The Summoning

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

30 Nightal, the Year of the Unstrung Harp

To Galaeron's eye, Malik looked a touch ill at the prospect of letting Melegaunt cast any spell on him, much less a spell involving a darkdagger and rope. His gaze kept darting from the bridge into the black wood beside them, where the others were breaking camp after a dry night's rest around a magic-heated boulder.

"Have no fear, my friend," said Galaeron, knotting his elven rope around Malik's wrists. "You may trust Melegaunt."

Malik looked over his shoulder. "You may, but 1 heard what he said to Jhingleshod before crossing the bridge."

Galaeron wanted to ask for an explanation, but saw Melegaunt approaching with his darkdagger and knew there was no time. He leaned closer to Malik's ear. "Then you may trust me, human. I do not allow those who save my life to be murdered-even if they are Cyric worshipers."

"That is little enough reassurance," said Malik, "considering who is the student and who is the master."

Melegaunt stopped before them and glowered down at the little man. "I could not find you in the dawn shadows." He paused, allowing Malik to consider the implications. "If you don't wish to continue-"

"Oh no, you are not leaving me!" Malik glanced at the darkdagger, then raised his chin. "Do what you must."

Melegaunt cast an inquiring look in Galaeron's direction, and receiving a curt nod, kneeled at Malik's feet. Beginning a long incantation, he laid a small pair of braided shadow-silk manacles in the little man's shadow. The shadow instantly grew broad of chest and slender of waist, with a strange pair of what looked like antlers on its head and a blurry area of white in the center of its chest. Malik's teeth ground together loudly, but he did not try to flee as the shadowmage had warned he might.

Melegaunt cocked a bushy brow. Still chanting his spell, he drew his dagger along the edge of Malik's feet. The shadow came free, peeling itself off the stones to stand looming over them all, brown sky showing through the hazy-edged hole in its chest.

Malik gasped and would have collapsed, had Galaeron not been there to slip his hands under the little man's arms.

A pair of crimson eyes appeared in the shadow's head and peered at Melegaunt. "I am bound to your will." Its voice was as resonant as Malik's was nasal. "Though you do me a grave disservice. 1 know your purpose and would aid it gladly."

"All the same, we will keep matters as they are." Melegaunt pointed across the bridge. "I wish you to keep watch. You know our enemies?" "The phaerimm-or Elminster?" the shadow asked.

"Both, and their servants as well," replied Melegaunt. "When you see any of them, return to Malik and give us warning." The shadow inclined its head. "As you command."

Melegaunt studied the silhouette for a moment, then turned back toward camp. Galaeron started after him, pulling an awestricken Malik along beside him. The little man glanced at his feet and back to the shadow, then turned to Galaeron. "That demon cannot be anything of mine!"

"Exactly." Doubtful he could explain the shadowself as well as Melegaunt, Galaeron did not even try. "You don't seem very disturbed. The first time I saw my shadow, I was terrified."

"Oh, I have seen things worse than my own shadow," scoffed Malik. "After all, I am much favored of the One."

They joined the others in camp, where Vala and Takari stood over a half-sized relief Aris had sculpted into an expanse of bedrock. Depicting Malik's rescue of Galaeron and Vala, the work was amazingly fluid and detailed. Malik's character looked more confused than resolute, and perhaps a little angry at himself for being foolish enough to jump into the river. Vala was unconscious in the crook of Galaeron's arm, more dead than alive. Galaeron was holding the rope and glancing down at Vala, his expression leaving no doubt that the terrible fear in his eyes was for her alone.

Takari and Vala were huddled together on the opposite side of the work, talking quietly and studying the relief so intently they did not see the others approach.

"… don't want either of you hurt," Takari was saying. "You've seen yourself why it can never be."

"I have?" Despite her curtness, Vala's voice was surprisingly mild. "When was that?"

"You met his father," Takari explained. "You saw what became of Aubric when Morgwais returned to the forest." "We're getting ahead of matters here, but I'm no Wood elf," Vala said. "Were 1 to make a life pledge, I would honor it as my mother and father honored theirs." "And how long would that be?"

Vala raised her chin. "My parents have been sharing the fur for forty years and three."

"A blessing for them both, but forty years and three is not the same to an elf." Takari laid a hand on Vala's arm. "Forty years from now, Galaeron will still be young, with four centuries before him."

