The Nether Scroll (32 page)

Dru had no luck in getting his companions behind him and bad luck when Fowler balked
before they'd gone a hundred yards. With the fevered, twitching goblin still draped over his
shoulders, Druhallen dismounted and walked back to Rozt'a.

"Get down," he told her. "We have to talk."

Rozt'a dismounted cavalry-style, swinging her leg over Ebony's neck and sliding to the
ground without ever breaking Dru's stare. She began the discussion with, "I don't trust him."

"All the more reason, then, to keep him with us ... until we can talk it through and put it
behind us."

"There's nothing to talk about. He's gone over."

"Tiep's no more Zhentarim than you or I—but he will be, if we don't pull him out of this now."

Rozt'a gave Dru a mighty scowl. "Is this more of your 'truth through illusion' nonsense?
Helm's eyes, Dru—you were the one who started worrying three winters ago, right when Tiep
made his little mistake. You were right; I was blind. Cut is cut, right? I want him gone from my
life ... now ... before Galimer comes back."

"Because Galimer will agree with me? You're angry with yourself because you didn't see
that he was in trouble. That's the reason you want him gone."

If Rozt'a had had her sword drawn then, Dru would have been skewered on the spot, but
he knew a little about timing even if he didn't know why it worked.

After a painful silence Rozt'a said, "He's doing personal favors for Darkhold. The Dark
Lord owns his soul."
Dru shook his head. "No more than he owned Ansoain." He hoped that was a true
statement.

Rozt'a blinked and swore and listened to Dru describe the piece of parchment he'd seen in
Amarandaris's quarters. "You might have told us."

"I didn't want to upset Galimer. Tiep didn't want to upset us. We're all human."

"It's different. Very different, and Tiep's in too deep. There's no pulling him out."

"There might be. The Network—Sememmon in particular—is toying with Tiep. They don't want
or need him, it's the thrill—the possibility—of corruption that keeps their interest. I think I can offer
them a better thrill."

"Dru ..."

"I have an idea. It might work. I'll talk it over with you, and him, and Galimer after we're
done with Weathercote Wood. Can you wait that long? We can still get out of this better than
we were when we came in. It's that, or we leave Tiep here with the horses, and I don't like
that for more reasons than I can count."

He didn't like leaving the horses behind, period, but there was no riding or leading them
closer to the Wood. Men owed something better to the beasts that served them than a grassy
trail-side in the middle of nowhere, even if the animals seemed perfectly content. Setting the
horses free had one unanticipated benefit. Without Tiep's shoulders, they'd have had to leave
even more of their gear behind. Rozt'a made swift, practical peace with the idea of walking
behind him to Wyndyfarh's glade.

Wyndyfarh's amber lights shone clearly throughout the afternoon. Rozt'a kept watch for big
trouble in the form of reavers and anything else the Wood might throw their way. Dru watched
for the smaller problems. He saw them—pairs of bright colored insects—in every tree, but they
kept their distance. At sunset, Dru kindled his light spell and they pressed on until a snare-string
crescent moon hung above the trees. The distance between the amber markers shortened until the path
was a continuous line of red and the ground beneath their feet was a carpet of silver-glowing moss.

They came to the bottom of a familiar hill.

"Do you want to do the talking, or shall I?" Dru asked, fully aware that Rozt'a usually
declined a leader's role if it was offered.

"You do it," she conceded quickly. "This is magic. Just get Galimer, fair and square."

Tiep didn't offer a comment. He'd said very little since confessing his secrets to Rozt'a and
nothing at all since they'd entered the forest. He kept his hands folded in front of him and
followed Dru's footsteps as precisely as the differences in their stride allowed.

Dru wasn't surprised to see a tall, white-clad woman waiting for them beside the small
marble temple. He was disappointed that Galimer wasn't standing beside her. He was in no
mood for court-talk or pleasantries when he led his companions across the stream. And
neither was Lady Wyndyfarh.

"You said you had the scroll. Where?"

"Where's my friend? Where's Galimer?"

"On the other side. Follow me."

Dru planted his feet. "I don't know where the other side is, but I know it's not here, not
Weathercote, not Faerun." He took a breath and shouted, "Galimer! Gal, do you hear me?"
then he turned back to Wyndyfarh. "If he can't walk out here or if he's not the man he was,
then we're leaving ... with the scroll."

