The Summoning

CHAPTER NINE

24 Nightal, the Year of the Unstrung Harp

It seemed a lifetime since Galaeron had last felt the glaring sun of the Desert Border on his face, or bathed in the moon's milky light, or glimpsed even a star's blue twinkle, and he felt hungry for light- not the flat, toneless white radiance of these endless shadowlands, but real light. Light he could feel, hot and stinging against his skin, light that would make him thirsty and burn the musty smell of sweat from his cloak. Light that would give him some sense of direction, that would mark the passing time by its ebbing and flowing.

They had been marching for what seemed hours, but might have been mere minutes or days unending, winding through a labyrinth of sinuous shapes and sharp-edged silhouettes. Galaeron's mind had long since stopped trying to make sense of the patterns and merely classified them as passing forms. If the lack of light troubled Melegaunt, he showed no sign of it He simply marched along, leading the way ever onward at the same brisk pace.

Vala, now recovered from her brush with the illithid, followed close on the wizard's heels. Though she never complained, Galaeron could tell by the weariness of her stride and the way she craned her neck skyward that she missed the light as much as he did.

They seemed to be approaching some sort of shadow border, a curtain of utter darkness that Galaeron kept glimpsing at the far end of long shadowy channels, or looming up beyond hill shapes. Whenever the curtain came into view, the stretch he saw was longer. Sometimes he saw two stretches at once, one spanning a broad shadowbed, the other rising behind a nearby slope. Each time, the curtain seemed higher and darker and somehow deeper, as though it were not so much a barrier, but a vast expanse of pure, unlit darkness.

Finally, they rounded a corner and saw nothing but black curtain in any direction, its billowing crown silhouetted against the lighter purple of the shadow sky, its dark feet rooted in the swirling black ground mists. Vala's shoulders slumped, and a sigh almost too faint to hear slipped her lips, and Galaeron knew he had to say something to Melegaunt before he and Vala went mad. "Melegaunt, wait."

The wizard spun on his heel, his dark eyes searching the dusky landscape behind his two charges. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, except I'm about to lose my mind," said Galaeron. "Doesn't this bother you?"

"This?" Melegaunt looked around. "After the Phaerlin? You must be joking."

The wizard started toward the shadowy curtain ahead. Vala started after him, but stopped and looked back when she realized Galaeron was not following. "Are you coming, elf?" she asked.

"Not in there." Galaeron gestured at the blackness ahead. "I'm not going any deeper until I've had a few minutes of sunshine." Melegaunt turned. "Deeper?"

"Into the shadow." Again, Galaeron pointed at the dark curtain. "Just a few minutes in the light-please?"

Vala nodded her agreement. "In truth, this gloom wears on the nerves. I could use a little sunshine myself-especially if we're going deeper."

"Deeper?" Melegaunt scowled and looked into the darkness ahead. "Deeper into what?" "Shadow," Galaeron said. "Even I can see that-" "It's a forest," Melegaunt growled.

Galaeron frowned. Now that the wizard mentioned it, the curtain did resemble the gloomy edge of a deep wood, and the billowing crown was shaped like a forest's outer canopy.

"The Forgotten Forest, to be exact," said Melegaunt. "I'd never take you beyond the Fringe." "The Fringe?" asked Galaeron.

"The boundary between the worlds of light and the Shadow-deep." Melegaunt waved his arm at the surrounding terrain. "Neither of you would last a hundred steps beyond the Fringe."

Vala scowled and started to object, but Galaeron cut her off by asking, "Worlds of light?"

"There are many worlds, young elf. The Shadowdeep connects them all. It's the one mirror that shapes their many lights." Melegaunt started forward again. "And now, if you'd please start walking again, you will see your precious light again in Dekanter. I'd like to be there before the Shifting."

Galaeron raised a questioning brow to Vala, who shrugged and started after the wizard, grumbling, "Better not to be left behind."

Feeling no less distressed for the explanation, Galaeron started after his companions. Once they had formed a neat line again, Melegaunt turned his head a little so it would be easier for Galaeron and Vala to hear him.

"You have noticed how the shadows change as the sun crosses the sky?" Melegaunt asked. "And how they dance in the light of a candle?" "Of course," said Galaeron. "What happens when the sun sets?" "There is darkness." It was Vala who said this.

