Ah, good, she said. Elra, you’ll be able to hear me, and I can cast spells through this staff as long as you hold it. This ought to even the odds against this wizard.
Laraelra smiled and said, “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Meloon and Osco moved ahead, and Laraelra stepped forward to cross Kulzar’s Alley. For the third time in as many days they stood at the threshold of Roarke House.
“Ready?” Meloon asked, hefting Azuredge, the blue runes shining brighter than the golden sunshine rising behind them.
“No,” Laraelra said, her voice intermingled with Vajra’s. “Let us.”
She leveled the duskstaff at the door, and a blue-black beam erupted from the globe. Laraelra saw four separate flashes of energy as the beam punched through and dispelled Ten-Rings’ defenses. A massive hand of energy formed from the beam, and a blue-black fist punched down the door to Roarke House. A brief shimmer around them all, and their shadows fell across the threshold.
“I suppose this means we can enter,” Laraelra said, turning to Meloon and Osco. She smiled. “After you.”
She heard a voice in her head from Vajra. Don’t be overconfident, Elra. I can only cast spells and counter those I’m expecting. Ten-Rings is predictable when it comes to his outer defenses, but his spells in combat may be less so.
The trio moved cautiously into the star-and-moon covered entrance hall, Meloon in the lead. He stepped toward the cellar door, and Laraelra hissed at him, shaking her head. She whispered, “Even if he flees that way, Harug and his friends have some surprises behind every way out down there. What we need to find is probably upstairs.” She pointed up the stairs that spiraled up the outer wall and overhead.
“I’ll scout ahead and disable any traps or locks I find along the way,” Osco whispered. “Just don’t expect to see me easily, thanks to this ring.” With that, Osco hopped up the stairs silently, slipping into a shadow and vanishing from sight.
Meloon dashed up the stairs after him, Laraelra following. Energy flared out of the crystal, enveloping Meloon and then Laraelra in protective spells, though Laraelra still felt nervous heading into unknown territory. They reached the first landing and paused at the first ajar door. This floor had a number of doors off this hallway while the stairs continued up, winding along the wall. Laraelra barely noticed the ball of flame bouncing down the stairs ahead of them when Meloon grabbed her and forced her through the door. He shoved her inside and kept his shoulder to the door as explosive gouts of flame scorched the wall alongside the partly open door.
“Thanks, Meloon,” Laraelra gasped. “How did you—”
“Just lucky, I guess,” Meloon said, and he dashed out the door and up the stairs toward the next level.
Laraelra followed, looking up the winding stairwell that led to the third and fourth floors of Roarke House. Dominating the stairwell atrium and facing east on the front wall of the house was a massive stained-glass mosaic filled with crescent moons and stars. She spotted a figure on the stairs ahead of and above Meloon—Khondar Naomal in olive green robes and a bear-pelt cloak, as if he intended to go out in the cold quickly. Elra cast a spell at him, and the purple dart caught him in the throat. His hands stopped glowing and his current spell dissipated, allowing Meloon the chance to catch up to Ten-Rings. He swung the axe and shattered some kind of magical shield around his target, but the mute wizard held his right fist toward Meloon, and a ring on his thumb pulsed with gray magic. As if he’d been shoved hard, Meloon fell backward, rolling down the stairs until Laraelra broke his fall.
On her knees, Laraelra leveled the duskstaff at Ten-Rings, and Vajra’s illusory image settled over hers as the Blackstaff cast a spell Elra had never seen. A flurry of tiny feylike beings flew out of the staff’s crystal, and they zipped around Khondar, each trailing snowflakes, glowing embers, a high-pitched buzz, and a light green mist. The faeries harassed his remaining shields and unleashed fire, ice, sound, and poison gas upon him. The faeries managed to pierce some of his defenses. He roared in anger. Meloon shook his head clear and got to his feet.
Khondar looked down at his foes and chuckled. “They sent you two to stop me? Is the new slip of a Blackstaff too tired to face me? Or too afraid?” He squinted and saw the duskstaff in Laraelra’s hands. “Ah, so she works through you, scrawny creature. Well, we can’t have that. You cannot hold the staff.”
Horrified, Laraelra was unable to stop her grip from opening, despite Vajra’s voice in her head screaming, No! While in a slight daze, Laraelra willed her freed hands into casting a spell, and a cone of blinding colors flashed out of them and up the stairs to envelop the wizard.
