by Mel Odom
“I’ve kept this library safe for hundreds of years. How can you think I’d shirk my duties now?”
Without preamble, an earthquake tremor shivered through the room. Baylee braced himself, amazed at how the books didn’t fall from the shelves.
A cloud of smoke erupted from the top of the desk, taking the shape of a huge, naked humanoid. The smoke kept coiling and climbing. In less than a moment, the desk was gone, reshaped into a stone golem that stepped ponderously toward Baylee.
The golem stood nine and a half feet tall and was as broad as any two men. The stone flesh marbled, turning white under the ranger’s lantern light. It opened its mouth in a soundless scream.
“In moments, this library will shift to the astral plane,” the lich said. “There’s nothing you can do to stop it. And once we get there, you won’t escape this labyrinth alive.”
Lost Empires
The Lost Library of Cormanthyr
Mel Odom
THE LOST LIBRARY OF CORMANTHYR
Lost Empires
©1998 TSR, Inc.
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of Wizards of the Coast LLC.
Published by Wizards of the Coast LLC. Hasbro SA, represented by Hasbro Europe, Stockley Park, UB11 1AZ. UK.
FORGOTTEN REALMS, Wizards of the Coast, D&D, their respective logos, and TSR Inc. are trademarks of Wizards of the Coast LLC in the U.S.A. and other countries.
All Wizards of the Coast characters and their distinctive likenesses are property of Wizards of the Coast LLC.
Cover art by: Alan Pollack
eISBN: 978-0-7869-6406-2
640A2914000001 EN
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v3.1
Contents
Cover
Other Books in the Series
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
About the Author
Dear Matt Lane Odom,
Thanks for being part of my life, and bringing with it the understanding of what being a first born son is like from a different perspective. I appreciate your conversations and candor, and the thought you put into things as you seek understanding. I’ll always remember that night in Ada when you were pitching a near-no-hitter. And thanks for lunch!
Love,
Dad
Prologue
North of Mintarn in the Trackless Sea
600 Years Ago
“May Lloth take your soul into her evil embrace, woman, as penance for killing us all!”
Her beautiful elven face drenched by the torrents pouring from the unbridled sea around them, Gyynyth Skyreach turned to face the speaker. Dark moonlight spearing through the black clouds overhead sparked fire from her pale green eyes. “On the contrary, Captain Rinnah, I ordered us into the only chance we had. If we’d tried to sail around the storm front, we’d have been caught by the pirates that pursue us.”
The captain held on to the ship’s rigging as his body swayed instinctively with the rolling pitch and yaw of his vessel. “Putting a dagger blade across the throat of every person on this ship would have been a cleaner death than the one you’ve ordained,” Rinnah roared back at her over the crash of thunder and the horrendous splash of twenty-foot waves falling across the ship’s deck.
“You should be directing your crew,” Skyreach yelled.
“Those men hardly need any direction going to their deaths as they are!” Rinnah staggered as the ship wallowed between waves, tossed like a child’s toy. Gallons of brine splashed across the deck, gathering into a force that swept men from their feet, broken only by the railing and the masts. A harsh, ragged yell started up somewhere behind the captain, then echoed down the side of the ship before it ended abruptly.
Skyreach steeled herself, pushing away the fear that threatened to consume her. The devotion to the quest she’d been given by her great-grandfather would see her clear. She wore her copper colored hair tied up and was dressed in a warrior’s leathers. The metal breast plate she’d ordered readied before the sea drank down the sun hours ago banged against the side of the ship, held by the braided leather thong she’d used to tie it into place.
Barely half the captain’s size even though he was Tel’Quessir as well, she’d be washed over the side in a heartbeat if one of the treacherous waves caught her in the open. One of her leather gloved hands was twined in the ship’s rigging. She held her long sword bared in the other, the runes etched dark in the metal. She was not used to having her decisions questioned, much less challenged. Her temperament would not allow it, nor would the station her great-grandfather had bequeathed her.
“I was told you were a brave man, Captain Rinnah,” she said in acidic accusation. The tips of her pointed ears and parts of her face had gone numb from the cold that had descended with the storm over Chalice of the Crowns. Yet, still her anger burned hot within her.
Men scattered in all directions around them. The ship’s crew tried to handle the lines of rigging. The sails had been dropped when the worst of the storm swept over them, but so many of the booms had broken loose the ship itself had become a danger.
The warriors that she’d led sought to maintain their positions along the railing, staying ready for the battle that she expected might yet come. Before the storm had arrived so quickly in all its gale and fury, one of the trio of pirate ships that had pursued them from the Sword Coast for the last few days had been closing in rapidly, finally cutting down on their lead.
“I am a brave man,” Rinnah yelled. “But I have to admit, I am far, far too greedy. I should never have taken on this fool’s quest no matter how much gold was involved. If we had jettisoned the cargo as I suggested—”
“That would never have been allowed,” Skyreach promised.
