The Siege

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

27 Mirtul, the Year of Wild Magic

The west lay the setting sun, its orange fury igniting a rusty blaze across the darkening sky and painting the jagged Stonelands in a fiery copper glow. Behind the lonely trees and distant monoliths, the shadows were lengthening, stretching their pointed tips across the parched pasturelands toward the city of Tilverton. To the north, purple darkness already cloaked the Desertsmouth Mountains. To the south, a lake of umbral murk was spreading outward from the foot of the Stormhorns. The attack could come from any direction or from all three, and with no more warning than the time a shadow needed to sweep across the plain. Or it might not come at all, though Galaeron knew better than to count on that.

Along with Vangerdahast, Alusair, Lady Regent Alasalynn Rowanmantle, and more aides than was safe, Galaeron was atop an unfinished wall tower in the Knoll District of Old Town, standing on a makeshift scaffolding that creaked every time someone shifted his weight, watching the darkness for the first hint of the enemy. Vangerdahast's attention was fixed on the south, as that was the only side of the city without a gate and he was convinced the Shadovar would want time to form ranks before the battle began. Most of the aides were convinced they would come out of the Desertsmouth foothills, since that was both the shortest route to Anauroch and one of the most sheltered. Alusair was keeping her eye-and her archers' arrows- trained on the sky, for she was troubled by the descriptions of veserab riders and the fact of the Shadovar’s alliance with Malygris and his blue dragons. Galaeron didn't know what to expect, but he felt sure that whatever the Shadovar did, it would be as unexpected as it was devastating.

A soft clatter sounded below as the bodyguard companies at the base of the tower ran through the procedure of admitting a runner. Finally, a herald called for permission to send up one of Vangerdahast's wizards, and a surprised murmur rose atop the keep as the aides nearest the ladder saw who it was. Galaeron looked down to see a willowy woman in a red cape ascending the long ladder. With red hair and golden eyes, even he recognized her as Vangerdahast's favorite aide-and, some said, lover-Caladnei.

The old wizard stepped over to the ladder and, as she neared the top, extended a hand. "About time, my dear," he said, pulling her onto the scaffolding. "What news?"

"Good news." She turned away and bowed to Alusair, then made her report directly to the regent. "Ruha has found the flying city, and it appears but lightly defended."

"Where is it?" Vangerdahast asked. "On the new lake?"

Caladnei nodded. "Floating above the north end. There is fresh water, and a defensible camp. Hhormun is preparing a translocational circle now."

Alusair considered the report for a moment, then said, "There's a reason the city is only lightly defended."

Vangerdahast nodded. "Either Galaeron is right and they're readying an attack…"

"Or they're hoping to lure us into a trap," Alusair finished. She turned to Galaeron. "What do you think?"

"The Shadovar are cunning war makers," he said, "but the phaerimm are their most ancient enemies. Telamont Tanthul would risk freeing them only if he's allowing his anger to guide him."

"And angry men don't lie in wait," Alusair agreed. "They attack."

"Unless that's what he wants us to think," Caladnei pointed out. "Perhaps Telamont is confident he can defeat us quickly and return his army to the Sharaedim in time to keep the phaerimm in check."

"In which case, he can't let us set the pace," Vangerdahast said. "Either way, he's attacking us. Everything points to it."

Caladnei inclined her head to the old wizard. "Ill send word to Hhormun to save his spell."

Alusair raised a restraining hand. "Hold a moment." She bit her lip in thought, then turned to Vangerdahast with a half smile. "What if we could beat them to the strike?"

Galaeron's brow rose. "Beat them? If you timed matters wrong, Tilverton would be lost."

"True," Alusair said without losing enthusiasm, "but Cormyr has many cities. The Shadovar have only one."

Alasalynn Rowanmantle gasped aloud. "You would sacrifice Tilverton?"

"No, but I'd surely wager it," Alusair said, not grinning. 'You do have an evacuation plan?"

Alasalynn's already pale face grew even paler. "I'll activate it."

She thumbed a ring on her middle finger and vanished in a crackle of magic.

Vangerdahast cocked his bushy brow and started to say something, then caught Alusair's warning glance and cleared his throat instead. Alusair smiled. "Vangey, can you…"

"Of course, Princess." Too plump and rickety for the ladder, Vangerdahast simply stepped to the edge of the scaffolding and looked for a clear place to land. "I'll prepare the device for transport at once."