“An apprentice’s spell, easily thwarted,” Ten-Rings said, behind his magical shield.
“Kept you distracted, though,” Meloon said as he swung the massive blue-edged axe and let it go. The axe flew straight at the wizard, easily slipping through his spell defenses. Khondar’s left arm went up and he lowered it, the wide sleeve torn and darkly wet with blood.
Ten-Rings howled in anger and pain, but his attention was now on the axe, which landed on the stairs beside him. “Ha! You’ve given me another key, foolish barbarian. The First Lord Ahghairon made Azuredge himself. You’ve sealed my victory!”
But when Khondar reached for the axe, the blue sapphire set in the pommel flared with light. The axe twisted in Ten-Rings’ grasp, as if it tried to get away from the wizard’s touch.
“She won’t work with anyone but a wielder she’s chosen,” Meloon said, drawing his little-used short sword from his belt. “A wielder worthy to defend Waterdeep.”
“I’m far worthier than you, boy!” Khondar yelled, as he stepped backward up the stairs and away from Meloon and Laraelra. “You’ll not keep me from my destiny!”
“They kept you from noticing me, Dumb-Rings,” Osco said, his voice coming from behind the wizard.
Khondar twisted to see who spoke, and the halfling became visible as he drove his two daggers into Khondar’s back, eliciting another raw howl from the wizard. More than twice his foe’s size, Khondar’s backhanded slap was more than enough to send Osco tumbling down the stairs and colliding with his friends.
Khondar panted, in pain and blooded by the attacks, but he still limped up the stairs by leaning on the railing. His free hand moved furiously, preparing a spell. “I’ve no time for this or for you. My destiny awaits, but I neither want you three to escape my wrath, nor do I want to damage my house overmuch.”
Ten-Rings cast his spell as Laraelra lunged for the duskstaff on the stairs below her, but she could not wrap her hands around it and only shoved it along.
All three of them yelled as the world flipped, and they fell upward.
Meloon grunted as he slammed into the underside of the stairs above him, but Osco and Laraelra, who were closer to the railing, fell up toes over brows all the way to the top of Roarke House. They lay stunned and groaning against the skylight four stories above the hard marble floor below. Ten-Rings stood at the railing, his feet hooked to its underside, while his robes and cloak fell upward. Strangely, the duskstaff made no noise at all when it fell upward to cling to the jagged perch under the stairs near Meloon.
“I’ll not waste another spell on you lot,” Khondar said, but he held onto the railing with white knuckles. He gritted his teeth as the red gem on his left forefinger ring glowed with regenerative magic, and his wounds closed.
“Khondar, catch!” Meloon yelled from above him.
The wizard’s attention snapped upward, and he saw the warrior using his short sword to flip something at him against the pull of the reversed gravity. The duskstaff flipped end over end, and reflex brought up Khondar’s arm and hand to catch it or fend it off. The staff settled against his palm with a crackle, and Khondar’s eyes went wide as he remembered what happened when unworthies touched a Blackstaff.
The explosion blew Khondar up the stairs and through the stained glass window, launching him out across Gunarla’s Dash and onto the roof of Kendall’s Gallery.
From his odd vantage point, Meloon could see the wizard laying stunned. Meloon and his friends remained pinned helplessly by his spell. I’ve got to try to get them before the spell ends, Meloon thought, or they’ll fall. Maybe I can reach Elra’s staff …
Meloon strained against the spell’s pressure, sat up, and lashed his belt at the twisted remnants of the stair’s railing. It caught, and Meloon yanked hard to pull himself down before the belt came loose again. He stood on the stairs, hooking his feet on the railing as Khondar had done. He looked up and saw his friends stunned atop the house. He called to them without response.
Meloon worked his way up along the railing, bridging the gap in the railing carefully toward the open window. By the time Meloon reached the breach to look out, Ten-Rings stood atop the far roof, glaring at him through the shattered window. Meloon could see two flashes of blue and green light on Khondar’s fingers. The axe spun in his grasp, but the wizard held Azuredge over his head with some effort. He yelled, “Revenge can wait, but victory cannot. Rekarlen!” and was gone.
