The Nameless Haunt ushered them into a large chamber, and Renaer gasped at the warmth in what appeared an open-air room. The cat-man set Meloon properly on his feet and relinquished the spell on him.
Meloon said, "Well, which-Hey!" The blond warrior reached back for his weapon, only to find it missing, and he looked around in confusion and anger, scratching his head about how he arrived here.
"We are sorry to enspell you," the Nameless Haunt said to Meloon. "We only wanted to reunite friends more quickly." He motioned to the rear of the chamber, where Vharem, Laraelra, and Vajra sat or lay inside cells within the massive tree trunk, the bars thick thorn-laden branches. The cat-man gestured and the bars all spread wide, allowing them to exit their cells. While Vharem and Laraelra got out quickly, Vajra remained unconscious.
Osco cackled happily and asked, "What happened to you guys?
"That cocoon dumped me here in this cell along with Vajra," Vharem said. "The place is warm and there was food-but it's still prison!"
"For your own protection." The Nameless flexed his claws, cocked an eyebrow, and asked, "You wish to fight us, boy?"
Vharem fumed, but Renaer intervened. "No, we don't. We just didn't know what you wanted with us, why you attacked us, or why you abducted our friends."
"Wizards more apt to talk than warriors," the Nameless explained. "We only take warrior because he carried her." He pointed at Vajra. "She sick? Nameless know Samark healthy. Did someone kill Blackstaff?"
Renaer nodded.
The cat-man's face glowered, and Renaer suddenly understood the tales of how fearsome Khelben's glare could be, especially now when mixed into leonine features. The cat-man returned to stroking Vajra's hair and face, whispering to her. "She has not been to tower? She needs help to understand her power." He uttered a few quick syllables and his palms glowed as he stroked her head.
Vajra's eyes snapped open, black orbs with storms of green energy. The Haunt shushed her like he would a baby, and continued to stroke her head. Crackles of lightning surged from her eyes, then died down to normal hazel-colored eyes rimmed with tears. "Raegar…"
"Tsarra love mistress wife… we are glad to see your eyes again." He purred in return.
"It hurts to see you this way, Raegar, What you and Nameless did…"
"Had to be done. Now why do you haunt this lass? You belong in tower, as we belong here."
Vajra sat up and looked around. "We're in the'Pellamcopse?" When the cat-man nodded, she said, "Vajra wasn't readied. The power transfer happened outside the tower. Someone killed Samark. Why are we here though?"
The woman's eyes clouded to black again, then shifted to cobalt blue eyes. Vajra sat up straighter, her shoulders squared, and raised an eyebrow as she stared around the room. The cat-man bristled slightly, his wing feathers ruffling.
"I brought us here," she said. "Nameless, you've guarded something well for some time, but it needs to return to the city."
"As do you, Khelben. Spirits hurt Vajra."
"I realize the dangers more than you, familiar friend. Let us attend to our task and we'll visit again when we have more time." Vajra's stem voice whispered something only the Haunt could hear, and he nodded.
The cat-man and Vajra both cast the same spell with their left hands, their right hands remaining tightly gtasped together. Theit magic opened one wall of the room, revealing a small chamber.
"You four men need to see who she'll allow to wield her," Vajra said. "Her time for sleep is over."
"So what befalls here?" Laraelra asked, stepping up and blocking the opening. "Why not me?"
"You shall wield something far greater, girl, should you prove patient enough."
Vharem, Osco, Renaer, and Meloon entered the small chamber, finding it close and small for all of them. At the center of the room was a tree stump, and embedded in it was a beautiful silver axe with a rune-carved double-bladed head, its haft wrapped in blue dragonskin and a star sapphire winked at the pommel's end. The exposed edges of the blades all glowed with a shimmering blue radiance, lighting the chamber.
Renaer stepped forward, whispering, "Azuredge." When he grasped the axe's handle, he pulled hard once, twice, and gave up after the third tug didn't release it. Renaer was crestfallen as he stepped back and let Vharem try. "This axe is legendary. Its wielder is always a great defender of Waterdeep. Ahghairon the first Open Lord himself made this as a tribute to the Warlord Lauroun more than four and a half centuries ago."
