The energy and booming thunder threw Raegar and his weapon into the street. Ears still ringing, Raegar quickly grabbed the fallen blade as thunder echoed down the street. He stared at the three gold diamonds emblazoned into the blade, wondering what might have happened if he'd held onto the sword. "So much for subtlety," he muttered. All around him, people yelled and pointed at him or stared upward at the path the lightning took. Others still stared at the uncharacteristic holes in the defenses of Blackstaff Tower. Raegar also looked through the hole in the wall, straining to see what secrets he could glean from this distance. All he saw through the settling dust was an injured woman in a gray woolen dress lying on the floor, staring at him with deep hazel eyes-Tsarra Chaadren, the half-elf who had caught his eye earlier.
Until she fell unconscious, Raegar froze in place, kneeling as the magic and dust swirled around him. Once he shook his head clear, he slipped the short sword into the torch loop on his belt and got to his feet. The thief looked across Swords Street, and his stomach sank. He stared directly into the face of the Blackstaff as the archmage staggered from the smoking crater in his tower. Break into Blackstaff Tower and plunder its secrets? Raegar thought. Good idea, if done discreetly. Face its master? Better idea to leave quickly. Raegar used the magical ring on his left hand to wrap the street in a shroud of fog. As always, the ring allowed him to see through it, and he slipped backward to the edge of the cloud and behind the Tavern of the Flagon Dragon. Whispering thanks to Tymora, he watched Khelben and realized the archmage was too stunned to notice much, let alone note him and his part in the chaos. Raegar heard someone yelling across the alley.
He had rented rooms for the past two months at Sapphire House, an expensive rooming house across Swords Street from Blackstaff Tower.
The speaker was a neighbor-Kemarn, a professed scribe buying materials for a wizards' consortium outside of Nesme. He showed his true colors boldly, as he hissed, "The tower is breached, men, and the Blackstaff is wounded! Take them both! That sword shall be mine!" Kemarn pointed at the tower, but his attentions were on the fog. Raegar had met many wizards before and found most to be arrogant, over-reaching, and convinced beyond all reason of the rightness of their causes. He stayed cautious, as he knew he was a target. Even if he didn't know his sword's capabilities, the thief knew that anything that could make a hole in Blackstaff Tower was something every power-mad fool in the North would want. Raegar thickened the fog, filling Swords Street with it to keep from being found too soon. Panicked vendors abandoned their carts, and even the natives backed away from the fog and the troubles that once again enveloped their city's archmage. Raegar climbed up the side of the tavern and hid among the roof eaves to watch and wait.
Let's see how this plays out before I get an explanation from Damlath, he thought. The Blackstaff slumped against the shattered gate, his robes scorched and smoldering. Kemarn cast an intricate spell from his third floor balcony above the fog cloud. Raegar watched four jet-black wolves leap from the mists in the wizard's hands, growing as they descended until they were much larger than normal wolves. The massive beasts loped across the street, undeterred by the fog, and surrounded the wounded Blackstaff Sudden movement from above drew Raegar's attention to two young men flying down from the tower's roof. He pulled himself a little closer under the eaves as the older one shouted, "Duty patrol to the wall! Tower under attack!" The younger one's hands twisted in casting, and the fog cloud dissipated. He spotted Kemarn across the way and pointed a wand directly at him. A green ray struck the balcony, but the wizard no longer stood upon it.
