The Sorcerer (33 page)

By the time he rolled out from behind the tree, Kuhl had already killed a second phaerimm rushing to aid the one that Vala had slain. Galaeron returned to his place in the battle line, and they sneaked through the undergrowth, slaying several more bugbears and two more illithids before Takari threw her voice into the trees overhead and gave a warning bird whistle.

A conflagration of fireballs and lightning bolts streaked up toward the sound, setting two bluetops ablaze and showering the forest floor with burning boughs and broken limbs. Galaeron followed one of the spells to its source and spied

what appeared to be a cone-shaped log standing suspiciously upright in the heart of big honey bramble about twenty paces ahead. He sent a flight of shadow arrows streaking toward the log, then dived for cover and started rolling. He was helped along the way by several concussion waves and a wall of magical heat.

By the time Galaeron stopped, the forest ahead was disintegrating into splinters and flame. He came to his knees and found an illithid stumbling in his direction, its tentacled head looking wide-eyed back over its shoulder. Galaeron barely had time to draw his sword before the thing ran onto the point and impaled itself. He finished the job with a few blade flicks, then shoved the illithid away.

The situation was much the same along the rest of the battle line, and Galaeron had no doubt that it was because the Chosen were behind the enemy, attacking. The phaerimm mind-slaves were blindly fleeing the inferno, running headlong into Vala and Kuhl. The Vaasans were taking a terrible toll, spinning and whirling, cutting in two any monster that came within reach of their darkswords and using their pommels to knock unconscious the occasional elf mind-slave.

But there were only two of them and easily a hundred mind-slaves. Dozens slipped past and crashed off through the brush. Takari did her best to stop the monsters, emptying her quiver into their backs and slowly working her way forward so she could conserve arrows by plucking once-fired shafts out of dead bodies. Galaeron used shadow bolts to cut down a pair of bugbears and a beholder angling toward her back, then Takari felled a fleeing illithid, and there were no more enemies.

The patter of falling rain sounded behind Galaeron. He turned to find a small torrent deluging the battle line, dousing the fire and filling the wood with billowing steam. The storm would do nothing to save the trees already burning, but it would at least prevent the flames from spreading.

When a trio of phaerimm emerged from the steam cloud, Galaeron found himself preparing a shadow bolt. He knew by how the forest murk seemed to cling to their bodies that they were the Chosen, but that didn’t prevent him from cringing. The disguise was more convincing than he had realized, and he suddenly understood why it had been so hard to convince Keya of his identity back at the Groaning Cave.

“A sad thing to lose so many bluetops,” Khelben said, twisting his head-disk around to look back toward the battle line. “Most are older than I am.”

“Evereska has been invaded,” Galaeron said. “The trees must pay along with the rest of us.”

Takari’s jaw dropped in outrage. She started to rebuke him for saying such a thing, then reconsidered and simply cast an accusing look in Vala’s direction.

Vala shrugged and said, “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one who told him to embrace his shadow.”

“I’m not saying we should let the forest burn,” Galaeron retorted. “Only that we should remember what will become of Evereska’s forests if we let the phaerimm take Evereska.”

“Sometimes the lesser of two evils is the only good possible,” Laeral agreed. She started toward the edge of the meadow. “Let’s see if Keya needs help, shall we?”

But the Company of the Cold Hand had the situation well in hand. Without their phaerimm masters to guide and intimidate them, most of the mind-slaves had already lost interest in fighting and started to withdraw. It required only a couple of thunderbolts from the flank to turn the retreat into a rout, and Evereska’s forces were alone in the field only a few minutes later.

Keya gave orders to gather the wounded and retrieve the darkswords, then waved Aris out of his hiding place on the opposite side of the meadow and came over to join Galaeron

and the others. With a battle-jaded face and worry lines in her brow as deep as field furrows, she looked immeasurably older and grimmer than when Galaeron had last seen her, but stronger as well. With Burlen at her back, she stopped and gave Vala a warm—though weary—embrace, then stepped back and studied her brother.

There was a hardness in her eyes that made Galaeron worry she blamed him for what had happened in Evereska, and he began to fear their reunion would be less than a joyful one. He was more than willing to accept responsibility for his blunders, but the thought that his mistakes might drive a wedge between him and his sister was more than he could bear. It was bad enough that the war he started had taken their father from them; that it should also destroy the little that remained of his family would be a punishment worthy of Loviatar.

