Syndra's voice came from the duskwood rod hovering in mid-air. "Saw his body get shattered by that lightning strike and his fires go into her gem there. Guess I'd better finish what he started, eh?" Syndra's ghostly form appeared atop the rod as she flew upward again. She cast a complicated spell Raegar had never seen before, but the noise level dropped considerably as a pearly globe of force completely encircled the lightning-wrapped pyramid. Within moments, the rain stopped.
Breaks in the clouds revealed the full moon in the western sky and dawn reddening the clouds' undersides to the east. Tsarra growled in tune with Nameless, and she frantically cast a spell that produced the image of Khelben from thin air. Her kiira flashed and an identical gem appeared on Khelben's image. She hissed at him, "Here! Speak for yourself, Blackstaff. And don't ever try to possess me again." Khelben looked himself up and down, finding this illusory form acceptable.
Your carelessness in battle forced us into this situation. And your carelessness was what started all this three days ago. Or have you forgotten? Khelben looked embarrassed for a moment and turned to comment on Syndra's spell. "Erm. Good, Syndra. Thank you. My spells were disrupted." For her part, Tsarra huffed in anger and stalked toward the pile of rubble. She muttered a quick incantation and scanned the pile, her eyes covered with a fine gray mist conjured by her spell. "Fine," she said. "Rakesk or some undead of similar power is still under there." Khelben slid next to her and said, "That bow I gave you earlier can act as a blackstaff. Say the word barkalrhael when he frees himself." "This is a pre-set spell? And what if he just teleports away?" "I anchored him here against his will. Spell battles are not times to stop being observant, my dear." The air between them and Raegar seemed to twist and wring itself until Laeral stepped sideways from the fold in space. "Husband," she chided, "apologize.
Tsarra's done far more for you in three days than other apprentices ever have, myself excluded." Laeral hugged Tsarra then tried to kiss Khelben but found him an illusion. She drew back a moment, but Raegar couldn't see her face or hear her voice. "Where are Nain and Kyriani?"
Khelben barked. "Apologies and better moods first," Laeral said.
Khelben growled furiously at his wife, who leveled an equally stern look at him. Moments later, Khelben and Tsarra locked eyes and a thin stream of energy spanned the air between the gems on their foreheads.
"Guess we don't get to hear that conversation," Raegar joked. "Most suffer for overhearing one of my conversations, Raegar Stoneblade,"
Khelben said. "Consider how fortunate you are to keep your Oghman-blessed wits. Now, stay with Tsarra while the rest of us confer." Khelben motioned to Gamalon, Syndra, and Laeral, and the quartet moved off a bit, leaving Raegar with Tsarra. All he heard as they walked away was Khelben's growl and Laeral's reply of, "Well, I think it did a world of good. He needed to relax." Raegar turned toward Tsarra and smiled as he realized his feelings toward her had grown. Tsarra looked at him then nervously glanced away. "Why are you staring at me like that?" "Well, you're the most beautiful thing to look at here, so suffer," he teased. "That and apparently five gods have something to do with us constantly falling into each other's arms. At last-a destiny I've no problem embracing." "You will if you try it without my approval, Stoneblade," Tsarra said. "Still, you do know how to impress with that arrival. Now, what exactly did you people do to my tressym? No growth spells I know can increase a creature by more than three times its size." "Weirdest thing, that,"
Raegar said, scratching his head as the pair of them watched Nameless step into a puddle to clean his plumage. "We saw the battle as we descended, and I wanted to help. Syndra cast a spell on Nameless to grow him, and the spell seemed to get away from her. He went solid silver for one instant, and the next thing we knew, he was the size of a cliffcat! By the way, it was his idea for me to ride him to your rescue. He can really snap those wings when he wants to make a point."
Raegar rubbed one shoulder and grimaced from the aches. Tsarra knelt by the tressym, and she purred at him. He looked at her, and she yelled, "Khelben, look!" Everyone turned to the tressym. His eyes were no longer a mismatched blue and green-both were the steel blue of Khelben's eyes. His sable fur was also broken by a silver-white wedge that ornamented his chin. Tsarra asked her familiar in his own purring speech, "What happened? Are you all right? Why did this change happen?" The only response Raegar saw was a wide yawn and stretch by the winged cat. In her mind, Tsarra heard him respond more clearly than ever before, Only magic, and it helps. I stronger. Want to go hunt more not-right-cold-prey? You need nap, calm yourself. Ah-food!