Meloon howled, “No!” but was heard only by passersby in the alley outside, drawn out by curiosity and the noise of the battle in the early morn. He felt his stomach flip again, and his feet landed back on the stairs. He watched the slightly stirring Osco and Laraelra began their long fall to the floor below.
CHAPTER 27
Step back, secure your goods and children, then sell tickets or place bets. Your choice.
Savengriff on what common folk could do about spell battles,
City of Mages, Year of the Starving (1381 DR)
12 NIGHTAL, YEAR OF THE AGELESS ONE (1479 DR)
Khondar “Ten-Rings” Naomal reappeared at the apex of the conical roof of Ahghairon’s Tower. He halted a moment, assured that one of his rings would keep him aloft. His regenerative ring had healed his wounds, but he growled in discomfort from the aches in his back and arm, exacerbated by the axe that spun in his hand and fought to be released from his grip. He held it immobile with both hands and whispered, “Calm yourself Azuredge. Help me uncover the secrets of your maker. That’s all that matters now—the tower and its secrets.”
Khondar scanned the dingy rooftops and thick cooksmoke, the sprawl of Fields Ward and Mountainside, and the filth of the harbor and its morass of wood that was the Mistshore. He surveyed all and smiled grimly. “Soon, those secrets will make all this mine, and it will shine under wizards’ rule. I shall restore its glory, and they shall call me the Inheritor of Ahghairon!” He looked down at the twitching axe and said, “And we shall find you a far better wielder with whom you can defend the Wizard-City of the North. For now, open the door.”
The winds whipped light snow around him as Khondar swung the axe down on the magical field and the crest of the tower’s roof. The impact sounded like a thunderclap, and blue fires suffused the fields all around the tower. Khondar flinched, then realized the effect simply merged Azuredge’s magic with the fields, harming him not. He laughed and slowly sank through the first magical field up to his waist. “Thank you, idiot and axe both, for your unwitting help!”
Khondar threw his cloak back behind his shoulders. From beneath the bracer on his right forearm he pulled one of the wands he’d stolen from Blackstaff Tower. He dropped the white ash wand point first onto the surface of the fields, and it lit up the second field with gold energy and emitted another thunderclap before it sank into the magic. The wand remained half-embedded inside the translucent field, the magic fading to a light yellow color. Khondar sank through the fields, the biting wind only reaching his head, shoulders, and heart outside the fields. He smiled, feeling only elation at his impending control of the city.
His grin faded when he saw opposition headed for him. “The fools would try to stop me. It is now time to show them Ten-Rings was ever their better.”
“Hang on!” Eltalon Vaundrar’s voice rose from its usual mutter to warn his companions as the graying wizard steered his flying carpet through some crosswinds. They dipped close to the near-empty market, its open spaces given over to sellswords or cart races as winter set in and wares for sale were no more ’till spring. Maerla Windmantle and Eiruk Weskur clung to the edges of the flying carpet, their faces serious as heartstop. Eltalon said, “The Blackstaff didn’t warn you or us in time, boy!”
“Look at Ahghairon’s Tower!” Eiruk Weskur pointed, and the three of them saw the plume of blue fire that surrounded one of the most sacred magical sites of the city. “He’s not just robbing me of memories or honor—he’s out to steal Waterdeep’s greatest secrets!”
“Of that, I’m hardly surprised,” Eltalon said. “Maerla, once we’re in range, hit him with a cacaphonic burst while I try a feeble-mind on the bastard. Eiruk, hit him with whatever you have. We may only get one or two passes to stop him.”
Eiruk gritted his teeth and hugged himself as they flew into the wind and the biting flurry. He kept his attention on the tower as the three of them slalomed around chimneys and taller buildings. Once within range, Eiruk cast the most powerful spell he had with the longest reach, and a ball of fire streaked out of his palm toward Ten-Rings. The fireball engulfed the top of Ahghairon’s Tower.
Khondar’s smile faded, even though the flames washed around him harmlessly. An apprentice-level spell, he thought, one easily ignored. Ten-Rings willed his blue-stone ring away in favor of another, which he activated the moment it arrived. Additional defenses fell into place around him.