"There is shadow," corrected Melegaunt "The sun has not vanished, only sunk out of sight. If s light is blocked by the horizon." "A fine distinction," noted Galaeron.

"But an important one," said Melegaunt "On Faerun, there is only shadow. Everything that people call 'dark' or 'night' is nothing more than light blocked by the world itself." "Even in caves?" asked Vala.

"Even caves. If they weren't surrounded by rock, the sun would light them," the wizard explained. "But there are places- other planes-where there is no sun or any light There, no shadow exists, only darkness-true, black, darkness." "And this has what to do with the Shifting?" asked Vala.

"Only this," said Melegaunt "Darkness is by nature motionless and without life, but shadows are all motion and vigor. They dance and swirl and flicker and continually beget strange creatures, and only light ever fixes them in place."

"So when the sun goes down, they lose form and go into motion," surmised Galaeron. "The Shifting."

Melegaunt nodded. "One could almost say they become motion." He craned his neck around to smile at Galaeron. "Well make a shadow shaper of you yet, elf." "I'm sure the Hill Elders will like that," said Vala.

Though she made no complaint, Galaeron could tell by how she dogged Melegaunt's heels that she had realized the same thing he did. If they wanted to feel any sunlight on their faces in Dekanter, they had to hurry.

As they approached the forest, the darkness resolved itself into a fence of charcoal depths, laced by black tangles of undergrowth, striped by the ebony columns of impossibly thin tree trunks. Knowing it to be the forest, or more accurately the absence of one, Galaeron began to feel a little more at ease. Elves, even those who dwelled in cities, were at home in the woods. If he could feel safe any place in the Fringe, it would be there. He moved closer behind Vala and spoke to Melegaunt over her shoulder. "Is Dekanter where well find the help you promised?"

"Sadly, no," said Melegaunt "My, uh, friends are a few days farther north-and west, I believe. But I've always wanted to see Dekanter, and as it happens to be on our way, I thought it would be a good place to rest for the night."

Dekanter was the last place in Faerun-that Galaeron knew of, at least-where the ruins of ancient Netheril could still be visited. Little more than a few towers and dozens upon dozens of holes in the ground, the city was not much to see and even less of a camping spot, but Galaeron suspected the goblins and gargoyles who normally plagued visitors there would quickly see the wisdom in giving any camp of Melegaunt's a wide berth.

"It would ease my mind to know who these friends of yours are, Melegaunt," said Galaeron. "What makes you so certain they can stop the phaerimm when Evereska's high mages could not?"

"Have you heard nothing I've told you?" snapped Melegaunt. "I'm certain because ridding Faerun of this evil is what they have prepared themselves to do. Ifs unfortunate they will have to do it in Evereska instead of Anauroch, but they will succeed nonetheless."

"Unfortunate?" Galaeron had visions of his beloved vale being reduced to a ruin of shadow and smoke. "How?"

Melegaunt's voice grew impatient. "How do you think? The phaerimm have already killed hundreds of Tel'Quess and may well kill thousands more." The wizard reached the forest edge and continued forward, then suddenly began to grow translucent. "But there is no need to fear for Evereska itself. We will not allow…"

The wizard's voice grew softer as his body grew more transparent, then finally faded altogether when he vanished.

Vala pulled up short, and Galaeron stumbled into her from behind, nearly knocking her into the forest after Melegaunt. "Mighty One?" she called. Galaeron shouted, "Melegaunt?"

When no answer came, they drew their swords. Galaeron's first instinct was to look for shadators-as though he could actually see one-and illithids and beholders or any of the other deadly creatures of wickedness he was beginning to associate with Melegaunt and their phaerimm enemies. Vala's reaction was more direct and to the point. She grabbed Galaeron and started forward into the forest.

"Vala! Are you…" Galaeron made it only that far before he realized she was doing exactly the right thing. "All right, I'm coming!"

A cold afternoon wind began to whip his hair about his ears, then he found himself standing ankle deep in cold Nightal snow, staring at the winter skeletons of a thick forest of oak, walnut, and shadowtop. Melegaunt was no more than three paces ahead, surrounded by a semicircle of eight trees, all still holding their leaves. The largest of the trees, a twenty-foot oak, was blocking their path, shaking a gnarled branch at Melegaunt and rumbling at him in a voice as deep as thunder. "Through my wood, Melegaunt Tanthul, you do not go!"