Finally, Keya dropped a hand to her protruding belly and said, “You heard, I suppose?”

Wondering what her pregnancy had to do with his mistakes, Galaeron replied, “Storm told me.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Keya moved her hand back to the hilt of the darksword hanging in her scabbard and said, “You might as well say it and be done with it.”

Galaeron frowned, puzzled.

“What is there to say?”

Keya cringed, but tightened her lips and visibly began to gather herself.

“I know this isn’t something you expected, but I’m over eighty years old. I can make my own decisions—and it’s not like there was anyone here to ask.”

“Ask,” Galaeron repeated. “About what?”

Vala nudged him the back with her elbow. “The baby.”

“You rothé!” Takari hissed. “Have you gone completely human?”

Finally, Galaeron realized that Keya did not blame him for what had happened in Evereska, that she was not even thinking

about the war. She was frightened, not angry, and she only wanted the same thing from him that he wanted from her. He started to laugh, which only made Keya set her jaw.

“Is that all you’re worried about? What
think?” Galaeron asked. He took her by the shoulders. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me!”p>

Now it was Keya who looked puzzled.

“Why wouldn’t I care what you think?”

Before Galaeron could answer, Takari interposed herself between the two.

“Galaeron is very happy for you,” she said, “and he thinks Dex will make a wonderful father … for a human. Right, Galaeron?”

“Of course,” Galaeron said. “I only thought—”

“And Keya is happy to have you back,” Takari said. “No matter what the Golds say, she knows this isn’t your fault. Isn’t that true, Keya?”

“Even the Golds know the Shadovar tricked you,” Keya said. “They’ve been planning this for centuries.”

Takari nodded to Burlen and said, “Let’s s get out of here before the phaerimm come back to finish the job.”

“Come back?” Galaeron repeated. “That’s s the one thing we don’t have to worry about. No phaerimm survivor is ever going to admit he was defeated.”

Keya and Takari exchanged looks, then Keya said, “Galaeron, they always come back.”

“They’re determined to wipe out the Company of the Cold Hand,” Takari added, “but we’re making them pay.”

“Determined?” Galaeron did not like the sound of that “You mean they’re still fighting an organized battle?”

Burlen scowled down at Galaeron and grumbled, ” ‘Course they’re organized. You want to kill a wolf pack, you’d better be more organized than they are.”

“So they’re all working together?” Galaeron asked. This felt wrong to him, contrary to all Melegaunt had learned about the phaerimm during his century of spying. “None are

fighting over Evereska’s magic? None are trying to claim the best lair?”

Keya said, “They’re too busy hunting us.” She turned to Burlen and said, “Have the war mages lay some death wards. Well rendezvous at the Floating Gardens to plan our next strike.”

Burlen had barely turned to pass the order along before the Company of the Cold Hand began to melt into the woods. Keya took Galaeron by the hand and, motioning for the others to follow, started through the forest toward the back side of Dawnsglory Pond.

“Glad homeagain, brother—such as home is these days.” Keya threw a disgusted scowl in the direction of the Chosen, then quietly asked, “Why the phaerimm costumes? We almost killed you.”

“My idea,” Galaeron said. “I expected the phaerimm to be at each others’ throats by now. We were going to fan the flames, make it look like they were killing one another and stealing each other’s plunder. We’d hoped to start an all-out battle between them.”

They reached the near bank of Dawnsglory Pond. Keya paused to send Takari to scout ahead with Kuhl and Burlen, and Vala decided to go along. As they had vanished into the undergrowth, Keya looked back to Galaeron.

“What made you think they’d fall for something like that?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Khelben said, speaking over their shoulders. He and the Silverhand sisters remained disguised as phaerimm. “Clearly, Galaeron’s source was mistaken.”

“No. The information was correct That’s why Telamont wanted me back.”

“It would not be the first time the Shadovar have fooled you—or me,” Laeral said, laying a pair of spindly phaerimm hands on his shoulders. They are never playing the game we think. That’s s what makes them so hard to defeat”

“Or maybe something’s changed,” Storm added. “Whatever.

But these disguises have served their purpose. If the phaerimm are coordinating their efforts, I doubt we’re going to fool them again—and, to tell the truth, I’m tired of dressing like an overgrown slug.”

“As am I,” Laeral agreed. “The next time I’m attacked, I’d rather it not be by elves.”