They nailed each other, eye to eye, he and Wyndyfarh, and Druhallen held his own better
than he would have a week ago.

"You've read the scroll?" Wyndyfarh surmised.

Druhallen nodded, though it wasn't the Nether scroll that gave him the strength to
withstand Wyndyfarh's scorn. That came from Dekanter. Wyndyfarh was arrogant but she
wasn't evil. He'd seen evil... inside his own mind. He didn't trust her, though. He'd trust
Amarandaris or Sememmon himself before he'd truly trust the hawk-eyed Lady Mantis.

"That is not wise," she said, all silk and warning.

"Not wise is not getting my friend out here to join us. Every breath and heartbeat that he's
not standing here where we can see him is the height of foolishness."

Wyndyfarh's appearance turned hawkish and, behind Druhallen, Tiep sucked an
involuntary breath. Dru wondered what Rozt'a was seeing and chided himself for forgetting to
strengthen their minds before they entered the glade. When silence became tension he
thought he'd pushed too far, then Galimer walked out from behind the waterfall. He had a
haunted, wary aura about him that lessened, but did not disappear entirely after an embrace
from his wife.

"Dru ... Tiep ... You're here. You're all here," he said when he and Rozt'a had returned
to conversation distance. "I didn't dare hope. The lady told me what you were after and who
had it... I didn't dare hope."

Druhallen let those words seep through his consciousness. He had believed Wyndyfarh
knew what she was sending them into. He'd also believed that she expected them to get the
scroll and had held Galimer, rather than Tiep, hostage because she believed they'd be more
inclined to retrieve him.

He'd been correct in general, wrong in specifics. Wyndyfarh knew, all right, but hadn't had
much faith in their chances against the Beast Lord. He could understand her callousness
toward strangers but was unexpectedly outraged that she'd sent Sheemzher on a doomed-
fool's errand.

Dru shrugged out of the sling he'd worn since Dekanter and gathered Sheemzher in both
arms. The goblin stirred, as he was wont to do when his position shifted. He mumbled in the
goblin language and tugged at the bandage Rozt'a had fashioned over his ruined eye.

"We are all here," Dru said, emphasizing the all and watching for Wyndyfarh's reaction.
She had a hawk's hard, fixed eyes, but the softer parts of her face seemed to register some
surprise, some empathy. "Sheemzher was hurt getting the scroll. Then the Beast Lord damn
near finished him. We've kept him alive, but our medicines haven't been able to heal him."

Wyndyfarh wove her black, talon-like fingernails above the goblin. "He wanted so much to
be the hero for his people. He wanted to change them. I told him his people were goblins, and
they would not listen. He was a goblin and would not listen, so I encouraged his dreams. It
was the best way."

She took Sheemzher from Dru's arms. There was nothing weak or fragile about the
slender Lady Mantis. Sheemzher did not weigh much, especially after several days of delir-
ium and fever, but Wyndyfarh held him with no more effort than she might have given a
bouquet.

" 'Encouraged his dreams'," Druhallen mocked Wyndyfarh's cold tone. "Maybe it was the
best way for you, but it wasn't for him. What if we'd failed?"

"But you didn't, did you?" Supporting Sheemzher easily with one arm, Wyndyfarh
extended her other arm. "You have the Nether scroll?"

Dru had lost his sword below Dekanter, but he'd kept the scabbard and used it to carry the
scroll. He shook it into Wyndyfarh's hand. She closed her many-jointed fingers around it and
it vanished.

"What have you done with it now?" Dru asked before he could stop himself.

"Put it in a safer place," she snapped; then that faintly softer look returned to her face. "I
believe I will plant it in a tree, right here in my glade. Mystra approves of trees and the Nether
scrolls, and keeping them in safe places. If she disagrees, I will find another place ... or she
will. I am oath-bound to her—does that reassure you, Druhallen of Sunderath?"

It should, and perhaps it did. Mystra wouldn't let the scroll fall into evil hands—into any
hands—and that was good for Faerun. It was stubborn pride that kept him from admitting anything
aloud.

"Are we done here? Can we leave now? With Galimer?"

"By all means. Or stay. You have questions; I see them in your eyes. Dine with me and I
will answer them ... some of them."

Dru shook his head. "We left our horses outside the forest. We can get back to them by
dawn, if we hurry."

