Crypt of the Shadowking

Fourteen

Caledan woke to the sound of a scream. It was a terrible, wordless cry of primal rage.

He leaped from the bed and stared at the scene before him. Tyveris was grappling with the Harper. She struggled furiously, trying to stab Tyveris with her dagger, but the loremaster held her tightly. Again Mari cried out in fury.

"By the gods, Tyveris, what is going on?" Caledan shouted. The others had risen now and were also staring at the strange scene in astonishment. Then Morhion spoke a word of magic, and the room was suddenly flooded with silvery light.

The big loremaster shook his head. "I was hoping someone could tell me, Caledan. I went to wake Ferret for the next watch and saw that Mari's bed was empty. When came in here, I found her ready to bury this knife in your heart. I caught her hand just in time." Caledan shook his head disbelievingly, his mind reeling… The Harper had meant to kill him?

"But Mari would never do such a thing," Estah said, the halfling's voice trembling.

"Wait," Morhion said. "Can you not see it in her eyes?"

Indeed the Harper's eyes were empty. Normally glowing with life and fire, they were instead as dark and dead as stone.

"What is it, Morhion?" Estah asked, wringing her hands. "What's happened to her?"

The mage did not answer immediately. Gazing at the Harper, he muttered a few strange words as he touched her forehead. Suddenly she went limp in the loremaster's arms, the dagger slipping from her fingers.

"She is under an enchantment," the mage said.

Caledan helped Tyveris lay Mari down on the bed. Her eyes were closed now, her face was pale, her breathing shallow and rapid. "Enchantment?" Caledan wondered, turning toward the mage. "By whom? The shadevar?"

Morhion shook his head. "No, I do not think such would be within its powers. A Zhentarim sorcerer is the more likely culprit."

Caledan swore.

"Estah, is there something you can do for her?"

The halfling healer laid a hand upon the Harper's brow, then shook her head. "She's burning with fever, but none caused by any sickness. It's the magic that's setting her blood afire." She looked hesitantly at the mage, then back at Caledan. "Magic must be fought with magic."

Caledan clenched his jaw, not looking at Morhion. The Harper moaned in the enchanted slumber the mage had cast upon her, her hands clutching at the bedsheets. "All right, mage, do what you must." If you harm her… Caledan almost said, but he swallowed the words.

Morhion drew a small pouch from the pocket of his gray robe. He removed a dried leaf from the pouch, then opened the Harper's mouth, placing the leaf beneath her tongue.

Caledan looked worriedly at Estah, but the halfling shook her head. She had no idea what the mage was doing. They would have to trust him.

Morhion rummaged in his pack until he found a flask of wine. He dipped his finger into the flask, then let three ruby-colored drops fall onto Mari's brow. As the third drop fell he spoke several eerie, flowing words of magic. Suddenly the Harper cried out in pain.

"You're hurting her!" Caledan cried, grabbing the mage's arm, but Morhion shook off Caledan's grip.

"Madrak ul madrakell" the mage intoned, and Mari's eyes flew open. They were wide with confusion, but glimmering with life.

"What… what happened?" the Harper said weakly. She frowned and spit out the bitter-tasting leaf. She looked at the mage and Caledan in puzzlement.

Estah shook her head ever so slightly. The others exchanged meaningful looks. This incident was something Mari need never know of.

"We're not sure," Caledan told Mari. "The mage thinks there might be a sorcerer outside the inn, someone who means to do us ill. Whatever he was doing was making you… uh, sick. But the mage's spell took care of that."

Mari nodded weakly. "Thank you," she said to Morhion, but the mage had already turned to gather his things.

"We must leave here immediately," Morhion said, and for once Caledan agreed with him.

In minutes the companions were packed and ready to leave. Mari still looked a bit drawn, but she was standing firmly. "Can you make it?" Caledan asked.

She nodded, her face grim.

They found Brandebar in his nightshirt in the common room, a look of concern on his face. "What is it?" he asked.

"We've got to go, Brandebar," Caledan told the innkeep.

"I want you to lock the door behind us. Don't open it again until daylight Do you understand?"

"Is there someone out there who means you harm, milord?" Brandebar asked.

Caledan hesitated. "I believe so."

"Then I think you should follow me." The innkeep beckoned for them to go into the kitchen. Caledan looked at the others and then followed. In the corner of the kitchen Bran-debar pulled up a wooden trapdoor. Caledan could see a ladder leading down into shadows.

"It's a tunnel leading to the stables. Winters are bitter here, and I dug this one year so I could see to the horses without having to venture outside."

