DragonLance Lost Legends 02 - Fistandantilus Reborn

“I am Fistandantilus! I am the lich of Skullcap, survivor of the
Dark Queen’s foul challenges.” The cry roared from the skull as the

eshless jaws spread wide. “It is you who are the imposter—and you
who are doomed!”

Danyal tore his eyes away, saw Kelryn looking wildly back and
forth between the two black gures. Mirabeth and Foryth watched
with awestruck expressions, while Emilo Haversack observed the
con ict with a look of intrigued curiosity. Looking around, the lad
saw that the gray-robed observer remained in place, scribing
diligently. The dust still trickled through the hourglass, though the
level of sand in the timepiece hadn’t appreciably changed.

“Dispassionate.” Dan suddenly remembered the word Foryth Teel
had used, the ideal that he strived for—and he knew that it t
perfectly this silent, aloof gure.

“Wait!” the command came from Kelryn Darewind. The Seeker
priest, still on his knees, crept around the side of the human
Fistandantilus. “You have both come in answer to my plea. Both of
you together are the archmage!”

“I have no need of together, or of any intrusive assistance!”
declared the man in black robes. His eyes never left the apparition
of death, which likewise maintained a tight focus on its opposite
number. “I am myself, powerful and invulnerable. I have returned to
Krynn, and now I am ready to commence my vengeance.”

“Wow—will you have a look at that?” Emilo’s voice, calmly
speaking into Danyal’s ear, was like a dousing of cold water on the
numbed young man. Grateful for any indication of normalcy, Dan
turned to see what the kender was talking about.

Emilo was pointing at the oor, where the bloodstone of
Fistandantilus lay, temporarily forgotten. Danyal saw that the green
gem was pulsing, radiating its sickly illumination through the
darkness, the seeping, misty light apparently unnoticed by the great

gures debating nearby. That vague illumination swirled in the air,
slowly congealing into a at disk, suspended perpendicular to the

oor. The hourglass was below the disk, and the foggy image
seemed to be centered above the silver timepiece.

As he watched, Danyal saw a vaporous essence take rmer shape,
whirling into an image that looked like nothing so much as a
window, a view through space into a place of gray mist, like the
dew-laden air of a foggy morning. The representation solidi ed
above the hourglass, and Dan knew he was looking at an entirely
di erent place.

“It’s the power of the stone and the skull. It has opened a window
to other planes, other worlds!” Foryth gasped. “A gate into space
and time.”

The bandit remained focused on the twin sorcerers. “You have
come because I called you! I summoned you!” cried Kelryn
Darewind, rising to his feet, turning to confront one, then the other
of the two mages.

“Silence!” snapped the human version of Fistandantilus. He stared
at Kelryn Darewind for a moment; then his eyes ickered, attracted
to something else. “Ah, my bloodstone!” declared the archmage,
spotting the gem on the cavern oor. He stepped toward the pulsing
artifact.

Danyal watched the shimmering window take rmer shape in the
air.

“Hold!” cried the skeletal Fistandantilus. Abruptly the grotesque
personage vanished, reappearing directly before his counterpart.
Kelryn Darewind stepped after it, forming the third point of a
triangle.

“I remember!” It was Emilo Haversack who spoke, his voice a
whisper of wonder. “I recall everything that happened to me. It
started with the skull, a very, very long time ago. I saw it there, in
the darkness.… The dwarf struck me with it, and my memories were
gone.”

He looked at Dan, his eyes wide with awe and dawning
understanding. “That’s where my sickness came from—and it took
away my memories, too! My life, my whole past! But now they’ve
come back!”

Emilo skipped a little step, as if he were ready to break into a
dance. “I come from Kendermore, and  …  and I remember a time

before the Cataclysm! And … and I thank you all for helping me, for
keeping me alive, for letting me get better!”

