The Summoning (36 page)

“The sharn were Netherese?” Galaeron gasped.

The question jolted Melegaunt out of his despair. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “No one does, I suspect. There are some who claim they were Netherese arcanists who transformed themselves in order to battle the phaerimm. Others claim they came from another world. What is clear is that they had a hatred of phaerimm, or they would not have erected the Sharn Wall.”

At the mention of the Sharn Wall, Galaeron cast a hopeful look up the tunnel, but Melegaunt shook his head. “He’s

gone, my friend—and even were he not, 1 doubt he could help us. Before we can patch the hole, we must fight our way through the phaerimm who have already escaped.”

Though it angered Galaeron to concede the argument, he nodded and turned toward the back of the chamber. “Then let’s find the help we need and get to it.”

•&• •&••&• •Š•<§>•

Keya Nihmedu stood atop the Livery Gate watchtower, slightly self-conscious in her form-fitted chain mail and painfully aware that the magic pike in her hand was no defense at all against phaerimm. Her eyes were as sharp as any in Evereska, and she had seen enough of the battle in the High Vale to know that fifty years of half-hearted blade drill— suffered daily at her father’s insistence, Hanali bless him— would stand her in poor stead against the thornbacks. The unsightly monsters had already turned the high slopes into a forest of bare-limbed scarecrows, and now they were working their way onto the upper terraces of the Vine Vale, using their hideous magic to turn the vineyards into dead tangles of thorn hedges.

Most of the Long Watch felt their duties were of little real importance to the war, that they were only standing a post to free the real soldiers to fight, but Keya was not so sure. She had it from Manynests—if she understood his scattered peeptalk correctly—that the Cloudtop Magi Circle had divined the phaerimm’s plan. They intended to capture Evereska much the same way they had destroyed the Netherese Empire, by using their life-draining magic to devitalize Evereska Vale. Without the surrounding lands to sustain it, the city’s mythal would slowly lose its magic, and eventually it would grow too weak to keep out the thornbacks.

At first, Lord Duirsar had not been overly worried. The groves and lands within the mythal were large enough to

sustain its power for a year or two, by which time help would surely arrive. Then the high mages of the Bellcrest Spire had reminded him that plants need light and water, and the Moondark Circle had named a dozen spells that could shut off both. According to Manynests, Lord Duirsar had decided on the spot to create the Long Watch, and that was how Keya knew her duty to be as important as whatever her father and Galaeron were off doing—wherever they were off doing it.

Keya selected a wand from her belt and dutifully swept it across the four quarters of the sky, studying its wake of blue radiance for any telltale glimmers of invisibility magic. The wand was one of a trio quietly supplied to each member of the Long Watch by the three towers of high mages. Keya had not known there were that many circles in Evereska until Manynests had “slipped” during a rather curious visit to inform her that Lord Duirsar had not heard from her father and the Swords—a fact well known to all of Evereska.

After a day’s reflection, Keya had dutifully let it slip in gossip that she had heard from a reliable source that Evereska still had three full towers of high mages. This had done much to reassure her friends, who had promptly spread the secret so efficiently that it was repeated to her twice over the next two days—exactly as Lord Duirsar had intended, she was sure. What she had not passed along was the high mages’ concern about the mythal, since she felt certain the bird had, in fact, not meant to reveal that bit of bad news.

When Keya found no invisible phaerimm lurking above the mythal, she returned the wand to her belt and started a slow, top-to-bottom scan of the encircling cliffs with her naked eye. She was about halfway around when she noticed a crag hawk circling its nest, claws extended as though it would like to attack but could not. As she had been taught, Keya did not dwell on the spot or immediately reach for a wand, but marked the place in her mind and continued her routine to fool any watching phaerimm. Then, feigning boredom—also a part of Long Watch’s meticulously

rehearsed routine—she yawned and shook her head, studied her nails for a moment, and glanced back to the spot.

The bird was still circling.

Keya retreated casually down the stairs and found a window from which she could see the hawk. Standing in the shadows, she pulled the first wand from her belt and swept it over the area. She was rewarded with a row of telltale sparkles. For the first time, her heart began to pound with excitement. Though she descended the stairs a dozen times every watch to check on something, this was the first time she had ever found anything suspicious. She pulled her second wand and waved it at the street-side window.

