from the depths. The only feature he could make out for
certain was a peculiar ridge of high hills lined up neatly
by twos and running the length of the land. Then, as the
mass rose still higher, two eyes gleamed bright in the
darkness.
This was not an island.
“Shinare!” Vandor Grizt whispered. Beside him, the
sivak hissed in fear.
“It’s going to crush us!” a minotaur roared.
But as the head – a head resembling that of an
enormous turtle – cleared the water, the leviathan paused.
It might have been some huge stone colossus carved by
the ancients of Istar, so still was it.
Stel shouted triumphantly. He was facing the
monster, the pendant of Chemosh held tight in one hand.
Stel’s ancient pendant might not have summoned up
the legions of undead that the cleric had sought, but it had
summoned up something far more impressive. The
draconians left the rail, dragging Vandor back to the altar.
“Surely this is no longer necessary!” he protested.
“Master Stel has no time for this now! We should not
bother such a busy man!”
In response, the draconians threw Vandor over the
blood-spattered bowl and waited for orders.
“See what I have done!” Stel cried. “I have the power
to raise monsters from the depths!”
“DEAD ONES, YES . . .” muttered Vandor.
“Yet, this is not what I expected,” Stel quieted, then
gazed down at his prize. “I meant to summon the dead of
Istar, not this . . . this beast. This is not how the spell is
supposed to work. Time has wreaked havoc with the
pendant. I shall have to do something about that.”
Stel removed his gloves and began probing at the
crystal. There was a SNAP and a tiny burst of light. Stel
cried out in pain. The crystal fell from the ivory casing.
With a wordless cry, Stel tried to catch the magical gem
in midair, but he missed. Vandor shut his eyes – prayed
that the explosion of sorcery unleashed by the shattering
crystal would make his end swift.
The ebony gem struck the deck with a disappointing
clatter. It rolled a moment, then slid toward Vandor Grizt.
He reacted without thinking, seeing only a valuable
jewel heading toward the sea. Vandor put his foot out,
caught the crystal between the sole of his boot and the
deck. Grizt, the draconians, and Prefect Stel exhaled in
relief. Only then did Stel realize what Vandor was doing.
“Stop him, you fools!”
Vandor Grizt stomped his foot down as hard as he
could, trying desperately to crush the damnable artifact.
Something gave way and at first Vandor believed he had
succeeded. But try as he might, he could not reduce the
thing to powder.
One of the draconians hit Vandor, dragging him back,
away from the pendant.
Quickly Stel bent over and snatched up his prize. He
inspected it for damage, then, satisfied, tried to replace it
in the clasp. The crystal would not stay. Stel studied the
clasp closer and cursed.
“Broken!”
Vandor smiled ruefully, though he could not help but
sigh over the precious loss. The pendant had survived the
sinking of Istar and centuries of burial in the depths of the
Blood Sea, only to come to such an ignominious end.
Stel shook his fist at Vandor.
“You did this! You could not crush the jewel, but you
cracked the framework around it.” He thrust the gem
close, so that Vandor could see the tiny, intricate workings
that wrapped around the ebony jewel, like skeletal fingers
clutching a prized possession. One of them had clearly
broken off.
Whatever his fate now – and it certainly could get no
worse – Vandor Grizt could die in peace, knowing the
monstrous pendant was destroyed.
“I see your look!” Stel hissed. “But I will build the
pendant anew, thief! The framework is nothing! It can
readily be replaced! As long as I have the jewel I will… I
will. . .”
He stared at it. The jewel – Grizt realized – had ceased
to glow.
The two draconians exchanged worried glances.
“Prefect,” asked the sivak, “is there something amiss?”
Stel did not answer. The dark cleric shook the gem,