Blackstaff (31 page)

Syndra said to Maliantor, and to those in the room, “The handsome one in red seems mostly unharmed, so he may be of some help to you. I need to go secure the relic of utmost importance right now.” With that, the ghostly Wands woman seeped into the stone wall of the tower.

Nameless hissed loudly, and Raegar yelled, “Look out! Behind you!”

Maliantor screamed and a flurry of claws rendered her white robes crimson. The wizardess fell from the air, and Raegar managed to catch her before she slammed into the stone floor.

Tsarra was surprised at how happy she felt when Raegar approached and looked down at her. He carefully laid Maliantor down next to her then stood over them.

“I don’t know if this will help any, but I’m not leaving. He drew his sword and said,
“Iganris!”
Flames flared up and jetted from the blade, forming a small semicircular field of flames. The sharn nearest them reared back, and Raegar kept waving the fiery shield back and forth. “Khelben … anyone … do something!”

Tsarra coaxed the tressym with her feelings, since she could barely speak, let alone in the creature’s native tongue. She urged him to flee. She couldn’t see him, but she felt the tressym’s concern for her and his reply was right near by.

“No leave mistressfriend alone. Mousesize, weflyaway?”

Tsarra half laughed and half cried inside. She couldn’t shrink herself to fly away from her friends any more than the winged cat could abandon her.

Nameless yowled a defiant response,
“I stayfight nightfangdrippypointears with horsehead firesword.”

The tressym’s brave defense of her made her proud, but she wondered about his name for Raegar until she saw the rogue’s ponytail swing like a horse’s tail as he darted back and forth.

Khelben said to them both through the mental link,
Loyal, isn’t he? I haven’t missed my owl Nighthunter in centuries until I felt the bond you share with Nameless. Nevertheless, bold tressym, you cannot follow where your mistress and I soon go
.

The sharn arrived more and more quickly. The space within the sundered chamber began to fill up. Raegar was backed up against the wall with the two women and the tressym. The only open space left in the chamber was between the wall and his fiery shield. Tsarra had a sense of what was to come, and she tried to utter some words of comfort, but she was still frozen. She looked up to see the stars, but all she saw was the mass of sharn overhead losing cohesion and falling toward them like an oily black wall of water.

T
sarra closed her eyes as the sharn multitude descended, bracing herself for what she assumed would be a cold, oily, and painful embrace. After a moment, she opened her eyes to see that the sharn were not advancing. The mass of sharn above them remained airborne, only dripping slight bits of blackness into what had come to fill more than two-thirds of the open chamber.

Tsarra could move slightly, and the paralysis around her throat relaxed. She touched Raegar on the leg, making him jump.

The rogue looked down at her and said, “Hey—you can move? Great, let’s get you up. I don’t know how long before they either attack or just flow over us.”

“Your fire shield was a good idea, Raegar, but you can drop it. Don’t worry about the sharn. It’s
only attacking those who attack it. And while the help’s appreciated,” Tsarra said, “you need to leave and take my tressym with you. You and he will not be able to survive where Khelben and I are going.” Purring, she repeated her plea to the tressym. He was even less pleased than the thief, and the pair of them had a long moment’s hissing and growling between them.

“I’m not abandoning you or Maliantor, Tsarra.” Raegar knelt down by her, and for the first time, she looked deep into his eyes. She never expected to see nobility and earnestness, and it touched her.

Her eyes teared up, but she steeled herself and snapped at him, “Listen, Stoneblade—Khelben and I know what we’re doing! We have to collect all the remnants of the Legacy while you, Syndra, Nameless, and Gamalon have to stop the lich. Now give me a moment and I’ll give you a location.” She cringed at the hurt look that crossed his face, but she had to get them both to focus.

Tsarra slipped into a quick trance, summoning the smells and calm of a wooded glade. She let the sense surround her, and she caught a whiff of decay—that was her prey. She opened her eyes and looked at the world with different eyes.

Tsarra saw Raegar, the sharn multitude, Nameless, and Maliantor plain as day. Superimposed over and suffused through them was the Weave. To her eyes, it was a pulsing green sward filled with life and energy. Concentrations of magic appeared as trees of varying height, and other living things as random plants. Maliantor was a slender willow tree, damaged, but still alive and in need of care. She glanced Khelben’s way and saw him as a silver duskwood tree of massive size and strength, though one with its limbs bare for winter and many axe blows to the bark and wood at its base. The sharn were unlike any beings she’d ever seen. Rather than the growing wall of black amorphous flesh, she saw over a score of elves, centaurs, dwarves, gnomes, and humans assembled before her, all peaceful and smiling. All were naked forms outlined in
purple stars, and she also saw them as Weavewood images of lush conifers.