Galaeron frowned but bit his tongue and managed to avoid asking about the "device." Their departure from Arabel had been delayed nearly a day and a half to give Vangerdahast and the war wizards time to "prepare." Galaeron had assumed that they were gathering magic items and memorizing spells, but he had realized this was not the case when the wizards emerged from their armory pulling a huge wagon covered with a tent of black canvas. The wizard had ignored Galaeron's repeated inquiries about the thing, saying only that it would prove once and for ail that the Weave was mightier than the Shadow Weave.

When Galaeron made no move toward the ladder or Vangerdahast, the wizard grabbed him by the arm.

"Come along, young fellow." Vangerdahast pulled him off the scaffolding, and they floated down the hollow interior of the unfinished tower. "You'll want to see this."

At the bottom, they gathered Aris and Vangerdahast's troop of bodyguards and threaded their way down the knoll past company after company forming up for the short march to the translocational circle. The officers were engaging in no bluster or bravado and offered relatively few words of encouragement. Everyone knew the Shadovar were a strange and powerful enemy, and most wise commanders had prayed that the mere fact of the Heartlands Alliance would force the princes to reconsider the melting of the High Ice. That the Alliance was being marshaled for a night march put to rest any hope of ending the matter without a fight.

At the base of the hill, where the mansions of the Knoll District gave way to the exorbitant shops and inns that populated the rest of Old Town, Vangerdahast turned through the gate of the Windlord's Rest, which he had appropriated to serve as the headquarters of the war wizards. Instead of entering the cozy inn itself, he led the way past a mixed troop of war wizards and Purple Dragons into the livery.

Inside, the "device" sat covered in its wagon, fans of golden light spilling through the slats of the cargo bed to illuminate the stable floor. The light was incredibly bright, though it did not seem to burn the eyes of either Vangerdahast or the guards the way it did Galaeron's. He had to shield his face, and his palm began to nettle.

Vangerdahast smirked at Galaeron's reaction, then removed from his pocket a ring bearing a crude copy of the Purple Dragon of Cormyr.

"Sorry for the workmanship," the royal magician said, "there wasn't much time." He passed it over. "Put it on."

Galaeron slipped the ring onto his finger and immediately felt better. He also saw that the light was not nearly as bright as he had thought, barely showing through the slats at all. "Interesting," he said. "How does it work?"

"I'll explain at the circle," Vangerdahast said. He turned toward the main doors, where Aris was crouched on hands and knees peering into the stable. "I would be indebted if you would draw the wagon for us. Translocational magic tends to make draught horses panic." "My pleasure."

The giant stretched an arm through the doorway to grab the hitch-then a cry of alarm sounded from the courtyard behind him, and he stopped to look over his shoulder. "Stonebones shield us!" Aris cried.

Galaeron stepped to the door and saw a company of dark forms peeling themselves out of the shadows, spraying the astonished guard companies outside with darts of black glass and bolts of shadow magic.

Aris cried out as a dark ray lanced out to pierce his forearm, then lashed out at his attacker with the same hand. Before the giant could close his fingers, the Shadovar changed back to shadow and drained away, then emerged behind him and pierced his thigh with another beam.

Aris screamed and whirled around. Galaeron saw a trio of Shadovar emerging adjacent to the door and could pay no more attention to the giant. He drew his sword and, waiting until the warriors began to assume a semblance of solidity, beheaded the nearest one. The body simply drained back into the shadow, but the dead man's companions whirled on Galaeron, their hands rising to unleash shadow spells.

Galaeron ducked back into the stable. "Warn the princess!" he yelled. "They've found me!"

"They've found my device," Vangerdahast corrected, peering past Aris's dancing legs into the courtyard. "But how? This city is warded!"

His bodyguards were beginning to counterattack with lightning bolts, crossbow quarrels, and-Galaeron was disappointed to see-bolts of raw magic. Even after hearing how the Sharn Wall had been breached, Vangerdahast had ignored Galaeron's suggestion that the War Wizards strike all spells of raw magic from their battle lists.

"I told you those wards were useless," Galaeron said, "as the Shadovar are about to prove."

The shadows inside the building began to undulate as more shadow warriors arrived. Galaeron tapped Vangerdahast on the shoulder, and the wizard glanced over his shoulder into the thicket of silhouettes rising behind them.