"Well, it's useless if none of us can pull the thing free from this stump," Vharem said. "Why do wizards always muck up good weapons by sticking them in things that need a prophecy or destiny or something to get it free?" The slender man grabbed the axe's haft, but rather than pulling, he held it and his eyes wandered and his face lost its color. After a moment, he let go, as if the axe were painful.
"What happened?" Renaer asked.
His long-time friend looked at him, opened his mouth, and then closed it, shaking his head. "Not for me," he whispered. "Told me so."
Meloon, who had been awestruck when he entered, stepped up, but Osco leaped up onto the stump to straddle the axe's handle and pull on it as hard as he could. His efforts were useless, other than to make Vharem chuckle and Renaer and Meloon smile. The halfling opened his eyes after another strained attempt, and shrugged.
"Had to try, didn't I? I get the feeling this thing's meant fot the big guy."
"That thing probably weighs as much as you do, Osco." Renaer said. "If you'd drawn it, how could you have used it?"
"Fetch a fair price for the gems, the silver, the dragonskin," Osco ticked off items on his fingers to Renaer's gut-wrenching horror, and then giggled when he saw Renaer's face. He winked at Vharem and said, "I'm not sure. Has he always been this easy to tease?" Osco hopped off and clapped Meloon on the calf as he walked out of the room. "Go to it, big man."
Meloon reached over and grabbed the haft of the axe. Blue flames flared around the axe and the warrior. Renaer and the others flinched back, but Meloon stayed transfixed and seemed unharmed by the blue fire.
A bitter wind whistled around Meloon, who found he stood alone on a wooded plateau, seedling trees and shrubs slapping his knees in the wind. He whirled around to the familiar sight of Mount Waterdeep. But all else was strange. No city, no toads crossed the plain where he stood, and the mountain lay bare and untouched by any hand but nature's.
He stood near a crossroads, and he turned toward a rider's approach. Astride a stallion was a woman clad in chain mail, her face framed by the metal garb and a few sttay red locks. She stared down at Meloon, her cerulean eyes freezing him in place. She broke eye contact first and stared east, down the lone dirt path. She looked again at Meloon, then directed her eyes west, down toward the deepwater harbor. Meloon could see a log palisade on the mountain spur where Castle Waterdeep would be, and he could see the Spires of Morning, recognizable as the great temple to Amaunator, even though it was still being built.
Meloon asked, "Am I fallen into yesterday? Is this Waterdeep in the past?"
"Will you fight?" the blue-eyed warrior asked. Meloon nodded. "If the cause is just."
"Or the pay is right?" She cocked an eyebrow at the sellsword's common phrase.
Meloon shook his head. "Take only honest pay from honest folk, or you repay coin with guilt."
The woman smiled, then tossed a double-bladed axe to him. "If the Black Claws descend upon us, how do we protect the city?" She stared to the east, a cloud of dust rising beyond the trees.
Meloon looked east, then west toward the temple and further down the plateau at what he knew as Dock Watd and she knew as the city. He saw the limited trails, the heavier forest to the northwest, and the cliffs to the east.
"The walls protect the docks and the southern city?" Meloon asked. She nodded, and Meloon pointed with the axe at the trees along the trail. "I'd use my axe to fell the trees and block the trail. That forces any attackers into smaller units among the trees or around the whole plateau to att
ack along the roads to the south. Either way buys you more time for more defenses-or more ways to pick off. the enemies. If you have to, set fire to the undergrowth-the smoke will slow them further, and it shouldn't harm the trees much."
The woman smiled and brought her shield up-a serpentine dragon wrapping vertically around a sword resting point down on a green field.
Meloon's eyes went wide, and he said, "Did you copy that from my memory?"
The woman's face became unreadable, as she shook her head. "This is my family's crest. Why?"
Meloon pulled his shirt open to reveal the same emblem-the dragon over the sword-tattooed over his heart and beneath a hairy chest. "It's my family's mark of old. The Wardragons of Loudwater. I was told many Wardragons originally settled Waterdeep, but I'd found none in two years in the city."