Caledan grinned. "Brandebar, we owe you a debt."

"You've paid me quite enough already, milord," the innkeep said, beaming. "I'm just glad I could be of small service to such important folk. Now take care. I expect you to come calling at the inn again one day soon."

They bid Brandebar farewell and then descended, one by one, into the earthen tunnel. It was crowded and damp inside, but after perhaps a hundred yards there was another ladder, this one leading up through a trapdoor in the stable's floor.

When the horses were ready Ferret quietly opened the stable doors, and they rode out into the dark, windswept night. The moon had set; dawn was at least two hours distant. The only light was the faint glow of the stars. They rode north, avoiding the road that led from the village. They had covered half a mile when Ferret pulled his horse up next to Caledan's.

"I don't mean to worry you or anything," the little thief said, "but I thought you might like to know that there are some shadows following us on the hills to our right and left."

"Horsemen?" Caledan asked, and Ferret nodded.

"My guess is they're waiting for us to ride into a ravine or gully-someplace good for an ambush. That's what I'd do anyway."

"What do you propose we do about them?" Caledan asked.

Ferret smiled, his crooked teeth glowing in the dimness. "Be ready," he said, drawing a dagger from his belt. Caledan nodded, loosening his sword in its sheath as Ferret moved away to warn the others.

The attack came swiftly. The low trough in which they rode had gradually narrowed until finally ending in a steep wash. Before they could spur their mounts up the rocky slope, the night was shattered by battle cries.

In the dimness Caledan saw a dozen dark shapes rushing at them from the ridges to the right and left. Men on dark horses drew their swords, which glimmered dully in the starlight. One of the horsemen tumbled from the saddle as he rode, Ferret's knife in his throat. Another fell to the ground next to him, clutching weakly at the crossbow bolt embedded in his side. Mari had hit her target and was frantically trying to reload.

Then the first of the horsemen reached them. Two lunged at Caledan. He parried one swing, then Mista reared up on her hind legs. She came crashing down, adding her strength to Caledan's blow. His sword cleaved deep into one of the riders. Hot droplets of blood struck Caledan's face. The rider slumped forward in the saddle as his mount galloped away. Caledan turned his attention to the other horseman.

Behind him, Tyveris ducked a horseman's blow and then reached over, pulling the man bodily from the saddle with his massive arms. The loremaster's shoulders bulged as he lifted the man and hurled him through the air. The man landed in a crumpled heap and did not rise again. Another attacker took the opportunity to swing at Tyveris, but a dagger appeared abruptly in his chest, and he fell screaming to the ground. Ferret was already drawing another dagger from his seemingly endless supply.

Mari guided her mount between Estah and the attacking horsemen, trying to aim her crossbow. She fired, but the bolt whistled harmlessly through the air. She took aim again, then swore in frustration. It was too chaotic, and she couldn't be sure she wouldn't hit one of her companions instead of one of the horsemen.

Caledan managed to fell his second attacker, then looked up to see a horseman fly from his mount as a brilliant, cobalt blue bolt of light exploded against his chest. Caledan cast a glance at the mage, but Morhion was deep in concentration, readying another spell. Caledan grunted. At least the mage could carry his own weight in a battle. There were only five horsemen left now, and Caledan sensed the tide was turning.

Suddenly a sound split the air. A sphere of searing crimson brilliance burst apart in the night. Then came a boom like thunder. The companions scattered, their mounts skittering away from the magical inferno. It was sheer luck that the flames did not engulf them.

"Beware sorcery!" Morhion shouted above the din of the battle. Caledan glanced up and saw a figure silhouetted against the dark sky on a low rise. So that was the source of the magical fire. He tried to break Mista away from the battle, to ride up the hill, but his opponent rained a flurry of fierce blows upon him, and Caledan was forced to stop and parry.

He heard Morhion muttering another spell, but the mage's words were cut short as a horseman bore down on him. Morhion drew a small dagger, prepared to defend himself. Caledan looked up to see the sorcerer on the ridgetop gesturing wildly.

Abruptly the sorcerer staggered backward, his spell going wild. A trail of fire arced high overhead, bursting in a flash of crimson light that momentarily illuminated the battle scene as though it were day. Then the magical fire faded into darkness. Sparks drifted down like fireflies. On the hilltop, the sorcerer crumpled. Caledan glanced to his side and saw Mari lowering her crossbow. He reminded himself to compliment the Harper on her good aim.

Without any further interruptions, it was scant minutes before they dispatched the rest of the attackers. Estah examined the companions in turn. Each had suffered nicks and bruises, and Tyveris had wrenched his shoulder.

