Sentinelspire (20 page)

Despite his anger and confusion, Lewan kept his face carefully neutral. It seemed obvious to him that her father was mostly to blame for Kheil’s death, but she was well into her tale—telling Lewan things he’d never heard—so he did nothing to contradict her prejudiced view.

“Having the druid here in the fortress only reawakened my grief. I might have killed Chereth myself had my father not protected him. Make no mistake. The old druid was a prisoner. Never unguarded. But as long as he behaved himself, my father would allow no one to harm him. No one except my father. I told you that my father’s hunger for power often knew no caution. Though he was once a devoted priest of Bhaal, after the death of his god, he … broadened his interests, studying the arcane, searching lore wherever he could find it. Even this fortress, the place you now sit, is ancient. Built by the Imaskari thousands of years ago, and it holds many of their secrets still.”

“And your father,” said Lewan, “he used these powers on Chereth?”

“Used them on him, with him—perhaps even
for
him,” said Talieth. “As I said, my father’s hunger for power knew no bounds. He coerced knowledge from the old druid, by kindness or by torture. My father is an expert at both. But he also found ways to use the druid to leech the powers of the earth itself to serve him. This, I believe, is when his madness fully bloomed.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Lewan. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to. None of this had anything to do with him. His master was dead. If Chereth truly were alive, the best Lewan could do for him was to escape himself, perhaps seek a circle of druids somewhere, and tell them of the old half-elf’s plight. One half-trained novice could do nothing against such powers.

“Tell me,” said Talieth. “Did you feel the earth tremble not long ago?”

“Yes,” said Lewan. “It’s why I went out on the balcony. I thought it might have been a landslide.”

“No, Lewan. You’ve lived in the Endless Wastes most of your life. You do know that Sentinelspire is a volcano?”

“Yes. But she hasn’t erupted for thousands of years. The Firepeaks—”

“Are nothing compared to Sentinelspire,” said Talieth. “Yes, the mountain has slept for untold thousands of years. My father believed that the Imaskari found a way to put her to sleep, to channel her energies elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere? I … I don’t understand.”

“The Imaskari were masters of magic. But they were particularly knowledgeable about the other worlds beyond our own, and their wizards found ways to open doors to those worlds.”

“You mean portals.”

“You know of them?” said Talieth, sounding both surprised and pleased.

“My master told me of them. Sauk said that we were to take one here, before …” Lewan’s voice caught in his throat.

“Yes, let’s not get off on that path again,” said Talieth. “The portals. Some can take a traveler hundreds or thousands of miles as if walking from one room to another. But others … others can lead to other worlds altogether, some so deadly that the very air is poison, the seas fire.”

Lewan could not imagine why anyone, even a wizard, would wish to go to such places.

“The Imaskari,” Talieth continued, “found ways to use this art for their benefit. This fortress is perhaps one of their greatest achievements. You’ve seen the greenery throughout our home? The fountains? The great fall over the western wall?”

“Yes.”

Talieth gave him a self-satisfied smile. “We’re in the Endless Wastes, Lewan. Where does all this water come from? Snowmelt off one mountain? You say you’ve lived in the wild
for years. Surely you can see that no amount of snowmelt could account for such abundance of water in the Wastes.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” said Lewan.

“No? Well, I can tell you that no amount of melting snow could provide enough water for that fall year round. The water all around you, feeding the vines and flowers and greenery, growing our food, filling that pitcher before you … very little of it came from rain or snowmelt. No. Deep beneath the fortress, and in hidden caves farther up the mountain, are the Wells.”

“Wells? Like water?”

“Some, yes. The Wells are simply what my father named them, but in truth, they are portals to other worlds. Some are portals to realms of purest water, and the Imaskari found ways to channel that for their benefit. But not just water, Lewan. Have you noticed these slots throughout your room?”

She walked to the nearest wall and pointed where the wall met the ceiling and the floor. Horizontal slots were cut in the stone. Very narrow—even a mouse would have trouble squeezing through. Lewan could not guess their purpose.

