Blackstaff Tower w-1

by Steven E. Schend

  Centiv snapped his fingers through a quick spell and he and his stone platform appeared in eight different places, hovering at different angles. As the imps and gargoyles spat and clawed their way past the illusory Blackstaffs, two wands flew down the stairs, leaving trails of silver sparkles in their wakes. Weaving paths through the fray, the wands settled into the hands of Ten-Rings.

  "Your mirror images will only delay them so long," Khondar said. "You've always relied too much on the misdirection and tricks of your illusions. Time you learned and used real spells, like a real man!"

  "Those illusions helped keep you alive and safe and in power at the Watchful Order!" Centiv shouted, as a translucent gargoyle shattered against the blue shield. "They were good enough when you needed them! At least I've never had to rely on items, like you and your rings! And my lies were only spells, not actual treason to guild or city!"

  "Everything I've done has been for Waterdeep!" Khondar said, brandishing the wands. "I'll supplant Dagult and return Waterdeep to the proper rule of proper wizards!"

  Khondar waved, and the blue shields that wrapped him unfurled and became a wall that shoved all the confining imps off of him and his stone platform. He gestured with his opposite hand, the sapphire on the ring glowing coldly. The corded key around Centiv's neck drew taught and snapped, and the key flew into Khondar's palm.

  Khondar looked at Centiv, smiled coldly, and said, "Prove yourself now. Tame Blackstaff Tower, boy! If you can, we'll rule as Open Lord and Blackstaff. If you cannot, you're no son of mine!"

  With that, Khondar wrapped the two wands and the key in his cloak and stepped back through the wall of the tower.

  Centiv's shout of "No!" fell upon silent stone.

  His anger at his father's betrayal vanished as Centiv realized he was alone. The translucent gargoyles and imps all turned to him. and smiled. They became more transparent until all had disappeared. The strange void in which Centiv floated began to shrink as the stones assembled and came together as a chamber. There were still holes in many places, and Centiv himself stood as if the eastern wall were the floor, but it appeared to be a standard chamber.

  "Father, no! Don't leave me!"

  "O-ho, someone's fallen into another web of yours, old man."

  The voice took Centiv by surprise, its lilting tone arising very near him but without a person attached to it. A light green fog rolled down the stairwell, and Centiv thought he heard a low growling like a wolfpack on the hunt. A tendril of fog slipped ahead and touched the illusory robes Centiv wore as the Blackstaff.

  "That form is not yours, boy," said a harsh whisper.

  Centiv recognized it as Samark's voice. The illusion he wore of

  Samark's form shattered. Centiv stood with his own form and face in the humble blue robes of a Watchful Order mage.

  "Congratulations, little illusion-weaver. You and your sire are the first unwelcomes to darken the doorstep of Blackstaff Tower in more than a score of years." Another deeper voice he didn't recognize. It was a man's voice, spoken from the air before him. As he stared, Centiv saw a face coalesce in the green fog-an angry face clean-shaven save for dark sideburns, and long dark hair that swept past shoulders barely manifesting out of the mist. Other beings partly or fully phased out of the fog, their bodies alternating between translucent fog and seemingly solid features. Within a breath, Centiv found himself being watched by multiple fog-forms.

  "We've been bored without playthings," said a lissome half-elf with dark hair and a shock of light green at her temples. She whispered into his ear, wrapping her fog-self around his body afid teasing his face with a kiss as cold as. the night air outside. "No offense, Sammy, but he's prettier without your face on him. Reminds me of one of the Estelmers from times long gone."

  "He's not one of your conquests, Kyri. He's a shapestealer, an intruder, and a traitor to Waterdeep. It simply remains to be decided how he shall be punished." The voice, far away from Centiv, drew his attention to an older woman kneeling on the stairs and drawing a bow on him. He wove a shield in the air before him but hardly expected that to do more than delay things.

  "I'm not a traitor!" Centiv shouted, and he turned to follow his father's example by fleeing-only to find all but the patch of floor on which he stood to be less than solid. In every direction he tried to move, the stones either tipped and floated off like loose stones as light as feathers or dissipated as illusions. The tautness in Centiv's stomach wrenched another knot tighter. He leaped for what appeared to be the outside Wall-only to collide with the same solid spot on which he was now trapped.