The image of a beautiful Gold elf appeared in the window. “What is it, Keya? If you are thirsty, I can send a boy with some wine.”

“No wine, Zharilee.” Keya could not keep the excitement from her voice. “I’ve something to report.”

The Gold elf arched her brow. “You’re sure?”

“Crawling down the face of Snagglefang,” she said, trying to remember the elements of a good report: what doing what, where, when, how many. “A group of invisibles. Maybe a dozen, side-by-side. Just passing the crag hawk’s nest.”

“Crawling, you say? Why would they crawl?”

Keya looked back to the cliff, where the invisibles continued to descend in crooked row. “It might be a battle line.”

Zharilee frowned doubtfully. “Phaerimm don’t need to crawl. Why wouldn’t they just float…” She let the sentence trail off and grew more serious. “I’ll send word to Cloudtop. Keep watching.”

The image faded, leaving Keya to her invisibles. They were descending rapidly, three of the twelve bunched together. She waved a different wand. The cliff drew close enough to see individual crags and crevices, but the wands would not work together and the twinkles were no longer visible. She went back to the first.

The invisibles reached the base of the cliff and started

down the jumbled talus boulders beneath. Several of the other twinkles gathered around the close-bunched trio, helping them over the rough terrain. Was the trio carrying something? No—more likely, they were two carrying a third. A pair of warriors carrying a wounded comrade.

Any lingering doubts about their identity vanished. Even had it been phaerimm crawling down the cliff, they would not be carrying wounded. From what she had seen of the thornbacks, they did not carry their wounded anywhere—least of all into an attack. The invisibles had to be elves—or elf-friends—trying to reach Evereska.

Keya reported her observations to Zharilee, then switched wands and examined the surrounding mountainside. As she had feared, there were five phaerimm and a dozen times that many beholders and illithids scurrying through the denuded forest to intercept the band. She reported that as well.

Zharilee said she was passing the information to Cloudtop Tower, and that she was sorry, but Keya would have to watch what followed. Keya replied that watching was the least she could do. Seeing that there was no longer a danger of giving the party away, she returned to the roof for a better view. Though she would appear only a speck to the invisibles even if they knew where to look for her, she pointed toward the ambush.

The warning proved unnecessary. The invisibles paused at the bottom of the talus, then one sprayed the wood ahead with a stream of silver fire so brilliant it spotted Keya’s vision from more than a thousand paces away. The five phaerimm reeled away, pouring columns of smoke into the air and slapping at their burning bodies with all four hands, and the invisibles followed the assault with a volley of enchanted arrows. As each of the shafts struck their targets, they exploded in golden flashes of magic and filled the wood with blazing red smoke.

When Keya used her wand to report this development, the too-gaunt face of Kiinyon Colbathin appeared next to Zharilee.

“This silver fire—who cast it?” he demanded. “Was it a human?”

After losing the entire tomb guard in the initial battles with the phaerimm, Kiinyon had apologized to all of Evereska and tried to resign. Lord Duirsar had refused the resignation and placed him in charge of the vale’s defenses, saying that Evereska had need both of his experience and the wisdom he had earned by it.

“1 can’t see,” Keya reported. “The smoke is too thick.”

“Well look, damn it!”

Keya looked, but, as she said, the smoke was impervious to sight and magic—at least any magic she had been given. All she could see was the curtain of smoke billowing across the hill, a handful of illithids scrambling up into the talus— and it occurred to her what she did not see. The invisibles had attacked, so now they should be visible—but she still couldn’t see them, not with any of her wands. Realizing how well the small band had planned its attack, Keya swept her gaze down the mountainside.

She found them halfway down the Vine Vale, staggering out of a small black door in the middle of an arbor-covered terrace. The first was a bearded human in scorched robes, the hair on his bare chest singed away around a grotesque brown scar. The second was a Gold elf in the elaborate armor of an Evereskan noble, as were the third, fourth, and all the others that followed.

“It’s the Swords!” Keya cried. “They’re back!”

“The Swords?” gasped Kiinyon. “Of Evereska?”

