Twilight Falling

CHAPTER 17

Behind Vraggen, the bullywugs ceased beating their drums and fell silent. The hushed air was rich with anticipation. The bullywugs seemed to be holding their breath beneath their torches. Eglos, their shaman, had represented to his faithful that the expected appearance of the Fane of Shadows would be a sign that the tribe was favored by Ramenos. Worked into a religious frenzy, the gullible creatures now would tear to shreds anyone else who attempted to set foot in the area.

"I'll never get this stink off of my clothes," Azriim said, beside him.

Vraggen made no reply. He stood on the edge of the Lightless Lake with the half-drow and Serrin to either side.

The Lightless Lake was a small body of water, but Vraggen knew its depths to be infinite. Like a well in the world, it had no shallows. Stepping into even the edge of its waters meant sinking to depths beyond measure. No starlight, no glow from Selune's tears reflected on the pitch waters. Ripples did not mar its surface. It was a darkened mirror, a perfect reflection of the night.

It was a holy place.

Vraggen waited, increasingly anxious. The midnight hour approached. If Azriim had correctly deduced the time from the star globe, soon the Fane would appear, soon he would be transformed.

The Fane was a gift of the gods of shadows to their faithful, a sanctuary that journeyed through time and worlds. It was a bastion, an armory for servants of the twilight. Only one who understood the shadow could enter it safely and bypass its guardians.

A cold breeze stirred, whispering through the stands of cypress. As one, the bullywugs uttered a low croak of awe. They sensed the growing presence of the Fane, but dared not approach nearer than a spearcast to the water.

Ochre light began to pulse from deep in the depths of the lake.

"Look," Vraggen said.

"I see," Azriim said softly, and Vraggen heard the anticipation in his voice.

The green light grew brighter, fuller, but somehow did nothing to dispel the darkness of night.

Beside him, Azriim shook his head sharply, as though to shed an unpleasant thought.

"There is a problem," he said, softly.

What problem could there be? Vraggen's triumph-Cyric's triumph-was at hand.

"Speak," the mage commanded.

Azriim looked him in the eyes. The ochre light from the lake cast the half-drow's face in a sinister light.

Azriim said, "Cale is coming."

Vraggen couldn't believe it so he asked, "Why do you think this?"

Azriim hesitated a moment before answering, "Elura and Dolgan were to transport themselves here at this hour. Something must have prevented that. It can only be Cale. He must have tracked us from Selgaunt."

Vraggen whirled on Serrin and spat, "You-!"

Azriim held up his hands and interposed himself between Serrin and the furious mage.

"They left Serrin for dead at the Twisted Elm, Vraggen," the half-drow said. "He told them nothing. If it were otherwise, I would know. Cale probably tracked us by magical means."

Vraggen stared into Azriim's mismatched eyes and knew the half-drow was right. Besides, it didn't matter how Cale had tracked them. To Vraggen, Cale was nothing more than another obstacle to overcome in his quest to glorify Cyric. He recovered his calm.

"The bullywugs will have some sport, then. Excellent." Vraggen turned back to the lake and looked across its still surface, into the glow in its depths. He pointed and said, "Behold, Azriim. The Fane of Shadows."

Azriim and Serrin leaned forward to see.

Deep below the surface of the lake, the diffuse ochre light pierced the pitch to illumine marble columns veined in black, graceful arches, thick pillars, obsidian sculptures of a hundred world's gods of the night-a temple, the Fane. Living shadows swirled around the columns, danced through the arches. The waters of the Lightless Lake blurred the image but the beauty of the Fane was undeniable. It seemed to hang suspended in the depths, like a star in the heavens.

Within, Vraggen knew, was power.

"Open the way," said Azriim.

Vraggen nodded. He held up his arms, uttered the arcane words to a spell of opening, and powered it by tapping the Shadow Weave. He sent the shadow magic spiraling into the lake. In answer, the waters seethed and hissed.

Behind them, the bullywugs croaked in unison, caught in a religious ecstasy.

The waters of the lake parted, solidified, and formed a narrow, step-lined, hollow shaft that pierced the lake's depths all the way to the Fane. It appeared as though the invisible finger of a god had penetrated the lake to point Vraggen's way.

"Well done," Azriim breathed.

Vraggen couldn't help but smile as he said, "Only one who wields the Weave behind the Weave can do what I have done."

"I know," said Azriim.

Vraggen turned to the bullywugs and in their tongue, which he could speak only through the power of his magic, he shouted, "Ramenos shows his favor to this tribe and I am consumed in his maw. Remain until the sign has passed, then go with the blessing of the Maw. Kill any others who appear."

