by Troy Denning
Vala scowled and started to object, but Galaeron cut her off by asking, "Worlds of light?"
"There are many worlds, young elf. The Shadowdeep connects them all. It's the one mirror that shapes their many lights." Melegaunt started forward again. "And now, if you'd please start walking again, you will see your precious light again in Dekanter. I'd like to be there before the Shifting."
Galaeron raised a questioning brow to Vala, who shrugged and started after the wizard, grumbling, "Better not to be left behind."
Feeling no less distressed for the explanation, Galaeron started after his companions. Once they had formed a neat line again, Melegaunt turned his head a little so it would be easier for Galaeron and Vala to hear him.
"You have noticed how the shadows change as the sun crosses the sky?" Melegaunt asked. "And how they dance in the light of a candle?" "Of course," said Galaeron. "What happens when the sun sets?" "There is darkness." It was Vala who said this.
"There is shadow," corrected Melegaunt "The sun has not vanished, only sunk out of sight. If s light is blocked by the horizon." "A fine distinction," noted Galaeron.
"But an important one," said Melegaunt "On Faerun, there is only shadow. Everything that people call 'dark' or 'night' is nothing more than light blocked by the world itself." "Even in caves?" asked Vala.
"Even caves. If they weren't surrounded by rock, the sun would light them," the wizard explained. "But there are places- other planes-where there is no sun or any light There, no shadow exists, only darkness-true, black, darkness." "And this has what to do with the Shifting?" asked Vala.
"Only this," said Melegaunt "Darkness is by nature motionless and without life, but shadows are all motion and vigor. They dance and swirl and flicker and continually beget strange creatures, and only light ever fixes them in place."
"So when the sun goes down, they lose form and go into motion," surmised Galaeron. "The Shifting."
Melegaunt nodded. "One could almost say they become motion." He craned his neck around to smile at Galaeron. "Well make a shadow shaper of you yet, elf." "I'm sure the Hill Elders will like that," said Vala.
Though she made no complaint, Galaeron could tell by how she dogged Melegaunt's heels that she had realized the same thing he did. If they wanted to feel any sunlight on their faces in Dekanter, they had to hurry.
As they approached the forest, the darkness resolved itself into a fence of charcoal depths, laced by black tangles of undergrowth, striped by the ebony columns of impossibly thin tree trunks. Knowing it to be the forest, or more accurately the absence of one, Galaeron began to feel a little more at ease. Elves, even those who dwelled in cities, were at home in the woods. If he could feel safe any place in the Fringe, it would be there. He moved closer behind Vala and spoke to Melegaunt over her shoulder. "Is Dekanter where well find the help you promised?"
"Sadly, no," said Melegaunt "My, uh, friends are a few days farther north-and west, I believe. But I've always wanted to see Dekanter, and as it happens to be on our way, I thought it would be a good place to rest for the night."
Dekanter was the last place in Faerun-that Galaeron knew of, at least-where the ruins of ancient Netheril could still be visited. Little more than a few towers and dozens upon dozens of holes in the ground, the city was not much to see and even less of a camping spot, but Galaeron suspected the goblins and gargoyles who normally plagued visitors there would quickly see the wisdom in giving any camp of Melegaunt's a wide berth.
"It would ease my mind to know who these friends of yours are, Melegaunt," said Galaeron. "What makes you so certain they can stop the phaerimm when Evereska's high mages could not?"
"Have you heard nothing I've told you?" snapped Melegaunt. "I'm certain because ridding Faerun of this evil is what they have prepared themselves to do. Ifs unfortunate they will have to do it in Evereska instead of Anauroch, but they will succeed nonetheless."
"Unfortunate?" Galaeron had visions of his beloved vale being reduced to a ruin of shadow and smoke. "How?"
Melegaunt's voice grew impatient. "How do you think? The phaerimm have already killed hundreds of Tel'Quess and may well kill thousands more." The wizard reached the forest edge and continued forward, then suddenly began to grow translucent. "But there is no need to fear for Evereska itself. We will not allow…"
The wizard's voice grew softer as his body grew more transparent, then finally faded altogether when he vanished.
Vala pulled up short, and Galaeron stumbled into her from behind, nearly knocking her into the forest after Melegaunt. "Mighty One?" she called. Galaeron shouted, "Melegaunt?"
