by Mel Odom
They sat at a round table in his sanctum. The room was generous but still filled to overflowing with the accoutrements and trappings of his chosen path. It was rumored, and rightly so, that he had almost as many volumes on magery in his home as were possessed in the temple of Deep Sashelas at Sylkiir. Shelves and bookcases covered every wall, designed to hold every tome whether it was inscribed on cut stone or on delicate gold foil. Round glass globes filled with luminescent pale blue lichens lighted the room.
Reefglamor ran his hand across the stone surface of the table. It hadn’t always been smooth, but centuries of working at it, reading and studying, conversing with those few of whom he thought well enough to invite there, had worn away the roughness. Only his own contentious personality seemed to be unscathed by time.
That, he amended, and the ever-present threat of the Ravager.
“I shall need you at your best,” Reefglamor said. “You may need to act with all the focus I’ve trained in you in order to salvage anything of this in case things go awry.”
“Senior,” Ildacer said quietly. He was rounder than most alu’tel’quessir because he had an appetite for food and drink that was legendary in its own right. His blue skin was paler than Reefglamor’s and his silver hair still yet held stands of black. He wore a deep purple silken weave. “I know I risk your considerable displeasure by venting my own thoughts in this matter.”
“You risk far more than that,” Reefglamor warned.
“You asked me here, Senior, and I think that means you believe you can’t do this without me.” Ildacer’s gaze met Reefglamor’s glare and only flinched a little.
“And you think this gives you some sway over me?”
“No, but I hoped that it might influence you.” Ildacer hesitated. “If only a little.”
Reefglamor waved a hand at him. A few minutes of the junior mage’s prattle wouldn’t mean much in the scheme of dangers that faced them. “Speak, but cogently and with brevity, and always with respect in mind. I lack even more patience than usual.”
“Thank you, Senior. I believe you should rethink your decision to try to summon a vision about the Ravager. We’ve gone all these centuries without success in that regard.”
“I’ve never before attempted it,” Reefglamor pointed out. However, he hadn’t with good reason. It was only the great danger he felt now that prompted him to make this decision.
“But others have,” Ildacer hurried on. “Six that I can think of. Four were driven mad. One slew himself, and the final one was drawn into a gate that had never existed before or ever existed afterward. There have been no successes connected with attempting to learn more of the Ravager. It was those attempts that brought the number of High Mages so dangerously low in these past years.”
Reefglamor considered the younger man’s words. They carried only the truth. He spoke softly, persuasive instead of demanding for the first time in centuries. “The Time of Tempering is upon us. We’ve done as much as we can do in every other avenue we’ve had open to us. There lies ahead only this way.”
“But you’ve outlawed this spell’s use against the Ravager.”
“Yes.”
Ildacer appeared surprised. “You made the law.”
“So it’s only just that I break it.” Reefglamor paused. “No one else had better dare.”
Shaking his head in regret, Ildacer settled back in his chair and reached for the wine bladder on the table. He drank from it quickly, glancing out the cut crystal window that overlooked Sylkiir.
Reefglamor followed the other mage’s gaze. Most of the homes glowed with the luminescent lichens. Though only two hundred feet below the Sea of Fallen Stars, not much light got through to the depths, and when night fell even elven vision didn’t help much.
His house was built on the side of the hill overlooking the underwater valley where the city had been built. From there he could see the twisted coral spires of Deep Sashelas’s temple where he’d spent so much of his life. He’d designed the god’s temple, and helped shape the magics that had encouraged the coral growth that created the structure. Long-bodied fish and other sea creatures traversed the currents throughout the city, but no predators that would dare attack the sea elves finned through those depths. Sylkiir had been well warded against those.
“Do you remember how long it took us to grow the temple?” Reefglamor asked.
“Centuries,” Ildacer answered. “And I remember all the hard work that went into the construction of it, all the mistakes that we made till we had it exactly right.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yes.”
