Athan's eyes fluttered open. He warily regarded the unfamiliar faces surrounding him until his gaze rested on the sorceress. "Ghleanna," he whispered.

She took his good hand in hers and pressed it to her wet cheek. "Brother."

Despite Faeril's care, Athan remained weak. The sight of his sister, however, appeared to hearten him beyond anything the cleric could do. His blue eyes quickly lost their glassiness, and the lines pain etched in his face seemed to fade as the minutes passed. After Ghleanna made introductions, he asked how she and the rest of the party had found him.

"Happenstance," she admitted. "Though I prayed you might still live, we had no way of knowing for sure."

He encompassed them all with his gaze. "I thank the gods you arrived when you did. After my last beating, I might never have awakened." He tried to rise but winced and settled back down against Ghleanna.

"Your ribs are broken," Faeril said. "I shall have to bind them, for your other injuries exhausted my healing powers. We'll also have to splint that arm." She opened a small pack and withdrew several rolled-up strips of cloth. "Kestrel, cut me several one-foot lengths from this roll." Corran, meanwhile, scouted around for some stray pieces of wood.

"The Cult of the Dragon has perfected the art of torture." Athan studied his right hand, flexing his fingers as if amazed to see them work once more. "You spend the first half of the interrogation afraid you'll die, and the last half afraid you won't." He glanced up to catch a stricken look cross Ghleanna's face. "You would have been proud, Lena-they never got a word out of me."

Corran returned with an extinguished torch and Durwyn's axe. He measured Athan's forearm and chopped off the charred end of the torch to match its length. "What did they want to know?"

"At first, who had sent us and how much we knew about Mordrayn's plans." He inhaled sharply as Faeril grasped his injured arm and reset the broken bone. "Lately, though, all their questions have been about you folks. Of course, I had no answers to give them even if I wanted to-I didn't even know my sister was among you. All I knew, I gleaned from my captors' own questions. Your activities have agitated the whole cult."

The news brought a grin to Kestrel's lips. "Good. I hope we have Mordrayn's drawers tied in knots." She handed the lengths of cloth to Faeril and returned her dagger to its hidden sheath.

Athan's face became deadly serious. "Do not underestimate Kya Mordrayn. She single-handedly controls the Mythal now through some sort of gem and uses the corrupted ancient magic to expand the Pool of Radiance."

"Yes, we've seen evidence of the pool's expansion." Corran secured the torch shaft to Athan's arm to form a makeshift splint. "Spawn pools are popping up in random cities outside Cormanthyr."

"There's nothing random about them," Athan said. "Mordrayn and the dracolich are using the pool to drain the life force from key cities throughout the Realms. They intend to first gain control of the Heartlands' main trading and port cities-Phlan, Mulmaster, Hillsfar, Zhentil Keep. Once they achieve a strong foothold, they plan to expand their domination until the whole continent falls under their power."

When the splint was complete, Faeril and Ghleanna eased Athan into a sitting position so the cleric could bind his ribs. "If Mordrayn controls the Mythal and the Pool of Radiance, what does she need the dracolich for?" Kestrel asked. "Is she really doing this all just so he can rule the world?"

"Pelendralaar is her general." Athan groaned as Faeril wound cloth strips around his bruised and battered torso. "He masterminds all the cult's military strategy. The dracolich has already waged successful campaigns against the alhoon, phaerimm, and baatezu of Myth Drannor and has now started deploying forces outside the city. He crushed the first counterattacks of Mulmaster and Zhentil Keep."

Kestrel recalled the withered but massive beast they'd observed in the Speculum's scrying pool. He'd looked imposing enough from a distance. "Have you ever seen the dracolich in person?"

"I've been dragged before Pelendralaar and Mordrayn several times," Athan said. "Do not underestimate his power, either. Once the Mythal protected this city from foul races and creatures, but now Mordrayn uses its corrupted power to strengthen the dracolich. We'll never defeat him without breaking her hold on the Mythal first."

"We?" Ghleanna questioned. "Athan-"

"We aren't far from the pool cavern," the warrior continued. "It lies at the end of this passageway. That's where we'll find the two of them, the gem Mordrayn uses to control the Mythal, the pool itself-and the Gauntlets of Moander, hanging from Mordrayn's waist so that anyone who seeks to destroy the pool has to go through her first." The warrior struggled to his feet. In height and girth, he was Durwyn's match, but his remaining injuries lent him the awkwardness of a squire. "I'd like nothing more than to face them again with a weapon in hand-"

"Athan, not with your sword arm still broken."

The warrior smiled ruefully. "Ever the protective sister, Lena."

"Ghleanna is right," Faeril said. "You need more healing before you could take on a wolf, let alone the archmage and her general."

"We can't just leave him here for the cultists to return," Corran said. "And for him to leave on his own with a broken sword arm…" He let the conclusion go unstated.

Faeril nodded. "I have considered this matter. Athan can recover at our tree shelter, speeded by Beriand's superior healing arts. With the group's leave, I will accompany him there to make sure he reaches it safely and to check on Beriand's welfare. Already I have been too long away from him."

Kestrel didn't like that idea at all. "You would desert us just as we prepare to confront Mordrayn and Pelendralaar?"

Jarial stepped forward. "Nay, I can accompany him. The party has another sorcerer-you are our only cleric. Your holy magic will be needed against the evil ahead. I will take Athan to the shelter, check on Beriand, and return as soon as I can."

If he could return. The sorcerer might very well get himself killed trying to return alone. But Kestrel couldn't think of a better alternative, and the whole party grew conscious of the fact that they'd tarried in one place overlong. They were lucky to have remained undisturbed thus far-they could not afford to spend more time in debate.

Ghleanna draped her cloak over Athan's broad shoulders and hugged her brother goodbye. "Easy, now," he chuckled. "Those ribs are still sore."

"Take care of yourself." The sorceress looked up at him with moist eyes. "Shall I see you again in this life?"

He kissed her on the forehead and smiled. "Count on it, Lena."

The sound of lapping water echoed in eerie rhythm throughout the twisting passage. It hissed and burbled, a moaning chant that threatened to drive mad any who listened too long.

Kestrel shut her ears against the profane whisperings of the pool, retreating into a state of deep concentration she normally reserved only for the most complicated locks and high-stakes card games. Her collarbone tingled so badly it felt like a tuning fork. She did not need the familiar warning-she knew perfectly well how much danger she walked toward. The pool cavern could not be far now. Surely, just around that bend-

The sound of a female voice stopped them all short. A familiar, throaty voice. Mordrayn's voice.

"We have gates to get in and out of the cavern, Pelendralaar. The lowliest of our sorcerers can summon them. Why keep an outside entrance? It only makes us vulnerable, and we cannot afford any more mistakes." Her voice became a purr. "And I so enjoy your displays of strength."

The dracolich's deep rumble followed. "As you wish, child."