The Summoning

CHAPTER TWELVE

27 Nightal, the Year of the Unstrung Harp

Galaeron felt himself jerk, then felt the hand clamped over his shoulder and knew that-impossibly-an intruder had crept up on him during his own watch. He rolled away from the tree he had been leaning against and tangled in a heavy cloak in which he did not recall covering himself.

"To your weapons!" Even as he yelled the alarm, he feared he was too late. "They're on us!"

Despite the entangling cloak, Galaeron somehow rolled to his knees and faced his attacker. He found himself looking at three bewildered humans and a very concerned stone giant.

"It's only us, Galaeron," said Vala. "That must have been some dream."

"Dream?" Galaeron threw off the cloak and, searching the woods behind them, reached for his sword. "I wasn't dreaming. How could I have been dreaming?"

Vala rolled her eyes. "That's what people do when they sleep."

"That's what humans do when they sleep," Galaeron corrected. He was not sure which implication he resented more, that humans were Tel'Quess-of the People-or that he had neglected his duty by sleeping on his watch. "And I was not sleeping!"

"No?" It was the little round-faced man with the bulging eyes who asked this. Galaeron needed a moment recall what he was doing with them. "Then what are you doing when you close your eyes and snore?"

The night did seem oddly bright, Galaeron realized. He frowned and looked eastward, where an amorphous sphere of light hung just above the Greypeak Mountains. Even through the thick mantle of concealing snow clouds, there could be little doubt that the glowing pearl was the morning sun.

"I fell asleep?" The alarm in Galaeron's voice was unmistakable. "In the middle of my watch?"

"Don't feel bad." Vala gathered his cloak off the snow and offered it to him. "Malik took over, and you needed the rest."

Galaeron accepted the cloak and dropped to his haunches. After two days without a Reverie, there was no denying he needed rest. But to fall asleep-by accident? He suddenly began to feel lost and hollow, as though something inside had vanished.

"Why so worried?" Melegaunt came to his side. "Elves do sleep. I've seen them."

"Occasionally," said Galaeron. "When we're sick or wounded, sometimes when we're despondent or fall prey to the Gloom, more often as we grow older and the time to go West draws near."

Vala nodded. "When you need to escape your pain and rest. Not so different from humans."

"Much the same," allowed Galaeron, "except that we never fall asleep. It's a purposeful act."

"What a joy that must be," exclaimed Malik. "Me, I am always lying awake when I should be sleeping and sleeping when I should be awake. This year alone, it has nearly cost me my life a dozen times." He hesitated a moment, his mouth contorting oddly as he struggled not to say more, then he blurted, "I hardly dare close my eyes for fear of having my throat cut by that Harper witch Ruha!"

Galaeron frowned. The Harpers were among the few humans generally accorded admittance to Evereska, and the mere fact that one of them counted Malik an enemy was reason to be suspicious of him. On the other hand, the little man had risked his own life to save Galaeron and Aris from the beholders, and any trouble between humans was no business of the tomb guard's or Evereska's.

Vala and Melegaunt seemed even less interested in Malik's revelation than Galaeron. Vala pursed her lips as though wondering why the little man thought they should care, and Melegaunt merely tugged his beard and studied Galaeron.

Finally, he said, "Things didn't go exactly as we planned with Aris's rescue. How much did you strain yourself with the magic I showed you?"

"1 think of it as the cold magic," said Galaeron. "A lot. There was no choice."

Melegaunt's face turned instantly stormy. "Fool! Did I not warn you against testing yourself with this magic?"

"I wasn't testing," said Galaeron. "There was no other choice."

"There is always another choice," said Melegaunt. "It would be better to surrender your body to the beholders than to surrender your spirit to your shadow."

Melegaunt came forward and grabbed Galaeron's head, then tipped it back and pulled his eyelids open. "There it is. You've let your shadow inside." Galaeron's stomach turned to ice. "Then get it out!" "I can't." Melegaunt released Galaeron's eyelids and stepped back. "You must learn to control it, before it learns to control you." "Control it? How?"