“I hadn’t noticed them,” said Lewan. “I woke only moments before Ulaan came with my clothes.”

“Ah,” said Talieth, and her smile turned mischievous. “And she does command one’s attention, does she not?”

Lewan blushed. “I dressed myself
after
she left the room. She returned long enough to offer food. When she left, I dozed some before the earthquake woke me. I went out to the balcony. I … I never spent time examining the room.”

“And a young man of the wild such as yourself is surely unused to such splendor. True?”

Her words might have seemed condescending—especially from a lady of her bearing—but Lewan heard no such thing in her tone.

He shrugged. “I’m sure I would have noticed them eventually. What are they?”

“Another of the fortress’s wonders—if perhaps one of its more indulgent,” said Talieth. “In high summer, the Wastes are damnably hot, even here on the mountain. But these slots are openings for a series of tubes that wind throughout the fortress. Far beneath us, they connect to a portal, a doorway to a world of endless cold, where the winds could flay the flesh from your bones. This air is channeled throughout the fortress in high summer, so that even on the hottest day, our rooms are pleasantly cool. And there are more wonders. You’ve lived through the winters here, yes? On the coldest days, your breath turns to snow. Not here. Other portals connect to a world of fire, so we never lack for heat. The Dome of Fire near the southern wall has many of these channels, and we can funnel fire into wondrous shapes through crystal as old as the Imaskari.”

Lewan took it all in. Much of it seemed too strange to believe, but Talieth spoke with such candor.

“What does all this have to do with me?” asked Lewan.

“Ah, my point, yes,” said Talieth. “I said that my father believed that the Imaskari put Sentinelspire to sleep by channeling her fire and fury elsewhere.”

“Yes?”

“What do you think would happen if those channels were closed?” said Talieth, her voice going very quiet. “Or worse, what if they were reversed?”

“You mean,” said Lewan, with dawning horror, “the mountain might …”

“Wake up? Oh, yes. With a vengeance. But it’s far worse than that, Lewan. I have only the faintest understanding of the arts my father has bent to his will. He not only plans to reverse the channels, but he has been building the mountain’s power—and power from other worlds as well—so that this eruption will be like no other in all the history of the world. You’ve seen the Firepeaks to the north?”

“Yes,” said Lewan. “I’ve been there.”

“Even at their fiercest, they are guttering candles compared to what will happen if my father wakens Sentinelspire. Sentinelspire will be a lightning bolt. A hundred lightning bolts. The destruction will be … catastrophic. Not just for Sentinelspire, but for all Faerûn.”

“Why?” Lewan asked. “Why do such a thing? That’s—”

“Madness,” said Talieth, her voice low, almost a whisper so that she had to lean close to be heard. “Yes. My father has gone quite mad. I can only guess at his reasoning. Revenge? Perhaps he wishes to strike back at a world that slew his god and robbed him of power? Perhaps he has some plan I cannot see. I don’t know. But I know that he must be stopped.”

“That … makes no sense,” said Lewan. “If he destroys the mountain and all the lands around …”

“Oh, he isn’t planning to kill himself,” said Talieth. “He plans to use the portals to be far away. He and anyone he deems worthy.”

“So what is he waiting for? Why not tomorrow? Why not today or right now?”

“Such power isn’t like clapping your hands, Lewan. I know only a little of the Imaskari magics, and I know less of the ways of the druids. But I know that much power is tied to the seasons, the path of Selûne, the stars, and any number of things. Is it not so?”

“Yes,” said Lewan.

“Portals, like doors, require keys. And very special doors require very special keys. I think my father has been searching for one particular key for many years. Perhaps it explains his contact with Chereth.”

“A … a key?” said Lewan. “I don’t understand.”

Talieth reached into the folds of her skirt, her hand disappearing into a deep pocket, and what she pulled out Lewan recognized immediately.

“Erael’len!”