“Yet,” Reefglamor said, “the Ravager could come among us and destroy it in heartbeats. Nothing would stand to show the strength of our worship of Deep Sashelas. I find that intolerable.”
“As do I.”
“The Ravager’s free again.” Reefglamor looked back at the younger man. “You and I have both known it since we heard of the attack on Laakos’ Reef in the Shining Sea nine years ago.” The attack had taken place fourteen years ago, but the story of it hadn’t reached Selu’Maraar and Sylkiir till five years later.
“That could have been a tale made up by the mermen,” Ildacer objected. “An undersea quake, or perhaps they hadn’t built their reef as well as they thought they had.”
“The mermen went from there to Waterdeep,” Reefglamor said.
“You never told me that.”
Reefglamor knew the other mage was little surprised by that. He told his juniors only what he felt they needed to know when they needed to know it. “I only found out these past few days from a merman called Thraxos, who has his own mission here in Serôs. A merman shaman named Narros sent him here to bring the message to me, but this Thraxos’s journey was a dangerous one and he had to depend on a human girl to get the word to me. Remember, even our legends of the Ravager, handed down by Deep Sashelas, say that the mermen will be the first to discover the Taleweaver, the human singer who will unite the histories of the world above and world below. The one who will find the way into that which was lost to us.”
“The City of Destinies,” Ildacer whispered reverently.
“Yes. All that once was to us and one day will be again.”
“That doesn’t mean the mermen of Laakos’ Reef were the ones meant to discover the Taleweaver. There are many others.”
Reefglamor fixed his colleague with his stare. “Doubt if you wish, but you’ll only be a hermit crab hiding in its shell.”
“You don’t have any doubts? It has been fourteen years since their city was destroyed.”
“Of course I have doubts,” the Senior High Mage responded. “Unlike yours, though, mine haven’t gone away. They’ve only grown larger. That’s why I want to pursue this course in spite of all the risks inherent in it.”
“You’ve said from the beginning that attempting to work a divination on the Ravager would be risking certain death,” Ildacer said, “and it has.”
“The Ravager has many protections left to him despite the punishment he’s been given in the past,” Reefglamor agreed. “Seeking him out in this manner isn’t something to be lightly undertaken. He may be able to strike back along the spell I use. However, we need to know something at this point.”
“Chancing your own fate isn’t a good idea.”
Reefglamor regarded the junior mage coolly. “I should risk someone else then?” They both knew from past experience that he would—if he thought it worth the risk.
“That’s not what I said,” Ildacer said quickly.
“No, but given the parameters of your statement, that’s what you meant. And I would. If I felt any were better equipped to attempt this than I.” Reefglamor turned his gaze back out through the window. “We’ve already risked much by using the selu’kiira on Jhanra Merlistar, Keryth Adofaer, and Talor Vurtalis. The memory gems have wrought great magic to bring them up to the level of High Mages these past thirteen years.” Even then, that decision had not come easily, but the H
igh Mages had wanted to be at full strength when the Ravager appeared.
“I know.”
“You’ve done a good job with them,” Reefglamor stated. Ildacer had been responsible for their training.
Surprise momentarily stole Ildacer’s words. “Thank you, Senior.”
Reefglamor faced him. “You know it is my way to seldom give praise.”
“I know it well.”
“Yet you overlook the obvious praise you’re given this night. I trusted no one else with watching over me while I attempted this.”
Ildacer nodded. “I understood that, Senior. I thank you for your trust, but I’m afraid that even I’m not good enough to protect you should anything go wrong.”
“Argue though you may, I won’t shirk from this. Events have been put into play. According to the merman Thraxos, the Ravager has already taken action against the surface world. Though it is not widely known yet, above water or below, sahuagin attacked Waterdeep two tendays ago. They were accompanied by all manner of sea creatures.”
“You believe this to be the work of the Ravager?”
“Could it be anyone else?”
Ildacer held his gaze only a moment before looking away. Fear stamped into his features. “No. Of course not.”