Nameless launched himself into the air, arcing across the heath to nab a ground quail, which he tore apart and consumed. Tsarra shrugged when she turned back to the others. "He's content and feels stronger, but he's either not sharing any details or he doesn't know any. I don't understand. He's never had this kind of reaction before to magic."
Khelben said, "Then again, his mistress has never been quite so tethered to Mystra's raw Weave either. Perhaps the silver fire and my body's destruction carried some effects through our link." Tsarra heard a yowl at the same time she felt anger from the tressym. His howls were fast and frantic, but she understood his rage-someone teleported in atop his tail. As she and Raegar ran around the rubble, she felt the tressym's satisfaction as he attacked the robes and feet of the offender. She found Nameless, his jaws being pried loose from the ankle of Elminster. The old mage held the hissing, furious tressym by the scruff, seeming more surprised than injured. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Don't hurt him, please, sir!" Tsarra felt embarrassed, but she also felt the outrage coming from Nameless. "Now, why would I go and do something as silly as that, my dear? Granted, he's insulted me more in the past breath than most do in a tenday, but I did tread on his tail. For that, you have my apologies, Nameless." Elminster smiled as he let the tressym go. "How did you know that?" she asked. "Laeral calls him that, and I've not met anyone who could read another's familiar." "So little time for questions, my dear." Elminster kissed her hand. "I'm afraid Laeral learned her sense of humor from me. Given your tressym's appearance and temper, I can't think of a more suitable name." As if on cue, the tressym looked up and cocked his head to one side, a pitch-perfect impression of a curious Khelben with the white wedge within black-as-night whiskers. Elminster chuckled, "Don't you think it sad that more don't learn to speak Tressym? Such an expressive language beyond the usual Avian or Feline-in nine hundred years, I've never been called a 'haggard food-carrier who smells like a burnt dungheap' before." Tsarra opened her mouth to apologize but started laughing instead. "I'm sorry, milord, but I-" Elminster's smile disarmed her, the mirth in him spread through his eyes and the face behind his wintry bramble of beard. "Fret not, lass, and belay the lordship I never took up. I've heard tell of your past few days.
It is you who honor us and Our Lady, and I know we can expect greater things of thee in times yet to come." Elminster bowed deeply from the waist, causing Tsarra to blush. Khelben's image shimmered between them and he said, "If you're done trying to seduce my apprentice, Graybeard, it's time to begin." Elminster took Tsarra by the arm, winking at her while addressing her mentor. "Serenity, Khelben.
Remember, 'Waken darkness in lightning's strike; Waken Sleepers when dawn breaks night; only then may the Gathering attend the Feast of Five Gods.'" Elminster nudged Tsarra in the ribs and said, "I penned that little something into a poetry chap-book in Myth Drannor. Some fools think it has something to do with Bane." He shrugged and returned his attention to Khelben, who tapped his illusory foot impatiently. "A few stars need to fall into place before our work begins, but we must assemble. Are all in attendance, then?" "Imagine my astonishment that you're an early arrival for the first time in centuries." Elminster waved his hand in dismissal. "You never know to enjoy a situation when it comes, son of Arun." The old wizard squeezed Tsarra's arm and whispered, "Remember this if things get rough. Think of the sun-dappled happiness of the woods, child, and that shall carry ye through. I'm off t
o see how Malchor and the others have fared preparing the lakebed. See you in a trice!" With that, Elminster of Shadowdale's form popped like a soap bubble. While Tsarra had more questions, she found her attention snapping to the rubble pile along with Nameless. Rocks tumbled out of the way, and Priamon Rakesk flew from the mound of broken masonry as if it weren't there! Raegar drew and threw the flaming short sword, but its flame trail missed all but the tatters of his black and green cape and robes. Luckily, the blur that was Syndra's rod zipped in to intercept the flying lich. The duskwood rod slammed onto the lich's head and shoulder mercilessly.