Galaeron dispelled the disguise magic but remained convinced that the information Melegaunt had worked so hard to gather would not simply grow outdated. There was something about the situation he did not yet understand.

They started through the forest after Takari and the other scouts, and Galaeron said, “Keya, hunting the Company of the Cold Hand can’t be the only thing the phaerimm are doing in Evereska. What else are they doing?”

“That we know about?” Keya replied. “For one, they’re keeping Lord Duirsar and Kiinyon Colbathin trapped in the palace on Cloudcrown.”

“Alone?”

Keya shook her head. “Lord Duirsar has a circle of high mages from Evermeet, and Zharilee is there with what remains of the Long Watch.”

“How do you know all this?” Khelben asked, walking along on Keya’s far side. “I’ve tried to reach both Lord Duirsar and Kiinyon with magic and heard nothing back.”

“The phaerimm have besieged the palace with an antimagic shell,” Keya reported, “but Manynests comes and goes as he pleases.”

“They’re holding Lord Duirsar prisoner?” Galaeron asked.

“Isolating him,” Keya corrected. “They couldn’t breach the palace wards, so they prevented him from leaving.”

“More likely the High Mages,” Laeral observed. “If the Company of the Cold Hand is giving them trouble—”

“Thats it!” Galaeron burst. “The high mages!”

“What about them?” Khelben asked.

Instead of answering, Galaeron stopped and took his sister by the shoulders.

“You said ‘for one thing,’ the phaerimm were keeping Lord Duirsar trapped,” he said. “What are the other things?”

“Aside from the fighting you’d expect in any battle, there’s really only one other thing,” Keya said. “About ten of them have gathered at Hanali Celanil’s statue. We haven’t tried to penetrate their security perimeter, but Manynests says they’re using a lot of magic.”

“I’ll bet they are,” Khelben said.

Keya appeared perplexed by this remark, but Galaeron had a feeling he knew exactly what Khelben meant

“That’s where the mythal was cast?” Galaeron gasped. This was a secret so closely guarded that, aside from Lord Duirsar and the city’s high mages, only Evereska’s most loyal friend among the Chosen would be privy to it. “At the statue of Hanali Celanil?”

“I doubt there was a statue there when it was cast,” Khelben said. “And I wasn’t there, you understand.”

“But that’s what you’ve been given to understand,” Galaeron concluded. Conviction and excitement began to well up inside him as half-formed thoughts raced through this mind, fitting all the pieces of the puzzle into place. “That would explain why they haven’t fallen into quarreling yet”

“It does?” This from Aris, who had been creeping along behind them. “They’re feeding off the mythal?”

“Not feeding,” Galaeron said. “Feeding would cause fights.”

“Dismantling, then,” Khelben said, following the line of Galaeron’s reasoning. “They’re taking it apart spell by spell.”

“So the magic will return to the Weave?” Keya asked. “Why would they do that?”

“Because the magic won’t return to the Weave,” Storm said. “It’s not raw anymore. It can’t”

“The magic will stay here, inside the boundaries of the old mythal,” Laeral explained. “It’ll infuse the whole area.”

They came to the path that led from Dawnsglory Pond up to Starmeadow Tower. Hearing Takari’s all-clear warble, they

crossed to Goldmorn Knoll and traversed the slope, the woods more open and therefore more dangerous.

Once the entire group was safely across, Khelben looked down over Keya’s head and said to Galaeron, “It seems the phaerimm have learned to share. That hardly sounds like the creatures you claimed you could have warring with themselves inside a day.”

“It doesn’t,” Galaeron agreed, “but if they have learned to share, it’s only because a leader has emerged who is strong enough to dictate terms.”

“If a strong leader has emerged among the phaerimm,” Laeral said, “we dare not let them have Evereska.”

Storm nodded and made a fist, which she touched lightly to Galaeron’s shoulder.

“Not if we value the rest of Faerűn, we don’t”

•Š••Š•<§>• <§>• •Š•

The snowfinch was up in the tree again, peering down through the bluetop boughs at the ring of phaerimm hovering around the statue of the elf goddess. It did not peep either in alarm or complaint and in fact seemed to be spying on their progress, but Arr did not dare blast the feathered nuisance. The SpellGather had finally found a thread of loose magic and was about to pull the first spell from the mythal, and the last thing she wished to do was disrupt their concentration.