Between the haze and shadows, she couldn't see the wall's surface well enough to judge whether it offered sufficient natural holds for free climbing. She tore her rope off her belt and tossed the grappling hook up to the ledge. The last time she'd glimpsed Mordrayn, the archmage had been as entranced as ever. She had more to fear from cult missiles and magic than from the evil sorceress herself. Or so she hoped.

She tugged on the rope to ensure the grappling hook's grip, then began her ascent. How were her friends faring? She couldn't dwell on their fate right now. She had to concentrate on reaching the sapphire.

Hand over hand. Hand over hand. Her arms ached with exertion and her ribs with each breath, but the familiar movements helped focus her ricocheting thoughts. The Word of Redemption. Ethgonil. She had to get close enough to speak it. She was almost there.

She reached the top and rolled onto the ledge. A glance at Mordrayn revealed that the archmage was still locked in communion with the Mythal, unmindful of all else. Blue-white flames shot up from the Sapphire of the Weave and danced around her, licking but not burning her skin. What was it the baelnorn had said-mere mortals cannot withstand the Mythal's fire? What did that make the archmage?

What would happen to her, Kestrel, when she touched the fiery gem?

It did not matter. Without further hesitation, she reached forward and placed her hand on the stone.

"Ethgonil!" Though her mouth formed the word, the voice that boomed through the cavern was not her own. It was an ancient voice, one that had existed before time began and one that would survive when time ceased to be. Everyone in the cavern-friend and foe alike-stopped their actions, their attention riveted to the ledge.

A floating ball of brilliant white light appeared. As Kestrel shielded her eyes from the glare, the ball expanded and opened to reveal a portal. A moment later, the baelnorn appeared. No longer the tragic figure they'd left behind in the catacombs, Miroden Silverblade stood tall and proud. He held his head high, his face a mask of righteousness.

His gaze met Kestrel's. "For you!" He thrust his hand toward her, then swept his arm toward the back of the cavern. Immediately, her pain vanished. At the same time her vision blurred-or something intangible obscured it. She viewed Silverblade as if watching him underwater.

The baelnorn's sweeping hand formed a fist. "For Myth Drannor!" He raised his arm high above the sapphire, then smashed his fist into the gem.

The Protector exploded in a burst of fire. In less than a second, both he and the sapphire were utterly consumed by the flames.

Kestrel instinctively leaped away from the pyre and curled into a defensive ball, but the flames burgeoned to overtake the whole ledge. She cringed as the deadly blaze raced toward her, preparing for a swift death. Miraculously, the flames did not touch her. She found herself protected by an invisible sphere that held the fire and heat at bay.

The inferno spouted outward like a tidal wave to fill the cavern. Cultists screamed and tried to outrun the blazing swell of holy fire, but the conflagration would not be cheated of its due. The flames rolled forth, consuming everyone in their path. Shrieks and moans echoed off the stone walls until they, too, drowned in the roar of the holocaust.

Then there was silence.

Kestrel looked out upon the destruction wrought by the baelnorn's self-sacrifice. The cult legions had been incinerated where they stood, leaving only mounds of ashes in their place. Hesitantly, dreading what she expected to see, she raised her gaze above the dust to the back of the cavern.

Movement. Her shoulders sagged in relief. Her friends had survived, shielded as she had been by the Protector's spell.

Below, the Pool of Radiance lay placid as ever. Steam rising from its amber surface offered the only hint that it had been disturbed in the slightest by the baelnorn's act of retribution.

Beside her-

"You little bitch."

The horrifyingly familiar voice broke the stillness with an edge that could cut glass. Kestrel's blood froze in her veins as she turned to look at a face whose fury burned hotter than the inferno just past.

There remained one cultist the baelnorn hadn't destroyed.

Kya Mordrayn's eyes blazed with hatred. Protected by the Mythal's aura, she had survived the baelnorn's cleansing fire unscathed. The archmage lifted her long reptilian arm and pointed a talon at Kestrel's heart. "Think you that I will allow one scrawny chit to undo a plan decades in the formation?"

A thin green ray shot out from Mordrayn's talon and raced straight at Kestrel. The thief instinctively ducked behind the stone pillar. The ray struck the pillar and instantly reduced it to dust

Kestrel swallowed hard. Though Mordrayn wore only a flowing black cape and a red leather bodysuit split to the navel, it was the rogue who felt unprotected. Gods, but she hated wizards!

Before she had time to react, Mordrayn unleashed a second ray-this one red-from her mutated fingertip. Kestrel rolled out of its path, but the ray altered its course to stay on target.

When it struck, she felt a mild vibration, nothing more. Thank Mystra for those mantle rings.

The archmage sneered. "Your paltry protections cannot spare you forever." She spat the words out of her mouth.

Kestrel stared at Mordrayn, still dumbstruck in the presence of the sorceress. She realized that Mordrayn was actually speaking-not using her mind's voice, as they'd witnessed previously. Was this a sign that her connection with the Mythal was indeed broken?

Have faith. Anorrweyn's gentle voice entered Kestrel's thoughts. Even now, I am one with the Mythal and work to turn its power against our enemies.

That's all very well, Kestrel wanted to answer, but what do I do in the meantime? As if in response, she heard her companions hurrying toward the ledge from the back of the underground chamber.

Mordrayn lifted her claw once more, this time pointing it into the cavern. "We'll see if your friends are so well protected." She aimed her hand at Athan, who led the advance. "Back for more of my attentions, Athan? Some men just can't get enough." A bolt of lightning raced from her talons to strike him. The vigorous fighter staggered under its force but did not fall.

The bolt did not stop there. It arced to Corran, then Durwyn, catching all three men in a chain of electricity. When it reached Ghleanna, however, her spellstaff absorbed the charge. Ghleanna tapped the staff twice on the ground to send the bolt streaking back to Mordrayn herself. The electrical charge left a hideous burn on the cult leader's scantily clad chest.

The archmage screeched in outrage. "I'll pry that staff out of your dead hand!" She threw her head back and shouted in a voice that echoed off the stone walls. "Pelendralaar!"

Kestrel finally shook off her fear. Three of her companions were injured because she'd stood here like a halfwit and let Mordrayn get the upper hand. With passing regret for her lost magical dagger, she drew her twin blades from her boots. Their familiar hilts felt comfortable in her palms. She hurled the blades at the archmage.

They bounced off an invisible shield and fell harmlessly to the ground. She uttered a stream of curses-would nothing go right for her? Two more weapons gone and all she'd managed to do was capture Mordrayn's unwanted attention once more.

The archmage turned her baleful gaze on Kestrel. "What an annoying little gnat you are." She raised her dragon claw again. Kestrel prayed her mantle rings could withstand the continual assault.

Ghleanna's spell, however, was faster. The half-elf passed her arm in an arc, then pointed at Mordrayn. A blast of swirling ice crystals sprung from her hand. The frigid air formed a cone that enveloped the cult leader. Mordrayn let fly a string of foul epithets as she shook with cold.