"But it is the shortest path, Great Fuorn," Melegaunt protested, "and the only one I know." "Matters not," said the tree.

Now that he had recovered from his astonishment, Galaeron could make out the twisted bark faces of the eight trees. They had knotholes for eyes, jagged hollows for mouths, crooked limb stubs for noses. Their lips and brows were formed of gathered bark, their cheeks by lumpy burls. Galaeron's mother had once introduced him to a treant in the High Forest, and he recognized these plants as creatures of the same kind.

"Your magic is a thing cold and dark," said Fuorn, "and this wood it shall not enter."

"If my magic feels strange to you, it is because you have never seen its like or power before." Melegaunt pointed east toward Anauroch. "1 employ it in a good cause, against the wicked creatures that turned the old forests into barren sand."

Fuorn looked east. "Yes, I recall the magicgrubs." His crown of scarlet leaves swayed back and forth in a sort of nod. "Little larger than men, but with a bite like dragons. We have seen a pair sniffing around our forest, peering into the shadows beneath our branches."

Melegaunt's shoulders squared. "The very ones. The phaerimm. I have come to undo what they have done."

Again, Fuorn seemed to nod. "Then well I wish you-but not here. I will have no battles in my forest."

"1 thank you for the warning, tree," said Melegaunt. "You have my promise that no harm will come to your forest."

The wizard lowered his arm and cupped his hand beneath his sleeve, and Galaeron knew something terrible was about to happen. He clipped Vala's heel with the arch of his foot and knocked her to the ground with a sweep of his arm, then slipped forward and used the same technique to knock the wizard off his feet.

Melegaunt bellowed and started to raise the suspicious hand, but stopped when Galaeron's foot pinned his arm to his chest.

"No, my human friend," said Galaeron, "not even for Evereska."

Though he still held his sword, Galaeron was careful to hold the blade away from Melegaunt-and not only because he knew it would never pierce the wizard's magic. Vala had already leaped to her feet and was stepping toward him, dark-sword ready to strike.

"Have you lost your mind, elf?" Though there was a hint of grief in her expression, the set of her jaw and the hardness in her eyes left no doubt of her intentions. "You know I'm sworn to defend him."

"A little late for that, my dear," chuckled Melegaunt, "but no harm done."

The wizard motioned her to stand down, then brought his hand out of his sleeve and displayed a large black kernel.

To help the treants protect their wood in the battles to come." Melegaunt handed it to Galaeron, then his voice grew pained. "You couldn't have thought I meant to attack them."

"I didn't know what to think." Noting that the treants were watching them with expressions ranging from bewilderment to suspicion, Galaeron sheathed his sword and examined the seed. It was about the size of an acorn, but as shiny as coal and full of swirling darkness. "I apologize. What is this?"

"Shadowstorm seed." Melegaunt heaved himself up and faced Fuorn. "Hurl it down, and any being not rooted to the ground will be swept into the shadowdeep. There will be wind and lightning, but any battle likely to be waged near your forest would be stopped at once-or at least moved to where it could do no harm." Fuorn considered this, then asked, "And rain?"

"If you throw it into the air," said Melegaunt "But do so only in great desperation. The deluge it brings will quench even the fiercest fire, but the waters will be black and cold- tar colder than any ice storm."

This drew a leafy shudder from the treants, for only burning was considered a more awful death than being split down the trunk by the weight of an ice-crusted crown. Fuorn lowered a twisted bough, and Galaeron laid the seed in the cusp of his woody palm.

"With your gift, I will be very careful." Fuorn tucked the kernel into a fold of bark. "And in return give you the favor of a warning word. Of late, the northern shadows have often taken the shape of great wings and long tails."

"Shadow dragons," surmised Melegaunt. "Shimmer-gloom?"

Fuorn's leafy crown quivered in a contrary sign. "It is sung on the winds that the longbeard Battlehammer slew the great wyrm when he reclaimed Mithral Hall, but it may be that Shimmergloom's seeds have begun to sprout and show themselves. You would do well to walk the shadow way carefully after you round the forest."

