The midnight charger reared up on its hind legs with a terrible whinny. Tendrils of magical energy crept up the knight's armor, snaking into the visor's eye slit. The lance burst asunder. The knight clenched a fist, letting out a horrible scream.

Another bolt of magical lightning exploded against the black knight's breastplate. This time Kern could discern its source-it came from the shadowed mouth of an alley on the edge of the square.

The charger reared again, then suddenly dissipated in a cloud of acrid smoke. The knight crashed to the cobbles and lay still. The flaming plume atop his helm guttered and died out. A few last sparks of magical energy skittered across his armor.

Cautiously Kern approached the fallen knight. With the toe of his boot, he tapped the scorched breastplate. A thin wisp of yellow smoke drifted out of the visor's eye slit. That was all.

"I think he's dead," Kern said grimly, returning the magical hammer to his belt.

"Oh? And what gave you that bright idea?" Listle said in a wan attempt at a jest. She couldn't stop shivering.

"Oh, he's well and truly dead," a rich, musical voice interjected.

Kern and Listle turned in surprise. A woman stepped from the dim arch of an alleyway.

She was beautiful. Her eyes and hair were a deep, dark color that seemed to glow with radiance. Her skin had a smooth, coppery sheen to it, and her features were finely wrought, almost aristocratic. She was obviously a wizard of some sort, but the white full-length robe she wore was different from the shapeless utilitarian smocks kindly old sorcerers favored. The shimmering cloth was diaphanous and slightly translucent in the fading daylight, hinting at an alluring shape underneath.

The woman walked fluidly toward Kern and Listle. The elf eyed her warily, but Kern offered a friendly smile.

"Are you hurt, good paladin?" the mysterious wizard asked kindly, her voice concerned.

"No, we're all right. Thanks to your spell, that is." Kern did his best to sound noble. She had called him paladin! He resisted the urge to shoot a smug glance at Listle. "Your intervention came just in time."

"Of course, we were doing just fine on our own," Listle noted sullenly.

"Of course," the wizard agreed, nodding graciously in Listle's direction.

Kern frowned at the elf. "But the help was welcome all the same," he added pointedly, smoothing over Listle's rude remark. Couldn't she even be civil to a stranger who had just saved their lives? Sometimes the elf infuriated Kern.

"I'm Kern Desanea," he ventured, "and this is Listle Onopordum."

The wizard held out a graceful hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Kern gripped the proffered hand and gave it an awkward shake. A slightly bemused expression crossed the wizard's face.

"I don't know how we can repay you for your help…" he said, hesitating gallantly, "but if there's anything we can do, you have only to ask."

"There's no need for repayment," the wizard replied with a dazzling smile. "Though it was a happy accident that I decided to journey all the way to Phlan this evening. I have been traveling south these last few days, from the Dragonspine Mountains. I intended to make camp north of the city this afternoon, but when it began to rain, I decided to push on. I'm glad now that I did." She cast a glance at the fallen knight. "Do you know who that villain was? Or why he might have had cause to attack you?"

"Something tells me it has to do with the quest I'm setting off on tomorrow."

"Quest?" the wizard asked.

"I'll be journeying in search of a holy relic, the Hammer of Tyr."

"A holy relic? That sounds like a terribly important task." Suddenly the wizard looked crestfallen. "And I suppose that means you wouldn't be able to… Oh, but never mind."

"What is it?" Kern asked.

"It's nothing, really…"

"Tell me," he insisted gently.

She hesitated, her expression unsure, then shrugged.

"I suppose there's no harm in telling you why I came to Phlan. I was hoping to find adventurers who might be willing to journey back to the Dragonspine Mountains with me. That's where my tower is. You see, I'm a wild mage. I learned magic from an old hermit rather than in a formal school in one of the cities on the Moonsea. But now the valley where my tower stands has been overrun by a band of gnolls. They…" She sighed deeply. "They killed my mentor. I suppose I ought to leave the valley, but it's always been my home. I can't just abandon it to those awful gnolls. Unfortunately, the monsters are too many for me to fight alone. So I came here, hoping to hire a few able warriors such as yourself to help me." She smiled briskly. "But you're busy, I can see, so I'll leave you to your-"

"Stop right there," Kern ordered. She gazed at him in evident surprise. "We owe you a great deal for what you did here. Now, I'm not certain how long my quest for the hammer will take, but you have my solemn promise that, as soon as my job is completed, I'll journey to your place in the mountains to teach those gnolls a lesson."

Listle rolled her eyes. "Oh, brother," she muttered. Preoccupied as he was with his own bold pronouncements, Kern did not hear her.

The wild mage chewed her lip delicately. Abruptly she laughed. "That is certainly kind of you, paladin. In return, I volunteer to accompany you on your journey, to help you find this hammer you're so terribly interested in. That way I can be certain you'll return in good enough health to be of some assistance to me. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough!" Kern agreed with a grin.

As they discussed the details, Kern felt his spirits rising. Tymora, Lady of Fortune, was smiling on him this evening, that was for certain. The mage promised to show up at the door of Denlor's Tower at dawn, and Kern and Listle bid her farewell.

"Wait a minute," Kern said, pausing as he and Listle turned to ride from the square. "We don't even know your name."

A smile glistened on the wild mage's copper-tinted lips.

"Sirana," she said in her rich, musical voice. "My name is Sirana."

Listle and Kern spoke little on the way back to Denlor's Tower. They unsaddled their horses in the courtyard and went inside. The tower's extensive magical defenses-first created by the mage Denlor and enhanced by Shal-sensed their identities and so permitted them to pass unharmed. Had they been uninvited strangers, the invisible aura woven around the tower would have incinerated them.

They found Tarl high in the tower, sitting by Shal's side in a darkened room. Listle lit a candle against the night, but its pale light did little to lift the gloom of the place.

"How is she, Father?" Kern asked quietly.

The big-shouldered cleric drew in a deep breath. "No better, I'm afraid. And perhaps worse. Anton was here earlier. He cast a spell of healing on her, but like the others, it had little effect. Her spirit was too far from her body when she was struck down. Anton believes that her spirit is lost, or too weak to return." Tarl rubbed a hand wearily across his brow. "Only the Hammer of Tyr has the power to bring Shal's spirit back to us."

Kern gripped his father's hand tightly. Without her spirit, Shal's body would continue to waste away. Eventually there would be nothing left but an empty husk. But that won't happen, Kern thought fiercely, not if I can do something about it.

"Now, Kern," Tarl said, a note of cheer in his voice. "I can just make out a silver and green glow hovering at your side. Did you find a magical hammer at the green elf's?"

Kern nodded, grinning despite himself. They left Shal alone then, to sleep in peace. The two men went downstairs to talk by the fire. Listle ascended to Shal's laboratory, intent on studying her spellbook. But try as she might, she simply couldn't concentrate. There was too much on her mind. And in her heart.