The Summoning

CHAPTER TWO

20 Nightal, the Year of the Unstrung Harp

In the month of Nightal, the sand winds turned wild and bitter, sweeping in from Anauroch full of stinging grit and stabbing cold. At night, no elf in uncloaked armor could long abide their frigid blasts, yet Galaeron's scalded flesh raged at the extra weight of his thkaerth wool cloak. His hands, still dead and white from touching the black sword, had moved beyond pain to agony, and even that did not seem punishment enough. Takari sat slumped on a big human horse, so weak and delirious that Ehamond had to sit with her. Ehamond himself was webbed with claw slashes and puncture wounds. Nimieye and Dynod remained uninjured, having stayed outside the cairn to guard the prisoners, but they would have to scout ahead, and one or both might yet fall to some dragon or griffon drawn by the smell of so much blood. The rest were gone. Of the seventeen elves who had entrusted their lives to Galaeron's command, he had lost thirteen. For such a failure, he deserved more punishment than a simple scalding-far more.

Galaeron fumbled the last binding over Vala's foot and jerked the loop tight then wrapped the end around her boot and stirrup. When he pronounced a mystic word, the line snaked up her ankle, fastening her into the saddle. He did not realize how hard he had tugged until the magic line, taking a cue from his angry yank, cinched itself down so tightly that boot leather bubbled between its coils.

"The line will tighten if you pull." Galaeron normally preferred to let captives discover this for themselves, but he feared the line would crush Vala's ankle if it grew any tighter. "It can be removed only by the one who put it on."

"Is that so?" Though the binding had to hurt, Vala's pale eyes betrayed no hint of pain, only cold ire. "Then 1 suppose I mustn't try to escape."

The edge in her voice suggested she had no intention of escaping, not until she repaid Galaeron for the deaths of her men. Though it was a vengeance she would never have, she could at least take consolation in the price he would pay to his own masters. Not since the days of Kiinyon Colbathin had a patrol of tomb guards taken such losses-and never along the Desert Border South, the quietest of any area the tomb guard patrolled.

Galaeron started to walk away, then thought better of it Without turning around, he said, "We are sorry for the deaths of your men. Know that we would have saved them, had it been in our power."

"But it wasn't, elf." Vala's voice remained unforgiving. "As 1 said then, you have no idea what you're dealing with."

Galaeron bit back the urge to make a sharp retort. "Then why don't you tell me?" Vala looked away. "It is not my place."

"Very well," Galaeron said. "Then what about yourself? Where is the Granite Tower?"

Vala's eyes flashed, whether in alarm or anger was impossible to say. That is not for you to know, elf. We are hardly friends." "No, 1 suppose we aren't."

Galaeron turned and walked away. It hardly mattered where the woman and her three sentries were from. In all likelihood, they would soon be joining their fallen companions. The Hill Elders rarely made hasty decisions, but when a tomb guard brought captives before the council, there was seldom much to decide. The sentence for crypt breaking was as certain as it was harsh.

Galaeron heard Melegaunt Tanthul before he saw him. The human's deep voice came from the shadowy side of the moonlit cairn, growling out the arcane syllables of a bizarre spell. The incantation was unlike anything Galaeron had ever heard, even among the corpse-stealing draw who occasionally worked their evil in the isolated crypts of the Desert Border. The words were booming and raspy, loaded with power and danger, hut also intricate and enigmatic, full of cleverness and deception. Though it was the third enchantment of caging the wizard had cast since leaving the battle site, Galaeron, who usually had an instinctual feel for all things magic, had yet to grasp this wizard's art.

When he rounded the corner, Galaeron found Melegaunt working the shadows into an impassable maze of moonlight and darkness, swirling them into dead-end spirals, folding them into meandering corridors that rounded a hundred corners and came back to their own beginning. The wizard himself was nearly impossible to find, his black robes and swarthy complexion blending into the night the same way Wood elves melted into the forest.

Though Galaeron did not think he had made any noise as he approached, Melegaunt glanced in his direction and nodded. He finished his maze by feeding its only exit into a hole of fuming darkness, then simply melted into the shadows beneath his feet.

Galaeron stood outside the maze feeling perplexed and foolish. Before his indifference to the ritual tedium of the Academy of Magic had landed him across the glen at the Academy of Arms, he had spent more than two decades studying the basics of every known spellcasting system, and he could not even guess how Melegaunt had vanished. There had been no gestures or words to trigger the spell, nor even a twitch or sharp breath to activate a ring or magic pendant. The wizard had dissolved into the shadows as though by an act of will. "The umbral maze should hold until dawn."

The voice came from the ground beside Galaeron. In spite of himself, he hopped away and looked down. The wizard's body was rising out of the shadow, peeling itself up like a turning page. "And they won't like the daylight at first."

Melegaunt braced on the ground then brought his feet beneath him in a practiced motion. As he stood, his body resumed its shape, filling out like a glove inflated with breath. "We have until tomorrow dusk, no longer."

"We?" Galaeron had to scurry after the wizard, who was already rounding the corner of the cairn. "To do what?"

"To set things right, of course. I'll need at least one company of good wizards and a trio of high mages." The human spun on Galaeron, bushy brows furrowed in concern. "Evereska does have three?"