“That’s why we need to know,” Reefglamor said softly. “If there is any way to foretell where the Taleweaver may soon be, or discover who he is, I have to try. And if there’s a way to discover the Ravager’s whereabouts, I have to attempt that as well.”
“There’s nothing, then, that I may offer as argument in this?”
“Pharom Ildacer, I’ve argued with myself for days,” Reefglamor said sternly. “Can you imagine a fiercer opponent?”
“No, Senior, truly I can not.”
“Then prepare your wards that we may begin.” Reefglamor already had his own in place. He ran his fingers over the white pearls in the gold bracer adorning his right wrist, the hand he’d given in service to his god Deep Sashelas, also known as Dolphin Prince and Sailor’s Friend.
Long moments passed as Ildacer prepared, digging items from the kit he carried. He marked different colored symbols on the stone floor with the selection of oily gels from the writing packs the alu’tel’quessir had created. Since they’d chosen to live in the Sea of Fallen Stars after the Crown Wars that had torn apart the empire of the elves they’d had to design many things that would help them with their undersea life.
When the younger mage was finished, he looked at Reefglamor. “What do you have to offer?”
Attempting a vision called for the sacrifice of an item the caster cared about. Reefglamor’s hand almost trembled as he took a clamshell from a nearby shelf. He opened it slowly, revealing the contents. “This.” He took out a common spined urchin’s shell and placed it gently on the table.
“That?” Ildacer’s effort to not sound disbelieving went unrewarded.
Reefglamor touched the spined urchin’s shell. “This was given to me by my wife on the day I met her,” the old mage said, his voice surprisingly tight despite the centuries that had passed. “She thought I was full of my own worth, pompous even.”
Graciously, and perhaps wisely, Ildacer didn’t comment.
“She gave me this shell, plucked from the ground at our feet, as a token that I should remember worth is only in the eye of the person who perceives it. Those who perceive it in themselves oft fool first themselves.” Reefglamor smiled at the memory. Their time together had been short. She’d died at his side, fighting the enemies they’d found while questing for one of the legendary elven devices he’d learned of. For all the long lives of the elves, they’d had scarcely a dozen years together, a heartbeat in time, actually. He’d never loved another woman.
“I’m sorry I never got the chance to meet her,” Ildacer said.
“She was a remarkable woman.”
“Perhaps the gift you offer is too generous.”
Reefglamor looked at the younger mage. “I treasure nothing above this simple shell. So common in Serôs, yet there is not another like it in the entire world, above or below. Yet, at this moment, I can only hope that it is enough. This is strong magic I seek to employ, against a foe more powerful than we have ever known. The threat—by the fins of Deep Sashelas—the threat against all of Serôs has never been as potentially devastating. You know that.”
“Yes.”
Reefglamor closed his hand briefly around the shell, then pushed it to the center of the table and left it there. “Make yourself ready. This should be done.”
Without another word, Ildacer bent to the task. He took the needed items from the kit he carried with him, then inscribed a circle and powerful symbols on the floor around Reefglamor. The younger mage used the different colored oily gels and added the necessary basilisk eyebrow, gum arabic, and whitewash.
Finished, Ildacer put away his gear, then stood inside the circle as well. “The circle is as strong as I can make it, Senior. Still, there is no saying how strong the Ravager’s forces may be.”
“We shall find out.” Reefglamor bent to his own task, having his spell readied as well. He called upon Deep Sashelas, then followed his magic.
* * * * *
For a moment, Reefglamor thought the power of the spell had struck him blind. When he could see again, he studied the scenery around him. It was a surface city, but one he didn’t recognize that bordered a river. He knew it was a river because he’d seen a few of them upon occasion.
Green sahuagin bodies looked almost black in the moonlight. Men, dwarves, and elves fought them. Ships were locked in combat out in the harbor.