"Vexatious beings, aren't they?" the royal magician said.

Vangerdahast pointed at his device and made a lifting motion. The canvas cover rose to reveal a globe of living light, its exterior etched with hundreds of black glyphs similar to the warding tile Galaeron had seen two days before. The glyphs were swimming over the surface like water striders on a pond and casting dark shadows of themselves across the interior of the stable. As the silhouettes fell on the Shadovar warriors, the corresponding glyph stopped moving and affixed its shadow firmly in the center of the target's chest.

The Shadovar wailed in agony and tried to dodge aside or drop back into the shadows. It was difficult to say what happened to those who retreated into the fringe, but the others screamed in agony as their glyphs moved across the orb to keep the dark emblem painted on their torso. A second later, the symbol burst into golden flames, and they dissolved into sooty black smoke.

Galaeron noticed that, despite the ring Vangerdahast had given him, he was growing uncomfortably warm himself. He took shelter behind the wizard's ample form.

"Impressive." He glanced around behind them, expecting the ones who had retreated into the Shadow Fringe to reemerge at their backs. When the shadows remained as still as shadows should, he said, "Using a shadow to project the symbol prevents them from escaping into the fringe."

Vangerdahast beamed. "Imagine what I could have learned, had you actually demonstrated shadow magic." The wizard went to the front of the wagon and picked up the hitch. "Help me get this out where it will do some good."

Galaeron went to the other side and began to push against the crossbar. The wagon was incredibly heavy, as if the orb it carried were made of gold metal instead of gold light.

"Corellon's bolts!" he gasped. "Wouldn't it be faster to use magic?"

"It is folly to rely on magic for things your own strong back can do better," Vangerdahast said, frowning across the bar at him. "A wise woman taught me that."

"So you're saying you'll need your telekinesis spells later," Galaeron surmised.

"Exactly." Vangerdahast leaned into the hitch. "Now put your back into it."

Galaeron braced his feet and did as the wizard commanded. The effort was almost enough to make him break his promise not to use shadow magic. The floor was slick with dust and there was a slight incline at the threshold, and the battle raging in the courtyard had already become a desperate one. Purple Dragons lay two and three bodies deep, and Vangerdahast's war wizards were having to stand back to back to keep their Shadovar attackers from slipping through the shadows to attack from behind. Even then, the Shadovar were far more adept at using their defenses to stop Weave spells than the Cormyreans were at using their magic to stop shadow spells, and more than a dozen of the kingdom's battle mages already lay among the fallen dragoneers.

Aris was staggering around like a drunken fire dancer, bleeding from a dozen wounds, alternately trying to stomp enemy warriors flat or kick them out over the inn's roof. "Aris!" Galaeron yelled. "Help us!" The giant crossed the battle in a stride, scattering a trio of shadow warriors with a sweep of his large foot. He dropped to a knee and pulled the wagon across the threshold so quickly that Galaeron and Vangerdahast had to leap aside to keep from being crushed under the wheels. The silhouettes of the old wizard's glyphs danced over the surrounding walls for less than a second, then began to settle on their targets. The wispy screams of anguished Shadovar filled the air, then a thicket of golden flames flared to life across the courtyard, and their attackers vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

Galaeron rolled to his knees and found Vangerdahast lying against the opposite doorjamb, his chest heaving and his face contorted with pain. Galaeron's mind leaped immediately to the worst possible conclusion.

"Vangerdahast?" He scrambled across the doorway and pulled the portly wizard into his lap. It wasn't easy. "Are you hit?"

"No… just getting… old," the old wizard groaned. He rubbed a shoulder, then looked from Galaeron to one of his assistants who had come running and extended a hand. "How bad?" "We lost thirteen war wizards and most of your dragoneers." The fellow used both hands to pull Vangerdahast to his feet-then grinned broadly. "But you were right about those ward tiles, milord. They lured the Shadovar in through the fringe just like you-"

"Yes, well, we've no time to waste congratulating ourselves," Vangerdahast growled, casting a sidelong glance in Galaeron's direction. "Let's finish this."

He rubbed his signet ring, then looked into the sky and said, "Alusair, the time has come. Are you in position?"

The wizard was silent for a moment, then nodded and looked back to his assistant. "The attack is citywide. Leave them no place to hide. Demolish any building they enter, if you must."

