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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2228060" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 386The terrible pyroclastic dragon was slain, its monstrous body reclaimed by the lava.  But it still took the companions a good deal of time and trouble to escape the cavern with their prize. Arun had almost been claimed by the lava once more.  Within seconds of his killing blow, the dragon had collapsed, sagging back into the lava that quickly embraced it.  Fortunately the grip of its jaws relaxed rather than locked upon its death, and the paladin was able to struggle free.  Dana empowered the levitation again to lift him free of the sinking dragon, and she’d then hazarded a quick run out onto the lava to grasp him and drag him back to the island of rock.  Getting them back to the exit proved more problematic.  Dannel and Benzan, using spider climb magic, ultimately crawled across the ceiling of the room, establishing a network of silk ropes secured to pitons to allow Dana and Arun to safely return without having to contact the expanse of molten rock again.  Dana first returned to the island where Mole had met her end.  She collected the slain gnome’s possessions, careful to gather all of the fine dust that had been trapped within those items of clothing that had survived disintegration.  It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would be enough for a resurrection, later. While Benzan assisted her, Dannel crossed to the far ledge.  The odd golden striations he had detected earlier turned out to be markings on another gray curtain, a huge, heavy barrier designed to casually resemble a plain rock face.  The elf warily drew aside the curtain to reveal a deep alcove littered with assorted treasures.  Dannel quickly sorted through the largess, unable to take any pleasure from it, knowing that the one who would have most appreciated the find was not here to enjoy it.  He quickly found the dispersal collar, easily identified from Cal’s thorough description derived from the notes of Freija Doorgan.  The other loot was hastily stored within their bags of holding for later examination, and then, mindful of the limited duration of the power of his magical slippers, he returned across the room to the others.  Arun had already been carried over, and Dana was making her way across, so he paused to recover their ropes before making his way back down to the entry where his friends waited. The seven adventurers were eager to leave this hellish place behind them.  Dannel was the last to leave, casting a long glance across the cavern, a single tear glistening unshed at the corner of his eye.  But the waves of heat quickly stole it, and the elf’s face was grim as he hurried after the others. * * * * * The actual use of the dispersal collar was anticlimactic.  The companions returned swiftly but attentively to the cavern where they’d left the dread Cagewright artifact.  Now that they had the means to undo the evil Ritual of Planar Junction they felt a particular drive motivating them forward, but none of them wanted to walk into another ambush.  In their pouches they carried six of the distinctive rings worn by the Cagewrights they’d defeated, but that meant that there were still seven others at large.  Wiejeron had suggested that Dyr’ryd was the last line of defense warding the Tree of Shackled Souls, but none of them were quite willing to place their faith in the dead assassin’s final words. But the complex was eerily silent as they retraced their steps.  Within ten minutes of departing Moltenwing’s fiery cavern they had regathered at the base of the fell tree.  The currents of power still flowed through the place, dimly perceived like the fainted hint of a breeze on the back of the neck.  They did not waste any time.  With Cal directing from Freija’s notes, Arun and Lok secured the conjurer’s heavy collar around the thick lower bole of the metal tree.  Like the construct, the collar was an ugly thing, a combination of greasy gray hide and black metal, with nasty spikes jutting from it at unexpected angles that had to be carefully watched lest they pierce the flesh of the one carrying it.  The two veteran warriors secured the collar, cinched it tightly into place, and quickly withdrew.  The impact was immediate if subtle; the weaving tendrils of power immediately vanished around the twisting branches of the Tree, and a deep, unnatural stillness filled the vast interior of the cavern.  In that void, even the heartbeats of the companions seemed loud, intrusive.“We did it,” Cal said, verifying with a cantrip that the ripping of the gateway between worlds caused by the Tree had been interrupted.  “There may still be work to do in the city—“ Arun began, but he was interrupted by an unexpected tremor that shook the cavern faintly for a few seconds before fading.  “What was that?” Dana asked. “The ritual was unleashing havoc on the volcano,” Cal said.  “The abrupt ending may have unexpected side effects.  It may be some time before it is safe for the people of Cauldron to return.” “What about the Tree?” Lok asked.  “It must be destroyed,” Arun said. Cal nodded.  “Yes,” he said.  “But we must first be certain that doing so will not cause further destruction.”The paladin frowned.  “If we give the remaining Cagewrights the opportunity…”He was cut off by a loud crash.  The companions turned to see that Benzan had climbed up into the branches of the Tre during their conversation, and had released one of the Soulcages from its tenuous perch.  The adventurers gathered slowly behind him as the tiefling sprang down, ignoring what had to be a painful jolt as he landed hard on the bare volcanic stone, and walked over to the cage.  A pitifully compact form lay in a lump at its bottom, barely visible through the thick bars.  With a sudden fury, the tiefling drew his sword and hacked at the latch on the door of the cage.  Bright sparks flew as his magical sword clanged into the dark metal.  For a full minute he unleashed his attacks, his face a rictus of fury, the others watching silently.  Lok or Arun might have been able to open it more efficiently, but they seemed to realize that the tiefling needed this catharsis of action. Finally, the lock gave way.  Benzan tossed his sword aside, and wrenched the heavy door open, the cage resisting as if fighting his efforts.  Immediately his manner changed, and it was with gentle tenderness that he reached inside, and drew out the crumpled form from within.  The companions came forward, surrounding the man who held his daughter’s dead body cradled in his lap.  She was barely recognizable.  She’d only been in the cage for a few days, but whatever the ritual had done had obviously ravaged both her body and soul.  Dried blood was crusted on her hands and face, and body seemed gaunt, fragile.  Benzan knelt with her in his grasp, his head bent to touch hers, his body shaking with grief. “Can she be raised?” Arun asked, in a whisper. Cal shook his head sadly.  “She was, like Benzan, an outsider, her soul not native to this plane.  Conventional resurrection magic cannot help her.”  He did not elaborate on what he feared to be true, that the ritual had consumed her soul as its power souce for the opening of the gateway between Carceri and Faerûn.  But when he looked up, his eyes met Dana’s, and he saw the same conviction mirrored there. They would search for her soul, and use magic to confirm the finality of what they saw here, but both spellcasters had seen too much to doubt what they both suspected to be true.  Dannel had briefly examined some of the other soulcages, and the shattered hulks lying within each one.  “The orphan, Terrem,” he said, quietly.  “Zenith Splintershield.”Hodge looked up, surprised at that last revelation, but did not speak. “Others I do not recognize,” the elf went on.  “All dead.”“We have seen much in the way of evil and depravity,” Cal said.  “This was… this is something beyond that.”Benzan’s head came up, slowly, and there was something truly frightening in his eyes.  He stared at the Tree of Shackled Souls, but he was seeing something beyond that, something yet hidden within shadow.  “There will be a reckoning,” he whispered, his voice as cold as ice.  THE END OF BOOK IXCOMING SOON: “STRIKE ON SHATTERHORN”</blockquote>

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