"That last one was a bit heftier than I thought," he said, wincing as Estah probed his shoulder to make sure it was no more than a strained muscle.

"Well, next time knock the rider down, not the horse," Estah quipped, and Tyveris grinned sheepishly.

Caledan dismounted, kneeling by one of the fallen horsemen. The man was wicked-looking, his cheekbones outlined by raised, jagged scars. Caledan pulled off the man's black glove, then nodded. The horseman was missing the tip of one of his fingers.

"They're Zhentarim," he told the others.

"As was their sorcerer," Morhion said gravely as he came down the grassy slope after having examined the fallen Zhent on the top of the rise.

"But how could the Zhentarim have followed us?" Mari asked, her brow furrowed in concentration. "How would Ravendas have known to lay an ambush for us here, so far from Iriaebor?"

Caledan turned to look at Morhion. The mage returned the gaze, giving no clue to his thoughts.

"I don't know," Caledan said, gritting his teeth. "I don't know."

Much as Caledan hated the delay, they spent the following day camped in a low grassy hollow, sheltered from the wind. Dawn had broken shortly after the battle with the Zhentarim, but they had decided not to ride on. The horses were exhausted, and the fact was, so were the rest of them. None of the companions had fought such a wild battle in years. Although Caledan knew none of his old friends would admit it, the fight had depleted them. So they rested, with Caledan spending most of the day pacing nervously. He wanted to get this journey over with and get back to the city.

The next day dawned clear, and they spent it riding deeper into the Fields of the Dead. Ferret periodically spurred his horse ahead, scouting the terrain and keeping watch for any more Zhentarim-or the shadevar. However, they encountered only a few peasant farmers.

Despite their ominous name, the Fields of the Dead were beautiful, grass-swept plains broken occasionally by lines of low rolling ridges. Ancient oak trees grew atop some of the gentle hills, like hoary old sentinels keeping watch. The spring sunlight was warm and golden, the air above filled with the wheeling and diving of meadowlarks.

It was difficult for Caledan to imagine that, centuries ago, these grassy plains had been trampled and torn up by the booted feet of vast armies. It was said that rivers in the Fields ran red with the blood of the thousands who had perished here, and that some of the low hills were not hills at all, but were instead huge burial mounds where entire armies had been entombed.

Several hundred years had passed since those tumultuous days. With the rise of the city of Waterdeep to the west, the empire of Amn to the south, and the Caravan Cities to the east, the Fields had gradually lost their strategic importance in the struggle for power in the western half of the continent of Faerun. Now the land was sparsely populated by villages and farms, and most of the scars of ancient battle had been turned beneath the soil by the activity of countless plowshares.

There were still some reminders of how these plains had acquired their name. Caledan had lost count of all the overgrown stone barrows and grass-covered burial mounds they had passed as they rode. He found himself hoping the dead slept soundly in the Fields. He couldn't imagine a worse place to start believing in ghosts.

It was shortly after midday when the Harper guided her mount near Caledan. The two rode in silence for a long time before the Harper broke the silence.

"Tell me about Kera," she said in a thoughtful voice. Caledan looked at her sharply, feeling a momentary flash of irritation. But then, why shouldn't the Harper want to know about Kera?

"What do you want me to say?" he asked her softly.

Mari shrugged. "I don't know," she said simply. "When did you learn that Ravendas and Kera were sisters?"

Caledan raised an eyebrow, but Mari did not meet his gaze. One of the others must have told her, he realized, or maybe even the Harpers had. "It's strange," he said, thinking back. "It was Ravendas I knew first, not Kera. It must have been twelve, thirteen years ago. I was sent on a mission by the Harpers to the city of Baldur's Gate. Rumor had it that an assassin had been sent to wipe out the Council of Four which governed the city. That would have been disastrous. The Zhentarim would be all too happy to step in and take control. Anyway, it was an ambitious young commander in the city's secret police who helped me infiltrate the council so I could spy on them. I discovered the would-be assassin who-and this isn't much of a surprise-turned out to be Zhentarim."

"And that young commander was Ravendas?" Mari asked.

Caledan nodded. "Even then, she was an ambitious woman, daughter of a famous mercenary, proud of her ability as a warrior and as a commander, and determined to rise up in the world. But at the time I didn't have an inkling of her true nature." He shook his head. No, he had underestimated Ravendas every step of the way. "I met her sister before I left the city, though I didn't think much of Kera at the time. She was little more than a girl, about five years younger than Ravendas. Ravendas didn't think much of Kera either. Her little sister was quiet, shy, and thoughtful. Those weren't traits Ravendas much respected."