When Vala did not answer, Galaeron said, "There's no need to poison her against me, Takari." He waited for the pair to turn, then gestured at Aris's relief. "It's only art- and what business is it of yours? I'm your princep, not your nestmate."

The flash that came to Takari's eyes was more sorrowful than angry. "And no fun as either." She turned and slipped through the black tree trunks. "Sorry to forget my place."

Vala shot a scowl at Galaeron. "I only kissed you," she growled, starting after Takari. "I have done more with half the men in my clan!"

This drew a crooked smile from Melegaunt, but he made no comment and turned to Jhingleshod, who stood studying the work with the enigmatic gaze of the dead. "It appears we are ready to go," Melegaunt said.

"You are ready," said the knight "But there is still the matter of my payment."

Galaeron cast an anxious glance after the departing women. "If the bridge is any example, you are not worth much of a price," the elf said.

"You learned what you needed to learn," replied Jhingleshod. "If you recall what happened there, you may survive to claim what you seek."

"I have no fondness for these games of yours," said Galaeron. "If you would have something from us, then you must tell us what we need-" Melegaunt stepped in front of Galaeron. "We have already agreed to your price, Sir Knight. If you wish to tell us what it is, we are listening."

"1 ask little," said Jhingleshod. "Only your word that you will do what already you must." "Yes?" asked Melegaunt. "Destroy Wulgreth, my master, as I once attempted."

"As you once attempted?" Galaeron asked, more wary than before. "If you betrayed your master, how are we to know you won't betray us?"

"I have no care for what you know or do not know, elf," said Jhingleshod. "But I tell you this: I bear no small part of the blame for the evil here, and I am damned to wander the Dire Wood until what I should have done then is done at last"

"How is Wulgreth's crime your doing?" asked Melegaunt. "I sense no great evil in you."

"But I relished the bounty of his shadow," said Jhingleshod, "and so I stood by. After Wulgreth summoned the demons to Ascalhorn, for six decades I watched their evil and did not raise my voice against them. When the demons turned on him at last, 1 followed Wulgreth into the wilderness and sat in his shadow feasting on stolen bread and drinking the wine of murdered wayfarers. And after he came here to Karse, I was waiting outside the black crypt when he returned with its dark power." Jhingleshod let his chin fall.

"And yet, you found the strength to slay him," prompted Melegaunt.

"It was despair, nothing more," said Jhingleshod. "The power was twisted and evil, and it corrupted all it touched. First, the forest died and turned to black stone, then the ruins became a city of the dead. When I begged Wulgreth to send the monsters away and build a city for the living, he struck me blows, saving he would never be avenged on the demons with a living army. Seeing that my dream was not to be, 1 felt betrayed and vowed he would never again bring ruin to any city. I killed him in his sleep that night." "Which proved unwise," surmised Melegaunt.

Jhingleshod nodded. "He caught me as 1 fled the city, a cackling dead thing of heinous power. He chased me through the forest, using his magic to flay me an inch at time, until I ran myself to death. I awoke as I am now, condemned to wander the Dire Wood until the vow 1 made is kept." He turned to Galaeron. "And that is why I won't betray you."

"And if we fail you as Wulgreth did?" asked Galaeron. "Will you turn against us, too?"

Before Jhingleshod could answer, Melegaunt said, "What you say can't be right Wulgreth was a Netherese arcanist, killed much earlier when a magical experiment went awry and Karsus had to push an orb of heavy magic off his enclave."

"Heavy magic?" Galaeron asked. He knew "enclaves" to be the legendary floating cities of ancient Netheril, and Karsus was the deranged archwizard who had caused the empire's fall by trying to steal Mystryl's godhead, but Galaeron had never heard of "heavy magic."

"A powerful sort of magic discovered by Karsus-and nothing 1 want you playing with until you bring that shadow under control." Melegaunt fixed Galaeron with a disapproving eye. "It's appallingly dangerous, a force-made-tangible that Netherese archwizards once used to heighten their other magic."

"Once used?" asked Malik. "Then you do not have any of this 'heavy magic'?"

Melegaunt glowered at the little man. "No. It vanished with the Netherese." He turned back to Jhingleshod. "But it was Karsus's heavy magic that turned Wulgreth into a lich, not your attack."

