The Siege

by Denning, Troy

  Escanor motioned his guards to stand down and glared at the little man as he crossed the courtyard. When Malik had nearly reached the steward, the prince said, “Malik, would you really want to affront the Most High by copying a palace treasure?”

  Malik’s face went pale. He began to stammer an apology, but Escanor waved him silent and started across the courtyard, motioning for the others to rise.

  “Seeing the statue was only one of the reasons I asked to show you the way to the palace.” He stopped in front of Vala and took her hands in his own. “I wanted to thank you for saving my life. Rapha tells me you were really quite the trazt fiend.”

  Vala actually blushed, and Galaeron instantly resented the way her green eyes held the prince’s gaze.

  “It was nothing,” she said, leaving her hands in Escanor’s. “Your attacker was distracted.”

  Galaeron edged closer to Vala. “You turned away at the wrong time, Prince, or you could have killed it yourself while it was teleport-dazed.”

  “Yes, a pity I could not read your mind,” Escanor said, fixing his coppery gaze on Galaeron and releasing Vala’s hands. “You were right to hold the phaerimm in the cavern. It would have been dangerous to let them escape with the secret of the Splicing.”

  Leaving Galaeron to fume, Escanor turned to face Ruha. “You are the Harper pursuing Malik?”

  “I am.”

  Escanor regarded the little man as though he found this difficult to believe. “Is he really such a terrible criminal?”

  “It would not do to underestimate him, Prince,” Ruha said. “Those who do often pay for the mistake with their lives.”

  This drew a fang-filled smirk from Escanor. “Then I am glad you are here to watch him, Harper, but mark well Hadrhune’s warning—Malik has committed no crime in this city, and if he does, it will be our justice that settles the matter.”

  Ruha inclined her head. “My only desire is to see that he does no more harm than he already has.”

  “Good.” Escanor turned to Vala and gestured toward the gate. “If you and your friends care to accompany Galaeron, it would please the Most High for you to see the palace this morning.”

  Vala nodded and started forward. Galaeron stepped to her side, making sure to place himself between her and Escanor as the others closed around them. Whether the prince noticed the maneuver was impossible to say, but Vala’s frown was unmistakable.

  As the entourage left the gate, she leaned in close and whispered, “Your shadow is showing, Galaeron. What do you think is going to happen?”

  “Nothing I can help.”

  A twinkle came to Vala’s green eyes, and she surprised him by smiling. “So you are jealous.”

  “Elves don’t feel jealousy—and even if we did, there’s nothing to be jealous about,” he said. Though the feelings they shared for each other had grown too strong to hide over the last few months, Galaeron remained reluctant to act on them. Not only was Vala a human who would grow old before his eyes, she had promised to stay with him only until his shadow crisis ended—or she was forced to end it for him. After that, she would be returning to her son in Vaasa, and Galaeron did not think a few months of love worth the heartbreak of watching her leave—that was going to be hard enough already. “I don’t want you to forget your promise.”

  “Why would I?” Vala asked.

  Galaeron shrugged. “Because the prince is powerful and wealthy, and you humans have such a weakness for fleeting pleasures.”

  “Galaeron,” she said, shaking her head wearily, “fleeting pleasures are not weaknesses! They’re the stuff of life.”

  Vala looked away, and the entourage continued up the street. Paved in a duller version of the same black stone that lay in Villa Dusari’s courtyard, the avenue was narrow and winding, meandering through a canyon-like labyrinth of dusky buildings so tall that even Aris had to crane his neck to look up at many of the residents who called greetings and fond wishes to Escanor as the procession passed. There were not many side streets, and those that they did intersect always ran uphill to the left and downhill to the right. It slowly grew apparent to Galaeron that they were spiraling up a gentle mound, though one so encrusted in looming structures that its terrain was all but impossible to discern. As they ascended, the villas grew ever larger and more magnificent, eventually becoming so enormous that it required the entourage close to a minute to pass by.

  As they passed one of the largest, a many-spired mansion with flying buttresses and a line of long barrel vaults leading into the shadowed interior, Prince Escanor stopped long enough to wave in its direction.