The weapon reared back in the hands of its invisible wielder a third time, eager to lunge as the Frostrune fell back toward the ground, but Khelben yelled, "No, Syndra! Don't disrupt this spell!" Tsarra yelled "Barkalrhael!" while pointing her bow at him, and a dark emerald ribbon of energy launched from it. The energies gelled over the lich's hands and his one remaining foot, the ribbon snaking around his limbs and his mouth. The spheres pulled the lich's arms and legs apart, leaving him spread-eagled and hovering over the rubble. "Intriguing spell you created, Priamon," Khelben said. "I look forward to studying it more, now that your compatriots saw fit to send it to me as insurance that I would save them the trouble of dealing with you."
Raegar watched the lich struggle, and tiny lightning bolts crackled across Priamon's spasming body whenever he pulled his limbs closer together. His soulless stare said enough for Khelben. "Of course they knew you betrayed them by setting up backdoor portals into their sanctums. I took your spellbooks, and Sapphiraktar and I agreed to turn a blind eye to each other's activities for a time." Khelben turned his back on the bound lich, and asked Tsarra, "Could you and Raegar guide him over Malavar's Grasp? Just push him forward. Tsarra, we need to awaken the Sleepers before dawn fully breaks over the Graypeaks, and it's better Priamon is in place for his part in this ritual before the Gathering occurs." Tsarra and Khelben moved toward the stone plinths, the sky rosy in the east. She grumbled, "This Gathering is all those we've met the past three days? Everyone is here to work some magic?" "All of them and more. Raegar, move him a little more south so he rests beneath Syndra's sphere of force. Good-right there." "I'm still furious at you for trying to force me into submission earlier," Tsarra grumbled, "but we're stuck this way for now. It's obvious you're needed more than I am to command this crowd, so…" Tsarra cast a spell, and her form shifted to become Khelben the Blackstaff. Gamalon and Khelben both said, "Mystra sees and Mystra knows, every trouble found in her work, an oblation on the altar of stars." "Myaaklyr's Fourth Sermon from Myrjala to the Arathenes, eh?
Who's preparing to do something rash and life-threatening?" His voice preceded him as Elminster popped back in. He turned to look up at Frostrune and puffed a cloud of smoke from his pipe. "Honestly, Khelben. The Moor is forbidding enough without ugly decorations."
"Tsarra," Khelben said softly, ignoring Elminster for the moment,
"forever and always, we are tied together. Never easily does the Blackstaff incur life debts to anyone, but I owe you much more than one life can repay." With that, Khelben's illusory self stepped forward and merged with Tsarra, his corporeal double. The only clue that he was not the typical Blackstaff was the green kiira glinting on his forehead. "And there it is. 'Ye hearken, the three-souled-one shall lead them and the blasted heath shall impart wonders.' Myrjala's Prophecy fulfilled." Elminster puffed out a smoke replica of Mystra's symbol. "My congratulations, Blackstaff. What your strategies have brought together is a much sounder plan than you had at the Silversgate." Elminster's tone had not changed but his face was grim.
Khelben said, "That's a mistake I'll not repeat. Temper is useful only for scolding oneself, not leading a charge." Tsarra got a flash of Khelben's memory through the kiira, but concentrated and did not lose consciousness. She felt something powerful grasping her right arm and both of her legs, pulling them in opposite directions. Tsarra realized she saw through Khelben's eyes and felt his memories of his success and failure during the Fall of Myth Drannor. He had driven a battalion of creatures from the fabled city and battled them in the mountains east of Silverymoon. While he slew many and was proud to fight back to back with Elminster Aumar, the Nameless Chosen lost track of Colonel Cvor the Whipmaster. When he found his foe again, the mezzoloth had used Alayris's Harness to grow to giant-size and seize him. Tsarra saw a snow-dappled mountain pass from that dizzying perspective-held aloft by the powerful arms of a giant demon as it tore him or her apart. She gasped and fell to her knees as she felt herself ripped nearly in half, blood and fire exploding from the wound.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Feast of the Moon, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)
Tsarra fought against a scream and channeled the pain into ending the vision. She found herself on her knees in the illusory library Khelben had established earlier. Khelben's image remained there, standing by the fireplace. Once she'd steadied herself, Tsarra stood up and said, I don't know what felt worse-what Cvor did to you or the despair you were feeling about Myth Drannor's fall. Now I know how you got that massive scar across your chest. Forgive me, Tsarra. Some of my memories are too powerful to block entirely. Likewise, some magic, as you've felt already. Tsarra rose, ignoring a gentlemanly hand from Khelben, but fell back onto a chair as she saw a tapestry depicting Nameless. Khelben! This possession-will it harm my tressym? Hmph.