"Netheril fell a thousand years before 1 lived," said Jhingleshod. "And Wulgreth was much alive when 1 served him. One does not turn from a lich into a man and back to a lich again."

"There is no record of such a thing in the Tomb Guard chronicles," said Galaeron. Recalling Malik's cryptic comment about what Melegaunt had told Jhingleshod before crossing the bridge, he studied the wizard with narrowed eyes. "The Tomb Guard would have a record." Melegaunt's eyes grew stormy "You accuse me of lying?" "I ask for an explanation." "You-or your shadow?" Melegaunt countered.

"I have my shadow in hand," said Galaeron. "It has not troubled me since the sunken bridge."

"Why should it?" Melegaunt turned back to Jhingleshod. "1 am not mistaken about my dates. Wulgreth never forgave Karsus for the accident, and there are records of him plaguing Netherese enclaves for decades afterward. It's the reason Wulgreth haunts the Dire Wood at all."

"Wulgreth haunts this wood because I killed him here," Jhingleshod insisted. "The Dire Wood did not exist before that."

"But Karse did," countered Melegaunt "The city was founded over sixteen centuries ago, a little after Karsus brought Netheril down. A refugee group was drawn to his corpse by dream visions and began to worship his dead body-and that really angered Wulgreth. He destroyed the entire city and moved into the ruins so it would never be rebuilt."

Jhingleshod fixed his dead eyes on the sorcerer. "I know nothing about heavy magic and worshiping dead bodies. I killed Wulgreth, and he became a lich."

"If I may, the answer is plain enough," said Malik. "In a thousand years, there were certainly many wizards named Wulgreth. Does it seem so unlikely that two ended up here?"

Melegaunt raised his brow, then nodded thoughtfully, but Jhingleshod did not seem to hear the suggestion. In fact, Galaeron realized, though Jhingleshod's gaze was fixed on the same point as Melegaunt's-Malik's face-the knight's eyes were focused on the ground behind the little man, and the slight tilt of his helmet suggested he might be wondering what the wizard was looking at. "I think we can trust Jhingleshod's account of events." Galaeron chose his words carefully. "But we'd better be off before Takari and Vala get too far ahead of us."

Jhingleshod's dead gaze shifted to Galaeron. "Then you give your word?"

Galaeron nodded. "I will destroy Wulgreth, if we can find him." "He will find you," said Jhingleshod.

The ghoulish knight walked across Aris's sculpture, leaving the river stained with rusty footprints, into the trees. The forest here was dark, tangled, and dead-much the same as the bog, save that it stood on dry ground and did not drain their strength. The group soon caught up to Takari and Vala, and Jhingleshod took the lead, clinking and squeaking his way deeper into the tangled wood.

Huge webs of yellow-green filaments began to appear in the branches. Galaeron kept watch for ball-shaped silhouettes and sticklike legs. Instead of spiders, he started to see slender leaves and moldy pods clinging to the tendrils. As they climbed away from the river, the vines grew longer and the vegetation thicker, until it became difficult to see more than a few paces. It was impossible to walk without brushing against the vines, and soon after their hands and faces erupted into white boils. Aris used his prayer magic to powder a stone and create an ointment that reduced the sores to an itchy rash, though Malik refused the salve out of fear of offending his god. To the amazement of all, he continued at as strong a pace as anyone, even when the blisters began weeping and he had to cut his eyelids to keep them from swelling shut.

The vines began to grow in broken squares and straight meshwork, taking the shape of the ruins beneath. Jhingleshod walked more quietly and carefully now, prompting Galaeron to send Takari ahead to scout and take a position beside Vala. Malik and Melegaunt remained in the center, with Aris in the rear. As they advanced deeper into the city, the patterns grew more regular and even, arranging themselves into crooked streets and sunlit meadows that had once been plazas.

Vala kept her hand on her sword, her eyes following Takari's stealthy figure with remarkable ease for a human. After a time, she said to Galaeron, "You shouldn't have said that to Takari. She's only trying to protect you-and me." "That's not what it sounded like to me."

"Maybe not," said Vala. "But then, you didn't hear what she told Jhingleshod about why she wanted to cross the bridge."

"Whatever she said, it is not her place to protect me from our relationship." Galaeron glanced over at Vala. "Not that there is a relationship."

"No?" Vala glanced at him sidelong, her mouth cocked in a crooked smile. "Then why should you care what she says about it?"