The captain took advantage of a roll of the waves, managing a couple steps down the deck toward her. “You purchase my services, woman, you don’t own me,” he said.
Skyreach lifted her long sword in an eye blink, her arm bringing the weapon into line as natural as breathing. Her great-grandfather had seen to her tutelage himself, gr
aced her with his motivations, and turned her relentless in the pursuit of his goal. She knew she’d kill the captain for his impudence alone, not even allowing the man the offense of laying his hands on her. But, perhaps, she still had need of his skill. That was the only thing that stayed her hand.
The long sword’s point stopped bare inches from the man’s face. She froze the ship’s captain into place with the steel of her blade and the iron in her gaze. “Another step, Captain, and well both get a look at whatever guts you profess to have.”
Rinnah started to say something, but he was interrupted by a squall from one of his mates.
“Caaaaptaaain!”
Skyreach kept her weapon ready.
Rinnah swiveled his head around. Big and burly, his hair a twist of wet knots and his finery all undone by hours spent in the inclement weather trying to find safe passage through the storm, he looked to be a ferocious opponent A brace of throwing knives went around his waist on a weathered belt made of lizard skin. The scarred and worn handles of the knives showed much use and a certain … familiarity. He stared up at the crow’s nest.
Skyreach looked as well, her arm aching with the strain of hanging on to the rigging. She peered through the sheets of needle-sharp rain whipped by the frenzy of the storm. She barely made out the crewman’s pointing arm.
Aft of Chalice of the Crowns, a ship with full sails burst through the storm’s darkness and gained rapidly. Its spinnaker was out before it, dancing wildly in the ripping winds. A trident of living lightning seared across the bruised sky, running almost horizontally at what seemed only a hand’s span above the writhing black water. In the afterglow of the lightning, Skyreach spotted the flag snapping out from the main mast. The skull and crossbones looked stark, white on a field of black.
“Pirates!” someone screamed.
The cry echoed along the deck of Chalice of the Crowns, picked up by sailors and the men Skyreach led. She eyed her enemy grimly. She didn’t know who had pursued them with such tenacity. The horde of darkness that had gathered to tear Cormanthyr down had drawn forces from everywhere. She did not know if the City of Songs still stood, and that uncertainty had weighed so heavily in her heart these days that she had been gone from it.
Skyreach lifted her voice, bellowing above the swell of the waves and the thunder to the knot of men along the rail. “Scaif!”
A tall elven warrior turned to face her. He wore simple leather, but Scaif had been one of the most trusted men in her great-grandfather’s courts. “Aye, milady.”
“Get Verys to my side,” Skyreach commanded.
“At once, milady.” Scaif saluted, then tapped one of the warriors at his side on the shoulder. The warrior took off immediately but was overtaken by a roil of dark seawater. Miraculously, the man grabbed the railing around the central hold as he was washed across the deck, saving himself. He staggered to his feet as Chalice of the Crowns twisted again, then seemed to drop into a bottomless pit.
“Captain Rinnah.” Skyreach made her voice unforgiving, pulling much of her great-grandfather’s wrath into it.
The captain spun toward her.
When the ship bottomed out against the sea again, Skyreach thought for a moment that her legs weren’t going to be strong enough to hold her. The railing abraded her palm even inside the leather glove, promising blisters on the morrow. She ignored the pain. She had never failed her great-grandfather while he was alive, nor would she allow herself to fail Faimcir Glitterwing’s memory. She pointed her long sword at the approaching vessel and said, “Would you see your ship taken as a pirate’s prize?”
The captain bared his teeth in a grimace of disgust. “Haven’t you been listening to me, woman? We’re all dead. The men in that ship are only fooling themselves to even pretend to think otherwise.”
“We’re not dead until I say we’re dead,” Skyreach yelled back in a harsh voice. Lightning cascaded across the dark heavens again, underscoring the terrible possibilities of her words. No one knew the capability she had—or was prepared to use. “Now, do you captain this ship, or do I give your first mate a field promotion?”
Chalice of the Crowns bucked again, surging up the next swell of the Trackless Sea. Water crashed onto the decks, spilling over the prow this time. Then she was clear again for the moment, plunging deep into another valley of waves.
Rinnah cast a hate-filled glance in Skyreach’s direction, then turned and stalked off. He bellowed orders between his cupped hands, managing the water-slick deck with effort. In response to his orders, sailors clambered the rigging like monkeys. Sails were run up and let down. Cloth filled the rigging in broad expanses of sheet, eclipsing the dark sky. The fabric cracked in the irresolute grip of the storm winds.
Skyreach braced herself as the sails took hold. The ship surged into the wind. Before, Chalice of the Crowns had been a piece of flotsam trying to wait out the fury of the storm until calm returned. With the sails filled out, the vessel was a live thing fighting to free itself from the trap it was in, running mad as it was driven before the storm.