"I'll pass the word." The assistant acknowledged the order with a bow, then turned to cast a spell.

A weary look came to Vangerdahast's eyes. He motioned Galaeron to follow and shuffled toward Aris and the orb of light. Seeing that the battle had already taken more out of the wizard than the old fellow cared to admit, Galaeron offered a hand in support… and was not rebuffed.

"You planned this?" he asked. "You picked one of your own cities as the battlefield?"

"We certainly didn't let them take us by surprise, if that's what you were thinking," Vangerdahast snapped. "Cormyr has fought a few wars… and won them all."

"If I underestimated you, I apologize," Galaeron said, "but ail that talk on the wall tower-"

"For the spies," Vangerdahast said. "The Shadovar do use spies, you know."

"I know," Galaeron said. "I thought you weren't listening to me." Vangerdahast fixed Galaeron with a rheumy eye. "Who says I was?"

Galaeron was too stunned to laugh. Though Tilverton's evacuation was under way, he had seen for himself that there had still been hundreds of women and children in the city earlier that evening-and the Cormyrean plan risked them all. How hard, he wondered, had been the lessons they learned in their last war against the dragon Nalavarauthatoryl? Had they truly grown so cold that they would knowingly sacrifice so many to win a quick victory-and save how many more? Perhaps that was what it required to defeat the Shadovar, and, more importantly, the phaerimm.

They reached the wagon, and the wizard stopped beside Aris's knee. "Stay close," Vangerdahast said. "I may have need of your talents."

Without waiting for a response, Vangerdahast cast a quick spell and lifted his hand heavenward. The golden orb shot high into the air, its glyphs growing motionless as they found their first targets. The battle din beyond the courtyard continued unabated for a moment, then slowly changed pitch as the symbol silhouettes began to take their toll. The wizard cocked his head as if listening to a distant voice, then moved his hand a few inches. The golden sphere floated a hundred yards across the sky. "Come along. We need a better vantage point."

Vangerdahast laid a hand on each of them, spoke a magic word, and pulled them through the dark square of a magic door. There was a timeless instant of falling, then Galaeron found himself standing in bright golden light, feeling very hot and dizzy, listening to the sounds of a battle far below.

"Don't worry about being seen," said a familiar voice. "I've cast a couple of spells that will keep us hidden." Galaeron recovered from his afterdaze enough to recall that he was somewhere in the middle of the battle for Tilverton.

Vangerdahast was shaking him by the arm and pointing down at the ground. "What's that he's doing?"

Galaeron looked down-a long way down-and grew so dizzy that it took him a moment to find what the wizard was pointing at. It was a dark figure more than a hundred paces from the tower where they stood looking out over the raging battle. Barely visible beneath the canvas awning of a patio tavern, the figure was waving his outstretched arms in small circles, apparently summoning the black fog that was rising out of the cracks of the flagstones at his feet and spilling out into Old Town-much to the confusion and distress of the companies of Alliance warriors rushing about the streets flushing Shadovar from their hiding places.

"It's hard to tell without seeing how he cast the spell," Galaeron said, "but he seems to be summoning shadow-stuff."

Vangerdahast raised his brow. "Shadowstuff? Would that be raw-"

"Don't tell me!" Galaeron had a sinking feeling. "The glyphs-"

"Not the glyphs, or their silhouettes," Vangerdahast said, "but the sphere itself is raw magic." "And the light?" Galaeron asked.

Vangerdahast shrugged. "Not in itself, but born of raw magic."

"Close enough," Aris said. He was kneeling on the other side of Vangerdahast, his elbows resting on the tower's stone crenellations to take some of his weight off the roof. "There is a disruption already."

He pointed into a street around the corner from the Shadovar, where the black fog was rolling out of the shadow of the building into the orb-lit street-and swirling about the shins of a company of Sembian mercenaries who had been attempting to sneak up on the object of their attention. Though the general battle din was too loud to hear their screams, their writhing arms and contorted postures left no doubt about their pain.

As Galaeron and the others watched, the warriors plunged to mid-thigh in the fog, then fell prone and vanished entirely. A moment later, the light of Vangerdahast’s orb turned the shadowstuff itself to ash. It sank to the ground, covering the street in an inky stain of darkness devoid of shape or texture-or even any apparent substance.