"Carefully-very carefully," said Melegaunt. "Shadows are subtle things. It will try to subvert your nature, to make you see the dark in everything around you."

"See the dark?" asked Galaeron. "You mean dark motives?"

"In a way, yes. For every light, there is a shadow. It will make you look at the shadow instead of the light, to see how every noble act might be selfish. Gradually, you will come to see the darkness before the light. When that happens, you are your shadow."

Galaeron's throat went dry, and he could not bring himself to speak again.

"Galaeron, you must learn to do the hardest thing of all," said Melegaunt. "You must always make sure you see the light before you see the shadow"

"That will be hard." Galaeron thought of the suspicions that had been plaguing him the past few days, and of his decision to keep secret the way the cold magic had rushed into him during the battle against the bugbears. "Why did you ever show me this magic, Melegaunt?"

"Are you that weak?" Melegaunt grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. "I give you the most precious gift in the world, and you call it poison? Your shadow is winning already, elf."

The words hit Galaeron like a blow, for his trouble entering the Reverie had come with his doubts about Melegaunt's character. Had the shadow been inside even then? Despite the cold, he felt flushed and sweaty.

"There's something I should have told you about the bugbear battle," Galaeron said. "The new magic came to you?"

"Unbidden," Galaeron replied. "When 1 cast my spells, it rushed in of its own accord. 1 had to concentrate to keep it out." Melegaunt nodded. "Looming death has a way of bringing you closer to your shadow self." The wizard stared at him. "It is more troubling that you kept it from me."

"You keep so many secrets of your own." Even to Galaeron, his tone sounded defensive. "And after you sicked the illithids on Lord Imesfor, I did have reason to doubt you."

"We talked about that If you were not satisfied with my explanation, you should have said so." Melegaunt's voice lacked its usual patience. "This will be a struggle, elf, and I don't know that you will win."

Galaeron's heart sank. "I don't want this magic. There must be something you can do."

"There is." Melegaunt glanced meaningfully toward Vala's sword. "And should you fail, I will." "It would be that bad?"

"It would," said Melegaunt "And I am not here to release yet another evil on this world."

"Nor would I want that. I will take your word as a promise." Galaeron turned to Vala. "And one from you, as well."

She raised her brow and glanced at Melegaunt. When the wizard nodded grimly, she shrugged and seemed a little sad. "I hope you know what you're asking."

"He is only asking what is right," said Melegaunt He cast a wary eye eastward, where Thousand Faces stood hidden by snow and trees and far fewer miles than any of them would have liked. "We must be on our way. The beholders will come looking for us-"

"I will show you a safe way." It was the first Aris had spoken. "You are going to the Delimbyr River?"

"A little beyond, yes," said Melegaunt, "but that would be a good start" 'Then follow."

Aris turned up the narrow side gulch where they had made camp and started through the blizzard. Melegaunt led the way after him through knee-deep snow. With Malik's horse breaking trail, they were just able to keep the giant's looming silhouette from vanishing into the storm.

As they climbed, Galaeron barely noticed the slope growing steeper. He could not help being frightened-frightened of what he might become, more frightened of what he might cease being. Elves who could not enter the Reverie soon became something else altogether. Unable to share in a communion of like hearts, they grew immeasurably sad and lonely. Eventually, such lone wolves withered of despair or abandoned their home, preferring a life alone-or even among humans-to the constant reminder of the bliss they could no longer share.

Without that connection to his fellows, Galaeron did not know if he would have the strength to control his shadow. Even now, it seemed reasonable to be wary of Melegaunt. Humans were well known for treachery, and the wizard's furtiveness certainly invited misgivings. Why wouldn't he say who he hoped to find, or why he had been studying the phaerimm, or where this new magic came from?

It occurred to Galaeron that Melegaunt's warning might be a scheme to make him doubt his own misgivings. Certainly, there could be no better way to quell a person's suspicions than to make them an object of fear. Hardly had this thought flashed through the elf's mind before another followed suggesting his shadow had planted the previous one. Galaeron had entered a maze of spirals, where every idea turned back on itself and no opinion could be trusted. He felt as though the ground had vanished from beneath the snow, leaving him to flail around helplessly until he grew tired of struggling and simply let the blizzard take him.