“Well, some—a few” No sooner had Keya said this than she thought of her father and began to search the faces in the party. “1 see Lord Dureth, and Janispar Orthorion, and a black-bearded human.”

“That human, could it be Khelben Arunsun?” This time it was Lord Duirsar himself asking. “And tell us how you can see them, damn it! The tower mages can’t find them in that wretched smoke.”

“I’m sorry, milord—they’re down in the Vine Vale, in the ThistleHoney Vineyard,” said Keya. “And I don’t know Khelben Arunsun, but the human is carrying a black … by the golden rose, no!”

“What?” demanded Lord Duirsar. ” ‘No,’ what?”

Keya did not answer, for the last two elves emerging from the black door held a litter bearing the shrouded figure of a dead body She could not see who lay beneath the shroud, but there was no mistaking the acid-pitted helmet lashed across the figure’s chest. A simple basinet of silvery mithral steel, it was by far the plainest of any worn by the Noble Blades. It belonged to Aubric Nihmedu.

“Watcher!” roared Kiinyon. “Answer Lord Duirsar!”

“I—I apologize, milords,” said Keya. “The human has a black beard and black staff, and he shows sign of a grave injury More than that, I cannot tell you of him.”

“And why did you cry out?” prompted Zharilee. “Lord Duirsar asked about that as well.”

“I saw…” Keya paused to clear the catch in her throat and saw a patrol of elves rushing past the Swords to meet two phaerimm that had teleported in to attack the battered company from behind. “Excuse me, but if you want to see Khelben Arunsun alive, you must send some war mages to help.”

Before she had finished the sentence, a circle of high mages appeared between the fleeing elves and their would-be attackers. With a sweep of her hand, the center erected a wall of golden radiance and sent it rolling toward the enemy. The phaerimm countered by sending a cone of cold blasting through the wall to strike down one of the mages, then it teleported away. The surviving Swords were swept up by the patrol and hurried toward the protection of the mythal. So went the battles for Evereska, swift and deadly and never-ending.

“We’ll see to the Swords, Keya.” Now that things appeared to be under control, Lord Duirsar’s voice was gentler. ‘Tell us what you saw.”

“Lord Nihmedu …” She stopped to choke back a sob,

then realized that her brother was now Lord Nihmedu and began to wonder what had become of him, and she could not stop the tears. “I’m sorry to report the Swords’ blademajor has fallen.”

“Your father?” Zharilee gasped.

Keya nodded and looked away from the wand-window.

“I’m sorry, Keya. He was a good friend and a loyal Evereskan,” said Lord Duirsar. His voice grew softer, and he spoke to Kiinyon Colbathin. “Under the circumstances, Vale Marshall, I wonder if the Long Watcher might be excused.”

“Of course,” said Kiinyon. “Feel free to retire, Watcher.”

“Thank you, milord.” Keya wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to the wand-window. “Do you have someone to relieve me, Zharilee?”

The Gold elf hesitated. “We’re well-covered in other posts.”

“But none of the other posts reported the Swords’ return?” Keya asked.

Zharilee shook her head. “There are a couple that should have seen it, but no.”

“Then I’ll stay.” Keya turned back toward the High Vale. “The Long Watch has its duty, too.”

30 Nightal, the Year of the Unstrung Harp

Wulgreth number two.”

“Definitely two.” Peering around the chamber, Galaeron nodded his agreement with Takari’s conclusion. “This has to be Jhingleshod’s Wulgreth.”

The pyramid’s second room was as dusty as the first, but packed with implements required by any practicing wizard. There were mortars and kettles and vials, balances, braziers, and bottles, tablets, scrolls, and librams—many librams, all lined up on shelves and safely protected behind glass doors. There was also a thick tome of spells, resting on a stand beneath a hovering glowball, open to a spell near the back and not at all covered in dust.

A loud grating sound came from the far corner. Galaeron turned to see Takari springing away from a small crawlway, sword in hand and the first syllable

of a fire spell gliding off her tongue. When nothing sprang out to attack, she gestured at a depressed trigger-stone in the floor.

“That was easy”

‘Too easy.” Galaeron kicked a loose stone into the crawlway, then winced as a wall of green magic descended behind it. “This lich is a tricky one.”