  “My abode,” he said. “I hope you will attend me here soon, when we are not quite so occupied with our war duties.”

  Though Escanor took pains to address himself to all his guests, Galaeron—or his shadow—knew that the invitation was meant primarily for Vala. Biting back the urge to suggest that the invitation would come the first time only Vala was free to answer, he merely looked up the street and inquired how much farther it was to the Palace of the Most High.

  Escanor waved him on. “Not far.”

  Indeed it was not. Just past the prince’s home, the street opened into a broad hilltop piazza surrounded by similar mansions, all with their grandest entrances facing center. In a ring around the plaza stood a forest of gloom sculptures, all rooted in urns of polished obsidian with a single ribbon of shadow rising in the ever-shifting figure of a Shadovar warrior or wizard. Not far from Escanor’s mansion stood the only likeness Galaeron recognized, that of the Shadovar who had helped cause the release of the phaerimm, Melegaunt Tanthul.

  “The Ring of Heroes,” Escanor said, waving his hand at the wall of figures. “Everyone represented here died accomplishing some great service to Shade Enclave.”

  “There must thousands!” Vala gasped.

  “Tens of thousands,” Escanor said. “Shade Enclave is an ancient city with ancient enemies, and much of our time in the shadow plane was spent defending ourselves from the assaults of the malaugrym.”

  “The malaugrym!” Ruha gasped. “Then the phaerimm must seem weak enemies to you, indeed.”

  “Different, but not weak. The first rule in the shadow plane is never to underestimate an enemy,” Escanor said. He turned to Aris. “If you wish, I will have someone teach you to read the stories of the gloom sculptures in their changing shapes.”

  This drew a rare smile from the giant. “No gift would please me more.”

  The prince had only to glance in his steward’s direction, and Mees said, “It shall be done this day.”

  Escanor nodded and turned to Galaeron. “You are wondering what Melegaunt’s story says about you?”

  Galaeron shook his head. “Only if it’ll say he’s honored for drawing Evereska and Waterdeep into the war against the phaerimm.”

  Vala started to hiss a reproach, but Escanor stopped her with a raised hand. “We must expect him to be suspicious.” Despite the prince’s patient words, the color of his eyes had deepened to angry red. “I think we should hurry to the Most High. Galaeron’s shadow is making him foolish as well as distrustful, and that is a bad sign.”

  Escanor led them through a hundred paces of gloom sculptures and emerged on the far side of the Ring of Heroes. Directly ahead stood the dusky grandeur of the Palace Most High, its seamless walls fashioned of polished obsidian and its shadowed spires vanishing into the umbral haze above. Like so much in Shade Enclave, it seemed all sinuous curves and exaggerated proportions, with a shape that could not be named, nor even held in mind for more than a passing impression. Paying no noticeable attention as a company of Shadovar spell-guards snapped to attention, Escanor steered his entourage into a keel-arched portal so high that Aris barely had to duck his head.

  After passing through a short vaultway, the entryway opened into a vast hall of glassy curves and dusky translucence where every buttress soared into darkness and each corridor vanished into shadow. A hundred or more high-born Shadovar drifted in and out of t
he doorways, or stood rasping in tight knots of conversation, or sat patiently on the benches along the walls, their gem-colored eyes glowing bright against the murk at their backs. Ignoring the bustle of murmured greetings and inquisitive stares shot the entourage’s way as it passed, Escanor marched his group down the center of the floor to a crowded seating area outside an enormous pair of guarded doors.

  The detachment commander kneeled and informed Escanor that he had already sent word of the prince’s arrival. A few moments later, one the doors opened and Hadrhune slipped out to inform them that the Most High was engaged and would see them as soon as he was able.

  Escanor’s eyes looked as though they might burn holes through the chamberlain. “You informed him that I am here with the elf?”

  Hadrhune met the prince’s angry gaze without flinching. “He is with—”

  “Did I ask who he was with?” Escanor growled, stepping toward the door.

  Hadrhune turned to cut him off. “I’ll announce you now.”

  “We’ll be right behind you,” Escanor said, catching the door as the chamberlain tried to close it. “The elf should begin his studies at once.”

  “Of course.”