Vangerdahast pointed at the fog and cast what Galaeron recognized as a spell of magic dismissal. The shadowstuff continued to roll out of the Shadovar's hiding place, floating across the dark stain to brush against the orb-lit foundation of the mansion across the street. The stone disintegrated as had the legs of the Sembian mercenaries, and the building itself collapsed into the inky murk that had been, until a few moments earlier, a cobblestone street. It vanished without raising so much as a dust plume.

Another building on the other side of the Shadovar spellcaster collapsed, then a company of Purple Dragons came charging into view with a tide of the shadowstuff rolling down the street behind them. It appeared they would be fast enough to reach safety-until the rear rank threw up their arms and fell, bringing down those in front of them, and so on until the entire company was gone.

Trees and buildings began to vanish in a widening circle as the shadowstuff spread, first creating lacy paths of nothingness where the black fog worked its way into orb-lit areas, then gradually developing into a solid disk of murk as adjacent areas were exposed to the golden light. The battle at the edge of the circle grew wildly intense as Shadovar and Alliance warriors fought for control of the escape lanes, filling the dusk sky with flashing lightning bolts and hissing rays of darkness. Only the patio where the fog-summoner himself stood remained untouched, revealing a huge figure in a horned helm still waving his outstretched arms, calling more shadowstuff up into the streets.

Galaeron clasped Vangerdahast's arm. "You're destroying the city.'" he said. "Annul your spell, or at least move it out over the plain."

"And let the Shadovar destroy our armies?" Vangerdahast scoffed. "Better to lose a city than a kingdom."

Galaeron stared out over the collapsing city and thought of all the dying warriors, of all the innocents who would perish if the shadow fog continued to spread. Vangerdahast had tried to dispel it and failed.

But Vangerdahast could not use the Shadow Weave, and Galaeron could. What kind of person would turn his back on the deaths of so many-even if it meant the return of his shadow self? Galaeron had recovered from it once, and with Aris and Vangerdahast, and the entire kingdom of Cormyr to stand with him this time, he could certainly do so again. Even if he could not, what was he sacrificing, really? Only his life, and hundreds had done that already.

Galaeron took a deep breath, then raised his hands and started to open himself to the Shadow Weave-and found Aris's big hand reaching over Vangerdahast to pluck him off the rooftop. "Galaeron, you are forgetting your promise."

"Not forgetting," Galaeron said, "but I can't let thousands die while I do nothing."

"So your shadow would have you believe," the giant replied, "but you know better than to think you can dispel the magic of someone like Prince Rivalen." "That's Rivalen?" Vangerdahast gasped.

Aris nodded. "I would recognize that face anywhere. Can you not see his golden eyes?"

Galaeron was undeterred. "I have to try," he said. "If there's any chance I can save Tilverton-"

"There is not, and you know it," Aris said, "but the choice must be yours, or your shadow has already won."

He placed Galaeron on the roof beside Vangerdahast. Galaeron watched another mansion tumble into nothingness, then the golden blaze of a dozen Shadovar warriors burning into ash beneath the light of the war wizards' artificial sun.

Vangerdahast glanced into the street below. "Fog's coming this way," he observed. "Our tower will go soon."

Galaeron started to lower his arms, then felt such a pang of guilt that he realized he would not be able to live with himself if he just let all those innocent people die. "I have to try-"

"No you don't." It was Vangerdahast who knocked Galaeron's arms down this time. "You're no match for Rivalen, and we both know it." "But-"

"There are other ways," Vangerdahast said. There was an emotion unaccustomed to the wizard's face in his expression, something sad and contrite, almost kind. "If you're going to throw your life away, at least do it wisely."

He placed Galaeron's hand on his sword, then motioned him to wait and looked into the sky. "Caladnei, I need you. We're on the Tower of Wond-"

Vangerdahast had barely finished before the air hissed with her arrival.

"My dear, what took you so long?" Vangerdahast mocked. As the wizardess struggled to recover from her afterdaze, he guided her hand to Aris's knee. "Take the giant and go to Alusair. If that shadow fog does not stop expanding in the next few minutes, you are to sound the retreat, then teleport to safety with the princess and as many others as you can take." Caladnei's eyes remained vacant. "Fog? Retreat-?"

"I understand," Aris said. He clapped a big hand over Galaeron's shoulder. "Till swords part, my friend. Good luck." "Good luck?" Galaeron asked. "What am I doing?"