Raegar smiled ruefully as he heard the roof above him creak. Kemarn had blinked to the back slope of the tavern's roof, just out of sight of the tower's defenders. Raegar pulled a small mirror from his belt pouch and held it carefully to watch what the wizard did without revealing his presence there. His grin increased as he overheard Kemarn mutter, "Where did that man and his sword go?" On the tower wall, the apprentices skillfully dispatched two of the fiendish wolves. I don't know what those wands are, Raegar thought, but I want one. The other wolves bowled Khelben over, biting and clawing at his robes and outstretched arms. Raegar found himself almost feeling sorry for the archmage, who seemed incapable of defending himself at the moment. From his vantage point, Raegar could also see a few figures moving among the tower's shadows. Even without the fog, he knew they would not be seen by the two apprentices, who were distracted by the danger threatening their master. Raegar followed their progress along the northern wall away from the gate and the battle there to slip into the northwestern shadows. Raegar smiled as more apprentices-two young women and a halfling male-appeared atop the wall with wands at the ready. In seconds, they used their wands to dispel the summoned wolves. The halfling leaped off the wall to land by the Blackstaff in a defensive crouch. Blackstaff Tower's students are well trained to respond to trouble, Raegar thought. Too bad their master seems incapable of living up to his reputation today. The thief's attention returned overhead when Kemarn began casting a spell. From his robes, he drew a red, fist-sized globe, which glowed for a moment then blinked out of existence. The tower's young defenders yelled. A red haze grew around the shattered gate and the two figures there. Raegar shuddered at the writhing mists filled with teeth, eyes, and grasping claws-a nishruu. The halfling used his wand quickly, but its purplish ray melted into the nishruu's growing scarlet mists, its claws and teeth happily pulling the magic apart and into itself. The eater-of-magic engulfed Khelben and his apprentice, swiftly wrenching magic and life from them. The stunned archmage grunted, and his young aide screamed in pain under the assault, as the monster ripped magic from their minds and bodies. The elder boy shouted orders easily heard from Raegar's vantage point. "Triam, be sure that no one's trying to breach the walls from other sides. Send up a signal if there is.
Jalarra, Sarshel, destroy that thing before it gets into the tower!
Pikar, do what you can from there!" The trio blasted the creature beneath them. The nishruu drank up the magic, its floating mouths smacking disembodied lips with sounds that reminded Raegar of gutting and cleaning a hog. The nishruu growled as the halfling slashed with two glowing daggers. The blades reduced some maws and hands to mist, only to have them reform in other places. The nishruu moved over the fallen wizards and drifted toward the tower, which was a vastly more powerful source of magic than any wielders in or around it. Khelben had collapsed, but Pikar still slashed away at the creature's tendrils and teeth, yelling in anger and pain, "Keep it from the tower!" In swift response, Sarshel gestured, and a mist rose at the breach in the tower itself. By the time the nishruu reached it, the opening was sealed by a wall of solid ice. Two more apprentices joined the others atop the wall in the blink of an eye-gold elves both. "Foolish humans-don't feed that thing magic! That's all it eats!" The female's voice dripped with disdain toward the others. "Watch and learn, n'tel'quess. This rod of absorption should kill it, Maeralya," the male said proudly, "and the master will know which students of his deserve his praise." Raegar had tailed a number of wandering apprentices of the Tower over the past tenday. He had seen that haughty gold elf before-Fhaornik. The elf threw the magical rod into the nishruu, and it appeared to burst one of its floating eyes as it entered with a muddy splash… and the mist continued forward, stretching thinly as if torn between feeding more on Khelben's internal magic or the powerful forces in the stones of the tower.
Fhaornik sputtered, "But-that's supposed to kill it on contact!" His face bronzed in fury and embarrassment. At the same time, Triam yelled from behind the tower, "Elkord! Back here! Someone's climbed the wall!