The shaman and fat chieftain echoed Vraggen's words and the tribe croaked agreement.

"Come," Vraggen said to Serrin and Azriim. He turned to look down the shaft. "The Fane remains in each world for only a short while. What we seek is within."

"Indeed," Azriim said, and he smiled with his perfect teeth.

Despite the steep angle of the shaft, the footing within it was firm, the water somehow solid. Far below them, the Fane beckoned, itself seemingly situated on an invisible platform and surrounded by a dome of air. Its shadow guardians lurked at the bottom of the shaft, in the statue-littered courtyard before the great iron doors of the Fane's entrance. As they descended, the shaft closed behind them, and the shadows swarmed toward them.

"They will not harm us," Vraggen said to Azriim and Serrin as he led them downward. When they neared the bottom of the shaft, Vraggen announced to the guardians, "I am a servant of the hidden power, the Weave behind the Weave, Shar's darkness to Selune's light and Mystra's folly. I will pass."

The shadows parted as had the water. They stood on an invisible disc, surrounded by a dome of air. Vraggen savored the moment. Around them, the statues of a hundred gods from a hundred worlds looked on.

Vraggen walked through the courtyard to the doors. He put his hand to the iron pull ring and heaved open the door.

The forest floor sloped downward and grew increasingly soft as they moved through the Gulthmere. After a time, the thick stands of pines and cedars gave way to brooding cypresses. Pools of stagnant water dotted the undergrowth, increasingly common as they moved along. A pungent organic smell wafted from the water.

"It is well for you that this was a dry spring," Magadon said. "Otherwise, these ponds would be more like lakes, and the ground nothing but a muddy swamp."

Even in the scant illumination from Jak's bluelight wand, Cale could see that the swamp was no real swamp at all. Rather, it was just a lowland area within the forest that was dotted with pools-the Gulthmere's drain.

Still, the air felt different, thick, oily. Some evil slept there, Cale was sure of it.

Jak pulled at his sleeve and said, "Your sword."

Cale nodded. He knew. He held his blade unsheathed in his good hand and wisps of darkness played along its length. Ever since they'd passed the border stones, it had been bleeding shadows.

"The sphere …" Cale began

". . transformed it," Jak finished, nodding. He eyed the wisps of shadow swirling around Cale's hand and forearm. "They don't hurt, do they? Do you feel yourself?''

Cale went to put his hand on Jak's shoulder and instead thumped him with his stump. Jak grimaced, but Cale forced a smile.

"What's left of me feels like myself, little man."

Jak's eyes were pained. "There's magic that can fix that, Cale," he said, indicating Cale's wrist.

"That's for later," Cale said. "For now, let's do what we came to do."

Jak nodded and they continued following Magadon and Nestor.

Midnight arrived-Cale felt it-and still they had not reached the Moonmere. He feared they would not arrive in time to stop Vraggen.

"Magadon," Cale prodded, "we need to move!"

The guide, standing with Nestor atop a low rise about half a spearcast ahead, hissed for silence and sank to the ground. He lowered himself to his stomach and waved everyone down. Cale, Jak, and Riven hit the earth and crawled forward.

When he reached the top of the rise, Cale saw what had given the guide alarm: torchlight in the distance, and a strange, pulsing ochre glow. With each pulse of the light, Cale felt a pressure on his ears.

"Do you feel that?" he asked Jak.

"I feel it."

Due to distance and intervening stands of cypress and undergrowth, Cale could make out no more.

"The Moonmere is just beyond the tree line," Magadon said. "Those torches burn near its shore. Your enemies are on guard, it appears."

"Where is the temple?" Cale asked Magadon.

Magadon looked at him strangely and said, "There is no temple here, Cale."

Cale didn't even pause. "Yes there is. Jak?"

"I'll scout it," the halfling said as he took out his holy symbol.

Cale gripped him by the shoulder and warned, "As fast as possible, little man. Midnight is past. Find Vraggen. If not, find the temple and find us a way in."

"Not more than a quarter hour," Jak said, and he vanished into the forest.

As promised, the halfling returned in less than a quarter hour.

"It's me," he said, and stepped from the shadows.

Already, he had his pipe in hand. Shielding the flame with his palm, he lit it with a tindertwig.

"Well?" Riven asked.

Jak blew out a smoke ring and said, "About thirty bullywugs, arranged in a line about forty paces from the lakeshore. They've got a priest with them. They appear to be waiting for something."

"Did you find the Fane?" Cale asked.