"I prefer to make those choices myself," said Galaeron. "As I'm sure you do."

"We have a saying in Vaasa," she said. "In love and death, only the gods choose." "It sounds a handy excuse," said Galaeron.

Vala gave him a roguish smile. "One that makes life interesting." She watched Takari poking her sword into a tangled mass of vine, then asked Galaeron, "When you told Jhingleshod you were seeking pardon for your mistake, was that the truth?"

"More than I knew," Galaeron said. "It had to be, or I doubt Jhingleshod would have let me pass."

"I thought so." Vala remained quiet for a moment, then said, "I had to think carefully, but Takari didn't hesitate." "I take it the answer concerned me?"

Vala nodded. 'Takari said she had to cross because you're her spirit-deep mate… and you refused to see it"

"She…" Galaeron closed his eyes. "She knows I don't return her affections."

"Because of your father's pain," Vala said carefully "Or so she says." "That's part of it," said Galaeron. "Moon and Wood elves live different lives. When they join, sooner or later there will always be sadness."

"Of course." Vala sounded almost irritated with him. "Sooner or later, every joy comes to an end-but that is a poor reason to turn your back on the gifts the gods do send your way."

"I'm just being prudent," said Galaeron. "I'm not turning my back on any gift from the gods."

"Oh, I think you are." Vala's voice turned teasing. "And you will be sorry. There is no fury worse than Sune's when she has been rejected!"

"Fortunately, I am an elf," laughed Galaeron. "I doubt our Hanali Celanil is so vengeful as your Sune,"

"Maybe, but Takari isn't the only woman I've been talking about, you know."

An owl hoot rang out ahead, bringing their conversation to an abrupt end. Galaeron drew his sword and saw a vine web fluttering as Takari vanished into the trees. Jhingleshod was continuing up the street, paying no heed to whatever had alarmed Takari. Galaeron suspected their guide of betraying them-until a half-rotten corpse dashed out of a side lane and hurled itself headlong into the iron knight's flank.

Jhingleshod rocked up as though he might fall, then brought his axe down and split the ghoul through the side. He turned to Galaeron and pointed down the lane.

"Beware those dead, elf." There was a hint of mockery in the knight's bleak voice. "They have a hatred of the living."

Vala at his side, Galaeron started forward to block the attack, but heard a warning chirp from Takari's tree and turned in the opposite direction. He found himself staring at an alley full of monks, their eyes sunken and their robes in tatters, but looking as alive as Galaeron. Behind him, Vala's sword hissed through the air on the opposite side of the street. There was a wet slash, the thud of a falling body, another slash, another thud. Galaeron pointed his sword at the first monk, now less than a dozen paces away "Stand and name yourselves!"

The entire company of monks stretched their arms out, turning their hands palm up as though begging alms. When they continued forward without speaking, Galaeron whistled the clear tee-yeer of a meadowlark. He was answered by the hum of a bowstring, and a warning arrow appeared in the dirt in front of the leading monk.

The monks stopped, their gazes following the angle of the arrow into the nest of vines from which it had come, but Galaeron knew without looking that Takari was already gone. He quietly pulled a ball of sulfur wax from his pocket. "Name yourselves or go."

The first monk responded to the challenge with an incomprehensible moan. Behind Galaeron, Vala's sword continued its gruesome work, and now he heard Aris's mighty club and Melegaunt's bellowing voice as well. Malik remained as silent as usual during battle, but the elf had no doubt the little man would appear when needed most.

The lead monk cautiously stepped around the arrow and continued forward, his cupped hands still stretched before him. Finally convinced he was looking at undead impostors, Galaeron tossed his sulfur ball into the group and spoke his incantation. The cold magic filled him for an instant, and the alley erupted into black fire. Galaeron backed away from a long tongue of dark flame, then beheaded a pair of blazing monks as they staggered from the alley.

A powerful hand clamped Galaeron's shoulder. Surprised, he jammed his elbow back and drove his attacker off a step, then spun with sword flying. By the time he realized it was Melegaunt, his edge was an inch from the wizard's head. Galaeron tried to pull the attack, but to no avail. The blade caught Melegaunt square in the temple.

There was a black flash and dull ping as the edge stopped. Pain sizzled up Galaeron's arm, then his hand opened and let the sword fall to the ground. Melegaunt touched three fingertips to his head and came away with a thin smear of blood. "Is this how you repay my gift? By defying me at every turn?"