After a time, they crossed a high white meadow and came to a steep gully packed full of snow. Aris instructed them to stand well off to one side, then cupped his hands and gave a booming yell. There was a soft rumble so quiet and low Galaeron felt it more than heard it. In the next instant, a tremendous avalanche swept out of the gully and spread across the meadow Aris waited a few minutes for the snow to stabilize, then pointed up the chute. "The ridge on top descends into the Delimbyr Valley. Stay on the crest and follow it to the river. The trees are tall and thick, so you won't be seen by any but a few stone giants traveling the same path. Don't hide from them, and tell them what you did for me, and they will do you no harm."

"And what of you, Aris?" asked Galaeron. "Will you be all right?"

"1 think not." Aris's voice was so angry and low that it felt like another avalanche barreling down the chute. He snapped the top off a thirty foot pine, then began to strip away the branches. "The massacre of my steading was a terrible thing, but what those eyes did to the Saga Caves… for destroying the work of two thousand years, I will make them pay."

"Sadly, you will not," said Melegaunt. "At least not alone. Will others of your kind help?"

The giant shook his head. "1 would not ask such a thing. The responsibility is not theirs."

"No, but it is ours," said Melegaunt. "Perhaps even more than it is yours."

Malik's eyes grew wide. "Think what you are saying-and who you are saying it to!" He craned his neck up at the giant. "The wizard speaks for himself."

The giant paid no attention to the little man and kneeled down over Melegaunt. "Explain." "Do you know of the phaerimm?" asked the wizard.

Aris nodded. "I have seen their shapes in some of the old murals. A fell and powerful race, by the hewn stories."

"And a cunning race," said the wizard. "Though the beholders may not realize it themselves, the phaerimm are their masters. The phaerimm sent them to Thousand Faces to find us."

"There is no fool like an honest one!" exclaimed Malik, clambering onto his horse. "I pray you have not killed us all!"

Neither Aris nor anyone else paid any attention to the little man. The giant merely considered the wizard's words for a time, then rubbed his long chin and turned to Galaeron.

"And even knowing they were looking for you, you risked all your lives to save mine?"

Galaeron nodded. "I could not have left you and lived with myself."

"You nearly did not survive saving me," said the giant. "That was not a wise thing to do."

"It was wiser than you returning alone to face the beholders," said Melegaunt. "We would join you if we could, but there is greater evil afoot, and we must continue on our way." The giant nodded. "It is enough that you rescued me."

"You would be doing us a service not to waste our efforts by attacking so many beholders alone," said Melegaunt. "You would be lucky to kill one or two."

"Then that would be justice to one or two." Aris glanced in Galaeron's direction, then rose. "How could I live with myself, were I to fail my steading even in the little I could do to avenge its loss?"

"By doing more," said Galaeron. He knew what the giant was feeling, for he had felt much the same thing as the phaerimm encircled Evereska. "Would it not serve your steading better to strike a blow against the ones responsible for what happened to Thousand Faces?"

The stone giant furrowed his heavy brow. "How can I do that?"

"By coming with us," said Melegaunt, following Galaeron's lead. "We are sworn to destroy the phaerimm-the same phaerimm who sent their beholders to Thousand Faces."

Aris considered this for no more than ten minutes, a very short time for a stone giant, then said, "You must give me a promise in return." "If it's within my power," said Melegaunt.

"I think it is," said the giant. "You must promise to accept my help until the end. If Thousand Faces is to be avenged, I must be part of it" "Done," said Melegaunt. "And I promise you this as well. that the beholders who have taken your home are not long for this world. Before all is done, they will rue the day they laid eyes on your steading."

"Then it is a pact." Aris stooped down to pluck Malik out of his saddle.

"What are you doing?" Malik pulled a tiny dagger from inside his cloak and flourished it. "I must warn you-"

"The hill is a steep one," said Aris. Paying no attention to the tiny dagger, he placed Malik on the ground and scooped up the little man's horse. "I will carry this for you."