"Yes," Jak answered, and his brow furrowed. "But that's the problem. It's in the lake."

"There's nothing in that lake," Magadon said. "It's a pit."

"It's there," Jak said, and he took another pull on his pipe.

"So we'll swim to it," Riven said.

"No," Jak replied. "I mean it's in the Lake. Underwater. Deep underwater. That green glow is coming from it. You can see the Fane down there if you look from the shore right in front of the bullywugs. It's like it's just.. hanging there, surrounded by a giant bubble."

"Even if we could swim to it," Nestor grumbled, "and even if it's got a bubble of air around it, how can we hold our air long enough to swim down there? The halfling said it's a long way down." The big human looked to Magadon. "Mags, this cannot be done. Let's take our payment and go."

Cale said nothing. He couldn't blame the big man but would welcome Magadon's presence. Riven stared contempt at Nestor.

Magadon considered. He looked to Cale and Riven.

"Why not wait?" the guide asked. "If you seek someone who is within, he'll come out sooner or later. You can move on him then."

Cale replied, "No. The mage we're after must be stopped before he gets what he seeks. Besides, this quarry does not need to exit through doors. If we don't stop him now, we may never see him again."

Magadon still looked uncertain.

"They got in," Cale said to him. "And they need to breathe. So there's a way. We'll find it." He paused before adding, "With or without you."

Magadon looked up sharply, but his hard look quickly gave way to a smile.

"With us, then," he said. "Come, Nestor. You need to bathe anyway."

Cale couldn't help but smile at that. Jak chuckled. Nestor looked angry.

Of Jak, Cale asked, "You scout a way past the bullywugs?"

Jak took another pull on his pipe then answered, "Easy. All we need to be is quiet and I'll get us right to the shore."

"Good," Cale said. "Let's move."

Crouched at the edge of the tree line, Cale eyed the bullywugs. At least thirty strong, they stood in a ragged line about a spearcast from the Lightless Lake. The green skin of the froglike humanoids glistened in the light of their torches. Except for an occasional croak, they stood in near silence, watching the lake, watching the glow from the Fane. Their shaman, adorned about his neck with a brace of humanoid skulls and wearing a shirt of reptilian scales, swayed to music that only he could hear.

"A distraction?" Riven asked.

Cale shook his head and answered, "Not going to pull enough of them away. They're worshiping. No, we go one at a time, at a belly crawl, as Jak suggested. We make for that." He pointed to a large cypress at the edge of the lake, near the point from which the green glow lit the waters.

"A lot of space," Riven observed.

Cale couldn't deny it. If he'd still had his holy symbol, or if the halfling hadn't exhausted all of his spells, they would have had more options. As it was …

"It's all we've got," he said. "The undergrowth will give us some cover. Me first. Then Jak, then you." He looked to Magadon and Nestor. He felt obliged to give them one more chance at an out. "You can remain-"

Magadon grinned and shook his head. Cale was struck again with how incongruous that smile looked under his knucklebone eyes.

"I said we were in, Erevis," the guide said, "so we're in. Right, Nestor?"

The big human only grunted.

"Well enough," Cale said. "You follow after Riven, then Nestor. Let's do it."

Wasting no time, Cale mentally prayed to the Lord of Shadows to shield him from the bullywug's goggle eyes and crawled out of the tree line. He moved as rapidly as he could while staying flat to the ground. While the soft earth muffled the sound of his movements, his breath and heartbeat sounded as loud as a warhorn in his ears. With every croak from the bullywugs, he felt certain they had spotted him. But they did not. Covered in mud and sweat, he reached the cypress and sank into the shadows near its bole.

Unable to resist, he spared a glance into the lake. There, deep beneath the otherwise pitch waters, he saw the Fane of Shadows suspended in a hemispherical bubble. Viewed through the water, it looked like a picture drawn deliberately vague. He made out statues, arches, columns, but somehow it still looked insubstantial, surreal. He drew his sword and felt it being pulled toward the water, as though the lake was a lodestone. The shadows bleeding from the blade swirled off the metal and into the Lightless Lake. He knew it wanted to go there. Intuitively, he knew it would take him.

He turned away, determined to see to the safety of his comrades first.

The halfling came next. With skill, he crawled through the muddy undergrowth toward Cale. When he reached the cypress, Cale put a hand on his shoulder.

"Your sword," Jak said right away. "It's worse."

"I know," he said, and signaled Riven.

The assassin moved rapidly across the clearing, a shadow among shadows. When he reached the safety of the cypress, he looked into the lake and his good eye went wide.