"Round the forest?" echoed Melegaunt "You still refuse us?"

"We thank you for the shadowstorm seed," said Fuorn, "but what did you risk in its giving?"

Without waiting for an answer, Fuorn stepped back among his fellows. He stretched upright and stood motionless, not so much staring at the travelers as waiting for them to make their decision. Not wishing Melegaunt to come to the wrong one, Galaeron reached for his arm-and felt Vala's strong grasp on his own. "You surprise me once," she said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Galaeron said. "I mean him no harm." "Good." She smiled artificially. "I'd miss you."

Melegaunt spun away from the treants and started eastward along the edge of the forest. Vala motioned Galaeron ahead of her, then slipped in behind him, and they both had to scurry to keep pace with the wizard's long strides.

Galaeron was not sure when Vala finally sheathed her sword, but it was in its scabbard when they reached the Lonely Moor just before dusk. Galaeron and Vala took a minute to bask in the sun's fading radiance, then set up camp and cooked a meal of marsh voles over a black-flamed fire Melegaunt had struck. Despite the glyphs and wards the wizard set around the perimeter of the camp, they divided the watch into three shifts and settled in for a wet night.

As it turned out, Galaeron could have taken all three watches himself. Whether it was because of Vala's distrust or worry for his father and Takari back in Evereska, he was never able to slip into the Reverie. He spent the whole night huddled in his cloak, staring at the stars and wrestling with feelings of guilt so vague and ambiguous he could only guess at their source. Of course, he was troubled by the part he had played in releasing the phaerimm, but his regret over that was real and tangible, an emotion so manifest he could almost touch it. The thing bothering him was much more subtle, a queasy hollowness that smacked of disloyalty and betrayal, though he was left to wonder just who he had betrayed. Had he been wrong to distrust Melegaunt? Or to accept so easily the wizard's explanation for the casual betrayal of Imesfor? Whatever the answer, Galaeron feared he would not enjoy a revitalizing Reverie until he had it.

Dawn found them all cold and awake, ready to warm themselves with a brisk prebreakfast march. Before departing, Melegaunt insisted on kneeling between Galaeron and Vala, holding his hands in their shadows, peering first into one, then the other, from the moment the sun broke the horizon until the moment the bottom edge no longer touched it. Only then did he rise.

"Come along, sun lovers. There will be no shadow walking for us today." "Not that I'm complaining, but why?" asked Galaeron.

"Because I have read the day to come and have no desire to fight shadow dragons. The bugbears will be much easier."

"Bugbears?" Galaeron gasped. "The phaerimm have bugbears?"

Melegaunt shrugged. "Perhaps. The phaerimm control many creatures, most who do not even know it, but I cannot tell everything. I'm only reading shadows." He started northward, motioning Galaeron and Vala to follow. "Keep a sharp watch. We should be all right as long as we don't let them surprise us."

This proved much easier said than done, of course. They slogged northward across a few miles of peat moor, then slipped around the northern tip of the Forgotten Forest and started northwest across the Forsaken Dale. As they crossed the snowy flats, Galaeron kept a watchful eye on the birds, but knew they would not have much to worry about until they reached the Greypeaks in the distance.

Just after highsun, the foothills drew near enough to make out individual gullies, and the pinnacles of the snowcapped mountains themselves began to show above the horizon. Galaeron's thoughts kept returning to his inability to enter the Reverie the night before. The explanation Melegaunt had given for using Imesfor as a decoy was sensible enough, but it still smacked of deceit, and it occurred to Galaeron that he was placing a great deal of trust in a human he really did not know very well. He allowed Melegaunt to drift a short distance out of earshot, then spoke over his shoulder to Vala.

"If 1 offended you by doubting Melegaunt, I apologize," he said. "Perhaps if 1 knew more about him…"

"You know he is trying to save Evereska." Vala said, prodding Galaeron in the back, urging him to catch up to Melegaunt. "You know he is trying to undo a mistake you made. How much more do you need to know?"

"How much do you know?" asked Galaeron, doing his best to ignore the barb about his "mistake." "He claims much, but reveals little." "He is a good man."

"From where?" asked Galaeron. "I have never seen the likes of his magic before."

