The Summoning rota-1

by Troy Denning

  They passed the village boundary, where the night watchers were observing from their perches in the trees. Takari offered no explanation for their furtive departure. Inhabitants and guests of Rheitheillaethor were free to come and go as they wished, so long as they did nothing to betray the village. Nor did she or Galaeron return the waves of farewell that came their way. With humans present, it would have been unthinkable to betray the positions of the sentries.

  A hundred paces beyond the village, Galaeron asked, "Didn't you have a horse, Malik?" "Her name is Kelda."

  Malik opened his hand to display a set of reins, and suddenly the mare was behind him, her breath shooting white plumes over her master's shoulder. Galaeron looked back at the silvery snow and was astonished to see a long line of hoof prints alongside their own.

  "I am beginning to see how you sneaked into Rheitheillaethor," said Galaeron. "Very impressive." Malik shrugged. "It is a gift of the One." The One?"

  Malik pretended not to hear the question, which only raised Galaeron's curiosity to the height of suspicion. He began to imagine the little man being the agent of some powerful archwizard or merciless tyrant-or even of the phaerimm themselves-but of course that was ridiculous. Malik hardly seemed able to attend to himself and his horse, much the less the business of some powerful and nefarious master. Such suspicions could only be the work of Galaeron's shadow.

  They continued in silence for some distance, then Galaeron said, "Thank you for coming back to warn us about the beholders. If we can spare Rheitheillaethor their depredations, you will have the gratitude of every elf in the High Forest."

  "You must think nothing of it," said Malik. "It was no great trouble. Because you cannot see a man does not mean he is not there."

  Galaeron spent a few moments sorting through the statement, then asked, "You were with us the whole time?"

  "A little distance behind," said Malik. 'Talking trees have always made Kelda nervous."

  Galaeron frowned. "If you were with us, then how could you know the beholders escaped Turlang?"

  "I don't know they have," answered Malik, "only that they will be here soon." Galaeron grew irritated. "How do you know?"

  "Because Turlang's followers did not misdirect all of our pursuers," explained Malik. "One of the beholders was a very beautiful and cunning one. It lagged behind the rest and entered the wood a little north of the others and found, er-" He seemed to struggle with the words, then said, Truly, the thing was a genius! I did not see it until it was on me, staring at me with all those wonderful eyes." Galaeron had a sinking feeling. "How did you escape?"

  "I, uh… Kelda is very…" Malik struggled to recall, then finally gave up and shrugged. "Why is that important? All that matters is I am here to warn you."

  The qualmish feeling in Galaeron's stomach changed to fear, and he felt his hands curl into fists. "And what happened to the beholder? The one with the wonderful eyes?"

  "It went after the others, 1 think. It wouldn't have been safe for it to go after you alone."

  The grinding of his own teeth filled Galaeron's ears. "And how did you mark our trail?"

  "What?" Malik's hand slipped inside his cloak, no doubt reaching for a hidden dagger. "You accuse me of betraying you?"

  "Of course not." Certain that the anger he felt was as much his shadow's as his own, Galaeron reminded himself of how the beholder had beguiled Aris in Thousand Faces. Even if Malik had laid a trail, he was not to blame for his actions. "But why do you think the beholder let you go?"

  "I see what you are thinking." Malik slipped a hand under his turban to scratch at something on his brow. "I am not that big a fool. Beholders are certainly cunning and handsome creatures, but I am a man of great will and stronger mind. 1 could never be tricked by one." "Oh, never."

  As Galaeron spoke, he waved his hand across Malik's face, and taking care not to use Melegaunt's coldmagic, started the incantation of a magic-dismissing spell.

  "Murdering sorcerer!" Malik's hand dropped from his turban into his cloak and came out with a curved dagger. "Hold your tongue!"

  Galaeron finished his incantation in time to jump back and avoid being sliced open. A torrent of fear and excitement raced through him, and with it came his shadow self, welling up from the darkness deep inside him. He saw his foot lash out and catch Malik behind the knee, dropping him to his back. Then Galaeron was over him, standing nose-to-snout with an angry-looking Kelda, using one foot to pin the little man's dagger hand in the snow.

  "Stay your hand, I beg you!" Malik raised his free arm to shield his head. "I swear on my life, I never meant to betray you or your friends!"