With his other hand, Khondar cast a spell behind the southward side of the tower. A massive hand formed from magical force appeared and hovered out of the approaching guildmasters’ sights. Ten-Rings held his concentration to maintain the magical hand. He felt but ignored the buffeting and blasting maelstrom of noise around him—Maerla’s spell, no doubt. One of his rings protected him from what he knew would be Eltalon’s standard mental attack. He saw them now—Eltalon, Maerla, and Eiruk—on the flying carpet speeding toward him—and their doom.
Khondar willed the magical hand alongside the tower and outward. The magical construct grabbed for the flying carpet as it flew past the tower’s roof, and the hand succeeded at crumpling it in its grasp. Two figures jumped free of it and floated to the ground slowly, the wintry wind pushing them apart and farther away from the tower. Eltalon, unfortunately, found his right ankle pinned in the massive hand’s grip. Despite the awkward position at which he floated above the tower, Eltalon unleashed a cone of grayish waves of energy at Khondar, but to no avail.
“Eltalon, you fool,” Khondar said. “Wasted energy, that spell. My own spells easily thwart that exhausting magic—and soon, I’ll claim more magic and the Open Lord’s Throne. I’m doing this for the betterment of the city and its wizards. You’ll see! And then we’ll discuss if you’re still worthy of serving as a guildmaster in my city.”
The hand carried Eltalon away to the far side of the tower and lowered him out of Khondar’s sight. Khondar heard the brief yell when the hand dissipated, dropping Eltalon unceremoniously into the crowd gathered below.
Khondar cast a spell barrier above him, not to close off any egress of his but to prevent being attacked from behind.
“Tymora, let me be in time. Let them have survived that.” Meloon dashed down the stairs to the front entrance hall of Roarke House. When Khondar’s spell ended, Meloon had landed safely on the stairs and Osco had managed to twist and grab at the railings and lintels as he fell, slowing his descent. The halfling hung overhead, yelling “Ow! My arms!”
Just as Meloon ran past, Osco’s grip slipped. However, with no useful magic at hand, Laraelra fell the entire height of the house from its skylight all the way to the hard marble floor below. She lay still in a pool of blood.
Meloon reached her side and yanked the ring Vajra had given him off his finger, putting it on Laraelra’s hand. Vajra promised it would heal him once a day from great wounds. Its red gem glowed, and she began breathing more regularly. Meloon looked over at Osco, who sat up groaning a pace or two away, �
��Let’s not do that again. Ever.”
Laraelra opened her eyes and smiled up at Meloon, touching his arm. “Ten-Rings?” she asked.
“Gone,” Meloon said, “and he took Azuredge with him. At least that Blackstaff of yours gave him a good blast out of here.”
Laraelra sat bolt upright and snapped, “Gehrallen!” The duskstaff appeared in her hands, and she sighed happily as her hands closed around it.
The crystal atop the staff glowed, and Vajra’s voice said, Thank the gods. You must move fast! Ten-Rings has breached Ahghairon’s Tower.
“Don’t worry, folks.” Osco chuckled. “I think I might know how to slow him down.”
Renaer ran out of the palace in time to see two of three wizards of the Watchful Order fall as slow as feathers to the ground. The winds outside the palace whipped a light snow, but this discomfort didn’t stop crowds from gathering in a thick circle around Ahghairon’s Tower—at a respectful distance. None wanted to be too close to the semi-visible blue fire shields that still held a skeleton floating in their midst, the warning for the past three centuries that Ahghairon’s Tower was sacrosanct and not to be disturbed.
Renaer ran over to a friendly face and helped Eiruk Weskur avoid landing on his head, the winds having spun the feather-light spellcaster upside-down. Eiruk settled back onto his feet and nodded at Renaer. “Thanks. I take it you’ve cleared your name, then?”
“Aye,” he replied. “It’s now fairly obvious who’s causing all the mayhem, isn’t it?”
“Vajra sent a message to us at the Towers of the Order, exposing Ten-Rings’s and Centiv’s treason. We were supposed to capture him before he tried this, but we were too late. I don’t understand why he’s so brazen to do this in broad daylight, do you?”
“I think Blackstaff Tower has much to do with that,” Renaer replied. “The ghosts of the tower set some spell on him, compelling him to try and breach Ahghairon’s Tower. Even if they hadn’t, he might have done this anyway before Vajra rallied all her energy as the new Blackstaff against him.”
Blackstaff Tower Page 28