“You saved us, too, if you don’t remember,” Danyal replied.
The kender scowled. “But that stone and skull—they shouldn’t be
together, should they?”
“No, they shouldn’t!” Mirabeth wrapped the kender in a hug as
Danyal continued to watch the two magic-users and their prophet.
Kelryn was raving, his voice shrill as he made demands of rst one,
then the other Fistandantilus.
And all the time the bloodstone lay on the oor, pulsing in time
with the aring image of that green-framed window. The mysterious
portal whirled in the air, still suspended above the silver hourglass.
“The power was mine—the bloodstone belongs to me!” Kelryn’s
voice was shrill but futile.
“You are mine!” the lich declared in a voice like the wind from a
newly opened crypt, nally turning to regard the bandit lord with
its aring, horrifying eyes. “For too long you have used my talisman
as your toy, playing your role as a priest. My strength sustained you,
and now you will sustain me!”
Kelryn recoiled, his face draining of color under the inspection of
the ghastly undead mage.
“His life belongs to me!” the other wizard interjected. “It was my
essence that held back the e ects of age, that allowed him to
survive for so long.”
Each of the black-robed gures took one of the bandit’s arms.
Light seared the air, a sizzling aura that outlined the twisting,
writhing gure in cold brightness. Danyal, watching in awe, saw the
illumination as power, and he observed the power divided.
The essence of Kelryn Darewind’s life was sucked from his body as
the bandit lord writhed and screamed in unspeakable agony. He
weakened quickly, moaning, slumping between the two mighty
sorcerers. Vitality faded from the man’s eyes, and Dan could almost
see the warmth of his blood being pulled from his esh, owing in
equal portions into the two versions of the black-robed archmage.
Finally the sorcerers released the clawlike hands of their shriveled
victim, and Kelryn Darewind crumpled to the ground, the shell of

his skin drained of blood, of vitality and life. The corpse lay
motionless on the oor while the two images of Fistandantilus stood
trembling under the onslaught of renewed life and restored power.

A web of green light ared, sparking and ring between the two
archmages. Tendrils of ghostly power connected into a glowing net
of supernatural, sinister force.

“Together—they’ve absorbed him together!” Foryth Teel
whispered, awed.

“What does it mean? What will happen?” Danyal asked.
“I don’t know, but see: Neither archmage can break away from his
counterpart. I think that whichever one prevails will either be very
powerful, so much so that he becomes in fact invulnerable, or he
will be doomed.”
The mountain itself trembled under the onslaught of barely
contained power. Pieces of rock broke from the ceiling, tumbling
down to shatter on the oor. Sharp-edged shards of stone ew here
and there, several whizzing past dangerously close, but Danyal’s
attention was rapt, still focused on the two wizards. They strained
visibly to tear themselves apart, but with the violence of the
collapsing mountain forming a convulsive backdrop, the two black-
robed forms were pulled inexorably closer together.
At the same time, vibrations of power continued to seethe and to
rumble in the ground itself. Spatters of gravel tumbled from the
ceiling, and tongues of ame ared upward, breaking through the
crust of the oor. The cavern rocked back and forth, lling with
smoke and dust, thundering with the violent noise of collapse and
destruction.
And Danyal knew that Flayze’s mountain was dying.

Chapter 46
Departures, Alive and Dead

Third Bakukal, Reapember
374 AC

The green vortex of magic still hung over the hourglass, swirling
like a liquid mirror. Now, instead of a pure re ection, the
companions caught glimpses of actual places. Dan saw a forest, and
then a swath of smooth, wave-swept beach. The two wizards
grappled magically, taut within the web of green magic.

Another convulsion shook the lair of Flayzeranyx, and Danyal
nearly lost his balance as a piece of the ceiling smashed to the oor

nearby. Already the corridor by which the companions had entered
was gone, vanished beneath a crushing barrier of rubble.

“Go!” Foryth Teel cried amid the chaos, pointing toward the
glowing aperture. “This place is doomed! It’s your only chance!”

Dan saw the diamondlike sand still sparkling magically as it
tumbled through the narrow neck of the hourglass. The gray-robed
man had lowered his pen, and his eyes were xed upon the
companions. He would write, Danyal sensed, when they acted.