Tsarra focused and used her skills as a tracker to scan the Weavewood. Unlike the few other times she’d cast her “weavetrack,” Tsarra saw the Weave smoldering from the lightning strikes. Lightning crackled in the skies overhead. Other disturbances—a bent sapling here, rotting leaves there, and footprints sprinkled with ash and rot—filled the vision. Tsarra looked at how far apart and in which direction the tracks led.

She couldn’t find a second set of prints, so she said to Raegar, “I still can’t move much. Can you pick me up and turn me to face south? Mind where you put the hands.”

He laughed nervously as he knelt and picked her up, cradling her in his arms and turning her south. Tsarra could see a greater forest in the Weave, dozens of tall trees and hundreds of smaller ones dotting the cityscape below. She looked hard, tracking her prey, and finally spotted a second set of prints over the City of the Dead.

Then came the tricky part of the casting, as she let her mind take flight to scan the horizon beyond where she could physically see and continue to track. She tapped into how Nameless felt during a pleasurable flight and found herself flying along the Weavewood to spot additional tracks over the northern reaches of Ardeep Forest. She looked at a trail of smoke and tracked the lightning strikes. Tsarra’s eyes followed the lightning bolts across the skies to where the smoke was the thickest. It covered the northeastern quadrant of the High Moor. She felt the spell starting to waver, so she pulled her focus back toward Waterdeep. Her eyes paused a moment over the view of Ardeep, curious about another silver tree there. It had fallen but was still alive with silver energy.

Poor Aloevan. Would that I could help her
, Khelben sent, snapping Tsarra’s concentration. Her vision of the Weave as a woodland nearly ended.
This spell is utterly fascinating, my dear. You described it to me before, but being able to see it through your eyes is an experience I’m glad I got to share
.

Tsarra shook off Khelben’s words. She stared into the Weavewood, gauging the distances between each track marked on the Weave.

Khelben interrupted her again.
Of course. Seeing how far between each step he leaves on the Weave gives you an idea of how far he’s teleported. The direction shows you toward where he teleported. Brilliant. Have you uncovered where the fool has gone to ground?

Tsarra yelled, “Ow!” and Nameless growled low at Raegar, who glared back and said, “Hey—it wasn’t me!”

“Not all of us can analyze and talk while casting spells, Blackstaff!” Tsarra snapped out loud. “It feels like Lurue’s horn stabbed through my brain!”

Khelben’s only response was to glare at her, and she glanced down at his wounds, then softened her tone. “Raegar,” she said, turning to the man who held her, “thank you. You can put me down, now. You need to go to—”

“Wait,” Khelben said, staring not at them but at the pulsing and shimmering wall of sharnstuff that enclosed all but where they stood.

“Why?” Tsarra asked, though she realized Raegar had not put her down. His eyes remained locked on hers, and she could see his concern. She felt her stomach flip a little but she turned back to Khelben to steady herself. “We need to tell our allies more. They’re just as likely to mess up the situation as I might have until you confided in me at the tower.”

“I agree. Now, boy, are you—ah. Reinforcements have arrived,” Khelben said as twin rainbows of colors flashed across the night sky, tearing into the sharn floating above the tower. Behind their attacks flew Carolyas and Gamalon Idogyr. The bald mage wore a Tethyrian battle-robe, a forest green cape, and white tabard that left his arms exposed and free for movement. Elaborate sigil tattoos covered his arms from hands to shoulders and crept onto his back and chest, all of them glimmering with jade magic.

The sharn surrounded them with a forest of claws and teeth through their unique teleportals. Apparently,
Gamalon came prepared, as every sharn attack proved useless against the shields he wove around himself and his niece. He cast another spell, while Carol drew a rod from her belt.

Over the storm, the thunder, the screaming of the sharn, and the noises of the crowds below came a bellow. “Stop blasting!” Khelben roared, startling both Idogyrs into submission.