The woman dismounted and grasped Meloon by the shoulders. "You found me. You are not only worthy, you are kin. Know me as Lauroun, once-warlord of this place. Now, together, we can both be her defenders." She grasped his hand around the axe and brought them both up, her eyes framed above the blade. The axe burst into blue flames that matched her eyes.
Meloon's eyes focused on what he held in his hand. The runes on the axe head flashed three times, and the entire axe flared with blue flames. Meloon whispered, repeating the voice he heard in his head, "May the weapon be as worthy as its wieldet, its wielder as worthy as the weapon…"
Meloon blinked and saw the last of the flames wink out as his normal eyesight returned. He came out of the room carrying Azuredge.
Vajra smiled a tight, thin smile, and said, "Good. Wield her well, warrior." She looked back at the cat-man. "When dawn breaks, the magic that created and tied you here should open. We need to redirect it, pulling us home." She reached up with a glowing hand and rested it on his cheek. The Nameless Haunt snarled in pain as she sent magic into his head. She muttered, "I'm sorry for it all," and collapsed into the cat-man's atms.
"We are too, Blackstaff." The Nameless stood and carried her out onto the balcony overlooking the forest. The light of dawn lit the eastern horizon. From their high vantage point in the tallest trees of the forest, everyone could see the distant slopes of Mount Waterdeep and the city huddled around it a few miles to the west.
The Nameless Haunt settled Vajra into Renaer's arms and began weaving a complex spell. He seemed to pull more and more light from the horizon and onto the balcony with them. After a few moments, he turned and said, "Stand here and face the mountain. I'll send you home."
"Thank you for everything," Renaer said. "If there's anything-"
"Not for us," the Haunt said. "Get her to her tower. She needs to touch the true Blackstaff soon. Then all may be better." He looked at them all, then shot a quick look at the eastern horizon and ruffled his wings. "Go now… to where we became. Help her and our city. Tell her we love her always. And be her friend, for a Blackstaffs life is lonely too."
The Nameless Haunt's wings spread full, scattering magic all around and over the group, his black feathers edged and glistening with red-gold energy.
Vajra stirred in Renaer's arms and said, "Farewell, love." Tears fell from her hazel eyes and streamed down her cheeks.
The sparkles swirled into a ring of light that settled around and over the six of them. Renaer watched as the air around them grew hazy. The haze shimmered, then a flare of light on its eastern face lit up the entire globe. The silver ring expanded from their feet, rising up around them and above their heads. Renaer closed his eyes and felt his stomach flip, and he had a brief sensation of flight again.
When he opened his eyes, he stood in a small fenced garden, winter bare and frost-rimed. Before him were not the trees of the Pellamcopse but the seaward slopes of Mount Waterdeep. Night still reigned in the skies overhead, but the first rays of dawn lanced beneath the heavy clouds that drifted above from the western sky. What bothered Renaer more was the fact that he stood alongside Osco, but the others had disappeared.
CHAPTER 13
In efforts to avoid the worst of the Second Pestiliars, those who could afford it built upward, scaling the mountain and building upon it, as old protections kept them from burrowing into Mount Waterdeep. Mountainside was borne of panicked nobles and a need for cleaner air. Kuldhas of Waterdeep, A Walk in My City, Year of Azuth's Woe (1440 DR)
11 Nightal, Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)
Renaet did not often come to this area of Mountainside, but he knew the cobblestone toad he faced was Mandarthen Lane because of the bright blue doors on every building and the white-stone dies on the roofs. He also knew most folk, who disliked the abusive Mandarth noble clan and its whaling-derived riches, referred to it as the "Ambergrislide." Below them, Osco and Renaet could see the morning shift change of the Watch on the west wall, as lights bobbed along the length of the walls, new watchmen climbing the tower stairs with torches.
Osco smacked Renaer behind his knees, causing him to fall and land hard on his back. Before he could yell at the hin, the halfling's hairy hand covered his mouth, and Osco's face came close with his index finget at his mouth, signaling quiet. Renaer relaxed, but fought the urge to cough, as a foot patrol of Watchmen wandered past them. They were close enough that Renaer and Osco overheard snatches of conversation.
"— said there's an extra bonus in our pay if we can catch them without the Watchful Order's interference!"