When no answer came, they drew their swords. Galaeron's first instinct was to look for shadators-as though he could actually see one-and illithids and beholders or any of the other deadly creatures of wickedness he was beginning to associate with Melegaunt and their phaerimm enemies. Vala's reaction was more direct and to the point. She grabbed Galaeron and started forward into the forest.
"Vala! Are you…" Galaeron made it only that far before he realized she was doing exactly the right thing. "All right, I'm coming!"
A cold afternoon wind began to whip his hair about his ears, then he found himself standing ankle deep in cold Nightal snow, staring at the winter skeletons of a thick forest of oak, walnut, and shadowtop. Melegaunt was no more than three paces ahead, surrounded by a semicircle of eight trees, all still holding their leaves. The largest of the trees, a twenty-foot oak, was blocking their path, shaking a gnarled branch at Melegaunt and rumbling at him in a voice as deep as thunder. "Through my wood, Melegaunt Tanthul, you do not go!"
"But it is the shortest path, Great Fuorn," Melegaunt protested, "and the only one I know." "Matters not," said the tree.
Now that he had recovered from his astonishment, Galaeron could make out the twisted bark faces of the eight trees. They had knotholes for eyes, jagged hollows for mouths, crooked limb stubs for noses. Their lips and brows were formed of gathered bark, their cheeks by lumpy burls. Galaeron's mother had once introduced him to a treant in the High Forest, and he recognized these plants as creatures of the same kind.
"Your magic is a thing cold and dark," said Fuorn, "and this wood it shall not enter."
"If my magic feels strange to you, it is because you have never seen its like or power before." Melegaunt pointed east toward Anauroch. "1 employ it in a good cause, against the wicked creatures that turned the old forests into barren sand."
Fuorn looked east. "Yes, I recall the magicgrubs." His crown of scarlet leaves swayed back and forth in a sort of nod. "Little larger than men, but with a bite like dragons. We have seen a pair sniffing around our forest, peering into the shadows beneath our branches."
Melegaunt's shoulders squared. "The very ones. The phaerimm. I have come to undo what they have done."
Again, Fuorn seemed to nod. "Then well I wish you-but not here. I will have no battles in my forest."
"1 thank you for the warning, tree," said Melegaunt. "You have my promise that no harm will come to your forest."
The wizard lowered his arm and cupped his hand beneath his sleeve, and Galaeron knew something terrible was about to happen. He clipped Vala's heel with the arch of his foot and knocked her to the ground with a sweep of his arm, then slipped forward and used the same technique to knock the wizard off his feet.
Melegaunt bellowed and started to raise the suspicious hand, but stopped when Galaeron's foot pinned his arm to his chest.
"No, my human friend," said Galaeron, "not even for Evereska."
Though he still held his sword, Galaeron was careful to hold the blade away from Melegaunt-and not only because he knew it would never pierce the wizard's magic. Vala had already leaped to her feet and was stepping toward him, dark-sword ready to strike.
"Have you lost your mind, elf?" Though there was a hint of grief in her expression, the set of her jaw and the hardness in her eyes left no doubt of her intentions. "You know I'm sworn to defend him."
"A little late for th
at, my dear," chuckled Melegaunt, "but no harm done."
The wizard motioned her to stand down, then brought his hand out of his sleeve and displayed a large black kernel.
To help the treants protect their wood in the battles to come." Melegaunt handed it to Galaeron, then his voice grew pained. "You couldn't have thought I meant to attack them."
"I didn't know what to think." Noting that the treants were watching them with expressions ranging from bewilderment to suspicion, Galaeron sheathed his sword and examined the seed. It was about the size of an acorn, but as shiny as coal and full of swirling darkness. "I apologize. What is this?"
"Shadowstorm seed." Melegaunt heaved himself up and faced Fuorn. "Hurl it down, and any being not rooted to the ground will be swept into the shadowdeep. There will be wind and lightning, but any battle likely to be waged near your forest would be stopped at once-or at least moved to where it could do no harm." Fuorn considered this, then asked, "And rain?"
"If you throw it into the air," said Melegaunt "But do so only in great desperation. The deluge it brings will quench even the fiercest fire, but the waters will be black and cold- tar colder than any ice storm."