Rinnah scrambled up the stairs leading to the helm. He took the large wheel himself. Almost immediately, Skyreach could feel the difference the man’s hand made upon the tiller. Chalice of the Crowns came about slowly, fighting the sea as it cut through the waves and gained speed. Gradually, her prow came around, putting the wind behind her sails. The ship suddenly dropped again as the sea slipped out from beneath her.
A wave, fully as tall as any sea giant Skyreach had ever heard of in any tale, whipped across the deck. The elven warrior lost her footing for a moment. Only her tight grip on the rigging kept her from being swept overboard.
Her hand burning like she was holding live coals, Skyreach pulled herself back to her feet. Out across the sea, the pirate ship drew even with them. White foam broke across the vessel’s prow. Lightning split the sky, igniting the metallic scale and cut glass encrusted visage of the Eye of the Deep that had been worked into the prow. The beholder-kin lived only at great depths in the sea. The artist who had rendered the reproduction had worked masterfully, making the obscene round body as large as a man, including the ten eye-stalks, the great, staring, central eye above a slash filled with razor-sharp teeth.
Then the terrible sight was extinguished as the quick burst of illumination from the lightning disappeared. Skyreach tightened the grip on her long sword. Squinting against the drumming rain that came as hard as barbed darts, the elven warrior estimated the distance separating the two ships to be less than twenty paces.
The pirate vessel closed, coming up alongside Chalice of the Crowns.
“Milady, I am here.” Verys came to an uncertain stop at the railing beside Skyreach. Thin and nervous, the old man looked bedraggled in his sopping clothes. Still, he carried his signal flags at his side.
“Is your group in place?” Skyreach asked.
“Yes, milady.” Verys had marched as a boy with her great-grandfather, quickly rising to captain of one of Faimcir Glitterwing’s signal corps.
Skyreach didn’t insult the man by looking around for his group. If Verys said they were there, then they were there. She watched the pirate ship cutting through the crashing waves of the sea. The prow of the other vessel cleared the water and hung for a moment, like it had suddenly taken wing from the gusting winds. Then it slapped back down, almost burying the prow under the sea. Chalice of the Crowns behaved in the same manner.
More men yelled in fear and anger. A man tumbled from the rigging above Skyreach. The sailor slammed against the main deck with a sickening thud and remained still. His neck was at an unnatural angle. The corpse stayed there only the space of a drawn breath, then the hungry waves came slavering across the deck. When the foamy sea water recessed as Chalice of the Crowns crested the next wave, the body had disappeared.
Skyreach murmured a quick prayer to Rillifane Rallathil, god of the wilderness that she found herself so far from now. Cormanthyr had been the only home she’d ever known. Evermeet was on
ly a place her great-grandfather had bade her visit a few times, not home at all. And it lay days in her future. Provided she had a future. She swallowed hard and remembered her great-grandfather’s words and the importance of the duty she was doing.
“Ready the mages,” she told the signalman.
“Yes, milady.” Verys chose his flags, one scarlet and one white, then waved them in prescribed patterns. “They are ready.”
Peering across the roiling waves, Skyreach saw the humans lining the side of the pirate ship. Lightning flickered, burning reflections from the burnished pieces of the crew’s armor and their bared weapons. She knew none of them, but she had no doubt that they knew her. Faimcir Glitterwing had acquired a number of enemies over his long life span. Her great-grandfather’s stand against allowing humans into Cormanthyr despite Elminster’s arguments that had swayed Coronal Eltargrim and the Elven Court had never wavered.
She didn’t hate the humans. At least, she didn’t hate all of them. There were many who’d been brave, and had died defending Cormanthyr against the Army of Darkness that had gathered to bring the city down. But there’d also been many who’d tried to ransack the city and the homes of the inhabitants on their way out of town. Some of those had died on her sword. What Chalice of the Crowns carried was only a fraction of what remained to be taken out of the doomed city. It represented her great-grandfather’s legacy. She would not let it be taken.
The rustle and snap of fabric as well as the sudden movement to her right drew Skyreach’s attention forward to the prow. The ship’s spinnaker shot into the air, catching the rush of air as it blossomed from its storage area. The circle of cloth reached out like a giant fist and gripped the wind. Chalice of the Crowns pulled free of the sea, suddenly more sprightly.
“We’re outrunning them!” Verys crowed.
“Not for long,” Skyreach said. Though the woods were her home of choice, her great-grandfather had seen to her education even in boating. Sailcraft had been one of the old man’s loves, an interest he’d carried with him since childhood. If they’d lived nearer the ocean, had more business there, Skyreach had no doubt that they would have owned a ship instead of her having to lease one for this voyage. “If the captain of that vessel has come this far, through storm and all to pursue us, I think he has a trick or two up his sleeve as well.”