"We'll decide that later," Vangerdahast said, taking his arm. "Just have your sword ready and start cutting when we get there."

The wizard spoke a mystic word, and Galaeron felt again the timeless falling of translocational magic. He was growing almost accustomed to the feeling, but that did not make the afterdaze any less disorienting when his stomach finally settled back into its proper place. The ground beneath his feet felt unsteady and yielding, almost as though he were standing on a soft human bed instead of anything like a street or floor. Cut!

Vangerdahast's voice came to Galaeron inside his head. He felt the ground bouncing under him as the old wizard hobbled away. He recalled, dimly, that they were in some sort of battle and that his last instruction before the teleport had been to start cutting, so he jammed his sword into the softness beneath his boots and began to A loud ripping noise sounded between his feet and he found his stomach turning somersaults again, this time more normally as he plunged through a canvas awning. Something sharp punctured the chain mail on his leg and sank deep into his thigh, sending a bolt of fiery agony shooting up through his body. He hung for a moment high up beneath the awning, until whatever he had landed on toppled over and dropped, crashing, onto a wooden table.

A raspy voice screamed in agony. The sharp point pulled free of Galaeron's thigh. He fell off the table onto a hard stone floor, then rolled to his knees and found himself peering over the table at the figure of a hulking Shadovar holding a horned helm in his hands.

"Elf!" Rivalen said, tossing the helm aside. "I thought we would need to look for you in Suzail by now." — "Here I am." Galaeron rose from behind the table and, glancing at the broad swath of orb-light that separated them, tried to appear confident. "All you need do is come get me."

Rivalen peered up at the rip in the canopy. "Yes, I'm certain you would like that." He smiled, then glanced over Galaeron's shoulders. "I think I will have my guards do it. Seize him!"

Heart sinking at the sudden clamor that erupted from the patio edge behind him, Galaeron vaulted the table into the swath of orb light, landing so that he had the prince on one flank and the approaching bodyguards on the other. Of course there were guards. There were always guards.

Wondering what was taking Vangerdahast so long, Galaeron glanced up at the ripped awning. He had a chance of leaping high enough to grab hold and climb to safety-but, with one wounded leg, not much of one.

"Don't let him get away!" Rivalen ordered, starting forward from his side-apparently unaware that Galaeron had come with company. At least that much of Vangerdahast’s plan was working. "Take him now!"

The guards, already rushing across the patio, began to vault tables and kick chairs aside. Galaeron leaped as high as he could and slashed at the torn edge of the awning.

The canvas, already weakened by his first cut, split down its length. More Shadovar than Galaeron could count in a glance howled in anguish as the orb light poured through and fixed them with the silhouette of a death glyph. Those closest to the tavern walls turned and dived for shade, their bodies bursting into sprays of golden flame as they tumbled through the windows. The rest perished where they stood, setting the wooden chairs and wooden tables alight as they died.

Galaeron pivoted into the sunlight and brought his sword around into a guarding position. Where the devil was Vangerdahast? Rivalen stopped a safe distance back beneath the remaining half of the awning, his golden eyes burning almost white with rage.

"Enough, traitor. You will drop your sword and come to me." He pointed his finger at the far edge of the patio behind Galaeron and spoke a word of command, then continued, "Or you will perish with your friends."

Galaeron glanced over his shoulder and saw a plume of shadowstuff rising from a corner of the patio still shaded by a dangling flap of torn awning. It was slowly spreading across the flagstones toward him, bringing its tide of oblivion steadily closer. He looked back to the prince.

"You wouldn't dare," Galaeron said, trying to sound confident. "The Most High-"

He was interrupted by the sudden eruption of Rivalen's chest. Galaeron danced quickly aside as the dregs of the purple death ray shot past, then looked back to see the prince's body crashing to the floor and Vangerdahast standing behind him with ten smoking fingertips. Galaeron stepped into the safety of the awning shadows. "Took you long enough," he said.

"I'm old," Vangerdahast replied, and he sounded it. His gaze remained fixed on the far corner of the patio, where wisps of shadowstuff continued to pour from whatever fissure Rivalen had opened into the shadow plane. "I thought that would stop when he died."