"1 can hardly be blamed for your stupidity" Still trembling, Galaeron stooped down to retrieve his sword. "Grabbing a warrior in the middle of a fight-what's wrong with you?"

Melegaunt stepped on Galaeron's sword. "That's not what I'm talking about." "I used the magic, yes. It was necessary."

Behind Melegaunt, a ghoul slipped past Vala. One of Takari's arrows took it square in the forehead and knocked it off its feet, but the creature merely rolled to its knees and snapped off the shaft.

Galaeron tried to jerk his sword free, but found the wizard's foot impossible to move. "The magic hasn't hurt me. I'm more in control than before."

"Yes, I have seen how well you are mastering your shadow" Melegaunt touched his head again, then flung a hand in the ghoul's direction and blasted it into a dozen pieces. "Leave the magic to me."

The wizard started up the street after Jhingleshod, calmly directing Vala and Aris against individual ghouls and wights while he blasted larger concentrations with shadow magic. Galaeron gathered his sword and followed behind, quietly venting his anger on any creatures foolish enough to come his way The undead continued to assault them in erratic fits, occasionally stopping a short distance away to attack with a spell, screech, or gaze. Sneaking along through the treetops, Takari prevented such attacks from succeeding, usually by distracting the creature with an arrow until Melegaunt could blast it. Twice, Malik saved the company by appearing out of nowhere to harry a lurking wight or ghoul until someone more adept could destroy it.

Eventually, the attacks grew less frequent, then, when an enormous butte of red stone began to loom over the treetops, ceased altogether. Jhingleshod guided them to a barren plaza near the head of the butte. There was no sign of the black pyramid he had described Wulgreth entering. "1 believe that is what you seek." "It is," said Melegaunt "The fallen body of Karsus."

The butte did resemble a body-albeit a broken and twisted one. The small knoll closest to them looked like a head resting on its side, with a round oversized forehead, hooked nose, and thin-lipped mouth over a weak chin. There was a bent and crooked arm coiled at an unnatural angle, a sunken chest and the round swell of a pot belly-at nearly a hundred feet above the surrounding ground, easily the butte's highest point. From the side of the chest at about heart level, gushed the source of the Heartblood River, a frothy red spring that flowed away in a meandering stream.

"1 see why the refugees took it for a dead god," said Vala. "It certainly looks like a god's body"

"It is a god's body-though Karsus was a god for only an instant," said Melegaunt.

"And this dead god will save Evereska how?" asked Galaeron, seeing no sign of the help Melegaunt had promised. "You can't mean to resurrect him."

"In a manner of speaking, yes," said Melegaunt. "But first we must find the black pyramid."

"First, you must find Wulgreth," said Jhingleshod. "You cannot enter the pyramid until you keep your promise."

"As you wish." Despite Melegaunt's words, his tone was impatient. 'Tell us where to look."

Jhingleshod ran his gaze over the plaza. "He should have made his presence known by now"

Melegaunt turned to Galaeron. "You're the tomb guard. What's Wulgreth planning?"

"Maybe nothing." Galaeron turned to Jhingleshod and asked, "How long has it been since you last saw him?"

Jhingleshod looked at the sky. "Time is difficult to judge, but several winters. It might have been eight or nine-or a dozen. It is hard to know." "But it has been some time?" asked Takari.

Jhingleshod nodded. "Since before Tianna Skyflower and her ilk began to roam the Dire Wood."

"That makes it nearly a decade," said Takari. She looked to Galaeron. "What do you think?"

Galaeron shrugged, knowing without asking what she was thinking. Often, liches evolved into beings of pure spirit, forsaking their bodies to wander other worlds beyond Toril. When that happened, their corpses began to decay, until all that remained was a skull and some dust to which the lich had only the most tenuous attachment. It was often easier to destroy such creatures than younger liches, but Galaeron knew better than to think they would be that lucky-especially if Wulgreth had only been gone a decade.

Galaeron shook his head. "We'll keep it in mind, but there's too much that doesn't make sense here. The Netherese Wulgreth is certainly old enough, but not the one Jhingleshod served-and there's that time gap to consider." "So what do we do?" asked Malik. "The only thing we can do," said Galaeron. "Draw it out."