  Hadrhune waved Galaeron and his companions through, but Mees, Rapha, and the rest of the prince’s entourage remained behind. They found themselves in a room even murkier than the great reception hall, where the gloom fell on their skin like ash and wisps of shadowstuff floated past in long smoky ribbons. As Hadrhune and Escanor marched the group forward, the voices of unseen whisperers rose and fell in the surrounding darkness, and cold chilblains rose to prickle Galaeron’s skin.

  Finally, they approached a set of whispers that did not fade and, as they continued walking, eventually hardened into the fuller tones of normal speech. Galaeron recognized one speaker as a female and the other as the voice that had addressed him in the Wing Court. Before they drew near enough to understand what was being said, Hadrhune had them kneel and press their brows to the floor.

  The two voices ceased murmuring, then the air grew chill and motionless.

  “I know how busy the war is keeping you, Escanor,” the Most High said. His voice was as sibilant and forceful as before. “My thanks for bringing these to me.”

  If the prince replied, Galaeron did not hear it.

  Instead, Hadrhune said, “I have arranged an offering from the giant, Mighty One.”

  “An offering? Let us see.”

  The air grew less chill as the Most High moved away, then Escanor’s feet appeared beside Galaeron’s head.

  “Have you power enough over your shadow to keep a civil tongue, elf?”

  “If he doesn’t, I can hold if for him,” Vala said.

  Escanor considered this, then said, “Good. Rise.”

  Galaeron and the others stood and found themselves facing at set of stairs at the base of a murk-swaddled dais. Escanor pointed toward the rear of the party.

  “It is customary to face the Most High when in his presence.”

  Galaeron turned and saw a gloom-shrouded figure standing next to Aris’s ankle, cowled head turned toward the statue. He began to circle it slowly, nodding in approval as he took it in. Galaeron glimpsed a pair of platinum eyes shining out from beneath the Most High’s hood, but that was all of his face that could be seen.

  After completing a full circuit, he stopped at Aris’s ankle again. The murk in front of his body swirled and there was a clapping noise, then he tipped his head back to address the giant—and Galaeron still could not see his face.

  “Truly, you are the equal of any gloom-shaper in the enclave,” the Most High said. “I shall be proud to display this in the Gallery of Treasures with the city’s finest works.”

  “You honor me beyond my skill,” Aris rumbled. “If you could have seen the story galleries at Thousand Faces before they were destroyed, you would know how feeble my talents truly are.”

  “The phaerimm have taken much from us all,” said the Most High. “I am sure their destruction cannot replace what you lost, but know that they will pay for it with more than their lives.”

  “So Melegaunt promised, and so am I here,” Aris said. “Thank you.”

  Malik astonished Galaeron and—judging by the gasps of surprise—everyone else by appearing out of the gloom behind Aris’s legs. “I also come bearing gifts,” he said, reaching beneath his robes. “The One has charged me—”

  “Stop!” Ruha was instantly rushing toward him, tossing sand at his hidden hand and uttering some kind of Bedine nature magic.

  Before she made it far enough for Galaeron to infer what spell she meant to cast, the Most High gestured in her direction, and she was entwined in half a dozen murky tendrils. Her veil continued to flutter as she spoke her incantation, but the only thing that came out from beneath it were clouds of dark vapor.

  “Did Hadrhune not warn you, Harper?” the Most High asked. “What Malik does here is no concern of yours.”

  Malik smirked in the witch’s direction, then, still holding his hand beneath his robe, turned back to the Most High. “As I was saying, the One—”

  “Your gift will have to wait until later.” The Most High moved away from the little man. “Hadrhune will arrange a time. Now, I really must start with Galaeron. If you others will excuse us, Rapha and Mees are waiting to tour the palace with you.”

  So saying, he turned and vanished into the murk.

  Escanor motioned Vala toward the others. “Feel free to enjoy the tour with the others. Galaeron will be fine with us.”

  Vala stepped closer to Galaeron’s side. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “It is.” As polite as was Escanor’s smile, it was also filled with fangs. “You have no need to worry while he is in the company of the Most High. The shadow has not been cast that Telamont Tanthul cannot tame.”