Galaeron frowned, then looked down to discover that all that remained of Rivalen was a long black spine and an ebony heart beating in a broken cage of black ribs. To his horror, it was rolling onto its back and rising in Vangerdahast's direction. "Vangerdahast, watch your-"

The prince's remains-if that was what they were- hurled themselves at the wizard. A deep gash appeared across Vangerdahast's collarbone, and blood began to spurt from the wound in great red arcs. Vangerdahast cried out in pain and stumbled back, one hand crackling with fire and the other with lightning. Galaeron leaped to the attack, slamming his sword into the ebony spine with enough force to fell a fair-sized sapling.

The bone did not even chip, though the ribs did pivot slightly as an unseen heel slammed into his stomach. He doubled over and flew backward, his sword flying away as the air left his lungs. He crashed down just beyond the awning's shadow, less than an arm's length from oblivion's advancing edge. Behind him, the far wall of the patio crashed down and vanished into darkness.

Vangerdahast thrust one hand forward and poured lightning into the dark heart. It stopped beating-but only for as long as the lightning continued. A red gash opened in the wizard's cloak, and a sword-shaped spray of blood came out the back.

Vangerdahast bellowed-more in rage than pain-and filled the cage of black ribs with magic fire.

The wizard's head snapped sideways. Vangerdahast's arms dropped to his side, and Galaeron, already leaping back into the fray with a drawn dagger, screamed. The ribs half turned toward him, and for a moment Rivalen's golden eyes appeared in the air above the writhing vertebrae of the neck.

Vangerdahast's weary arms came up, wrapping themselves around the skeletal body, and he uttered a familiar command word. They vanished in a sizzle of teleport magic — and Rivalen's raspy voice erupted in anguish on the orb-lit patio. Galaeron spun around to find the prince-or, rather, the prince's ribs and heart-erupting into golden flame as Vangerdahast tried to push the black thing into the inky darkness creeping toward them both.

Galaeron was there in a leap, arriving heels first to kick Rivalen over the edge. The ribs and heart vanished, burning, into black nothingness-and Vangerdahast started after them, suddenly spinning around on his back, sleeve stretching over his head into darkness. Galaeron landed alongside him facing the wrong direction, but grabbed the wizard's belt and pulled himself around, then hacked the cuff free.

Vangerdahast let out a pained gasp and jerked his hand back. All that remained of it were the fingers, thumb, and a small piece of flesh connecting it to the wrist. The rest was simply not there, as though it had been rendered invisible or lost to the bite of some very strange creature. The adjacent wall of the tavern crumbled into oblivion, leaving only the corner with the shadowstuff fountain standing upright. Galaeron pulled Vangerdahast back under the awning and began to go through the pockets of the wizard's cloak.

"Do you have any healing potions?" Galaeron asked, tossing aside feathers and satchels full of iron filings.

With sunken eyes and skin as gray as a snow cloud, the wizard looked like he had died already. Galaeron could see at least two life-threatening wounds, and suspected there were other injuries he could not even guess at. "Any way to get us to help?" asked Galaeron. Vangerdahast's gaze grew vacant and slid away.

"Vangerdahast?" Galaeron placed his ear close to the wizard's mouth and was relieved to hear a soft, steady wheezing. "Vangerdahast?"

When the wizard still made no reply, Galaeron stanched the bleeding as best he could, then stood on a table to search for help. He was not surprised to discover that the fighting was already over-cataclysmic magic had a way of ending battles swiftly-but he was astonished at the extent of the destruction. Much of Tilverton-all of Old Town below him and the rest of the city out past the Moonsea Ride-already lay beneath a sea of shadowstuff, and the stain was continuing to spread. The great Council Tower in the center of town was sinking into oblivion even as he watched, and he could hear warriors from both sides calling to each other in the dark streets beyond, all more concerned with saving their own lives than taking anyone else's. Whether Lady Regent Rowanmantle had succeeded in evacuating the rest of her citizens, Galaeron could not say, but he took the lack of matronly voices and sobbing children to be a good sign-one of the few of the day.

Finding no possibility of help there, Galaeron hopped down and went to the uphill side of the patio. The scene there was much the same as below, save that most of the shadowstuff had rolled downhill into the lower city, sparing much of the Knoll District, the jagged ruins of Tilver's Palace, and a lengthy section of wall.

It was there, atop one of the as yet unfinished wall towers, that he found their salvation. Atop one of the spires, no more than two hundred paces distant, stood Aris's looming figure, illuminated in the yellow light of Vangerdahast's orb, one hand raised to his brow as he searched the city. Galaeron stepped as near the edge of the awning as he dared and waved. For a moment, there was no response, and he began to fear that even the stone giant's keen sight would not be able to see him beneath the canopy.