Aris tucked the mare under his arm and started up the chute, not seeming to notice the beast's flailing hooves and terrified whinnies. Malik scrambled after them, alternating warning the giant not to harm his Kelda and cooing words of comfort to the horse.

Galaeron and the others followed, and soon they were descending a snowy ridge toward the vast Delimbyr Valley. With Aris breaking trail, travel was fast. It required only a day and a half of solid walking to reach the base of the mountains, and the journey would have taken no more than a day had they not made two "brief* stops so Aris could warn giants coming in the opposite direction about the beholders.

As Galaeron listened to Aris's sorrowful descriptions of the fate of Thousand Faces, he found himself thinking of Evereska. Surely, his own city remained untouched. Even the phaerimm could not breach the magic of the mythal-at least not so quickly. Or could they? According to Melegaunt, the phaerimm of Myth Drannor were drawn to the area because of the mythal, and they were great magic-users in their own right. What if they knew how to unweave its defenses? Once they entered the city, even the Spellguard would be unable to turn them back. Galaeron would become like Aris, a lone survivor with nothing to live for except vengeance. In a stone giant, such an existence was sad beyond words. In an elf, especially one struggling with his own shadow it would become an unspeakable evil.

Galaeron longed to move faster, to insist that Melegaunt use his magic to speed them along-even to journey into the Shadow Fringe again-but he knew better than to suggest such a thing. After the battle at Thousand Faces, the phaerimm would be scouring the area for any hint of spell use, and even Melegaunt's strange magic would leave subtle incongruities in the world that would attract the attention of a careful searcher. Better to avoid magic altogether and let the blizzard conceal them.

The trip through the valley proved more trying. They were about halfway across when the blizzard blew itself out, catching them in the open a mile short of the river. Without a steady wind to fill their tracks, a party of bugbears soon spotted their trail and began to pursue. Instead of using magic to eliminate the threat, the companions rushed to the river and crossed the ice. When the bugbears followed, Aris hurled a few boulders into their midst, shattering the ice and plunging the entire band into the cold waters.

The companions were not so lucky the next afternoon, when two gray circles appeared just above the horizon. At first, the companions pretended not to notice their pursuers, hoping the pair would be foolish enough to catch up and attack. When the eye tyrants refused to take the bait, Melegaunt turned to cast a spell. The beholders vanished from sight. Perhaps a half-hour later, Galaeron glimpsed one creature still trailing them. The other was nowhere to be seen. "He's gone for help," Vala surmised. Galaeron nodded. "With luck, it will only be beholders."

"Only beholders?" Malik gasped. "You are as mad as a cuckold in his harem!"

"Beholders would be better than phaerimm," said Melegaunt. "Unless you intend to make our fight your own, now would be a good time to part ways."

"So you can send your foes after me?" Malik's dark eyes shined with indignation. "I am hardly the fool I look, old man." Melegaunt shrugged. "You were warned."

The wizard pulled a scrap of shadow silk from his cloak and traced a shadowy maze on the snow When he finished, he and Galaeron cast flying spells on everyone in the group- including Malik's astonished horse-and the companions streaked off toward the High Forest. The beholder avoided Melegaunt's shadow maze by circling wide, then became an ominous presence that appeared on the horizon now and again to remind them of their approaching danger.

Finally, they reached the High Forest and slipped into the woods. The beholder stopped behind a hill and hovered there with one eyestalk peering over the summit. Several of the other stalks flitted in and out of view, looking in all directions in search of help.

"Now we have them," said Melegaunt. He pulled a piece of shadow silk from his cloak and tore off a strand, then strung it between two trees. "We're almost to Karse." "Karse?" gasped Malik. "Why are we going there?"

"We are not." Melegaunt handed Galaeron a second piece of shadow silk and motioned for him to begin stringing strands. "Once we have finished here, it will be safe to part ways. I'm sure you're as eager to be about your business as we are ours."

"I have no business." Malik paused as though that was all he meant to say, then slowly cocked his head to one side and added, "Except you."