  “Tanthul?” Galaeron gasped. “The same as Melegaunt Tanthul?”

  The prince nodded. “And Escanor Tanthul,” he said. “All the Princes of Shade are Tanthuls.”

  Telamont’s sibilant voice filled the murk around them. “Escanor!”

  Escanor bowed briefly to Vala, then took Galaeron’s arm and led him away.

  “Galaeron?” Vala called.

  “I’ll be … fine,” Galaeron said, choking on the last word. Whether he was excited or frightened even he could not tell, but his heart had risen so far into his throat that he could barely draw breath around it. “We’ll meet back at the villa.”

  “When?”

  “When he is finished,” Escanor said. “I will bring him myself.”

  They passed the statue and vanished into the darkness, then emerged a dozen steps later on what felt like the mezzanine of a very high, very large atrium. Through the hole in the center, he saw what looked like half the continent of Faerûn lying spread out beneath him, from the Sword Coast in the West as far east as the great Shoal of Thirst in the desert Anauroch, from the ruins of Arabel in the south to the High Ice in the north. At the moment, most of the land west of Anauroch lay hidden beneath storm clouds, while all to the east was brown and parched with an uncharacteristic drought.

  “I have brought you to our war room to show why Shade Enclave is moving away from Evereska,” said Telamont Tanthul’s wispy voice. “You wished to know.”

  “I do,” Galaeron said.

  “You suspect us of betraying my son’s promise,” Telamont continued.

  Galaeron bit his tongue, fighting the urge to say that he knew they were.

  “Speak freely,” Telamont urged. “In the war room, no opinion is dismissed lightly.”

  “Very well.” Galaeron’s throat was so dry that the words stuck at the bottom. “As Netherese, you lost Anauroch to the phaerimm once.”

  He paused there, trying to sort out what he believed from what his shadow believed—but Telamont was in no mood to wait.

  “And you believe Melegaunt intentionally loosed the phaerimm on Evereska so that Waterdeep and the rest of Faerûn would be drawn
into our war,” the Most High continued. “Say what you mean, elf. The only way to live with your shadow is to give it a voice.”

  “Did you?” Galaeron asked, anger rising.

  Telamont remained silent for a time, and Galaeron began to hear other voices around the rim of the war room—whispering quietly or discussing heatedly, sometimes even laughing or shouting—but when he looked toward the voices, he never saw more than a few pairs of glowing eyes, usually gem-colored, but sometimes the metallic of a royal prince.

  A few moments later, Telamont Tanthul finally responded. “Drawing the elves into the war would certainly have been a useful thing to do, but you were the one who breached the Sharn Wall. How could we have foreseen that?”

  How, indeed? Galaeron wondered—then, “By breaking a crypt. Melegaunt may not have known I would come, but he knew someone would.”

  “That is certainly a possibility,” Telamont admitted, “but could even we Shadovar be clever enough to be sure that you would cast the proper spell at the proper time?”

  “And if we are, wouldn’t you rather have us as allies than enemies?” Escanor asked.

  “If you are allies,” Galaeron said, struggling to focus on the question at hand. “So far, I have seen little enough proof of that.”

  “Have you?” Telamont asked. “Look again.”

  Galaeron returned his gaze to continent below and was surprised to find himself looking at nothing but storm clouds. As he watched, the clouds grew larger and darker, with flashes of lightning stabbing through their roiling heads. Then he was through, diving into a vast, rain-soaked swamp where hundreds of lizardmen were swarming a much smaller company of Shadovar.

  “The Marsh of Chelimber, on the far side of the Greycloaks,” Telamont said, just a trace of pride in his voice. “You see, Shade Enclave does not need to be near to project its strength. Our warriors are shades who can walk the shadows and cross the breadth of Faerûn at will. Evereska will not suffer for our absence.”

  Armed as the Shadovar were with shadow magic and shadow weapons, the shade warriors were holding their own against the primitive lizardmen. Galaeron would even have gone so far as to say it looked like they would carry the day—but it was not like lizardmen to march so steadfastly to their deaths, and never in the even ranks of a disciplined army. There was something forcing them to attack, something that made them hate the Shadovar beyond all reason—or something they feared more.