When Aris pointed in his direction, Galaeron knew they were saved. He waited a couple of moments for the giant to return his wave, then dropped off the table to return to Vangerdahast's side-and found Caladnei already kneeling there, pouring a healing potion down the wizard's throat one drop at a time.

As Galaeron limped over, she looked up with an angry scowl on her face. "When you need help, call for it." She pointed her chin at the ring Vangerdahast had given him. "That's what the purple dragon is for."

"What in the name of all the drow gods," the Steel Regent demanded, pacing back and forth in front of Galaeron, "did you do to my Royal Magician?"

It was almost dawn, and they were encamped-hiding, really-with what remained of the armies of the Heartlands Alliance, a mile outside of what had once been Tilverton. The shadowstuff had consumed the city almost completely, spreading well beyond the walls to engulf even the outlying stock pens and caravan campsites. All that remained of the city was the wail atop the Knoll District and the jagged ruins of Tilver's Palace, now back lit by the sinking sphere of Vangerdahast's magic orb.

Alusair waved a hand at the golden ball. "He won't look at anything but that damnable globe, and he keeps asking if we won. What do I tell him? That we won because we had more survivors than the Shadovar? Or that we lost because we lost our entire army? How do I snap him out of this?"

"Tell him the truth," Galaeron suggested. "Tell him that no one won." "That would not be the truth," Aris said.

Alusair whirled on the seated giant and, despite the fact that she had to crane her neck to see his face, somehow still seemed to be looking him straight in the eye.

"Are you saying Shade won?" she demanded. "Because I know we didn't. Not lf we've lost Vangerdahast."

"I am saying that the phaerimm won," the giant answered. "They still control Evereska, and now they will soon be free."

Alusair's already stormy face turned absolutely tempestuous. "Thank you for making an insufferable loss seem even worse." She whirled on Galaeron. "This is your doing, elf. Had Vangerdahast had a better understanding of shadow magic-"

"He would have done exactly as he did, Majesty," said Caladnei, stepping to Galaeron’s defense. "You can ask a warrior to lay down his life for you but not his soul."

"Elves don't have souls," Alusair shot back, "but I see what you mean." She cast a sidelong glance in Galaeron’s direction. "That's as much of an apology as you're going to get, elf."

"And more than is required," Galaeron replied. "All I ask is that you let me assist when you do attack." "Still thinking of Vala, are we?" Alusair asked. Galaeron nodded. "Always."

The truth was that since escaping Tilverton, he had been able to think of nothing but the thing Vangerdahast had killed, wondering if Escanor was something similar, and of what Vala must be suffering in service to such a thing. However great her pain, whatever her humiliation, he was to blame. He had allowed his shadow self to drive her away, and it was because of his weakness-that weakness-that she was imprisoned in Escanor's palace. "I have much to answer for," Galaeron added.

Alusair's expression grew almost sisterly. "We all do, Galaeron." She reached out and squeezed his arm, then turned to face Tilverton, where Vangerdahast's orb was just sinking behind the Knoll District wall. "We all do."

As the globe vanished from sight, a terrible rumbling rolled across the plain, shaking the ground so hard that the wounded-what few they had been able to evacuate-began to groan. The glow over Tilverton darkened for a moment, then returned in an exploding fan of golden light.

With that Vangerdahast was up and standing tall, looking as regal and powerful and truly frightening as the mighty wizard Galaeron had come to know-and perhaps even love-in his short time in Cormyr.

"To arms!" Vangerdahast's voice boomed across the plain. "Summon my War Wizards! Call out the Purple Dragons! Azoun calls, and we ride-for king and Cormyr!"

Alusair and Caladnei were at the wizard's side almost instantly, taking him by the arms and soothing him with gentle words. Galaeron did not hear exactly what they said, for his attention was fixed on Tilverton, where the entire Knoll District was rapidly sinking into the dark plain, taking with it the last bitter reminders of the Heartlands Alliance-and all of Faerыn’s hopes for a season without starvation. Soon, all that remained of the city were the back lit ruins of Tilver's Palace, surrounded by smaller piles of dark rubble. The last rays of Vangerdahast’s light paled to darkness, and eventually even they were lost.