"Your horses are safe and you are tired. Eat. Rest. Ask your questions. There'll be no
other opportunity. Once you leave, you will not return to Weathercote Wood."

He hadn't intended to come back, but the sound of prophecy sent a chill down Dru's back.
Before he recovered, Rozt'a broke her self-imposed silence.

"I want answers, Dru. I want to know more about the mind flayers. And will you make
Sheemzher whole again?"

She was talking to Wyndyfarh and Wyndyfarh answered her directly.

"It isn't Sheemzher's body that needs to be made whole. You have begun that well
enough. All his body needs is time. He saw his people for what they were. That broke his
heart."

"Will you heal his heart, then?" Rozt'a demanded.

Wyndyfarh shrugged. "I will speed his body's healing. His heart is his. Perhaps he will
return to Dekanter, a glorious hero searching for his followers."

"There's nothing left at Dekanter," Dru announced. "Ghistpok led the tribe into the Beast
Lord's lair and lost it there."

"Goblins will return to Dekanter." Wyndyfarh laughed privately. "It and the Greypeaks are
well suited to their needs, their way of life. The Beast Lord will call them. It will begin again ...
without the scroll."

Druhallen shrugged and laughed. He knew something Lady Mantis didn't. "If the Beast
Lord's still there. It was hard-pressed when we left. Of the living mind flayers I counted, four
were dead, but there were more still hunting it."

Some part of what he'd said seized Wyndyfarh's attention. "I will prepare a table for you
and places where you may rest. You will tell me about these living mind flayers." With the
scroll and Sheemzher in her arms, she started for the waterfall.

Rozt'a moved to follow her, but Dru stayed where he was and worried that Lady Mantis
was up to her old tricks of saying different things to different people. He'd been paying careful
attention and hadn't caught her speaking directly into his mind, but that only meant he hadn't
caught her, not that she hadn't done it.

"It's all right, Dru," Galimer tried to reassure him. "She's hard through and through, but fair,
not evil. You heard her—she's oath-bound to Mystra. Keeping watch on Toril's mind flayers is her
whole life. If there's a chance they've replaced the Beast Lord in Dekanter, she'll want to know
everything you and Rozt'a and Tiep can tell her."

Keeping watch on Toril's mind flayers? That was as good as an admission that Wyndyfarh
had come from somewhere else, and not the far side of an ocean. Curiosity, the wizard's
curse, took command of Druhallen's interest. He picked up the sling in which he'd carried
Sheemzher—it was too good a blanket to waste—and followed Galimer and Rozt'a toward the
waterfall. Tiep hung back to walk beside him.

"Did you see her? Did you see her change?" the youth asked excitedly. "She's not human,
not even close. You can't be serious about following her, Dru."

"She's oath-bound to Mystra; she has to keep her word to another wizard. You can stay
here, if you want, but she's right about one thing: I've got questions."

Dru broke into a run and caught up with Galimer before his gold-haired friend walked
beneath the waterfall. They shared a back-pounding embrace—and Druhallen took his friend's
measure with his ring. Galimer felt the discharge and gave him a sour look.

"I haven't been through what you've been through, but it hasn't been exactly pleasant and I
haven't changed. That's more than I can say about you."

Dru folded his arms. "If we hadn't made it back, what do you want to bet you'd have
become her new Sheemzher, looking for good people to lead to Dekanter?"

"She'll keep her word, Dru," Galimer replied, which wasn't an answer. Then he sighed and
returned Dru's embrace. "Gods—it's good to see you. You, Rozt'a, Tiep—?" He stopped and
reached back for his foster son.

Left with a choice between staying alone on one side of the waterfall or being with the
people he knew best on the other, Tiep chose to follow Dru and Galimer through the water. A
simple supper was waiting for them. The food looked natural and smelled delicious after three
days of frog soup and other delicacies. Druhallen needed a moment of watching Galimer and
Rozt'a eat before he overcame his reservations about eating Lady Mantis's food. Tiep
needed a moment more.

The lady herself did immediately join them but carried Sheemzher to a white marble
building similar to the one in her Weathercote glade, but larger and divided into chambers.
Galimer whispered that he'd dwelt in a different chamber than the one Wyndyfarh chose for
Sheemzher. She remained out of sight for several moments then sat at the head of her table
as if her plain wooden chair were a gilded throne. Wyndyfarh didn't eat the food she served,
but did keep her word about answering questions.