This drew a leafy shudder from the treants, for only burning was considered a more awful death than being split down the trunk by the weight of an ice-crusted crown. Fuorn lowered a twisted bough, and Galaeron laid the seed in the cusp of his woody palm.
"With your gift, I will be very careful." Fuorn tucked the kernel into a fold of bark. "And in return give you the favor of a warning word. Of late, the northern shadows have often taken the shape of great wings and long tails."
"Shadow dragons," surmised Melegaunt. "Shimmer-gloom?"
Fuorn's leafy crown quivered in a contrary sign. "It is sung on the winds that the longbeard Battlehammer slew the great wyrm when he reclaimed Mithral Hall, but it may be that Shimmergloom's seeds have begun to sprout and show themselves. You would do well to walk the shadow way carefully after you round the forest."
"Round the forest?" echoed Melegaunt "You still refuse us?"
"We thank you for the shadowstorm seed," said Fuorn, "but what did you risk in its giving?"
Without waiting for an answer, Fuorn stepped back among his fellows. He stretched upright and stood motionless, not so much staring at the travelers as waiting for them to make their decision. Not wishing Melegaunt to come to the wrong one, Galaeron reached for his arm-and felt Vala's strong grasp on his own. "You surprise me once," she said.
"Don't be ridiculous," Galaeron said. "I mean him no harm." "Good." She smiled artificially. "I'd miss you."
Melegaunt spun away from the treants and started eastward along the edge of the forest. Vala motioned Galaeron ahead of her, then slipped in behind him, and they both had to scurry to keep pace with the wizard's long strides.
Galaeron was not sure when Vala finally sheathed her sword, but it was in its scabbard when they reached the Lonely Moor just before dusk. Galaeron and Vala took a minute to bask in the sun's fading radiance, then set up camp and cooked a meal of marsh voles over a black-flamed fire Melegaunt had struck. Despite the glyphs and wards the wizard set around the perimeter of the camp, they divided the watch into three shifts and settled in for a wet night.
As it turned out, Galaeron could have taken all three watches himself. Whether it was because of Vala's distrust or worry for his father and Takari back in Evereska, he was never able to slip into the Reverie. He spent the whole night huddled in his cloak, staring at the stars and wrestling with feelings of guilt so vague and ambiguous he could only guess at their source. Of course, he was troubled by the part he had played in releasing the phaerimm, but his regret over that was real and tangible, an emotion so manifest he could almost touch it. The thing bothering him was much more subtle, a queasy hollowness that smacked of disloyalty and betrayal, though he was left to wonder just who he had betrayed. Had he been wrong to distrust Melegaunt? Or to accept so easily the wizard's explanation for the casual betrayal of Imesfor? Whatever the answer, Galaeron feared he would not enjoy a revitalizing Reverie until he had it.
Dawn found them all cold and awake, ready to warm themselves with a brisk prebreakfast march. Before departing, Melegaunt insisted on kneeling between Galaeron and Vala, holding his hands in their shadows, peering first into one, then the other, from the moment the sun broke the horizon until the moment the bottom edge no longer touched it. Only then did he rise.
"Come along, sun lovers. There will be no shadow walking for us today." "Not that I'm complaining, but why?" asked Galaeron.
"Because I have read the day to come and have no desire to fight shadow dragons. The bugbears will be much easier."
"Bugbears?" Galaeron gasped. "The phaerimm have bugbears?"
Melegaunt shrugged. "Perhaps. The phaerimm control many creatures, most who do not even know it, but I cannot tell everything. I'm only reading shadows." He started northward, motioning Galaeron and Vala to follow. "Keep a sharp watch. We should be all right as long as we don't let them surprise us."
This proved much easier said than done, of course. They slogged northward across a few miles of peat moor, then slipped around the northern tip of the Forgotten Forest and started northwest across the Forsaken Dale. As they crossed the snowy flats, Galaeron kept a watchful eye on the birds, but knew they would not have much to worry about until they reached the Greypeaks in the distance.