  Vala caught hold of Galaeron's arm. "What in the name of the Red Gauntlet are you doing?"

  Galaeron pushed Kelda's snout aside, then stepped off Malik's trapped wrist. "One of the beholders beguiled him. I had to dispel its magic."

  Vala glanced down at the arm she held. "So why do you need that?"

  Galaeron looked down and was astonished to find his hand holding a half-drawn sword.

  "By the Moon Harp!" Galaeron swore. He was so shaken he could only stare at the weapon. He had no memory of reaching for the weapon, even less of what he intended to do with it. He let the blade slide back into its scabbard, then began to fumble at his weapon belt, his hands trembling so hard he could not undo the clasp. "I could have killed him!"

  "Yes, and you would have been lost." Melegaunt slipped past Vala and stood beside Galaeron. "Did I not warn you about using magic?" "1 didn't use coldmagic, only my own."

  "No magic is your own," Melegaunt said. Despite the sternness of his words, his voice was soft. "All magic is power borrowed, and ever has unearned power opened the door to ruin."

  Galaeron's hands finally stopped trembling long enough to undo his belt.

  "Leave it," Melegaunt said. "Better to reach for a sword than a spell."

  That is easy for you to say." Malik pushed himself upright. "You are not the one he attacked."

  "At least his sword is still in its scabbard," said Vala, eyeing Malik's dagger. "I would say neither of you had his wits about him."

  Malik seemed as surprised as Galaeron to find a weapon in his hand. He shrugged. "A man must defend himself."

  Aris and Takari arrived, Aris kneeling down behind Vala and still looming over the group, Takari stopping at Vala's side and raising her brow at the sight of Malik's horse. Before standing, Malik gathered a fold in his robe and drew his dagger through it to dry the blade. As it emerged, Galaeron noticed a resinous smear on the face of the blade. "Malik, did you mark our trail with a blaze?" "A blaze?" Malik asked. "What is that?"

  He opened his robe to put the dagger away, but Takari snatched it from his hand. She ran her finger over the sticky resin several times, then held it to her nose.

  "This blade has sap on it." Takari looked as though she might sheathe it in Malik's chest. "You've been cutting bark."

  Malik's eyes bugged out like a pair of bird eggs. "By the Black Sun-the beholders! I marked our trail for them!"

  "The Black Sun?" demanded Vala, who looked like she might kill Malik before Takari had the chance. "You worship Cyric?"

  Malik winced, then closed his eyes and nodded. "But I beg you, do me no harm! It is not on his account I betrayed you."

  "No one will harm you," said Aris. The giant stood the little man on his feet. "I myself have felt the beguiling magic of beholders." Malik dared to look up. "You will protect me?"

  "The blame is not yours," said Aris. "Their magic is powerful."

  "But he did cut Turlang's trees-and we brought him into the forest," said Vala. She looked to Galaeron. "What will that mean for your mother?"

  It was Takari who answered. 'Turlang will never trust Lady Morgwais's word again, but if the village attends to the wounded trees and doesn't let them die, 1 think he will permit us to stay."

  "Permit you to stay?" Galaeron drew a calming breath, then turned to Malik. "When was the last time you saw the beholder?"

  M
alik thought for a moment, then shuddered. "After the dancing ended. They are waiting up…" He paused and looked ahead, searching the forest for a familiar landmark, then gestured vaguely ahead. "Up where the trail turns toward the village. I, uh, 'blazed' that trail, too."

  Takari glanced at Galaeron with a question in her eye, but he gave a quick shake of his head and looked away Both knew exactly where Malik meant, but Galaeron did not want to tell the humans about the trailmaze-not when he had already done so much to endanger Rheitheillaethor.

  "There's nothing to be done about the blazes now," said Galaeron. "And every minute we hesitate only makes it more likely they'll try to find the village itself. We have to leave another way and draw them after us."

  Takari pointed at Malik. "What about that one? You are responsible for him by the pledge that Lady Morgwais vouchsafed to Turlang."

  Vala set a hand on the pommel of her darksword. "I can think of a solution."

  "That would not be fair," rumbled Aris. "I do not know about this Black Sun he worships, but he has been a true friend to me." "Then I suppose we have no choice except to take him along," said Melegaunt. "We certainly can't leave him running lose in Turlang's forest"

  "No?" The smile that creased Malik's face was suspiciously broad-or so it seemed to Galaeron. "May the One rain a thousand blessings down on you all!"