This is Baldur’s Gate, a quiet voice spoke quietly into Reefglamor’s mind, sounding like the calm surge of an incoming tide riding over rock. This is what will soon happen. The Taleweaver will be there.
Excitement dawned inside Reefglamor. He didn’t know if the voice belonged to Deep Sashelas, but he knew he was hearing it because of his god’s will. “Can you show him to me?”
The battle continued, filled with the screams of dying men.
I cannot at this time. You’ve been told this so that you will know. Here, the Taleweaver will learn of where he is to meet you and come to the knowledge of the Sea of Fallen Stars.
The view faded from sight. Slowly, like a luminescent worm just coming to light, the second scene cleared. Reefglamor instantly recognized the cluster of clamshell-like buildings dug into the silt in the ocean floor.
This place you know, the voice said.
Telvanlu, the capital city of Naramyr, the Artisan State of Serôs. The old mage had visited there a number of times. Because of the shared blood between the elven cities, Naramyr and Selu’Maraar maintained good trade relations.
The Taleweaver will be here soon.
When? Reefglamor asked.
No answer came at first. The possibilities are hazy. Perhaps early in Heartsong. Perhaps later. Perhaps never at all if the Ravager has his way.
What will he look like?
An image formed beside one of the clamshell buildings. Reefglamor knew the Taleweaver was human, but the man’s advanced age was obvious and shocking. The Taleweaver dressed simply in brown breeches and a green doublet. His head was shaved, making the silvery eyebrows over his dark eyes stand out even more. His skin was nut-brown, carrying the mark of a man long used to the sun and the elements. He carried a backpack and a stringed instrument in one hand that was bowl-shaped on one end and stuck out straight and true on the other. Reefglamor thought he recognized it as a yarting. Strains of music, haunting and almost familiar, echoed around him.
Who is he?
The Taleweaver. That’s all I’m given to know.
Accepting the vision’s inability to render anything further, Reefglamor took another tack. Can you tell me of the Ravager? Instantly, Reefglamor felt an unaccustomed chill flow over him, filling his veins. Serôs carried an even temperature year round despite the seasons. He’d never felt so cold in all his long years.
&nbs
p; Choosing that path leads to danger.
Which is more dangerous? Reefglamor pressed. Trying to know, or living in ignorance?
The seer takes all the risks.
Then let the decision be mine. Show me when the Ravager will enter Serôs to bring the death and destruction that are his companions that I may know when the time is come.
Oily black filled Reefglamor’s vision. He started to suffocate, unable to draw sea water in through his gills. Then his vision cleared, revealing a section of ocean floor that he couldn’t recognize. In the next instant, roiling red liquid flame burned through the depths. It washed over Reefglamor with cyclonic force and brought a rush of searing heat that cooked him. In that whirling maelstrom, he felt something else searching for him, but the effort was weak and Ildacer’s spell brought him away.
* * * * *
Gasping, choking on the sea water that flooded in through his gills, Reefglamor opened his eyes back in his sanctum. He glanced down at his hands, finding small blisters over his pale blue skin. The Ravager’s power was incredible. Even from that time in the future, the Ravager had been able to strike back along the vision. Only his weakened state had prevented it from being lethal, but was the Ravager weakened now? Or was it from that time in the future?
Ildacer looked at him worriedly, crossing over to the older man. “What is it?”
“The sea,” Reefglamor stated with hoarse effort. “The sea was burning!”
III
4 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet
Jherek stood on the twilight-shadowed docks of Baldur’s Gate and drew in the dank air from the River Chionthar. He missed the salty tang of the ocean, but it was the first time he’d felt close to home since leaving Athkatla.
He stood nearly six feet tall, a lean youth of nineteen heavily muscled in the arms and shoulders from years of hard work. Dust still covered his breeches and shirt under the cracked leather armor he wore. Sweat and grit had plastered his light brown hair to his head, causing it to hang heavily to his shoulders. Pale gray fire lighted his haunted eyes.