But what should they do?
A hiss of energy crackled loudly as the Fistandantiluslich tried to
pull his counterpart to the side. The human version of the archmage
set his feet and spread his ngers, summoning a roaring spiral of
greenish re that ared high and momentarily blocked the two
gures from view. The screams that emerged from within the
cocoon of magic were chilling and unnatural, each sound intense
with unchained fury and violence.
The vortex to the worlds wheeled like a kaleidoscopic image, and
the kender stared into the space, obviously fascinated. “What a
place to wander—so many places,” he declared in amazement.
“There’s a range of blue mountains—and look! A city, the whole
thing crammed into one big tower!”
“Go, then. See all those places!” urged the historian. “Escape
while you can, to survive and wander!”
“My friends, I shall do just that!” declared Emilo, suddenly
decisive.
Mirabeth clasped her arms around him in a crushing hug. “Go
now!” she demanded through her tears.
“Farewell, then, all of you—and thank you!” cried Emilo
Haversack, turning to wave a jaunty farewell to the three humans.
The two mages, still enshrouded by magic, took no note of the
companions.
Before Dan could shout any kind of reply, the kender dived into—
and through—the mirror. The lad caught a glimpse of a crowded
street, a city with strange, lofty walls, and then the image had
moved on to display a vault of cold, starry sky.

The visions in the arcane window continued to change. The next
place was familiar—a mountain valley, scored by a small, babbling
stream. Dan recognized the road they had followed near Loreloch,
and then he saw the blackened ruin itself. In another moment he
saw something moving, a familiar equine shape.

“There’s the horse!” he cried as the image of the black mare,
cantering gracefully along the road, came into view.

“Nightmare!” Mirabeth shouted. “Can you hear us? Come here!”
Suddenly the scene shifted, whirling closer in a dizzying rush, and
then the horse was right before them. With a kicking, plunging
jump, the animal leaped, and abruptly Nightmare passed through
the shimmering window and was in the cave alongside them,
rearing amidst the crumbling stone.
“She will carry the two of you to safety. You must go after the
kender!” Foryth declared sternly, taking Mirabeth and Danyal rmly
by their arms. “Leave Fistandantilus to me!”
“No!” Dan shouted. “I’m not leaving you!” Though he sensed it
was foolish to remain in the collapsing mountain, he felt a erce
loyalty to the historian, who had so clearly proved himself a friend.
“I’m staying, too!” declared Mirabeth, taking the lad’s arm,
watching in awe.
The mountain rocked with growing violence. A shard of stone
scored a deep gash in Foryth Teel’s head, drawing an immediate
shower of blood and sending the man staggering backward.
Abruptly the green shroud fell from the two images of
Fistandantilus, and the archmages staggered apart. The human
gasped for breath, while the lich slowly drew itself into a tall,
utterly rigid posture.
“Go—before it’s too late!” the historian insisted, angrily gesturing
to Danyal and Mirabeth.
But the two young humans merely shook their heads, locking
their arms around each other as they shared their intention to stay
behind with the historian and see the matter to its conclusion. With
one hand, Mirabeth reached out to grab onto Nightmare’s halter,
and under her soothing touch, the horse grow strangely calm amid
the chaos and destruction.

Ignoring his stubborn companions, Foryth turned back to the two
archmages. In amed by their consumption of Kelryn Darewind’s
essence, they stared at him with the light of hunger banked only
slightly in their eyes. The web of green light still glowed between
them, and Dan could plainly see the tension, the strain that the
connection placed on the two gures. The balance of power
between them was tenuous, and the lad sensed that neither could
relax, or the other’s victory would be absolute.

“You can become what you want, you know,” Foryth ventured. “A
true fusion of your selves, through the bloodstone, will result in a
being of truly godlike power.”

“I will not yield to a corpse!” sneered the eshly version of the
archmage.