"Dark," he oathed. "That is deep."

Cale signaled Magadon. With surprising grace, the guide made his way across the clearing to the cypress. He too looked upon the lake wide-eyed.

"I trust you have some ideas," he said to Cale.

Cale did, but made no reply. Instead, he signaled Nestor.

The big human rolled from the tree line and began to make his way across the clearing. Slowly. He didn't share Magadon's grace or skill.

"How long have you worked with this oaf?" Riven hissed at Magadon.

The guide hesitated a moment before answering, "Not long."

He left it at that.

Nestor stopped about halfway to the cypress.

"What is he doing?" Jak hissed.

Cale shook his head. He had no idea.

One of the spindly-legged bullywugs on the near side of their line shook its frog head, staggered, and croaked. Others croaked in answer. Cale could hear the question in their tone.

Cale held his breath. Nestor, the dolt, continued to move. Cale willed him to stay still. Eyes were drawn to motion, even in the dark. But the big fighter continued his crawl.

The bullywug that had staggered suddenly pointed in Nestor's direction and croaked loudly. Thirty pairs of bulbous eyes focused on the human. The shaman ceased his ritual swaying, stood, and looked in Nestor's direction. Spears were brandished. Loud croaks ran up and down the line. The bullywugs started to hop toward Nestor.

"Dark and empty," Cale oathed.

With nothing for it, Nestor jumped to his feet and ran for the cypress. Thirty bullywugs led by their shaman hopped after. Spears whistled through the air.

Just as Cale and Riven prepared to rush to his rescue, two, then three of the spears thumped into the human. He staggered and fell, disappearing in the mud and undergrowth.

Cale held his ground, strained to see the fallen man but could not. It was as though the earth had swallowed him up.

"Nestor!" Magadon shouted.

The guide started back but Riven blocked him with his blade.

Ten or more of the bullywugs swarmed the area in which the human had fallen and their spears rose and fell. The rest, having heard Magadon's cry, croaked loudly and hopped for the cypress. Their shaman began a rhythmic chanting that Cale knew could only be a spell.

Jak grabbed Cale by the arm and said, "Whatever you're going to do, do it fast!"

Cale knew what he had to do-follow the shadows, the same as he had done his whole life.

He followed the mist swirling off his blade, stepped to the water's edge, and shoved his sword in, all the way to the hilt. The shadows leaking from the iron hissed when they hit the water, as though the blade was hot. For a moment, the lake churned and foam sprayed. A heartbeat later, a depression formed in the water around the sword. A hemisphere as large as a merchant's wagon. A bubble of air. He withdrew his blade and the depression remained.

"Here!" he called. "Here!"

His comrades ran to him, with Magadon covering their retreat with bow fire. The air was filled with spears and croaks. Spears thumped into the cypress's trunk and splashed into the lake.

"Get in," Cale urged. "It will support us."

He was guessing on that last but it proved to be true.

Riven, Jak, and Magadon jumped into the hemisphere, Magadon still firing. Cale followed, and it began to sink.

"Burn me," Jak whispered, as the depression began to descend. It formed into a perfect sphere as the water closed above them.

By the time the bullywugs reached the shore, the lake had already swallowed Cale and his comrades. Looking up though the lens of the sphere, the bullywugs appeared blurry and indistinct. Their croaks, muffled. A few spear tips poked into the water, but none reached within the sphere.

Cale put a hand on Magadon's shoulder to comfort him on the loss of his friend. Magadon looked him in the eyes and gave a nod. He took a deep breath.

"Here," the woodsman said. "Do not resist."

While Cale, Riven, and Jak shared a confused look, Magadon closed his eyes, touched two fingers to his temple, and visibly concentrated.

Cale felt a tickle at the base of his skull, followed by Magadon's "voice" in his head: We now are all linked telepathically, at any distance.

"Nice," Jak said. I mean, nice, he said again, mentally, and grinned.

How long? Cale asked, more and more impressed with the mind mage.

More than an hour, Magadon responded.

Better than handcant, Cale said to Riven and Jak.

The bubble descended rapidly. Its sides felt leathery, though it was perfectly transparent. Below them the Fane glowed eerily, itself contained within a much larger hemisphere suspended in the depths. Try as he might, Cale could see no bottom to the lake. A field of statuary, not unlike the garden topiary in Stormweather, surrounded the temple building itself. Shadows darted amongst the statues.

See them? Cale said.

I see them, Riven said.

Jak nodded, as did Magadon.

Ready yourselves, Cale warned. I doubt they're friendly.