“The Three Hearts. So named because of the holy objects concealed within.” Talieth held up the relic so it caught the light from the open balcony. Inside the latticework of twisted wood, something caught the light and sparkled. “Stoneblood,” she said. “The hardened sap of the three trees most holy to Silvanus.”

“Oak, Ash, and Thorn,” said Lewan. All were bound within an intricate web of wood that was itself almost as hard as stone. “But … how did you …?”

“How did I come by it?”

Lewan nodded.

“Sauk,” she said.

“But … but my master took it from Sauk.”

“So he did. And after … what happened, Sauk found it lying in the mud.”

Lewan looked away and stared off into nowhere. It didn’t seem right. After all they’d risked … to have the relic simply cast off, left lying in the mud …

“You see what I meant, don’t you, Lewan?”

“What?”

“A gift from the gods,” said Talieth. “That … thing taking your master. Had it taken
Erael’len
as well, all might be lost. Do you think it mere chance that the relic was left behind? I have lived too long and seen too much to believe in mere chance. You came to us for a reason, and
Erael’len
was given to us for a reason.”

“So
Erael’len
is the key your father needs?”

“I think so, yes,” said Talieth.

“Then why bring it here? You should be carrying it across the mountains or giving it to druids to guard and protect.”

“You understand keys, yes, Lewan?”

“Yes. Just because I live in the wild doesn’t mean—”

“Then you understand that a key can not only open a door, it can lock it as well.”

“Oh,” said Lewan, as the realization hit him.

“Yes,” said Talieth. “And this particular key will lock the most important portal. For I think that this portal—ancient beyond any recorded histories—predates even the Imaskari. Its original users were not those wizards, I think.”

“Druids?”

Talieth lowered the Three Hearts, letting it dangle from its necklace of leather by her side. She shrugged. “Who knows? Druids? Perhaps the forerunners of the druids, or even the forerunners of their forerunners. Perhaps Silvanus himself, for all I know.”

Lewan closed his eyes. This was too much to take in.

“I hope you see now why we need you,” said Talieth.

“Me?”

“Chereth is beyond helping us. Even if I could reach him, he has been my father’s prisoner for years. If his mind is still whole …” Talieth did not finish the thought. “It was my hope that your master could use the Three Hearts to help us. But that”—the sudden force in her voice told Lewan she was on the verge of crying again—“is no longer a path open to us. That leaves us with you. So tell me, Lewan, will you help us? Help us stop my father before it is too late?”

“That’s why you captured me? To help you stop a madman? I’m only a novice!”

“Captured?” said Talieth. “Lewan, please understand. You are our honored guest. If Sauk and his men were … a bit rough getting you here, well, I beg your forgiveness for that. But I must say that it was due mostly to your master’s refusal to come. If he had come as we asked, Sauk wouldn’t have forced him.”

Lewan opened his mouth to protest, but Talieth cut him off.

“Still,” she said, “honored guest as you are, you must understand that the Fortress is a place of many dangers, especially now that my father has gone completely mad. He sees enemies at every corner, and many of the people who live here still serve
him. We must keep your presence hidden from him at all costs. You must go nowhere unattended. Especially tonight! Do you understand?”

“Tonight? Why?”

“Tonight is a holy night for the druids, and my father intends to harness more of Chereth’s power for his own purposes. I have reason to believe we are in our final days here at Sentinelspire.”

“Wait!” said Lewan. “A holy night? What night is this? How long was I asleep?”

Talieth looked taken aback at his question. “You slept in a fever here for two days, but Sauk said you’d been sleeping a full day before your arrival. Today is the third tenday after the spring equinox. Lewan …? Is something wrong?”

L
ewan spent the rest of the morning and most of the early afternoon on his balcony, taking in the clear air, the scents of flowers, and the sounds of the birds. He watched a lizard hunting the tiny blue butterflies in the vines that clung to the stone next to his balcony. It made him think of Perch, and his already dark mood darkened further, a reflection of the growing gloom in the canyon. This night of all nights, surrounded by so much stone, cut off from the natural world that had so defined his life for the past several years, Lewan felt very alone.