  "I'd leave well enough alone, were 1 you," growled Vala. "Aris only owes you one life, as best I can figure."

  Galaeron fell in at the end of the line behind Vala, then suggested to Melegaunt that he and Aris follow a few dozen paces behind Takari As they angled off to the north, Galaeron looked behind them and saw the trail Malik had blazed. Within a few hours, someone from the village would discover the atrocity and dress the wounds with special salves to aid the healing bark, but the damage would never fade. For as long as the trees remained standing, the long line of blazes would point straight toward the Heartblood River, where Rheitheillaethor stood hidden on the bent shore. Not for the first time, he wondered just how high a price he would be forced to pay to save Evereska.

  A few minutes later, they crossed into a region of impenetrable thorn hedges and hidden precipices where the only safe footing was down the center of the snowy path. A bewildering array of forks and branches split off the main trail, winding along the rims of hedge-capped abysses and down bramble-walled tunnels, but the humans failed to notice any of the alternatives. The labyrinth's magic worked counter to intuition. Instead of presenting the intruder with a bewildering array of choices, the trailmaze allowed intruders to see only the path they happened to be following at the time. All of these trails twined back on each other in a tangled snarl of endless loops, slyly feeding the interloper from one circle to another without his knowledge. Though Rheitheillaethor suffered few invaders, those who did assault the village were usually found in the maze, either dead of starvation or trapped in the bottom of a hidden pit. At last, they emerged from the trailmaze, the humans none the wiser. The gray light of a winter dawn was brightening the sky behind the eastern treetops, filling the forest with shadows so faint they almost did not exist. They traveled a little more than a mile, then Galaeron called to Takari with the wit wit wit of a cardinal. She responded with a buzzing chick-a-dee call, and Galaeron knew she had located their foes. He studied the wood to the south and saw nothing except an endless tangle of snow-caked branches. Along the Desert Border, he might have hoped to match Takari's sharp eye-but here in her home, he would have to leave matters in her hands. He told her as much by repeating the cardinal's call twice more, and she led the way onward.

  They traveled in single file, stepping only in Takari's tracks to avoid snapping an unseen stick or rustling a jumble of twigs. Aris's footfalls were as silent as Galaeron's, but Malik and his mount were by far the quietest in the group, Kelda placing her hooves more like those of a unicorn than a horse. There was more to Malik than being a simple Cyric worshiper, Galaeron felt certain-but he did not dwell on his suspicions, lest he invite a badly-timed attack from his shadow self.

  The morning shadows were just growing darker when Takari began to move more rapidly, leading them just fast enough so that it became difficult to travel without making noise. Melegaunt sent a shiver up their spines by stepping on a stick and filling the air with a low crunch. Vala slipped on a slope and fell to her knees with a soft thud and muffled curse. As they crossed a broad creek, Aris broke through the ice, and a loud splash purled through the trees. Galaeron did not need to look to know their foes were following somewhere behind. Takari had increased the pace to attract their attention, and now she was leading them closer to the Dire Wood.

  The sun finally made a full appearance, an orange disk hanging low in the trees, shining down into the forest and striping the snow with trunk-shadows as long as some roads. Takari began to vary the pace, slowing for a time and wandering an erratic course, then plowing ahead in a sudden, steady surge. Galaeron knew without looking that their enemies were preparing to attack, trying to slip unseen along their flanks to cut the party off. Takari was using the same trick that a band of Darkhold Zhentarim had once used against Galaeron's patrol, feigning fatigue and poor discipline so the pursuers would hold their attack in hopes of catching the quarry at rest. Galaeron tried to help by acting the part, gulping down handfuls of snow and quietly instructing the others to do likewise. Once or twice, he even lagged behind, trying to convince the beholders that with enough patience, they might pick off a straggler and make their job that much easier.

  At last, the forest seemed to thin ahead, the barren trunks of the sugar maples and shadowtops giving way to a broad, blurry expanse of white. At first, Galaeron thought they might be coming to a meadow or snow-covered lake, but as they drew closer, the pale blur resolved itself into a wall of albino oak trees. Amazingly, they were still in full leaf, and they were completely white, from the bases of their alabaster trunks to the height of their blonde crowns. Galaeron could even see a few ivory acorns hanging from their white stalks.