“Nor I surrender to mortality!” cried the other.
“But you already have—both of you,” Foryth Teel replied, his
scholarly tone utterly reasonable. “In truth, you are the same being,
but you have been brought here from di erent segments of the
River of Time. If you think about it, the chance to merge with
yourself is a unique opportunity, a combination that has never been
attempted in all the history of Krynn.”
As the wizards glared at each other, Danyal noticed that Foryth
Teel had picked up the golden chain and its green stone pendant.
“The key, of course, is that only one of you can wield the
bloodstone. Here!”
Foryth suddenly ipped the gem into the air, tossing it between
the two mages, and for an instant it seemed to Danyal that time
stood still. The artifact tumbled and careened in space, the gold
chain ashing through a dizzying whirl, and then the two images of
the wizard reached forward. Each of them seized a portion of the
chain, pulling on the treasured artifact.
The links pulled taut as the power of twin sorcerers raged through
the ancient metal. The sound of a thunderstorm rocked through the
chamber. Bright ashes of light, like green spears of lightning,
crackled outward from the two gures and sent the watching
humans staggering backward. The air in the cavern was instantly
fouled, thick with the stench of death.

The whirling storm exploded around them, louder than anything
Dan had ever heard. He pulled Mirabeth close, and the two of them
hunched down, wincing against the unnatural gale, grimacing as the
wind lashed like a physical force against their hair, clothes, and
skin.

And then the black-shrouded wizards were gone, both of them
vanishing in a crackle of green smoke. The storm vanished with
them, though the tremors of the dying mountain still rocked the

oor and dropped showers of rubble and boulders from the ceiling.
“What—what happened?” Dan asked, stunned. Even though the
cavern was still jolted and rocked by subterranean convulsions, it
seemed strangely silent in the wake of the sorcerous departures.
“The two versions of Fistandantilus are scattered again, shards of
them tossed along the length of the River of Time. It should be
many centuries before that power is mustered into the world again.”
Foryth’s tone was wistful, almost as if he regretted that the
archmages had departed before they could be fully interviewed.
“But how did they  …  why were there two? And why did one of
them come for my belt buckle?”
Foryth Teel nodded con dently. “I’ve been thinking about that,
and I have an idea. But rst, tell me: Was your ancestor a
silversmith in Haven, and did he wear that belt of yours when he
faced a wizard in battle?”
“That was the family legend, yes.”
“I think Fistandantilus arranged to store himself in a metal object,
and that belt buckle was handy when his original host—a black-
robed mage named Whastryk—was killed. That spirit of the
archmage must have been stored in the silver, dormant for
centuries.
“Then, after the violence of Skullcap, Fistandantilus survived in
another, undead, form. That was the lich. When the spiritual essence
was exorcised from our kender friend, it entered the skull and
created that creature. But at the same time it split, torn in two by
the ancient spell stored in your silver buckle.
“The two wizards were perhaps the only beings on Krynn
powerful enough to defeat each other. Fortunately competition

between them was inevitable, since they both needed the same
artifact. And that battle insured their mutual destruction.”

Another rumble shook the cavern, and a great section of the roof
collapsed, nearly crushing them all. The three humans ducked,
covering their heads against splintering shards of stone.

The vortex, the window to the planes, continued to whirl before
the trio. The hourglass still stood beneath it, and there had been no
appreciable change in the level of the dust trickling through its
narrow neck.

“You two should go as well. Chase after Emilo, or take your own
road. This portal is the only safe way out of here. Leave while you
still can!”

“What about you?” Mirabeth asked insistently.
“I will stay. It is essential that I record the events of the last days
—”
“I know … for history,” Dan interjected. “But can’t you come with
us and write somewhere else where it’s safe?”
“I think if one of us goes through that window, he won’t be
coming back here. But there will be new worlds, new adventures
waiting, and both of you are well prepared to face those.”
“But you’ll die here!”
“Perhaps … if my god wants me to. If not, I’ll live—and write.”
Nightmare whinnied loudly, rearing as another jolt rocked the
cavern. On the other side of the horse, the gray-robed man came
forward, standing and watching with an expression of serene
patience.
And Danyal understood that Foryth Teel would be all right.
“The window won’t last much longer. Go!” cried the historian,
and this time the lad agreed. He clasped Foryth in a quick hug and
waited as Mirabeth did the same, then joined the lass in scrambling
onto the back of the prancing horse.
As tremors shook the oor underfoot, the window of space
seemed to waver. Mirabeth put her heels to the mare’s anks. With
a powerful leap, Nighmare bolted forward, and they were through—
gone into the whirling mists of time and space.