"That does not mean it is evil." Vala's voice was sharp enough that it caused Melegaunt to cock his head to one side. "The Melegaunt Tanthul 1 know is not evil."

"But / do not know him," Galaeron said. "I might find it easier to trust him if I knew more about your relationship. Now that you are no longer Evereska's prisoner, perhaps-

"Very well," Vala sighed. "A hundred years ago, my ancestors were living in log longhouses roofed in thatch and chinked with mud, battling the ore hordes with weapons of cold-forged iron and losing children to worgs and gnolls faster than our women could birth them." "And I suppose Melegaunt changed that?"

"He did," said Vala. Twenty paces ahead, the wizard seemed to nod smugly to himself. "In return for a pittance of service, he offered to build my great grandfather an impregnable keep of black granite, and to arm twenty warriors with black swords that would cleave any enemy's armor."

"A bargain your ancestor obviously accepted," said Galaeron.

"Not as quick as you believe, for we Vaasans have always been hard bargainers," said Vala. "The debt would be called at some time in the future, when a company of warriors armed with those same black swords would be summoned to service. Bodvar agreed, providing only that all of the swords remained unbroken and the granite keep was never breached." "I take it the conditions were fulfilled."

Vala nodded. "My own father heard the voice less than a year ago, but he was too old and sick to lead the men. It was left to me to take up the sword." "And that's all you know of Melegaunt?" asked Galaeron.

"It's all I need to know." Vala's tone was almost soft. "The service of twenty warriors for the kindness he has done my clan? You elves are too distrustful."

"Perhaps so," allowed Galaeron. "We weren't always distrustful. That we learned from humans."

He spied the long valley that led to Dekanter and began to angle toward it, his thoughts consumed by questions of why Melegaunt would want to visit the ruins if the help he sought wasn't there-and what kind of help he might be seeking if it was.

They caught up to Melegaunt and entered the gulch together, and Galaeron was instantly too busy looking for bugbears to concern himself with anything else. The gully was perfect for an ambush, with an abundance of cliff-flanked narrows and blind corners, but they resisted the temptation to climb to higher ground for fear of making themselves more visible to phaerimm searchers. Twice, they were actually ambushed by goblin tribes, but a simple display of magic was enough to send the creatures skittering away

When they reached the head of the gulch without meeting any bugbears and climbed into the hills themselves, Galaeron began to think Melegaunt was not as infallible as he appeared. The ruined towers of Dekanter were just visible in the distance, a short row of absurdly twisted and impossibly leaning spires silhouetted against snow-blanketed slopes, and the sun was already sinking into the narrow rift of the Bleached Bones Pass.

The sight of the towers seemed to invigorate Melegaunt. Abandoning all effort at keeping a low profile, he clambered along a boulder-strewn ridge toward the sunken roadbed that had once connected Dekanter to the rest of the Netherese empire. Vala scurried after him, apparently abandoning her resolve to never again let Galaeron behind her. "Melegaunt, what about the bugbears?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure they're here somewhere," he said. "But the ruins are still a good mile away, and I must be there when the sun goes down,"

The wizard continued forward at a near run, giving Vala and Galaeron no choice except to keep a watchful eye and hope for the best Soon enough, the towers resolved themselves into jewel-colored oddities of architectural corruption, grotesque forms that arced and twisted in impossible directions with no thought of form or function. Some had no doors or windows, one seemed to be a single warped door spiraling into the sky, another looked to be a huge window with no interior depth at all.

The towers were scattered among the great mines that had been the reason for Dekanter's existence in the days of Netheril. Now long played out, all that remained of the ancient workings were snowy dumps of waste rock and the yawning portals and abysmal shafts of the holes themselves. Even Melegaunt seemed to sense the melancholy insanity of the place. He walked among the ruins silently, inspecting each warped spire like a wandering son returned home to find his house occupied by another family.

When the bottom curve of the sun finally touched the distant saddle of Bleached Bones Pass, he kneeled in the shadow of the door tower and pressed his brow to the dark ground. He spoke a few syllables in some tongue Galaeron did not understand, then lifted his body and shook his head slowly. "The folly," he said. "The unbelievable folly."

When the tears began to roll down his cheeks, Vala went to his side and slipped a hand under his arm. "Is there time to try another tower?" she asked. "Every story can't be the same."