"Us?" Melegaunt continued to string shadow strands between trees. "And what would your business be with us?" Malik paled and said, "Nothing… except-"

The rest of the explanation was lost to a tremendous crashing from the forest behind them. Galaeron spun around to see an enormous oak stomping up, its branches waving madly and a huge trunk cavity twisted in an angry snarl.

"No!" the tree boomed. It swept a branch down past Galaeron's head at the strands he had been stringing between tree trunks. The limb passed through the shadowy fibers without effect. A fierce shudder ran through the oak's crown of golden leaves, and it shook a bough in Galaeron's face. "Not in my wood!"

"We mean no harm to the f-forest," Galaeron stammered. Now that he had recovered from his surprise, he recognized the oak as the oldest treant he had ever seen, with a long beard of green moss and a trunk easily a dozen feet around-Realizing the creature would view Aris's wooden club with a dim eye, Galaeron motioned the giant to keep watch at the edge of the forest, then turned back to the treant. "We must take measures to protect ourselves. We're being pursued by beholders."

"By one beholder. Eyes 1 have." To prove it, the treant blinked a pair of knotholes more than fifteen feet up his trunk. "And your welfare is no concern of mine. There is a wrongness to your magic, and in my wood I will not have it."

"It is, indeed, magic of a different sort," said Melegaunt, "but that does not make it wrong."

"That makes it wrong for the High Forest." The treant tried again to drag down the shadow web, then turned to Galaeron when he failed. 'Take this down."

Galaeron began to gather the shadow silk into a ball, drawing a disapproving scowl from Melegaunt. "What are you doing?"

"This is Turlang's home," said Galaeron, guessing at the treant's identity. Only Turlang, the renowned ruler of the High Forest, could be so huge and old. "We must respect his wishes."

Melegaunt rolled his eyes. "You do know that means they'll catch us?" He glanced at Turlang, then added, "And there would be a battle."

"Fuorn's whispers spoke of your gift to the Forest Forgotten, Duskbeard, so one threat I will forgive." The treant creaked down to peer into Melegaunt's eyes. "His whispers also spoke of the trouble that hunts you, and I will have no magicgrubs in my forest."

"Then you would do well to help us." Melegaunt waved his hand at Galaeron and the others. "We have all sworn to return the phaerimm to their prison, and the help we need lies inside your forest, in the temple of Karse."

Turlang drew himself to his full height. "What help can you need from Wulgreth? That you count a lich your friend only proves the evil I taste in your air."

A chill ran down Galaeron's spine. "Lich?" he echoed, finally understanding the reason Melegaunt had been so secretive about the help they were seeking. "What other lies have you been telling us?"

Melegaunt wagged a finger at Galaeron. "Be careful of that shadow, my friend." Looking back to Turlang, the wizard said, "Wulgreth is no friend of mine, but every treasure has its guardian, and I do mean to deal with him-though not in the way you believe."

Turlang fell silent and motionless, presumably weighing Melegaunt's words against the evil "taste" of their party. As suspicious as Galaeron was of Melegaunt, he feared the malevolence the treant sensed lay in his own dark spirit. Try as he might, the elf could not help attributing the most selfish motives to every action. Melegaunt hoped to strike a bargain with an evil lich. Malik wanted to steal the secret of shadow magic. Turlang refused to help them because he feared the wrath of the phaerimm. Galaeron was losing the fight against his shadow

He stepped forward and placed himself squarely in front of the treant. "The Turlang my mother speaks of would never turn away a tree-friend."

"Nor would the one standing before you," said the treant. "Were he certain they were tree-friends."

"Then you will not turn us away." When Galaeron waved a hand at his companions, he found only Melegaunt, Vala, and, still standing watch at the edge of the forest, Aris. Malik and his horse were nowhere to be seen, apparently having decided to accept Melegaunt's advice and depart. "On my life, I promise no one here will harm the High Forest, nor allow any harm to come to it through anything he does or does not do."

Turlang regarded him for a long time, then said, "Your life means nothing to me. I know you for an Evereskan by your dress and speech, but there is a darkness in you I do not trust."