  Takari gave a series of sharp siskin shicks, and Galaeron realized he was looking at the Dire Wood. He had expected it to be darker, more ominous-twisted, somehow, and tangibly evil. Instead, it looked like something out of an elven myth, beautiful and illusory and ancient beyond the ages. Galaeron answered with his cardinal's wit wit wit, and Takari stopped, nocking an arrow and spinning to fire in the same quick motion.

  "Run for the white trees!" Galaeron shoved Vala forward. "Melegaunt can use his magic there."

  Takari's arrow hissed past Galaeron's head and thudded into something soft. He pulled his bow from his back and dived over a log, then came up with his own arrow nocked and pointed in the same direction.

  A shrieking beholder hovered seventy paces distant, its eyestalks spraying colored rays in every direction, the fletching of Takari's arrow protruding from its big central eye. Galaeron leveled his shaft at the same target-then, twenty paces ahead of the creature, glimpsed a plume of snow rising from the ground as some invisible foe raced for the Dire Wood. In a breath, Galaeron adjusted his aim and loosed the arrow.

  The shaft flashed across the plume at about rib height, then drew a startled cry before it ricocheted away and sank into the snow. Galaeron uttered a curse on all phaerimm, then leaped up on the log behind which he was hiding and pointed in the direction he had fired.

  "Watch over there!" he yelled. "The phaerimm's invisible, with an arrow shield!"

  He was rewarded for his bravery by a black flash from one of the beholder's eyes, but he was already diving for cover behind a snowy boulder. The log he had been standing on shriveled into a mass of rotten pulp, then the eye tyrant screeched again as another of Takari's arrows sank into its body. Galaeron nocked another arrow and hurled himself from his hiding place, aiming as he rolled. A cone of golden light flashed from one of the beholder's eyestalks, and the boulder dissolved into dust. Galaeron loosed his arrow at the creature's big eye and saw it sink out of sight. This time, the beholder did n
ot cry out. It simply dropped into the snow, its eyestalks drooping over its body like so many withered vines. Galaeron and Takari each planted a guarantee arrow into the lifeless orb and darted to new hiding places, and only then did they raise their heads to take stock-Malik and his horse were nowhere to be seen, of course. Aris was charging in the direction Galaeron had pointed, swinging a ten-foot deadfall log back and forth in a noble, if somewhat misguided, effort to smash their invisible foe through sheer chance. Vala and Melegaunt were running in the wrong direction, charging through the snow toward Galaeron and Takari.

  He waved them back, only to have them stop and gesture him in their direction. He tried again, this time more urgently. Once Melegaunt reached the Dire Wood, he would be free to use his shadow magic-and if they stood any chance at all of escaping the phaerimm and its minions, it was the arch-wizard's magic.

  Vala ignored him, instead pointing her darksword at the fallen beholder. "It was only the scout," she yelled. "Now, will you two stop clowning around and get your pointy ears over here?"

  When no rays of any color leaped out to silence her, Galaeron dared to look behind him. Much to his relief, the rest of the beholders were a hundred paces distant, coming up fast, but still fist-sized spheres weaving through the trees. Behind them hovered the tornado-shaped figure of a phaerimm, no larger than Galaeron's thumb, yet terrifying enough even at that distance.

  A dull thump echoed through the wood as Aris connected with their invisible foe. To Galaeron's amazement, the stone giant did not instantly erupt into a pillar of flame or drop dead with a gaping hole through his torso. Instead, he gave a deep groan of satisfaction and started forward again, shaking the snow from the trees around him as he beat the ground with his makeshift club. "Aris!" thundered Melegaunt. "Stop that at once!"

  A series of colored flashes filled the air in front of Galaeron as the approaching beholders began to test the range of their eye rays. They were not close enough to strike yet, but it would not be long before the beams began to hit. Seeing that the foolish humans were determined to enter the Dire Wood together or not at all, he whistled to Takari and turned toward them. Even at their best pace, he doubted they would be fast enough to outrun the beholders' eye rays, but with a little dodging and weaving, they stood a reasonable-well, acceptable-chance of reaching the wood alive.