  "The pack has been hungry since the Night of the Black Hunt more than two-score years gone," said the male half-elf, his open robes exposing a lightly haired chest of wiry muscle beset with a multitude of sigil tattoos. "Set them loose on him perhaps?"

  "Ashemmon speaks true. The pack is hungry." Centiv started as the first face he saw returned at his shoulder, speaking directly into his ears. "And we know what you visited upon our heir, false one."

  "I did nothing!" Centiv howled. "It was Father and Granek!"

  "Every Blackstaff and heir is tied to this tower," said the darkest, deepest voice. "What you did to Vajra is inexcusable… and inhuman." Samark's face, almost white in anger, wisped before Centiv's eyes. "Your lack of moral courage had you stand by while others did her ill. That brands you villain, Centiv Naomal. If I still had a body, I'd share some of her pain with you."

  As Samark spoke, the stones on which Centiv stood rolled up and clamped hard around his feet. He screamed as bones in his feet ground together, and he fell backward, his feet still imprisoned.

  "Oh wait," Samark said softly. "I can share something."

  "We are none of us powerless, limited though we are to the tower," said the deepest voice. "We are merely limited until our heir can rise to the fore and face off our second hapless victim."

  "Victim?" Centiv asked, panting hard in panic and in pain as the stones continued to press on his ankles and feet. His leather boots began to rip at the stones' edges and blood appeared there. Centiv swallowed. "My father betrayed me and fled!"

  "Some of us are familiar with that," the first voice muttered.

  The mists wrapped more thickly around the half-prone man. The tattooed half-elf knelt by his face but did not face Centiv. It spoke toward the voice and said, "Krehlan, you let that anger go a half-century ago. You and Khelben made your peace." He then turned back to Centiv and said, "The incantations your sire used allow you to penetrate the walls of the tower. What they also do is set into motion contingencies laid long ago by Arun's Son and Tsarra Autumnfire."

  The bow-wielding shade on the stairs said, "You and your father fell into a trap for those who would abuse the Blackstaffs power. The lens only works truly for the one marked by Sarael's tomb. It was neither you, weaver of lies, nor your sire."

  "No, Tsarra," Samark's ghost said. "Whose trust did Khondar betray, Centiv? Who found the lens and the scrolls?"

  "Weskur? Marked how?" Centiv's attention ricocheted about the room as all the shades began talking rapidly. "Why him? Why not me?"

  Steven E. Schend

  Blackstaff Tower

  A disembodied voice glowered all around him. "What I hid in Sarael's tomb could only be retrieved by one who respected others above the self. And he would be marked invisibly with this." Bright green phosphors laced in the air before Centiv's eyes to create the webwork of lines in Khelben's wizard mark.

  "So another is marked as heir," Krehlan said. "Why is he not here with you?"

  "It's obvious," Ashemmon said. "They betrayed the heir in their greed. They found what they wanted and ignored the signs. They walked the wrong path. As Ten-Rings cast certain spells on himself alone, those spells now compel him to complete his unwitting new course."

  "Whatever his previous motivations, he must seek out keys that will pierce the veils around Ahghairon's Tower." The deepest voice manifested a face larger than all the other phantoms. Centiv recognized it fro
m several statues and paintings. He faced the shade of Khelben Arunsun, the first Blackstaff, and he was angry.

  "The secrets there are far more dangerous than those here," Kyriani's shade said. "I'm glad we're left a plaything, myself." The dark-haired half-elf materialized atop the prone Centiv, and the stones beneath him pulled at his robes, ripping them and exposing his chest.

  "Do you think there's a chance he might actually succeed and harness some of Ahghairon's magics?" Tsarra's shade said.

  Samark's shade shook his head. "They have the books I'd planned to show Vajra to teach her more about those very fieldsMelkar's journal and Alsidda's Tome give him more than enough information on how to penetrate the magic around it, if not Ahghairon's Tower itself."

  "Tymora always leaves a chance. He may pierce the initial veils, given the power we sensed in him, though how far only chance knows for certain."

  "But entering those fields is a capital offense!" Centiv shouted. "He'll be killed!"

  "If the Watch is up to its mettle as in times past," Ashemmon's voice mused, "aye."