"There are more eye-devils coming," Aris called from the edge of the forest. "How many?" Vala called back, ever the battle chief.

'Too far to say," said the giant. "They are only specks, but there's also something that resembles a dust devil."

Galaeron and Vala exchanged nervous glances, and Melegaunt ran out of patience.

"We're out of time, tree," the wizard growled. "There is more at risk than your forest, and we will pass through-

"What we will do is abide by Turlang's will," Galaeron interrupted. Even were Melegaunt powerful enough to defeat Turlang and his many allies-and Galaeron suspected the battle would be closer than the wizard knew-for an elf to defy a treant in his own forest would be an act of wickedness as terrible as treason. Galaeron turned back to the treant. "If the great Turlang places no value in my promise, I am certain he will value my mother's."

"You would offer your mother's life in place of your own?" Turlang's voice was condemning. "Who is this lucky elf?"

Galaeron had to bite back a wave of anger. "Morgwais Nightmeadow." The burls above Turlang's eyes rose. "Morgwais?"

Galaeron nodded. "Known to the people of the High Forest as Morgwais the Red."

Vala and Melegaunt looked to each other with expressions of surprise. The treant considered Galaeron's claim for a long time, during which Aris kept up a running account of what he saw. "They're tiny circles… six of them, and something like a funnel with a tail. The one behind the hill is flying back to join them…"

Finally, Turlang spoke. "If you are lying about this, your lives are forfeit." He glanced to Vala and Melegaunt, then added, "All of them." "Agreed," said Galaeron.

Vala and Melegaunt were quick to nod their own agreement, and Arts said, "My life is Galaeron's to pledge."

"Then we have a bargain." Turlang lowered two branches. "I will need your weapons… and your pledge not to use your dark magic until you enter the Dire Wood."

Galaeron removed his scabbard and laid it into a tangle of gnarled sticks. "As you wish."

Vala removed her belt and wrapped it around the hilt of the weapon to prevent the black blade from slipping free, then laid it next to Galaeron's sword. Melegaunt pulled his sheathed dagger from its place, but hesitated before laying it alongside the other weapons.

"The dagger 111 yield happily," said the wizard, "but the magic I may need to confuse our foes." "They will be confused," said Turlang. "I will see to that."

'These are no ordinary beings," Melegaunt warned. "The phaerimm will not be fooled by normal magic, and the beholders can dispel it with a glance."

"It will not be magic that misleads them." Turlang's tone was uncharacteristically peevish for a treant. "Will you promise or not?" Melegaunt gave Galaeron a hesitant look.

"Decide now," said Galaeron. "It will mean my mother's life if you lie."

At the edge of the forest, Aris called out, "They're spreading out, and turning invisible-the cowards!" Melegaunt continued to look at Galaeron. "You're sure?" "It's the only way," Galaeron answered. Melegaunt shrugged. "Very well, I promise." Turlang studied the wizard for nearly a minute before shifting his gaze to Aris. "Are you ready, giant?"

For a moment, Aris continued to stare across the valley his lip curled into a hateful snarl. When he finally nodded and stepped into the forest, his gray eyes were as cold as ice. "Let's go."

Turlang stretched a branch toward the giant's wooden club. "Your weapon."

Aris passed the club over. The treant held it at limb's length and inspected it for a moment, then he seemed to realize that it had been fashioned from an entire tree trunk. His face twisted into a strange expression of sadness and revulsion, and he dropped the weapon into the snow. The wood grew instantly brown and soft and crumbled into humus. "Now we may go."

Turlang started into the dark forest, his enormous bulk gliding through trees as gracefully as any elf. Galaeron motioned the others after him, then took a place beside Vala at the end of the line.

She leaned close to him. "Did you see what became of Malik?"

"Not a hoof print," Galaeron replied. He glanced back and was not surprised to see a dozen trees arranging themselves into a boscage, while a like number of druids slipped quietly to and fro, eradicating all trace of the group's passing and laying a false trail in the opposite direction. "But I do hope he didn't go south."