Tarscenian, each mage's work appeared to be nothing but errant scribbling. The fog began
to glow. The white robes gleamed like burnished silver. ”Bilum merit ayhannti,“ Calcidon
sang in his elven tenor. ”Achet shiral pescumi. Relaquay,“ came the chanted reply of the
group. The men's voices rumbled. The women's tones floated like feathers. Suddenly the
forty robes glittered like diamonds. They scattered light until tears streamed from the
mages' eyes. Ancilla had been adamant: the mages' eyes must remain open, whatever their
inclination to close them against the brilliance. ”Ayhannti, shiral liwix xhalot.“
Calcidon sang on. ”Polopeque.“ The shine that had transformed the robes now leaped out of
the cloth as though it had life of its own. The glitter shone silver and white. Ice blue
appeared in the swirling fog. The lines that the mages had traced formed into figuresa
tree, a dragon, a lance, a crown. Then they muted to nothingness. The mist evaporated
around the ring of mages and intensified above Ancilla's still form. The air filled with
the clattering and chiming of bells. ”Shiral liwix trassdiv dhellil“ Calcidon shrieked the
words. Yet the other mages could barely hear him over the noise from the twisting tendrils
of fog. ”Reveese rou ripow nad borrah rou carpeh,“ the mages shouted in unison. ”Reveese
rou ripow nad borrah rou carpeh!" The fog enveloped all the mages. The light from a
thousand stars exploded within the circle. Wooden bells, silver chimes, steel cymbals
could be heard. Some of the mages began to bleed from the ears. Others cried out with pain
and made as if to clap their hands over their eyes. Then all disappeared. The fog vanished
with them, revealing a late-afternoon mountaintop without tree or living beast. All was
silent.
At that moment, Ancilla shivered and awakened. Her green eyes stared blankly at Tarscenian
for a moment. “I am alive?” she finally whispered. “They agreed to help us?” At
Tarscenian's nod, the old woman accepted his hand and stood. She wobbled at first, then
supported herself without aid. Ancilla waved away Tarscenian's arm.
“By the Old Gods, Tarscenian, the power!” she whispered. “I have the might of two score
mages inside of me.” Her companion waited while Ancilla composed herself. She closed her
eyes, and her lips moved, but Tarscenian could not divine whether she spoke spell or
prayer. After a few moments, Ancilla seemed to gain some control over the magical forces
raging within her.
“This is our last chance, Tarscenian,” Ancilla said resolutely, looking up at her longtime
friend and companion. "We go now to Erolydonto challenge my brother.
Dragonlance - Villains 4 - Hederick The Theocrat
Chapter 4
Pounding and shouting at thc front door of their treetop mansion in Solace shook the Vakon
family from their beds just after midnight. Jeffers, the manservant, was the first to the
door, but Ceci Vakon, mistress of the home, followed a short distance behind. “Is the
master home?” Jeffers whispered to Ceci. He clutched a small axe of the variety normally
used to chop kindling.
She shook her head. “Mendis isn't home yet. Perhaps something has happened to him.” A
resonant voice boomed through the locked door. “Death to heretics!” Ceci recognized the
booming bass voice as that of the high priest of the Seeker temple in Solace. “High Priest
Dahos!” she whispered. “And Hederick's goblins. What are they doing here?” Jeffers's face
was young, pale, and defiant. “I'm the only man in the house,” he said staunchly. “I will
protect you.” “No. This must be a mistake,” Ceci replied. “The High Theocrat promised us
protection. Open the door. I'll speak to them.” The young servant followed her orders but
kept the small axe in view and stood stubbornly in the doorway next to his mistress.
Clutching her