only a few more seconds. Then the last of the thread ran out.
Kern, Listle, and Miltiades fell through the air...
... and landed a half-second later on soft, dry, sweet-smelling grass.
Confused, Kern sat up, wondering why he hadn't been knocked dead by the fall.
A glistening thread of silk set-tled slowly to the treetops, its end draped
down over a dazed-looking Listle.
"The carpet managed to bear our weight until we were only a few feet above the
ground," Miltiades offered in answer to their bewildered looks.
Listle sighed as she picked up one end of the silken thread. "I think this is
it for the magic carpet," she said glumly. "Unless knitting also happens to be
one of a pal-adin's special skills."
"I doubt it," Kern said with disdain.
The three gathered their scattered possessions. With a few magical words,
Miltiades restored their three horses to their natural form. Kern's palfrey
and Listle's gray pranced and snorted excitedly, apparently no worse the wear
for having been miniaturized. Eritophenes, of course, was quite used to the
experience.
They rode across the dun-colored meadow toward the snow-topped mountains. Now
that they were here, Kern wondered how they would ever find Evaine. He and
Listle discussed their options. Daile had said the scene revealed by
Miltiades' communication gem lay close to the center of the mountains, so that
gave them a general direction. Once they were in the actual vicinity, Listle
thought she could whip up some spells to help them locate the sorcer-ess.
Throughout this discussion, Miltiades had been quiet, but now the undead
paladin spoke up.
"We will find her," he said confidently. "I will know when she is near."
However, just how he would know, he did not say. Listle and Kern exchanged a
curious glance.
The sun was sinking toward the western horizon when they reached the forest
that blanketed the lower slopes. Deciding it would be best to camp among the
shelter of the trees, they decided to press on a bit farther. They guided
their mounts down a winding trail, past silent stands of fir and ghost-pale
aspen.
They had not gone far when sharp, ringing sounds broke the sylvan stillness.
All three knew the familiar clangor of steel on steel. There was a battle
going on not far ahead.
"Come on!" Kern cried, urging his mount into a gallop.
"Kern, shouldn't we be a little more cautious?" Listle called after him, to no
avail. Muttering a few choice words about his lack of common sense, she rode
after him, Miltiades close behind.
Moments later they burst into a circular glade open to the slate-gray sky.
Kern halted for a second, taking in the scene.
A frail old man was battling a huge misshapen crea-ture. Even as Kern watched,
the old man's blade a heavy, antique broadsword clashed loudly with the
creature's spiked club. Somehow, the old man was man-aging to hold his own. He
was wizened and ancient-look-ing, his flowing hair and beard as white as
ivory. He wore no armor, only a simple robe of dove gray. Even at this
distance, Kern could see his sharp blue eyes sparking like steel against a
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whetstone.
The creature bellowed. With its massive, ten-foot frame, warty hide, and
blazing purple eyes, Kern guessed it to be an ogre. The monster raised its
huge club for a crushing blow.
Drawing the Hammer of Tyr from his belt, Kern spurred his mount forward,
thundering into the glade.
Listle and Miltiades were not far behind.
The ogre paused, looking up in dull-witted surprise. Then it snarled nastily,
baring jagged black fangs. It lurched forward, ready to engage its new
enemies.
"Xaraxa!"
Listle cried out as she tossed a small ball of pitch mixed with bat fur at the
monster. It exploded, and the creature roared, shaking its head, as Listle's
spell blinded it.
The ogre swung its club wildly. Kern easily parried the blow. Upon striking
his holy warhammer, the club splin-tered. Miltiades took advantage of the
creature's confu-sion to deal it a blow with his sword, cutting a gash in the
ogre's side. Its howl of pain was short-lived. Kern swung his hammer in a
glowing arc, striking the ogre full in the chest. The creature toppled and did
not rise again.
Quickly Kern dismounted and hurried to the old man, who leaned on the hilt of
his broadsword.
"Are you all right, sir?" he inquired deferentially.
The old man snorted in disgust. "I was, until you and your overeager friends
here showed up."
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