Intriguing. I don't believe so. He can be a part of the ceremony through your links, or he can be an observer. Your choice. In the physical world, Khelben reached down and scratched Nameless behind the ears, eliciting a loud purr. No. The choice is his alone. I'll not force anything upon him against his nature. That's why I wait for him to tell me what he wishes to be called. He's listened to all of this, and if he wishes to participate, I'll be happy he's with us. If not, I'll be glad he's safe. Nameless looked up at Khelben's face and narrowed his eyes. Thinktoomuch, goodfriend. Call me Nameless, if that pleases. Strong name for mystery, and suits me, like smelly-beardwhitewizard says. Makes silverlaugher happy too. We all same pride, stand together. Khelben said, "He wishes to stay. Would he mind helping Raegar keep watch?" Elminster said, "Aye. He can't stay with us here. Were they near the first two circles, both would be cinders within moments." "So, should Nameless and I start walking now?" Raegar jested, though all could see how nervous the last comment made him. "Nay, lad," Laeral chimed in. "You two will stand with a friend soon. He will keep you safe to observe much of what occurs here on this Feast of the Moon." So what's to protect me, or at least my body? Tsarra found it odd to be watching the conversation through a massive mirror in the kiira-library. Staying more inside the kiira allowed Khelben to focus his concentration more. I am, and those who watch us now from the Grasp. Khelben's sendings still came from the simulacrum that sat with her in the kiira-library. Forgive me, my dear, but I must move our body and give it my full concentration to perform these preparations. Khelben walked around the five plinths, finally laying both hands flat against the third stone and intoned,
"First Sleeper, awaken to your task. Ivaakh!" A surge of silver permeated the stone beneath his hands. Once the silver reached the ground, black sharnstuff began flowing over the plinth, filling in the handprints last of all. Khelben approached each plinth in turn, repeated his actions, and intoned the same summoning, altering only the number of the Sleeper. After the fifth time, he turned to a figure stepping from the first plinth. The hooded man looked at his hands, body, then up at Khelben. Both men laughed and embraced each other.
Khelben? Who is this? Tsarra concentrated, hoping she might slip the names from Khelben's memory. Her efforts created a large tome open in her lap. The page showed the man's face, Khelben's script beneath it identifying him as Mentor Wintercloak. The two men broke their embrace, and as Mentor turned to embrace Elminster with equal strength, Tsarra watched Khelben's reunion with the other four Sleepers: white-haired Orjalun of Silverymoon, the elf wizards Darcassan of Windsong Tower and Shalantha Omberdawn, a
nd the seemingly young human Jhesiyra Kestellharp. Sweet Mystra's stars, Tsarra muttered to herself, all of them mystics of note who disappeared under mysterious circumstances over the centuries and all assembled here.
Has there ever been such a collection of power in one place for one working? Bells sounded within the plinths, and the ten assembled beings turned toward them. The first two plinths manifested the marks of Corellon Larethian and Sehanine Moonbow. Mystra's eyes appeared next with her seven stars, then the mountain of Dumathoin on the next plinth, and the last showed the rolled scroll of Oghma the Binder.
Once all the sigils were in place, three figures stepped from the blackened plinths as well, each wearing the high priest's regalia of their respective churches. Tsarra willed the names and faces to remain in her tome, to have a record of the day's events. Pages ruffled forward to continue recording names and faces of the attendants, though few were known to her. Raegar recognized the all-too-surprised face of Sandrew the Wise, who returned his grin. Twenty-five people soon filled the space within Malavar's Grasp, but aside from brief nods among those familiar with each other, not a word was spoken for long moments. "Are we too late? Nain and I found more friends for our party," a woman's voice broke the silence, and a hole seemed to draw itself in space. Kyriani laughed as she stepped through, a floating disk bearing a large chest behind her. As she looked around at the faces of the assembled personages, even the ebullient mistress of Selune's Smile fell silent. Her right hand trailed behind her to lead Nain Keenwhistler, who held a blackstaff gingerly in his other hand.
Blackstaff tw-1 Page 27
