the call.'
Renaer asked, 'So the Pellamcopse's magic drew you to us? Or was it Vajra's spell?'
'No spell. The Pellamcopse asks us to go to any magical intruder-and helps us do so. Vajra is the one marked by Black-staff?'
Renaer nodded.
Osco's questions came quickly through his chattering teeth. 'Why do you look the way you do? Did a Blackstaff do this to you? Did Khelben curse you to haunt this place?'
The cat-man's growl-like chuckle vibrated against Renaer's side. 'Khelben was a friend-and more. The Spellplague made us. We had to become as we are to save our love. We protected Blackstaff so she could guard Waterdeep.'
Renaer noticed the cat-man's eyes tearing as he talked, but he cleared his throat with a rumbling growl and then focused on their flight, not saying a word.
For the test of the flight, the only sounds were the flapping of the creature's wings and Osco's incessant chatter.
'… big baby-scared of heights. He'll be sorry he missed this view! Hey! Ren, did you see those green owls down there? And those perytons? This forest has some of the nastiest critters alive down there.'
They arrived at the Haunt's treetop lair with the stars still bright. The cat-man spread his wings wide, and they came to a soft landing on a balcony formed from three parallel tree limbs. The lair looked like what Renaer had read about elven tree settlementsplatforms and rooms shaped out of or into massive trees. The only difference was that Renaer couldn't see any stairs or ways to reach this height without flying. Renaer guessed they were higher than even a five-story building in North Ward.
The Nameless Haunt ushered them into a large chamber, and Renaer gasped at the warmth in what appeared an open-air room. The cat-man set Meloon properly on his feet and relinquished the spell on him.
Meloon said, 'Well, which-Hey!' The blond warrior reached back for his weapon, only to find it missing, and he looked around in confusion and anger, scratching his head about how he arrived here.
'We are sorry to enspell you,' the Nameless Haunt said to Meloon. 'We only wanted to reunite friends more quickly.' He motioned to the rear of the chamber, where Vharem, Laraelra, and Vajra sat or lay inside cells within the massive tree trunk, the bars thick thorn-laden branches. The cat-man gestured and the bars all spread wide, allowing them to exit their cells. While Vharem and Laraelra got out quickly, Vajra remained unconscious.
Osco cackled happily and asked, 'What happened to you guys?
'That cocoon dumped me here in this cell along with Vajra,' Vharem said. 'The place is warm and there was food-but it's still prison!'
'For your own protection.' The Nameless flexed his claws, cocked an eyebrow, and asked, 'You wish to fight us, boy?'
Vharem fumed, but Renaer intervened. 'No, we don't. We just didn't know what you wanted with us, why you attacked us, or why you abducted our friends.'
'Wizards more apt to talk than warriors,' the Nameless explained. 'We only take warrior because he carried her.' He pointed at Vajra. 'She sick? Nameless know Samark healthy. Did someone kill Blackstaff?'
Renaer nodded.
The cat-man's face glowered, and Renaer suddenly understood the tales of how fearsome Khelben's glare could be, especially now when mixed into leonine features. The cat-man returned to stroking Vajra's hair and face, whispering to her. 'She has not been to tower? She needs help to understand her power.' He uttered a few quick syllables and his palms glowed as he stroked her head.
Vajra's eyes snapped open, black orbs with storms of green energy. The Haunt shushed her like he would a baby, and continued to stroke her head. Crackles of lightning surged from her eyes, then died down to normal hazel-colored eyes rimmed with tears. 'Raegar…'
'Tsarra love mistress wife… we are glad to see your eyes again.' He purred in return.
'It hurts to see you this way, Raegar, What you and Nameless did…'
'Had to be done. Now why do you haunt this lass? You belong in tower, as we belong here.'
Vajra sat up and looked around. 'We're in the'Pellamcopse?' When the cat-man nodded, she said, 'Vajra wasn't readied. The power transfer happened outside the tower. Someone killed Samark. Why are we here though?'