His roar drew everyone’s attention to him, and even the sharn recoiled from their slow advance toward him. Khelben had emerged from the Anyllan’s bottle unhealed. He leaned heavily on his blackstaff for support. His robes were rent and burned, and his left leg was a stump. It no longer bled or burned with silver fire, but it was an angry wound surrounded by blackened flesh. What worried Tsarra the most was his sickly pallor, but she took her cue from Khelben’s emotions and kept a guarded face.

“Sacred Alram’s Tears, Blackstaff!” Gamalon gasped.

Khelben said, “Gamalon, I’ve endured far worse in our Lady’s service. Your faith tells you she demands as much as she grants. Now, tell me of those assembled at Blackstaff Tower.”

Gamalon flew closer and hovered next to Khelben, while Carolyas zipped over to Maliantor, drawing a vial from her belt as she flew. Tsarra watched Carolyas ease a healing draught down Maliantor’s throat, though she couldn’t tell if rain or tears fell from her face onto her friend’s. All the while, she listened to Gamalon.

“Nain still wavers on his role, but Laeral and Kyriani see to him. The three of them await the few stragglers, while nine others have gone on to prepare the Highstar Plains.” Gamalon wavered a moment then continued, “Are you entirely sure we’ll be able to trust some of these allies of ours?”

“They may not know all our plans,” Khelben replied, “but what they understand keeps them on the same path as us at least through the Feast of the Moon. Laeral still holds the gnarled staff?”

As Gamalon nodded, Carolyas chimed in, “The fact that you’ve been seen with more than three different blackstaves in as many days has people buzzing, allies and others alike. Even if they know nothing, the streets chatter that their archmage is up to something big.”

“Indeed,” Khelben said with a weak smile. “Stick to our plans, Gamalon. All will turn out for the best,
e’e’a’sum
. I swear it. Take the boy and the tressym with you and meet us when you can at Malavar’s Grasp. Take Syndra, as we’ll need her to wield Isyllmyth’s Bracer for the second circle after we recover it. Trust me, your excellency. You shall see your wife’s vengeance fall from the sky.” Khelben’s eyes glanced at Gamalon’s staff—an elaborate quarterstaff of polished white beech carved with a gap for his hand to fit inside the staff as a grip. At its top, the staff had a small lanternlike cage, inside of which whirled a large, free-floating green gem sparkling with magic. “That staff shall strike best, methinks,” Khelben said then shifted his attention to Carolyas and Maliantor. “Carol, fly Mali to Rivuryn’s Mark by the Seaseyes Tower and say
‘Maldiglas.’
We shall lose no lives today without need.”

“What are you talking about?” Carolyas snapped back, her eyes angry with tears. “Who was Rivuryn?”

Raegar stepped near and said, “Open Lord Baeron’s dog. There’s a marker just south of the trees and set at the base of the western wall.”

Khelben nodded and said, “Take Maliantor, child, and she will be healed at the Refuge. Now go, before another death is on my head from this storm alone.”

Gamalon moved to her side and helped her cradle Maliantor into her arms. He kissed Carolyas on the forehead, and said, “Our Lady’s blessings will see you safe, niece. I’m sorry we can’t tell you more right now, but understand we all do her work tonight. See yourselves safe and back to Blackstaff Tower. Methinks you’ll need to help the apprentices keep order from the notables pounding on the door for answers.”

Carolyas smiled. “Doubtful. Jardwim and others already
occupy the courtyard. Harshnag’s on the gate, and I’ve yet to see anyone stare him down. Best of luck, uncle, and stay alive.”

“From your lips to Mystra’s ears, child,” Gamalon sighed. “It must be so, as I look forward to the winter for us to catch up on our stories.”

Gamalon waved her off as she took to the air once again, shuddering as the sharn parted to let her by. Once she flew past, the sharn closed ranks and began once again to drip or simply fall into the massed sharn on the tower. With the sharn slowly expanding to fill the chamber, Raegar scrambled atop the masonry wall, still holding Tsarra in his arms.

Khelben stood his ground, not seeming to notice that the sharnstuff touched his right shoulder. He snapped at Raegar, “Leave her, you lovesick fool. She and I move with the sharn. You and Nameless need to stay with the count.”

Khelben didn’t move, but the sharn continued expanding, and half his right cheek melted into the undulating black sharnstuff. The Blackstaff’s voice seemed more hushed and far away