  "Indeed," whispered the shade of Khelben Arunsun.

  With that, all the shades dissipated into mist again, though Khelben's dark eyes remained locked and glaring on Centiv for long moments after the rest of his spectral form was gone. His voice made Centiv shudder to the core of his being.

  "There still remains the matter of what to do with you, little illusion-caster. No doubt it shall be uncomfortable at best."

  CHAPTER 12

  The Spellplague-warped Pellamcopse remains tainted after decades. Its mutated guardian and the denizens of the wood protect their home fiercely, but the Blackstaff tells us the Pellamcopse Haunt, in his own way, protects Waterdeep as well.

  Am Gyrfalcon II, To Walk Lands Afflicted, Year of the Wrathful Vizier (1411 DR)

  10 Nightal, Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

  Well, I don't know about you, but I'm bored," Osco said after having paced around the warm study a number of times. "If you'd spent last night fighting an archmage and corrupt Watchmen, then fleeing through the sewers before coming here, you'd be tired too, little man," Meloon mumbled as he lay before the fire.

  Osco wandered past the large fighter and bent down to whisper in Vharem's ear. "Hey, V, want to explore this place with me? There's some interesting stuff here-and I'm not talking about the wine cellars, though those were a good find.".

  "I don't steal from friends," Vharem said, opening only one eye. "They know where to find you."

  "You used to be more fun, V," Osco said. "There were a few locks I wanted you to help me with."

  Renaer sleepily rolled over on his couch and faced Osco. "If it's any of the doors in the tower, I've their only keys-and they're all magically locked besides. There's things up there you shouldn't disturb, Osco. Things I know to leave well enough alone."

  Osco sulked as he walked to the table and burled his frustrations beneath a flurry of eating, consuming what remained of the large ham and the bread. In between bites, he mumbled, "Just because I wasn't up all night doesn't make lying around all day dull as dwarves."

  Vajra, who had remained unconscious most of the day, rose slowly from the divan and said, "The hin speaks true. We must get to Blackstaff Tower. It has chosen a potential heir. I need to become Blackstaff before that path-and my mind-dissolves. I have need of Varad's books and counsel." With that, Vajra vanished.

  The only sounds in the room were the crackles of fire and the snorting chuckles of a halfling with his mouth full. The others staggered up from dozing as Osco said, "Guess someone's disturbing things anyway, chief-and I doubt she's gone to the kitchens." With that, he dashed out of the room and cut left down the corridor.

  Vharem asked, "Where'd she go?"

  Renaer threw off his furs with a growl. "Varad's books are eithet here or in the tower!"

  By the time the whole quartet roused themselves from beneath their furs, Osco's movement had lit up all the torches back down to the entry chamber. Renaer snapped "Stlaern!" as he pushed past a tapestry and through an open doorway mostly blocked by the wall-hanging. Vharem, Meloon, and Laraelra followed him into the stairwell that led up into a high tower. A blizzard howled outside the slim arrow-slit windows. Ice and snow pelted the tower.

  They ignored the smaller landings and doors as they raced past two upper levels and found Osco at the third landing, waiting for them in front of a door.

  "Well," Osco said. "Saer, 'I've got the only key to the tower rooms,' I can hear her rummaging around in there."

  Renaer scowled at him and reached into his belt pouch to withdraw a silver key. Osco's eyes widened, as the key was a true work of art. Pure silver with some light runes around the bow end of it, the key's tines were table- and trap-cut emeralds of various sizes.

  "Weird key," Osco muttered. "No wonder I couldn't pick the lock."

  Renaer unlocked the door and opened it. The five of them entered a chamber that seemed larger than the tower in which it was housed. Renaer noted it was devoid of cobwebs and cold, unlike the lower rooms, and very orderly. Not a single book lay out on any of the three tables, nor were any stuffed haphazardly atop a shelf. The only things on the tables were rows of wooden rods, ivory wands, and other components laid out as if someone were planning to craft something.

  In the center of the circular room lay a rune-inscribed circle painted in a variety of colors, twelve different runes in each of three successive circles. At the center of the circles, the floor was painted black. Stars glinted inside that void, and Vajra levitated cross-legged above it with a massive spellbook in her lap. She nodded at the group's entrance.

