creatures to assist them. On the land cleared of vallenwoods, just north of
Solace on the shores of Crystalmir Lake, Hederick had built an opulent temple. The High
Theocrat called the temple Erolydon, which meant “scourge of heresy” in Old Abanasinian.
There Hederick had set up the headquarters of his Inquisition. Anyone caught using magic
was deemed a heretic, according to the Seeker faith, and thus was subject to execution,
which came both swiftly and mercilessly. Benthis, surveying the assembled White Robes,
noted the melancholy expression on the face of the elven mage. “Even you, Calcidon?” he
murmured. “I thought you and yours never ventured forth from your cozy elven nest in
Qualinost. Who have you lost to Heder-ick's Inquisition?” “A cousin,” came the
tight-lipped answer. “And you, Benthis?” The hawklike visage softened. “My sister.” Other
mages chimed in. “Hederick executed my brother.” “My friend of twenty years.” “My
partner.” “What do you want of us, Tarscenian?” Calcidon repeated. “Ancilla gave me
instructions before she addressed the Conclave,” Tarscenian said. “She feared she would
failonce moreto persuade them. And she worried she would be too frail afterward to summon
you herself.” Tarscenian chose his next words carefully. “Ancilla discovered a way to
collect the powers of willing mages, and channel them through her own willpower. She
thought that with such unusual strength at her disposal, she could at last wrest the
Diamond Dragon away from Hederick. In turn, she planned to use the artifact to defeat
him.” “Take our powers?” Benthis cried. "That's unacceptable. Where would that leave us?
Devoid of magic at a time when Hederick is sending spies and kidnappers all over Krynn to
capture
spellcasters! You'd leave us unprotected against this tyrant?“ ”Ancilla found a means to
shelter you,“ Tarscenian explained. ”If you will transfer your powers to her, the
vallenwoods will shelter your bodies and nurture you until the Diamond Dragon releases
you.“ A flurry of protest, led by Benthis, rippled through the gathering. But as Calcidon
and the rest of the wizards intoned the names of the loved ones lost to the Inquisition,
one by one the opponents backed down. Benthis tried one last argument. ”If Ancilla fails,
what happens to us? What if she dies despite our combined powers?“ ”I cannot say for
certain,“ Tarscenian said. ”You will be part of the vallenwoods, but whether you will die
or stay in the trees for yearsor foreverAncilla could not foretell.“ Benthis gazed around
the circle. His look met only obdurate stares. ”And we all must be part of this?“ he
asked. ”All who are present now,“ Tarscenian replied. ”Or the spell will not work.“
Benthis closed his eyes. At last he opened them and attempted a weak smile. ”If it comes
down to dying at Hederick's command or perishing inside a vallenwood, I suppose it
ultimately makes no difference,“ he conceded. He wiped the damp from his forehead with his
sleeve. ”I loved my sister. I'm with you.“ For the rest of the day, Tarscenian led them
through the steps Ancilla had forced him to commit to memory. When all had learned the
spells and movements, he spread his cloak on the ground in the middle of the circle and
laid Ancilla upon it. Then, because Tarscenian was but a minor spellcaster, he backed out
of the circle, leaving the wizards to do their work. Calcidon led the spell. ”Shiriff
intoann ejjitt,“ he intoned. ”Borumtalcon,“ the mages replied. They raised their hands and
lowered them in the prescribed movements. Each wizard inscribed upon the fog a different
portion of the magical traceries. The gestures of their fingers left blue, green, and red
lines on the mist. Ancilla had stressed that each segment of the total was crucial, but to