The woman's eyes clouded to black again, then shifted to cobalt blue eyes. Vajra sat up straighter, her shoulders squared, and raised an eyebrow as she stared around the room. The cat-man bristled slightly, his wing feathers ruffling.
'I brought us here,' she said. 'Nameless, you've guarded something well for some time, but it needs to return to the city.'
'As do you, Khelben. Spirits hurt Vajra.'
'I realize the dangers more than you, familiar friend. Let us attend to our task and we'll visit again when we have more time.' Vajra's stem voice whispered something only the Haunt could hear, and he nodded.
The cat-man and Vajra both cast the same spell with their left hands, their right hands remaining tightly gtasped together. Theit magic opened one wall of the room, revealing a small chamber.
'You four men need to see who she'll allow to wield her,' Vajra said. 'Her time for sleep is over.'
'So what befalls here?' Laraelra asked, stepping up and blocking the opening. 'Why not me?'
'You shall wield something far greater, girl, should you prove patient enough.'
Vharem, Osco, Renaer, and Meloon entered the small chamber, finding it close and small for all of them. At the center of the room was a tree stump, and embedded in it was a beautiful silver axe with a rune-carved double- bladed head, its haft wrapped in blue dragonskin and a star sapphire winked at the pommel's end. The exposed edges of the blades all glowed with a shimmering blue radiance, lighting the chamber.
Renaer stepped forward, whispering, 'Azuredge.' When he grasped the axe's handle, he pulled hard once, twice, and gave up after the third tug didn't release it. Renaer was crestfallen as he stepped back and let Vharem try. 'This axe is legendary. Its wielder is always a great defender of Waterdeep. Ahghairon the first Open Lord himself made this as a tribute to the Warlord Lauroun more than four and a half centuries ago.'
'Well, it's useless if none of us can pull the thing free from this stump,' Vharem said. 'Why do wizards always muck up good weapons by sticking them in things that need a prophecy or destiny or something to get it free?' The slender man grabbed the axe's haft, but rather than pulling, he held it and his eyes wandered and his face lost its color. After a moment, he let go, as if the axe were painful.
'What happened?' Renaer asked.
His long-time friend looked at him, opened his mouth, and then closed it, shaking his head. 'Not for me,' he whispered. 'Told me so.'
Meloon, who had been awestruck when he entered, stepped up, but Osco leaped up onto the stump to straddle the axe's handle and pull on it as hard as he could. His efforts were useless, other than to make Vharem chuckle and Renaer and Meloon smile. The halfling opened his eyes after another strained attempt, and shrugged.
'Had to try, didn't I? I get the feeling this thing's meant fot the big guy.'
'That thing probably weighs as much as you do, Osco.' Renaer said. 'If you'd drawn it, how could you have used it?'
'Fetch a fair price for the gems, the silver, the dragonskin,' Osco ticked off items on his fingers to Renaer's gut-wrenching horror, and then giggled when he saw Renaer's face. He winked at Vharem and said, 'I'm not sure. Has he always been this easy to tease?' Osco hopped off and clapped Meloon on the calf as he walked out of the room. 'Go to it, big man.'
Meloon reached over and grabbed the haft of the axe. Blue flames flared around the axe and the warrior. Renaer and the others flinched back, but Meloon stayed transfixed and seemed unharmed by the blue fire.
A bitter wind whistled around Meloon, who found he stood alone on a wooded plateau, seedling trees and shrubs slapping his knees in the wind. He whirled around to the familiar sight of Mount Waterdeep. But all else was strange. No city, no toads crossed the plain where he stood, and the mountain lay bare and untouched by any hand but nature's.
He stood near a crossroads, and he turned toward a rider's approach. Astride a stallion was a woman clad in chain mail, her face framed by the metal garb and a few sttay red locks. She stared down at Meloon, her cerulean