  "How did you get up here, Vajra?" Renaer said. "Varad's tomes said none could enter this chamber without his key."

  "I've been here before, youngling," she said, her voice and demeanor far older than she seemed. "The Shifter held few secrets the Blackstaff did not share. Now hush." Silence muffled the room. The only sounds heard now were Vajra's mutterings and the sound of her turning the vellum pages of the spellbook. After a short time, all but Laraelra withdrew from the room to sit on the steps outside the room.

  "— really hate wizards, aye." Osco's voice returned as he stepped out of the room. "Was she this much fun to be around earlier too?"

  "I liked her more when she needed to be carried," Vharem muttered.

  "Could be worse," Meloon said. "If she's getting her head together, that means we might have a fighting chance against Ten-Rings and his fake Blackstaff. I say we keep helping her, and she'll be able to help us."

  "I certainly hope so," Renaer said. "If she knows so much about Varadras, she probably knows how to use the portals. I just hope she doesn't use them alone and leave us stranded here another day."

  "So where would we end up if we used them?" Osco asked.

  Renaer sighed, thinking a moment. "The portal from my garden only leads here-to the receiving hall. There's three command words that take anyone standing on the mosaic back to Neverember Manor, Ordalth House, or a stone circle in the middle of the Pellamcopse north of the city. If the mosaic is used, it can't be used again for at least half a day until its magic restores itself."

  "The Pellamcorpse?" Osco blurted. "Why would anyone visit that monster-infested place?"

  "It wasn't always as it is now. In Varad's day and before, it was a pleasant little woods good for hunting game within a short walk from the Northgate. The Spellplague corrupted it. I've only read about that link, never used it. Varad's book talks about the arrival point being a place of worship older than the earliest settlements of Waterdeep. I think he tapped into older magic there to make this portal network of his stable."

  "Um, are we supposed to know what and where Ordalth House is?" Meloon asked.

  "It's a marble four-story grandhouse in Castle Ward, close to Diloontier's amp; Sons Apothecary."

  "You forget," Vharem said, "not all of us study history, the names of buildings, or wander every street and alley in the city."

&n
bsp; Renaer smiled and nodded. "Fair enough. We'll go to Ordalth House and Osco can get us into the Warrens from there. Then we'll get as close as we can to Blackstaff Tower without being detected and hope the gods are with us as we dash to the tower. I hope Vajra's presence will get us through its gates."

  "Lots of hopes in that plan," Osco said. "Trust in us, not the gods, Ren. We can be counted on more often."

  "Tymora'U help us," Meloon said.

  "You rely on luck a lot, big guy?" Osco asked.

  "I'm still striding," Meloon replied with a wink.

  "Well," Vharem interrupted, "I hope that luck's with us, as milady wizard and our friendly sewer-sorceress are done with whatever they were doing in there."

  The door thundered and all four heard both women cry out. Meloon shoved the door open and Renaer stepped to the side, his daggers at the ready. Inside the room, a column of green energy roared, Vajra hovering at its center. Lightning crackled off of her, and she spasmed with each pulse leaving her hands or feet. The magic circles above which she hovered absorbed some of the magic, but random bolts arced across the room.

  Osco yelled, "Down!" and shoved at Vharem's knees, knocking him out of the path of a blast heading out the door. The halfling looked at Vajra, then yelled to Vharem, "I agree with you-I liked her better unconscious too!"

  From behind the open door, Laraelra said, "Just before this started, she dropped that wizard's tome, her eyes went all black, and green lightning crackled all over her. Then she said, 'Chartham, ye stand as traitor,' and slammed me into the door. I can't stop her!"

  "Chartham?" Renaer asked.

  Vajra's head snapped toward him. Her gray eyes widened and she spoke, her voice deeper than usual, "Slay my heir, would you?" She raised a hand, and Renaer dived behind the table to his right as lightning exploded where he had stood.

  "Blackstaff!" Renaer yelled. "You're dead, Krehlan! Let Vajra go!

  The energy in the room dimmed, but Vajra remained focused on Renaer. "Dead? Let who go?" She stared at him, then down at her own outstretched hand, and finally down at her body. "But-oh, we're not in the tower. In an unreadied heir…"