Midnights Mask by Kemp Paul S Read Free Book Online Page A

that?” Azriim asked.
    “After that, the Crown of Flame,” said the Sojourner, his voice almost wistful.
    “I meant for us,” Azriim said.
    “Of course you did,” the Sojourner answered. “For you, completion of your transformation to gray, freedom from service to me, and something else….”
    “What else?” Azriim asked.
    The Sojourner shook his head and admonished, “Patience, Azriim.”
    Riven had never before heard them mention the Crown of Flame. He dared ask, “The Crown of Flame?”
    The Sojourner waved a hand casually, though the movement caused him obvious pain. “Something I saw once in my youth, and would see again in my dotage.”
    “Saw?” Dolgan asked. “I thought you wore it.”
    “In a manner of speaking, Dolgan,” the Sojourner replied. “Now, let me see to our new… broodmate, and you three can be about your tasks, while I am about mine.”
    Azriim cocked his head. “You have a task?”
    “I do,” the Sojourner said. “And after I’ve completed it and you have tapped the mantle in Sakkors, you will not be returning to this plane. Say your farewells.”
    Azriim’s tone was wary. “Where then?”
    “I will advise you,” the Sojourner said, and offered nothing more.
    While Azriim pondered, the Sojourner used another minor summoning spell to provide Riven with his own teleportation rod, similar to that of the slaadi, and instructed him in its use. Then he cast several spells on Riven, ostensibly to ward him from detection by Magadon or Cale. Riven was in no position to protest, though the spells could have been anything.
    Afterward, the Sojourner provided Azriim with a silvery seed pod threaded with black veins-a Weave Tap seed-exactly like the one the slaad had used back in Skullport.
    After changing back to his preferred half-drow form-now with a prominent gray streak through his otherwise pale hair-Azriim touched the compass and seed with a magical glove he wore and both disappeared, safely stored in some extradimensional space accessible only through the magic of the glove. Finally, Azriim opened a hole in the wall with a command word and disappeared for a time. He returned with new clothes for him, Dolgan, and Riven.
    Riven managed not to laugh in Azriim’s face. He said, “I’ll manage my own wardrobe, slaad.”
    Azriim looked disappointed but shrugged it off. “If you must,” he said, and donned his own finery—a silk shirt, high boots, tailored trousers, and a lace-trimmed cloak. He strapped on his quiver of wands and his weapon belt.
    “Now I feel ready,” he announced.
    Dolgan fumbled into his new clothes-ripping them in the process, of course-and all was prepared.
    Without further ado, Riven and the slaadi activated their rods and teleported back to the city where everything had begun—Selgaunt.

CHAPTER 3: RETURNING TO THE SHADOWS
    Cale materialized with his friends in the same cavern in the Plane of Shadow from which they had staged their attack. All three sagged to the ground, breathing heavily. No hisses or whispers issued from the nearby tunnels, and the darkness of the plane filled Cale, comforted him. He removed his mask but kept it in his hand.
    Magadon shrugged off his pack and struck another of his seemingly endless supply of sunrods. The three companions stared at one another in its dim light. Cale saw the pain in the eyes of Jak and Magadon, in their wan complexions. Cale whispered prayers of healing and touched each of his friends in turn, healing fully the black holes in Magadon’s skin and the terrible burns in Jak’s legs. The little man bit back a scream as the dead flesh fell from his leg, replaced by new. Both smiled their gratitude. Cale’s regenerative flesh was already healing his own wounds so he did not expend a spell.
    For a time, the three sat in silence under the roof of stone, an island of dim light in an ocean of pitch. The sunrod’s light flickered over their faces. No one seemed willing to say what Cale was thinking, what all of