The tall Tethyrian shouted back, "I'm coming!" He turned to the four standing near him and snapped, "Sarshel, get to the library and find out what kills this thing. Jalarra, go find Laeral. You two," he barked at the two elves, "slow it down or get Khelben and Pikar from it!" Elkord flew over the courtyard and around the tower to help his young student. Fhaornik and Maeralya both readied quarterstaves aglow with ma
gical auras and leaped into the red mists. Raegar heard them both muttering angrily in Elvish, but while he didn't understand the language, he knew they resented being shown up by human and halfling alike. The two women both said something too low for Raegar to hear, and they teleported off of the wall. Pikar Salibuck was a very young halfling, and he fascinated Raegar the most. While spying on the apprentices, Raegar heard that Pikar's father had lost his life working for the Blackstaff. Pikar was among the rarest of hin to be able to touch the Weave, and Khelben took him in as recompense for his father's sacrifice. Raegar watched as the strong halfling grabbed the Blackstaff under his arms and dragged him toward the sundered gate as quickly as his short legs allowed. The smoky tendrils of the nishruu stretched to reach them, but it relinquished its grip to wrap its mists around the tower. As Pikar pulled the unconscious archmage toward the street, argent flames flashed around Khelben and blazed through the tower. Pikar fell back, screaming, and Khelben's form spasmed as the fires seared away bits of the nishruu and destroyed the ice wall that sealed the tower as well. "Intriguing. Absolutely intriguing, don't you think, thief?" Kemarn knelt behind the peak of the roof, watching the fray across the street, but Raegar knew he spoke to him. "I don't know what that last effect was, but I trust the creature and my agents can fend for themselves a bit. I for one have learned enough today. The students use preset trigger words to move from the walls into the tower, yes? They probably use many such preset magic to quickly move throughout the tower. What else did you learn while watching them and the tower this past tenday, skulking one? I heard the Sapphire House barmaid last night and another two nights ago in the Flagon Dragon call you Raegar Stoneblade." Raegar grimaced and wondered how Kemarn had detected his presence. "What gave me away?" he asked. Kemarn replied, "Your familiar face kept wandering past my own reconnaissance people, so we started to watch you as well. You've shown no obvious connections to the usual interested parties who might harass the Blackstaff. You inadvertently helped us figure out the best ways to follow the wizard's apprentices while they wander the city, skulking for news to bring their master. As for how I found you just now, you're not as good as you assume, and all of your magic comes from items. Now, I can roast you in your little perch beneath the eaves or we can negotiate. Give me that sword-the one that punctured the tower's defenses-and I'll let you live. Refuse and you suffer the wrath of Kemarn Darkthrush of Nesme." Raegar, smirking at the wizard's overconfidence, used his enchanted boots to cling to the wall like a spider. "Here's all you'll get of the sword, Kemarn," he said, and he shoved the short sword with all his strength through the eaves and the roof above him. Kemarn shouted in surprise as Raegar's sword stabbed through the roof and gashed his shin. The wooden shingles erupted beneath him and clattered down the steep roof, taking the cursing wizard with them. Raegar heard Kemarn's painful landing in the dusty street below as he pulled his sword free from the damaged roof. The rogue sprinted across the Flagon Dragon's outer wall, leaped over Marlar's Lane, and ran up Sapphire House's walls. Once he scaled the inn's five-stories-tall roof, he dropped onto the empty rooftop terrace adjoining it. Raegar raced across the veranda of the opulent four-story townhouse of the Delzimmer clan. He vaulted down into the rooftop gardens of Sablehearth, the Irlingstar mansion adjoining it to the north. Both were vacant for the coming winter, but he couldn't hide there without drawing attention. Raegar knew he had to get out of sight before either Kemarn or the Watch caught him. "Raegar, old son, you've got to get a few more answers before this continues," he muttered to himself while he ran. "Stick to your rules, man, as you broke two of them today. 'Never get into a game if you don't know all the players,' and 'Make sure you know what you're carrying.' Damlath's plan will have to wait until he coughs up some answers…" The thief dropped the final eight feet onto the corduroy surface of Zelphar's Walk and headed east to lose himself among the Market's throngs on Bazaar Street.