"You ever had to chase him? Renaer Neverember's a greased fish that slips the net every time."
"When it don't matter, maybe. Now, with the murders in Ravencourt, he'll be caught. And he's got friends. They'll be easily enough caught, and then-"
"What? He'll come for them? Anyone who'll do what he did to the Blackstaffs heir isn't worried about retribution and hardly cares what happens to others!"
A third rougher voice growled at the chattering Watchmen. "Less jabber, more seeking, fools!"
"They'd stand out too easily up here," the first voice said. "There's no one awake and on the streets but a few servants heading downslope to fetch mornfeast for their masters."
Renaer could now make out the Watch patrol passing directly in front of their position on the other side of the iron-rail fence. If they looked even an arm span in their direction…
In the distance, Renaer heard some commotion, — and Osco whispered, "Somethin's disturbed some dogs."
A few breaths later, the shadowed pack of four Watchmen started, as a horn sounded a few streets over.
"Let's see where our fellows need our help!" said one of the Watchmen.
They ran east and up over the slope of the mountain, leaving Osco and Renaer behind them. The two of them exhaled in relief, their warm breath clouding the air around them.
"Sorry, Renaer," Osco said, brushing snow and frost off the human's cloak and vest. "No time for warning. How you humans avoid trouble with such poor eyes and ears is beyond me."
"I suspect avoiding trouble's not on our agenda today," Renaer said. "You heard them and that horn. How much would you wager they've spotted some friends of ours and sounded the alarm?"
Osco beamed a broad smile. "Haven't had a tussle with the Watch in four days myself. Let's see if we can trip them up without them being the wiser, eh? We'll head up Gorarl's Way and over to
Tybrun Ridge, right?" With that, the halfling slipped through the wide rail fence and scampered off into the shadows.
"Osco!" Renaer whispered harshly, but not too loud to draw attention. "I meant we should-grrr!"
Renaer got up and found he could not slip between the rails as the hin did. He found the gate and eased it open with only some noise from its hinges. He headed in the same direction as the halfling and the Watch, and he found it easy to know what direction to travel by seeing the scuffs in the mostly undisturbed frost on the street. He just hoped they'd reunite with their friends before anyone got caught.
Laraelra slipped and began to fall as the ground under her proved too icy. She felt someone catch her, but she could not see with the rising
sun lancing in her eyes. Shielding her face, she realized that Vharem stood behind her, and he kept his feet despite the ice. "Thank you, Vharem," she said.
"Any time I can help damsels in distress." He grinned.
"Any idea where we are?" Laraelra asked as she regained her footing and looked around. The two of them stood in an open court that sat higher on the mountain slope than most of its surrounding one- and two-story buildings. In the shadows of the buildings, untouched by the rising sun, furred creatures stirred and stretched. One or two dogs slipped into the sunlight and approached the two humans, growling and apprehensive.
"Stlaern," Vharem whispered. "Elra, back out of here as calmly as you can, but quickly."
She tried but found her way blocked by another growling dog, a Moonsharran mastiff. "Where are we?"
Vharem did not answer. He reached into his belt pouch and withdrew three latge hunks of dried venison, which he now waved to spread the scent. He whispered, "I'm going to toss these. Then we run."
The court exploded with color and light and numerous yelps. Laraelra grinned as Vharem turned to find her casting her spell. She clapped her hands together as if brushing off dust, and said, "Or I can take care of a pack of dogs with a simple spell."
"You didn't get them all-run!" Vharem threw the venison to her right. His aim was true, and the mastiff caught the largest hunk of meat in his jaws instead of lunging at the sorceress. Other dogs now fought over the unclaimed meat as Vharem and Laraelra ran out of the enclosed court and into the small street.
Vharem looked left, saw a number of folks heading east toward them with hands raised to see against the rising sun. Two wore Watch colors. Vharem pulled her to the right and the two ran. No other steps disturbed the morning frost on the streets in this direction. Laraelra realized they were up in Mountainside, racing down the northern slopes of Mount Waterdeep. This road ran parallel and just one block east of Tybrun Ridge, the slope edge of the mountain. She recognized no buildings, as she'd rarely entered Mountainside.
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