Just after highsun, the foothills drew near enough to make out individual gullies, and the pinnacles of the snowcapped mountains themselves began to show above the horizon. Galaeron's thoughts kept returning to his inability to enter the Reverie the night before. The explanation Melegaunt had given for using Imesfor as a decoy was sensible enough, but it still smacked of deceit, and it occurred to Galaeron that he was placing a great deal of trust in a human he really did not know very well. He allowed Melegaunt to drift a short distance out of earshot, then spoke over his shoulder to Vala.
"If 1 offended you by doubting Melegaunt, I apologize," he said. "Perhaps if 1 knew more about him…"
"You know he is trying to save Evereska." Vala said, prodding Galaeron in the back, urging him to catch up to Melegaunt. "You know he is trying to undo a mistake you made. How much more do you need to know?"
"How much do you know?" asked Galaeron, doing his best to ignore the barb about his "mistake." "He claims much, but reveals little." "He is a good man."
"From where?" asked Galaeron. "I have never seen the likes of his magic before."
"That does not mean it is evil." Vala's voice was sharp enough that it caused Melegaunt to cock his head to one side. "The Melegaunt Tanthul 1 know is not evil."
"But / do not know him," Galaeron said. "I might find it easier to trust him if I knew more about your relationship. Now that you are no longer Evereska's prisoner, perhaps-
"Very well," Vala sighed. "A hundred years ago, my ancestors were living in log longhouses roofed in thatch and chinked with mud, battling the ore hordes with weapons of cold-forged iron and losing children to worgs and gnolls faster than our women could birth them." "And I suppose Melegaunt changed that?"
"He did," said Vala. Twenty paces ahead, the wizard seemed to nod smugly to himself. "In return for a pittance of service, he offered to build my great grandfather an impregnable keep of black granite, and to arm twenty warriors with black swords that would cleave any enemy's armor."
"A bargain your ancestor obviously accepted," said Galaeron.
"Not as quick as you believe, for we Vaasans have always been hard bargainers," said Vala. "The debt would be called at some time in the future, when a company of warriors armed with those same black swords would be summoned to service. Bodvar agreed, providing only that all of the swords remained unbroken and the granite keep was never breached." "I take it the conditions were fulfilled."
Vala nodded. "My own father heard the voice less than a year ago, but he was too old and sick to lead the men. It was left to me to take up the sword." "And that's all y
ou know of Melegaunt?" asked Galaeron.
"It's all I need to know." Vala's tone was almost soft. "The service of twenty warriors for the kindness he has done my clan? You elves are too distrustful."
"Perhaps so," allowed Galaeron. "We weren't always distrustful. That we learned from humans."
He spied the long valley that led to Dekanter and began to angle toward it, his thoughts consumed by questions of why Melegaunt would want to visit the ruins if the help he sought wasn't there-and what kind of help he might be seeking if it was.
They caught up to Melegaunt and entered the gulch together, and Galaeron was instantly too busy looking for bugbears to concern himself with anything else. The gully was perfect for an ambush, with an abundance of cliff-flanked narrows and blind corners, but they resisted the temptation to climb to higher ground for fear of making themselves more visible to phaerimm searchers. Twice, they were actually ambushed by goblin tribes, but a simple display of magic was enough to send the creatures skittering away
When they reached the head of the gulch without meeting any bugbears and climbed into the hills themselves, Galaeron began to think Melegaunt was not as infallible as he appeared. The ruined towers of Dekanter were just visible in the distance, a short row of absurdly twisted and impossibly leaning spires silhouetted against snow-blanketed slopes, and the sun was already sinking into the narrow rift of the Bleached Bones Pass.
The sight of the towers seemed to invigorate Melegaunt. Abandoning all effort at keeping a low profile, he clambered along a boulder-strewn ridge toward the sunken roadbed that had once connected Dekanter to the rest of the Netherese empire. Vala scurried after him, apparently abandoning her resolve to never again let Galaeron behind her. "Melegaunt, what about the bugbears?" she asked.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure they're here somewhere," he said. "But the ruins are still a good mile away, and I must be there when the sun goes down,"
The wizard continued forward at a near run, giving Vala and Galaeron no choice except to keep a watchful eye and hope for the best Soon enough, the towers resolved themselves into jewel-colored oddities of architectural corruption, grotesque forms that arced and twisted in impossible directions with no thought of form or function. Some had no doors or windows, one seemed to be a single warped door spiraling into the sky, another looked to be a huge window with no interior depth at all.