"I–I couldn't say." Galaeron assumed the city had at least that many, but high mages were not something Evereskans discussed openly and certainly not with humans. "First, we must talk about-"

"We'll talk while we ride." The wizard whirled away and rounded the corner. When he came upon Nimieye and Dynod standing guard over Vala and the other three prisoners, he stopped. "What's this?"

"Your friends are crypt breakers." Though Galaeron had been dreading this moment since coming to realize how powerful the wizard was, his duty was clear. "They must be taken before the Hill Elders, but you were not with them. You are free to do as you please."

"Of course I am." Melegaunt s black beard twitched as though he might laugh. "But this won't do, elf. I was the one who told them to break the crypt Do you intend to tie me, too?"

Galaeron swallowed and reached for a binding rope. "I have sworn-" "What you have sworn makes no difference."

Melegaunt gestured at the ground, and icy ribbons of shadow spiraled up Galaeron's legs, squeezing his bones and numbing his flesh. The wizard glanced down and shook his head in an expression of dismay then turned toward the horses. Galaeron tried to go after him and found his feet rooted in place. He flashed a finger command to Nimieye and Dynod, ordering them not to engage the human in what would certainly be a futile attack.

Melegaunt stopped next to the horse carrying the humans' confiscated weapons. "We have unleashed a terrible foe on your people," he said, drawing a black sword from its scabbard. "You will either work with me to return it to its place, or you will wait here until it kills you."

The wizard stepped over to the first of Vala's captured sentries and touched the sword to his binding. Galaeron was not really surprised to see the shadowy edge slicing through the magic cord. Melegaunt handed the weapon to the man and motioned for him to continue then turned back to Galaeron. "Which shall it be?"

"Death or battle? What choice is there?" asked Galaeron. "But you must promise to do no harm to my people. Otherwise, I choose death."

"No harm I can prevent-and that's the best promise you'll get, given the circumstances." The wizard gestured, and Galaeron's shadow bindings dissolved. "You've chosen wisely, elf. These devils have already laid low an empire, and I would not like to see the same fate befall Evereska."

"You keep calling them devils." Galaeron walked over to undo Vala's bindings, touching each one and whispering a command word. "Is that what they are?"

"Close enough," said the wizard. "Do you know what that silver curtain was down there?" "The Sharn Wall?"

"Is that what you elves call it? An apt name. Then you must know what lies on the other side." Galaeron hazarded a guess. "The sharn?"

"I see your high mages have kept their knowledge to themselves." Melegaunt snorted, half-amused. "Perhaps I should honor their wisdom until 1 know why."

"I hardly think it a secret." Galaeron released Vala's last bond. "Most tomb guards know the legend of the Sharn Wall."

The wizard cocked a brow. "Brazen for an elf, aren't you?" He plucked Vala's bare sword from the pack horse and brought it over. "Very well. The sharn are not the trapped ones-they are the ones who made the wall." Then what were-"

"Phaerimm," said Vala, taking her sword. "You do know what they are?"

"I do now." like the Sharn Wall itself, they were the stuff of Tomb Guard legend, mysterious killers who could wipe out whole patrols. From what Galaeron had seen, the description fit. He looked back to Melegaunt. "You were lost in their tunnels?"

"Not lost." As he answered, the wizard turned his attention to Vala. "You are the master of this company?"

"What's left." She cast an angry glance at Galaeron, then dismounted and dropped to a knee before the wizard. "Vala Thorsdotter, daughter to Bodvar's grandson, at your service."

"We've no time for such silliness," Melegaunt said, motioning her up. "But a great-granddaughter to Bodvar! It does my heart good to see his line so long continued."

Vala laid a hand to her scabbard. "A blessing of your gifts, Mighty One."

"No doubt-and call me Melegaunt. You'll find I answer to it more often." Melegaunt waved her to her saddle, then looked down the line of big human horses and frowned. "I don't see Sable."

Vala's jaw dropped. "Milord, Sable has been dead these eighty years." She pointed to a husky black stallion near the end of the line. "But Raven there is of her line."

A flash of grief filled Melegaunt's dark eyes. "Of course. I should have realized." He motioned a human to bring Raven forward, then turned to Galaeron and pointed westward, where a jagged wall of shadows marked the impassable peaks of the Sharaedim. "I trust you elves have a quick way across those?"

"There is a pass," said Galaeron, "but it is watched and warded. You'll have to wear blindfolds and bindings, or none of us will reach Evereska alive."

"Be careful, Mighty-er, Melegaunt," Vala said. "Once he has us bound and blindfolded, well be at his mercy, and this elf is a sly one." "You have a better way?" Melegaunt asked, "I have heard stories of shadow walking." "I'd need to know the way, and there is no time to find it"

"Nor would it work," said Galaeron. "Evereska is well-warded against such magic."

The look that passed between Vala and Melegaunt was as quick as it was knowing, but Galaeron pretended not to notice. Whatever they believed-and whatever the truth about these phaerimm-the humans would be under his control when they entered the city.

"The only other way is to circle around and enter through the Halfway Inn. That would take a tenday by horse." He looked to Melegaunt and added, "Only three if you can fly us."

"Still too long." The smile that came to Melegaunt's lips might have been knowing or confident. "We will wear the elven bindings."