CHAPTER FOUR
28 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)
Blindingpainoverwhelmingsensesfloatingdrifting falling soaring the brilliant gold-white sunrise over the towers of Deshkant swelling pride of accomplishment in the building scent of marble dust and brimstone as a demon tears away at the base of Phalam's Tor anger boiling up and quenched immediately in cold resolve Laeral's face contorted in a grimace of hatred and evil laughter as blackened horns erupt bloodily from her forehead and temples horror and despair flooding scent of jasmine upon silk sheets still warm from her body running through the underbrush, leaves and twigs snapping and lashing at my face and arms and exposed body, the spring of untrammeled deadfall beneath my feet, the pleasure of the hunt and the chase alive in me her slim hand reaches in earnest toward me, the glistening magic closing the portal around me and wrenching me from her saving grasp confidence and determination to return feeling the tingling and the subtle warmth of the silver fire crackling along arms and fingers, interlacing together with the fires from Dlaertha, Vethril, and Myroune, all ablaze to hem in the otherwise fire-immune demons of Manth'ehl'nar Ascalhorn happiness at love felt through the fires Laeral's face shines with tears, her emerald eyes a stormy sea of happiness and apprehension, determination and fear bliss and peace, a smile soul-deep overtakes me I feel her touch and that of the wind, tickling the light hair only recently grown and rarely exposed to the sun, and I ache for more curiosity and lust mixed, a teenager's crucible of confusion and fear "I know a storm is coming, Master. I can smell the rain on the wind as it wafts up from south of the Vowstone." "Tsarra?" whirling mist and a flood of faces, stopping at almond eyes of hazel offset by a green gem with tattoos around it, confusion of long-standing clearing Shock of recognition-that's my face, but older! Why do I have tattoos on my face? Pains soul-deep release under the warmth of the silver fire, bones mend, and man and goddess laugh together "You shall serve us well, son of Arun. Try not to discern all the secrets our fires place in you. Know simply that they are things of import to us." Voice of bells in morning cloaked in fog, the laughter of children, and the excitement of a wild mare…
"She's lost in my memories. Tsarra! Focus on my voice, girl." I know that voice. Black beard, steel-blue eyes. Voice that could command gods. He sounds worried. Focus and concern, worry and decision, lightning clashes of emotions and drives Lancing light stabbing behind… through… beneath… into eyes, mind, soul A child dances through a puddle, laughing at the spray and smiling at the rainbow overhead, then the violet drips off the bow's bottom and floods over the street. Hands reach from the slough and teeth grow in the puddles.
Surprise and shock, then a stray thought of gems "Concentrate, girl.
Use your mind, Tsarra. Come back to us." I know him. Master Arunsun.
Help me, master! A delicate elf's face, ragged with mummification and a veil of webs, a purple gem glistening on the bridge of her nose… decay mixed with dust and the sharp tang of recent spellwork "Tsarra, they're only memories. Ignore them and join us." the whisper of time's touch, the tug of the spider's cloak, the chill of time gone by and death interred Lightning bolts flashing-one, two, three; wait for the crashing-deafening to me The sewer's darkness suddenly swells, an eyeless face pushing itself through the grate, and its teeth are not hampered as its head reforms and lunges… Pain brings focus and terror as its teeth gnaw through my arm, gnashing, grinding, and my arm falls away, its protection gone and the teeth geyser toward my eyes… "Child, awaken!" Her scream launched her upright, the two archmages around her rearing back in surprise. Her dress clung to her sweat-covered body, and Tsarra could do nothing but gasp for air, her lungs fighting to breathe. Khelben and Laeral helped her lie back down onto the bed, their faces filled with concern. Above them, Nameless settled back down onto the wide headboard above her, his green and blue eyes wide with surprise and his tail and wings twitching nervously. She felt as well as heard his low growl reverberating through the wooden headboard and silently willed him to calm himself.
"Nameless has been reluctant to let us near you, dear. I've never
known a familiar to be quite so protective." Laeral dabbed Tsarra's brow with a cold cloth, and smiled at her. A malevolent cackle-"Do you still wish to bed me, Blackstaff? Do you wish to know this Laeral whose petty morals lie in ashes?" Blood ran freely across hate-twisted features as the horns continued to push their way out through her skin. Tsarra's eyes widened, and she recoiled from Laeral's touch. She didn't even realize she'd begun a spell until Khelben grabbed both her hands and held them still. "Enough, Tsarra! Close your eyes and breathe." Khelben's stern whisper thundered through her aching head.
"Get back into yourself so we may both shoulder our burdens." His voice sounded heavy as he placed her hands back in her lap and rose along with Laeral to the far side of the room. Tsarra closed her eyes.
Her sides were taut with fear, and it took time before she relaxed and her breath came easily. The feel of her own room and bed and the comforting scents helped, though how she got there she didn't know. It was highsun when the ritual began, but the night sky hung black outside her window. How long was I unconscious? she wondered. Flapping wings whipped by her head, and a weight landed on her lap. He uttered a series of meows and yowls, which Tsarra understood as, "Happynow mistresssafe. Longnapgood? Washsickscent you must.
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