The thought seemed to cheer Melegaunt. He allowed her to pull him up, then started along a boulder-lined trail toward the window tower. "Yes, another tower would be good."

They had taken no more than a dozen steps when Galaeron noticed a trio of crows circling overhead. Instead of calling to each other in their usual raucous voices, the birds were unusually silent, like anglers afraid their voices might frighten the fish. "Stop."

Galaeron had barely spoken the word before Vala had her darksword in hand and Melegaunt behind her. "Where?" "I don't know," Galaeron said. "Here."

A half dozen paces up the trail, a pair of pointed ears appeared over the top of a horse-sized boulder. Vala spotted them instantly and gestured silently with her sword. Grousing under his breath, Melegaunt fetched something from his robe pocket, and Galaeron realized the emergence of the ears had been too convenient. Bugbears rarely made such foolish mistakes. "Melegaunt, wa-" He was too late. The wizard pointed a finger and spoke a single word, and a shadowy bolt of darkness drilled straight through the boulder. There was no thud or anguished roar or any other sound to suggest the attack had hit anything living. Rather, a slimy mauve face with a snout of tentacles rose up behind the adjacent snow bank, fixing Melegaunt with a white-eyed stare.

The wizard screamed once, then clutched at his eyes and crumpled to the ground.

"An illithid?" Even as Vala shrieked the question, she was flinging her darksword at the creature in a backhand flip. "Melegaunt said nothing about illithids!"

The blade pirouetted through the air and took the illithid's head off cleanly.

In the next instant, a dozen bugbears sprang from behind boulders, rock dumps, and snowdrifts to both sides of the trail. Galaeron pulled his sword from its scabbard with one hand and reached into his cloak pocket with the other. "Vala," the elf shouted, "sword!"

He tossed the sword toward her hilt-first, then pulled his other hand from his pocket and flung a pair of green leaves in the direction of the nearest bugbears. The brutes were huge, a full head taller than Vala's burly men and far broader across the shoulders, but with ugly batlike snouts and gleaming red eyes. Vala caught Galaeron's sword with her off hand and whirled the blade around to point at the charging beasts.

Galaeron uttered his incantation, but instead of feeling the magic flow into his body from the all-encompassing Weave, it surged up through his legs in a cold bolt. With a dozen screaming bugbears on the way, there was no time to be shocked. He simply waved his hand across the hillside, and a cloud of putrid brown miasma filled the air around the bugbears' heads. Four out of the first five creatures collapsed gagging. The fifth perished when Vala dived at its feet, then somersaulted between its legs and slashed Galaeron's magic blade across the front of its belly. Galaeron slowed the remaining beasts with a pinch of sand and a quick word of magic, sending two into a deep slumber. Vala toppled another with a knee slash, then caught a heavy axe swing against the flat of Galaeron's blade. The bugbear continued to push, confident its strength would simply collapse Vala's guard.

She thrust a hand out in the direction of the dead illithid, and her darksword came flying back into her grasp. She brought the black blade beneath her attacker's big belly, driving the point clear to its heart. Galaeron pointed at the bugbear nearest Vala. Again, the magic shot into him from the cold ground, and the shaft that leaped from his finger to tear open the bugbear's chest was as black as night.

Seeing they were still three paces away from Vala and unlikely to get any closer, the last two beasts turned to flee. There was no question of letting them escape, for their illithid companion made plain the identity of their masters. Galaeron blasted one down from behind with another magic bolt. Vala sprang after the other as it bounded over the edge of the hill, and a strangled howl echoed up the slope.

Galaeron used a pair of lightning bolts and a fireball to finish the bugbears he had incapacitated with his earlier spells. He felt the same surge of cold magic when he cast the first lightning bolt, but found that by concentrating on the living Weave all around him, he could create spells normally Still, Vala returned from her trip down the hill to find him shivering with cold; it seemed to be welling up inside him, as though the marrow in his bones had turned to shadow.

"Something wrong?" She returned his sword. "You look like that's the first time you ever killed anything."

"Would that it were." Galaeron pulled his cloak more tightly around him. He turned to face Melegaunt, who was lying glassy eyed and drooling on the ground. "I'm fine, but what about him?"

Vala considered him for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, at least he saw his towers."