In another instant the chaos vanished. Danyal and Mirabeth found
themselves on a roadway, a well-paved path of smooth stones. The
lad looked over his shoulder immediately, but there was no sign of
the magical window behind them.

Nightmare advanced at an easy walk, approaching a wide ford
across a clear stream. A castle more beautiful than any they had
ever seen rose on the far side of the river. Silver towers rose into the
sky, and banners of multiple bright hues uttered and glowed in the
springlike breeze.

“Let’s go see who lives there,” said the lad, gently nudging the
mare into the shallow ford.

Epilogue

To His Excellency Astinus,
Lorekeeper of Krynn

Excellency, as you have requested, I have tried to recall my
speci c impressions as the matter of the skull and stone came to a
head.

The two young humans departed, and I saw them riding into a
pastoral realm. Both orphans, they left little behind, and I knew
they would prosper there. The knowledge gave me some comfort as
the mountain continued to shudder around me. The kender I never
saw again, but I presume that he fared well. He had much of the

survivor about him and was at least freed from the terrible burden
he had unwittingly borne for so many years.

In the shattered debris of the destruction, I saw the gure of a
mature, digni ed man approaching me. He was dressed all in gray,
and by this I immediately recognized Gilean. The god of neutrality
held up one hand, disavowing my initial intention to kneel in
reverence.

“You have proved your worth many times over, my faithful
chronicler,” said the benign image. “Know that you have proved
yourself capable of serving in my priesthood should you wish to
return to the monastery.”

“Should I wish  …” I was puzzled until, after a moment, I
perceived what my lord had already recognized. “And if I do not
choose to make this choice? Suppose my destiny is not to be found
in the priesthood?”

The old man smiled. “Then I have other work for you. Important
work, and it is in an area for which you are well suited.”

I waited.
“You must go to Palanthas, and thence to the Great Library.”
I felt my heart quicken, for there was no place on Krynn that
o ered such excitement and opportunity to a dedicated historian.
He reached down and picked up a silver hourglass from the oor
—an object I had failed to notice before, though it was midway
through the course of its sands—and he o ered it to me.
“You have earned this. It is an historian’s treasure, a priceless tool
that will allow you to travel into the realms of the past. There you
will be able to observe history as it happens, to ride the currents of
the great river through its course.”
“My lord, I am not worthy of such a treasure!” I was aghast, and
powerfully moved by the awesome responsibility inherent in such a
treasure.
The god waved aside my protests. “My chronicler, Astinus, is in
need of a skilled eld historian, a researcher who can travel abroad
in the world, not only in this time but also in times past, and report
accurately upon that which he discovers.”

“But, my lord  …” I was indeed humbled by the honor but could
not believe myself worthy. “Have I not failed to display the level of
objectivity, the dispassionate aloofness, that is the creed of the true
historian?”

“Bah,” Gilean said with a soft chuckle. “Aloofness is much
overrated. No, my son, you have learned that the true historian must
become a part of his story, else he will inevitably fail to understand
the underlying truths of the tale.”

And so, Excellency, I arrive at the Great Library and await your
commands.

In devotion to the truth,
Foryth Teel

About the Author

Douglas Niles is a free-lance writer and game designer. He is the
author of numerous novels and short stories, including three
FORGOTTEN REALMS® trilogies and several DRAGONLANCE® tales for TSR, Inc.
He has recently written for the young adult market, with three
novels for the First Quest line, and has also created a unique fantasy
realm for the new Watershed trilogy.

A former high-school teacher, Niles was inspired to switch careers
after he discovered the D&D® game and ran a campaign for several
years. He has designed over sixty di erent game products for TSR,
Inc., ranging from role-playing adventures and game systems to fast-
playing board games and detailed military simulations. Among his
game designs are numerous DRAGONLANCE modules and accessories, and
the TOP SECRET/S.I.™ role-playing game system.

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