Caledan swallowed hard. "Some years later, my travels brought me back through Baldur's Gate. By that time Ravendas had become leader of the Flaming Fists, yet even that position didn't satisfy her. I spent some time with her, as an old friend, but I grew weary of her delusions of power. Before I moved on, however, I ran into her sister again, and…"

"And time had done its work on Kera," Mari said.

Caledan grinned. "It had done its work well. Let me tell you, this time she was definitely more than a sweet, shy girl. After my last visit to the city, Kera had spent her time gathering as much information as she could about the Harpers. Kera wanted to help people as much as Ravendas wanted to control and dominate them, and she wanted to join the Harpers. She asked me to take her to Berdusk, to Twilight Hall. I agreed.

"The next time either of us saw Ravendas was several years later, perhaps eight or nine years ago. We ran into her in Berdusk, and it was clear that she had changed for the worse. While she had always been power-hungry, now she seemed consumed by her visions of greatness. She tried to convince us to join with her and her allies in a scheme she boasted would make us all rich.

"As it turned out, those 'allies' of hers were the Zhentarim. Of course, we refused her offer and left the city. Kera put on a brave face after that, but I know it devastated her to learn that her sister had thrown her lot in with the Black Network. I don't think she ever really got over it."

"And the next time you saw Ravendas?"

"She was raising an army of goblinkin outside of Hluthvar. The Harpers sent Kera and me, along with the Fellowship, to stop her." He looked at Mari sadly. "You know the rest"

Mari nodded. She was silent for a long time. "You're never going to let go of her memory, are you?" she asked finally, her voice husky.

Caledan shook his head. How could it still hurt so much, after all these years? He was going to make Ravendas pay. "What would be left of me if I did?" he asked.

The Harper sighed, then amazingly she smiled at him. "I hate to say this, scoundrel, but for once I actually understand you." Caledan could only watch in wonder as she spurred her mount ahead, leaving him to ride on alone.

At sundown they reached the village of Asher. The hamlet, a small cluster of fieldstone houses with thatched roofs, was set in a vale between two tree-covered hills. The folk here seemed a bit friendlier than those at the last village, and they directed the companions to the village's lone inn, a rambling one-storied building set against a hillside.

After a filling supper, Tyveris asked the grizzled old innkeep if there was anyone in the village who knew any tales of elder days. Much to the companions' delight, the innkeep himself professed to be an expert on the Fields of the Dead. When Caledan asked him if he had ever heard the name Talek Talembar, the innkeep scratched his narrow chin thoughtfully.

"Aye, that I have," the innkeep said in his country drawl. "He was a great hero long ago, or so the stories go. Some say he turned back entire armies with a song, though in the end I can't say that helped him much. He died with a goblin's barbed arrow in his back, he did."

With the prompting of a gold piece, the innkeep was happy to describe how they could find Talembar's death site, in a valley not a half-day's march away.

That night the companions' sleep went thankfully uninterrupted, and after breaking bread the next morning they rode north from the village across the plains.

It was early afternoon when they came upon a massive, gnarled oak tree standing alone in the middle of a vast field. "This must be the 'Lonely Oak' the old innkeep described," Caledan said, the cool air ruffling his dark hair. "If he's right, the valley where Talembar fell should be just over the next rise."

Ferret rode up the hill to scout out the terrain, but in a few minutes he came riding back. "Well, I've got good news and bad news," the little thief said.

"Why don't I like the sound of this?" Tyveris groaned.

"What is it, Ferret?" Caledan asked, not much in the mood for guessing games.

"Well, first the good news. It looks like the valley the innkeep spoke of is just beyond that last ridge."

"And the bad news?" Caledan prompted.

"I think you may want to see that part for yourself," Ferret said in his raspy voice.

Caledan glowered at Ferret but knew it would take longer to wring more information out of the thief than it would to simply ride ahead and see for himself. He spurred Mista forward, and the others followed. When he reached the top of the ridge he stopped.

"By all the gods," he swore, and the others followed his gaze.

Before them stretched a long, narrow valley fading into the hazy distance. The sun filled the valley with a green-gold light, and Caledan caught the faint, sweet scent of wildflowers on the breeze rising up from below.

"What are all those queer round lumps on the valley floor?" Estah asked.

Tyveris shook his head. "Those aren't lumps, Estah. Those are barrows."

"But there must be hundreds of them!" Estah said in dismay.

"No-thousands," Caledan corrected her without relish. "Thousands of barrows." He turned to the others, his expression grim. "It looks as if Talek Talembar has some company."